The proceedings that followed felt as if someone had pressed fast-forward.
It was clear that William Earle had spent a fortune hiring a senior lawyer, but in the face of overwhelming evidence and Lance, his defense was as laughable as the Joker.
The jury reached a verdict in just ten minutes.
"...The charges of multiple counts of commercial fraud, embezzlement, attempted murder, and endangering public safety are sustained. The defendant is sentenced to twenty-five to thirty years in prison, without the possibility of parole. The defendant is to be taken into custody immediately."
When the gavel fell, William Earle collapsed into his chair, as if the strength had been drained from his body.
The bailiffs lifted him up and dragged him toward the side door.
As he passed Lance, William Earle suddenly struggled and turned his head.
"You think you've won? Just watch. That brat from the Wayne family won't be any better than me. Do you think you're doing some kind of justice? Don't be stupid. Kid. Gotham will eat you. It will leave nothing behind."
Lance was adjusting his cuffs and did not even look up.
"Wow~ Nicely delivered. I hope your cellmates at Blackgate Penitentiary enjoy a good story."
William Earle was dragged away, his curses fading behind the iron door.
The gallery stirred.
Reporters tried to rush forward but were blocked by the bailiffs forming a line with their batons.
"I'll be waiting in the car." Bruce Wayne stood up, left the words behind, and walked straight toward the exit, flashes bursting behind him.
...
Outside, rain began to fall over Gotham once more.
Raindrops tapped against the stained-glass windows, blurring the face of the Lady Justice depicted upon them.
A bailiff approached to collect the original evidence.
A young bailiff whispered to his colleague, "That was incredible. That lawyer, Prescott, completely nailed Earle to the wall."
Another, older bailiff lit a cigarette and scoffed. "Incredible? Kid, remember this. In Gotham, people who are too incredible don't live long."
Lance heard them.
He did not turn back. He calmly zipped up his briefcase, picked up his cane, and walked toward the exit.
When he stepped out of the courthouse, Bruce Wayne's car was waiting in the rain. The driver's window rolled down, and Alfred Pennyworth gave him a slight nod.
"Thoughtful." Lance got into the back seat and let himself sink into the leather. "Otherwise, your hardworking lawyer would have had to walk back to the hotel in the rain."
Bruce let out a short laugh and handed him a check. "Final payment."
Lance raised an eyebrow, accepted the check, and glanced at the string of numbers in the amount column with clear satisfaction before tucking it into his inner pocket.
Bruce watched him in silence for a moment, then spoke.
"You know, you're a very contradictory person."
"Is that so?" Lance shrugged. "That's the mildest assessment I've ever received."
Bruce ignored the remark. "You act extremely greedy. Your code of conduct seems entirely driven by money. And yet, once you have it, you don't seem to value it."
He asked, "Why?"
"I'm not your soul mentor." Lance leaned back and closed his eyes. "The service I provided ended the moment I received that final check. If you want to consult me again, make sure you bring another check."
"Does that mean you refuse to answer?"
"It means you're stingy." Lance continued with his eyes closed. "You've already taken control of Wayne Enterprises, at least in name. Surely you won't be stingy with the poor lawyer who helped you get there."
"So that means you refuse to answer." Bruce Wayne concluded. "What are your plans next?"
"I'll look around first." Lance replied casually. "After working for you all this time, I haven't really seen Gotham with my own eyes."
Bruce nodded, then suddenly pushed the car door open.
Rain poured in at once, soaking the expensive carpet. He stepped straight into the downpour, his suit quickly drenched, his hair clinging to his forehead.
"Then I wish you the best." His voice carried through the rain. "I hope we never meet again, Mr. Prescott."
Bruce walked off into Gotham's rain.
He did not even close the door.
Lance opened his eyes, leaned forward, and pulled the door shut. Rainwater splashed onto the leather seat, leaving dark stains.
"What a weirdo. Working for a boss like this is exhausting, right?"
At that, Alfred Pennyworth gave a faint smile in the rearview mirror.
"Shall we return to the hotel, sir?"
"Of course."
...
An hour later, Bruce Wayne, who had just declared he would never see Lance again, and Lance, who should have been resting at the Wayne Hotel, met in a narrow alley on the edge of the East End.
If Gotham was a city of sin, then the East End was its most rotten core.
Here, even Jesus would have to watch his pockets and clench his fists, or he would not make it three blocks.
Lance came here to test the new toy he had just acquired.
Dangerous, yes, but this was not the core of the East End, only a hideout for petty thugs.
After winning the case against William Earle, he had successfully drawn a stripped-down version of an ability from Bruce Wayne, who had not yet become Batman.
Fortunately, his first draw was Bruce's combat skill.
By this point, Bruce Wayne had already traveled the world and completed his training.
He was proficient in the major combat disciplines: karate, judo, boxing, Muay Thai, ninjutsu, Krav Maga, and jiu-jitsu.
Not street brawling. Not staged fights. Real killing techniques.
Even in a reduced form, the power it provided was significant.
Which only made Lance more eager. What kind of abilities would he be able to draw once Bruce Wayne truly became the Batman from his memories?
But the man in front of him was still far from that.
He wore only a crude set of black armor. No cape. No iconic cowl with pointed ears. Even the belt was just standard tactical gear.
A fledgling vigilante who had yet to find his footing, and perhaps had misjudged how dangerous the East End really was.
Batman had just taken down three thugs with clubs when he turned and noticed Lance at the alley entrance.
With a flick of his wrist, a Batarang cut through the air, then dropped harmlessly half a foot in front of Lance's chest.
"Isn't this about upholding justice?" Lance raised an eyebrow. He bent down and picked up the crudely made Batarang. "Why are you attacking an innocent passerby?"
Batman was silent for a moment before speaking. "An innocent passerby wouldn't try to enter a dangerous area after seeing something like this."
His voice was completely different from before. Lance knew he was using a voice changer, and he also knew Bruce had no intention of acknowledging him.
That was only natural.
If Batman saw him and immediately flipped up his cowl to greet him, that would be truly disturbing.
A cheerful, enthusiastic Batman.
Ridiculous.
"Alright, alright, Mr. Bat." Lance raised both hands in surrender. "I'll take it as me overstepping."
"Go ahead. Keep playing your little game of justice."