Accounting (part 5)
Mr Zoat
Dedicated ragequitter
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Earth 12
23rd September 2039
19:27 GMT -5
Terrence looks at me curiously. "Do you wanna explain to me why two of the richest guys in Gotham are meeting at a low-rent diner?"
"The food." / "Privacy."
I pull a sonic scrambler out of my coat, prompting Mr. Wayne to roll his eyes and tap his cane against the floor. The sound around us quietens and distorts as his scrambler activates. I shrug and return mine to my coat.
"The food? Seriously?"
"Restaurants are a case of diminishing returns. A meal that costs two hundred-. No, wait, inflation. A meal that costs two thousand dollars isn't a hundred times better than one that costs twenty."
Terrence blinks, most likely at the idea of a two thousand dollar meal. "How much better is it?"
I flick my eyebrows up for a moment. "Somewhere between point eight and three, in my experience. Mister Wayne?"
He glowers at me. Honestly, I'm not sure that he doesn't just glower at everyone and everything these days. "Why are you defending Cuvier?"
"Because I agree with most of what he's said and done, and I don't want him getting railroaded. The case against him is actually very weak. Frankly, it looks to me like the only reason it could have worked was because the District Attorney had his assets frozen to prevent him hiring a lawyer."
Terrence looks like he wants to say something, while Mister Wayne is continuing to stare at me.
"Mister McGinnis? Something you want to ask?"
"Point eight? So it's worse?"
"And just like that, I find out that everything I'd been told about the American education system is wrong. Yes, Mister McGinnis. It turns out that preening prima donna chefs can achieve levels of mediocrity with things that are weird and expensive but don't actually taste nice that a place like this-"
I look up and smile at the server as he hands us menus.
"Thank you. -wouldn't bother trying."
"They have paper menus? Guess you two aren't the oldest things here."
"No, this is deliberately retro. They switched to… Ordering on smart phone back in…" Ah… "Twenty-twenty-seven? Gosh, only twelve years ago. But it turned out that they got more customers with the added social interaction so went back to physical menus." I open my menu. "I certainly prefer it."
Mr. Wayne grunts, laying his menu on the table and opening it. I think the arthritis is getting to his hands. Just a little, but it's one of the things I've been looking for in myself. And the eternal question of whether it's worth trying something… No. When it becomes worth trying something radical.
"So were you ever a superhero?"
"I wore a costume for about five minutes. I've used the odd piece of exotic technology-. You saw that rod I used?" He nods. "But I never had the drive to get really into it."
"I heard you were on the Justice League. What was that like?"
Mr. Wayne glowers harder.
"At the time, the Justice League let just about anyone join up." I try making eye contact with Mr. Wayne, but he makes a point of studying the menu. "They've gone back to the small-team version now, haven't they?"
"Cheeseburger. Coffee."
"Regular burger, regular fries, large banana milkshake."
Terrence blinks. "Wait, are we actually eating? I thought both of you were gunna glare at each other for a couple of minutes and then storm off."
I shake my head. "We're both too old for that sort of thing."
"Speak for yourself."
"Combo-meal for me, I guess. Did you mean they let you in 'cause they let anyone in?"
"No, they let me in as a consultant because a parallel universe version of me beat up six of the founding seven in a fight and they thought I might have useful strategic input."
Mr. Wayne's back to glowering at me. "How did you find out about that? You shouldn't have had access to those files."
"You should have been nicer to Michael." He grimaces. "Oh, don't look like that. It took some work, but I made him a far more effective hero than he was before."
"I should track him down just so I can discipline him for violating security."
Terrence blinks. "Michael..?"
Smiles politely. "Booster Gold."
Terrence smiles back, looking genuinely pleased. "Oh yeah. I had a tonne of his merch when I was a kid." Mister Wayne hunches his shoulders in distaste. "So which one couldn't he beat?"
"Hm."
Terrence's eyes widen while a very small amount of smugness enters Mr. Wayne's expression.
