"You liking the hotel?" I asked, relaxing in my office chair.
"Better than being in a cell," Captain Cold grunted over the phone. "Still would've preferred not having one of the craziest nights in my whole damn career."
"I don't see how that's my fault," I lied. "You're the one who picked the job."
"Sure…" He snorted. "And who's the one who pretended to be the guy I hired?"
"To be fair, you were the one who mistook me for Zac." I chuckled. "You know, I even looked for the guy to compensate him for stealing one of his gigs."
The image of the man was still engraved in my brain. You literally couldn't find a more distinctive-looking goon or criminal in Gotham if you tried.
God bless my luck.
"Dude was built like a truck. Really, who's at fault here?"
That earned me a few more incoherent grumbles from the Captain as he complained about Gotham, bullshit powers, and jobs that should have been simple.
I hadn't told him about my luck, but he seemed like a guy quick on the uptake, so no doubt he had his suspicions. Then again, getting dragged around by an angel had probably freaked him out enough to bury those suspicions for now.
"It all worked out, didn't it?" I said. "Plus, it's not like you and Mr. Boomerang are bumming it out somewhere. The fully paid five-star hotel was quite expensive, you know. I'd be sooo sad if you didn't enjoy it."
"No need to snark me, kid." Captain Cold sighed. "It's just the principle of the thing. My professional pride… plus, well, my pockets are hurting a little."
"Have you reconsidered my offer then?" I asked. "I'd love to work with both of you."
"George will eat out of your palm if it means staying out of prison and building more boomerangs." Captain Cold snorted. "Me… well, I'm gonna need some more funds with my last gun going kaput."
"Happy to have you on board."
I couldn't help but grin.
Two more big assets to use, even if only temporarily, was a huge win for the Goonion.
—
Life was strange, wasn't it?
Last night, I was riding a robot. This morning, I was bargaining with supervillains.
Now I was literally learning goddamn magic.
Truth really was stranger than fiction.
"How did I do?" I couldn't help but fidget as I watched.
Jason Blood frowned as he looked over the little crystal he had me meditate with. I didn't really get it, but I also wasn't about to question the magical expert on magic things.
"Strange…" Professor Blood rubbed his chin as he shook the crystal slightly. "You have no magic."
"I mean, I did tell you my alchemy is a bit different…"
I hadn't particularly wanted to reveal the full nature of my powers, but explaining how my alchemy worked was a must if I wanted to figure out a way to improve it.
The most recent trait I got, Ichor, had been useful as hell, but not in the way I'd hoped.
My blood could be used to massively enhance my potion-making, true. A single drop could replace hundreds of pounds of normal materials that would have been required otherwise.
I had tried to push past basic regeneration potions, hoping my blood would improve their quality somehow, but instead, it only made more of them. I couldn't complain too much, though. The already profitable potion trade would increase exponentially as long as I was willing to shed a little blood.
Cobblepot had been damn near frothing at the mouth when I explained it to him.
Still, as much as I loved money, I was a bit disappointed. More powerful potions would have been nice.
"Yes, you indeed did…" Professor Blood looked at me strangely. "I had assumed your alchemical prowess was some sort of strange blessing, or perhaps a connection with your patron. It is a relatively common method for more powerful entities to enhance their followers."
"So what's wrong with me?" I tilted my head.
"Well, when such cases occur, the bestowed will inevitably show at least some magical energy simply as a consequence of being the vector." He frowned, tilting his head slightly. "But you seem to bypass that rule. I sense absolutely no magic in you, even as you 'tinker' with your alchemical machines. Which should be impossible, and yet you do so."
"Tell it to me straight, Professor." I grimaced.
"I do not think I will be able to help improve your potions." Professor Blood simply shook his head. "My original assumption was that you were some sort of avatar, or perhaps blessed with knowledge. In such a case, I could quite easily offer my guidance. But for you…"
The Professor pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You're quite unlike anything I've ever seen."
Damn. Well, there went that idea.
It was vexing, but I supposed I would simply have to be content with making sidegrades rather than truly upgrading my potion-making skill.
I rubbed my face and sighed. "Thank you for your time, Professor."