"Seriously?"
"Oh, don't be too impressed. He realised that the mission profile was stupid and didn't take part. Which is actually relevant to what's happening with this case. Given all the other crimes happening in Gotham, why did you prioritise people volunteering for cosmetic genetic modifications?"
"When he turned me into a man-bat it didn't sure feel cosmetic."
"You were an intruder, not a patient. Ah. Hm. Actually, you should pay a visit to my clinic. We've got specialists in the process who can make sure that the 'cure' worked properly, if you have any concerns."
Mr. Wayne's eyes narrow. "I already cleared him."
"Did you test a semen sample?"
Terrence looks concerned. "Ah, what?"
"Barbara and I waited to have children because splicing can modify the genetics of your gametes. Splicing and splicing reversal is supposed to be undertaken in a medical facility where they can check that everything is working properly. You don't look like a bat, but… Ten years from now, if your newborn baby comes out with claws and wings-."
Terrence jerks his head towards Mr. Wayne. "I think maybe I should get checked out."
"It's not a complicated test. I'll give you a cup when we get back to the cave."
"How's a cup gunna test-?" Mr. Wayne glowers at him. "Oh. I shoulda stayed a bat."
"But getting back to the main question?" Terrence gives me his attention, though I note that he squirms a little in his seat. "You were concerned about illegality in the clinic and so you broke in to steal data. You broke the law."
"Because-."
"There was no smoking gun. If he'd had test subjects chained up in the basement or something then you would be in the right. He didn't. He was doing something that had been perfectly legal before District Attorney Young decided on the basis of what our initial discovery requests seem to show was pure personal prejudice and nothing that could be called good statistical evidence that it should be illegal. And that isn't his job and he broke the law with how he had his wife carry out his decision. If you're going to be a superhero you need to consider what government officials tell you with a degree more scepticism, because they aren't above breaking the law either, and they can hurt a lot of people when they do."
"Gordon wouldn't break the law."
I shake my head. "That's for the jury to decide."
23rd September 2039
19:27 GMT -5
Terrence looks at me curiously. "Do you wanna explain to me why two of the richest guys in Gotham are meeting at a low-rent diner?"
"The food." / "Privacy."
I pull a sonic scrambler out of my coat, prompting Mr. Wayne to roll his eyes and tap his cane against the floor. The sound around us quietens and distorts as his scrambler activates. I shrug and return mine to my coat.
"The food? Seriously?"
"Restaurants are a case of diminishing returns. A meal that costs two hundred-. No, wait, inflation. A meal that costs two thousand dollars isn't a hundred times better than one that costs twenty."
Terrence blinks, most likely at the idea of a two thousand dollar meal. "How much better is it?"
I flick my eyebrows up for a moment. "Somewhere between point eight and three, in my experience. Mister Wayne?"
He glowers at me. Honestly, I'm not sure that he doesn't just glower at everyone and everything these days. "Why are you defending Cuvier?"
"Because I agree with most of what he's said and done, and I don't want him getting railroaded. The case against him is actually very weak. Frankly, it looks to me like the only reason it could have worked was because the District Attorney had his assets frozen to prevent him hiring a lawyer."
Terrence looks like he wants to say something, while Mister Wayne is continuing to stare at me.
"Mister McGinnis? Something you want to ask?"
"Point eight? So it's worse?"
"And just like that, I find out that everything I'd been told about the American education system is wrong. Yes, Mister McGinnis. It turns out that preening prima donna chefs can achieve levels of mediocrity with things that are weird and expensive but don't actually taste nice that a place like this-"
I look up and smile at the server as he hands us menus.
"Thank you. -wouldn't bother trying."
"They have paper menus? Guess you two aren't the oldest things here."
"No, this is deliberately retro. They switched to… Ordering on smart phone back in…" Ah… "Twenty-twenty-seven? Gosh, only twelve years ago. But it turned out that they got more customers with the added social interaction so went back to physical menus." I open my menu. "I certainly prefer it."