"It's nothing. I apologize that I couldn't be of use." Professor Blood turned toward the door. "I wish you the best—"
"Now, now, Professor, leaving so soon?" I smiled. "I haven't even paid you yet."
Professor Blood raised a hand as if to ward me off. "That will not be necessary. I did not actually accomplish anything, so I cannot in good conscience—"
I lifted an entire backpack filled to the brim with potions and shoved it into his hands.
"Haha, don't stand on ceremony, Professor. You were already a big help." I gave him my best harmless smile. "Would it be alright if I came to you for any future magical issues?"
"Well, I can't say for certain. I am quite busy…"
I reached under my desk and pulled out one of my own alchemical vintages.
"Would you like to share a glass?"
"I shouldn't…"
I popped open the cap, and the deep aroma of magical wine filled the room.
Professor Blood paused.
He took a slow breath through his nose, then made the mistake of taking another.
"Well…" His eyes lingered on the bottle for a moment longer than strictly necessary. "Perhaps just one glass."
I couldn't help but grin.
Bribery was always a win.
Even if I couldn't improve my potions directly, there were other avenues to increase my magical forces.
—
I might've… just a tiny bit underestimated how strong that vintage was.
Even with Volition active, I could quite literally feel the buzz in the back of my head and the drunken stumble in my feet.
Thankfully, nobody on the way up to the bar had commented. Although I wasn't sure if that was because of my luck or just rich people culture.
Wayne Tower was glorious and just as posh as I thought it would be. Hell, a few years ago, I couldn't even imagine myself visiting a place like this.
But now me, Jean Valjean, professional goon, was going to the private bar to meet Bruce Wayne.
I'll admit, I was fanboying a little.
So when the elevator cracked open and the doorman waved me in, I didn't bother taking in the rich twilight atmosphere, the amazing cushions, or the paintings on the walls. My eyes scanned the room and immediately locked onto the man himself.
"Mr. Wayne!" I grinned ear to ear as I strode over to the billionaire.
"Mr. Valjean." Bruce Wayne stood and offered me a small smile, sticking his hand out for a shake.
Being drunk with Volition active was very strange. I was entirely capable of making rational choices while also feeling that little buzz of drunken confidence.
And right now, my rational brain was telling me to shake his hand like a normal person.
But, well, where was the fun in that?
Plus, I could just tell Mr. Wayne was a cool guy.
"Hahaha!" I grabbed Bruce Wayne in a bear hug. "Don't be so stiff, Mr. Wayne! We're friends of a common cause!"
"We are?" Bruce Wayne blinked at me.
"Of course!" I pulled back from the hug, my hands still on his shoulders. "Beating back that vile caped crusader. The Dark Knight who gives Gothamites a fright. The Bat who steals your balls in the night!"
I shook Mr. Wayne's shoulders as true emotion welled up inside me.
"It's up to us, good-natured civilians, to beat back the crazy guys of Gotham! How could we trust a man who cuts people's balls off?" I looked seriously into his eyes. "Right, Mr. Wayne?"
A snort broke out behind me, followed by a fit of giggles. I glanced back to see a small lounge table occupied by a black-haired man and a girl in a wheelchair.
Huh. She looked strangely familiar.
I turned back and found Bruce Wayne's face frozen stiff. His polite smile looked like it had gotten stuck halfway through loading.
Oh, wait, what was I doing?
"I'm terribly sorry." I took my hands off his shoulders. "What type of man am I?"
I slapped my forehead.
Not everyone had Volition. I was such a dunce.
"Ah… I see. Well, we should find a table—" Bruce Wayne coughed into his fist.
"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne!" I stuck my thumbs up. "Batman will never get your balls. I swear it!"
Behind me, the fit of giggles exploded into full-bellied laughter.
Rude.
Still, I didn't turn around. I simply stared into Bruce Wayne's eyes to convey my seriousness.
His face was twitching. I could see him damn near vibrating.
He was getting emotional over my declaration.
Oh, how lucky I was!
To make such a great first impression.
Bruce Wayne stared at me, his eyes filled with emotion.
We were going to be the best of friends. I could feel it.
***
Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.
I have advanced chapters on Pa tre on/daisyberry if you wanna read ahead.