Mr. Wayne grunts, laying his menu on the table and opening it. I think the arthritis is getting to his hands. Just a little, but it's one of the things I've been looking for in myself. And the eternal question of whether it's worth trying something… No. When it becomes worth trying something radical.
"So were you ever a superhero?"
"I wore a costume for about five minutes. I've used the odd piece of exotic technology-. You saw that rod I used?" He nods. "But I never had the drive to get really into it."
"I heard you were on the Justice League. What was that like?"
Mr. Wayne glowers harder.
"At the time, the Justice League let just about anyone join up." I try making eye contact with Mr. Wayne, but he makes a point of studying the menu. "They've gone back to the small-team version now, haven't they?"
"Cheeseburger. Coffee."
"Regular burger, regular fries, large banana milkshake."
Terrence blinks. "Wait, are we actually eating? I thought both of you were gunna glare at each other for a couple of minutes and then storm off."
I shake my head. "We're both too old for that sort of thing."
"Speak for yourself."
"Combo-meal for me, I guess. Did you mean they let you in 'cause they let anyone in?"
"No, they let me in as a consultant because a parallel universe version of me beat up six of the founding seven in a fight and they thought I might have useful strategic input."
Mr. Wayne's back to glowering at me. "How did you find out about that? You shouldn't have had access to those files."
"You should have been nicer to Michael." He grimaces. "Oh, don't look like that. It took some work, but I made him a far more effective hero than he was before."
"I should track him down just so I can discipline him for violating security."
Terrence blinks. "Michael..?"
Smiles politely. "Booster Gold."
Terrence smiles back, looking genuinely pleased. "Oh yeah. I had a tonne of his merch when I was a kid." Mister Wayne hunches his shoulders in distaste. "So which one couldn't he beat?"
"Hm."
Terrence's eyes widen while a very small amount of smugness enters Mr. Wayne's expression.
"Seriously?"
"Oh, don't be too impressed. He realised that the mission profile was stupid and didn't take part. Which is actually relevant to what's happening with this case. Given all the other crimes happening in Gotham, why did you prioritise people volunteering for cosmetic genetic modifications?"
"When he turned me into a man-bat it didn't sure feel cosmetic."
"You were an intruder, not a patient. Ah. Hm. Actually, you should pay a visit to my clinic. We've got specialists in the process who can make sure that the 'cure' worked properly, if you have any concerns."
Mr. Wayne's eyes narrow. "I already cleared him."
"Did you test a semen sample?"
Terrence looks concerned. "Ah, what?"
"Barbara and I waited to have children because splicing can modify the genetics of your gametes. Splicing and splicing reversal is supposed to be undertaken in a medical facility where they can check that everything is working properly. You don't look like a bat, but… Ten years from now, if your newborn baby comes out with claws and wings-."
Terrence jerks his head towards Mr. Wayne. "I think maybe I should get checked out."
"It's not a complicated test. I'll give you a cup when we get back to the cave."
"How's a cup gunna test-?" Mr. Wayne glowers at him. "Oh. I shoulda stayed a bat."
"But getting back to the main question?" Terrence gives me his attention, though I note that he squirms a little in his seat. "You were concerned about illegality in the clinic and so you broke in to steal data. You broke the law."
"Because-."
"There was no smoking gun. If he'd had test subjects chained up in the basement or something then you would be in the right. He didn't. He was doing something that had been perfectly legal before District Attorney Young decided on the basis of what our initial discovery requests seem to show was pure personal prejudice and nothing that could be called good statistical evidence that it should be illegal. And that isn't his job and he broke the law with how he had his wife carry out his decision. If you're going to be a superhero you need to consider what government officials tell you with a degree more scepticism, because they aren't above breaking the law either, and they can hurt a lot of people when they do."
"Gordon wouldn't break the law."
I shake my head. "That's for the jury to decide."
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