"So, Dre's staying huh? Good for him he will do good in that role." Terrell said after the long minute of silence that enveloped the room
Terrell, Marcy and Naima just got off the phone with Kieran as he flew to metropolis. Marcy looked pensive as she tapped her finger nails against the desk.
"He didn't want to say it all at once and potentially overwhelm us but I can see us having similar roles as Dre in the future." She finally said turning to glance at Terrell
"I agree." Naima huffed, "Though it won't be anything new he has given us a lot of responsibility already since he's been away. I can see Terrell and I being slotted in roles similar to Dre's for areas we control here at home." She then looked at Marcy
Naima continued, "I doubt he will have you do the same as us. You're a lot less known, Terrell and I have been in the field too much."
Terrell leaned back into his chain, "Your right, I bet Marcy will be a manager." A smirk blossomed on his lips, "You practically are anyways."
Marcy nodded, "Your making the assumption he won't move one of us over to metropolis. I suggest we all start looking into our different compartments for potential members we want to give responsibility with. Start vetting them with small shows of trust and we can move from there."
"Agreed."
"Agreed."
****
Nolan's head bobbed awake as the plane began its descent. He blinked the lingering haze of sleep from his eyes before looking through the oval window beside him. Thick clouds drifted past the aircraft, slowly giving way to the sprawling skyline below. Towering skyscrapers stretched toward the heavens, their glass facades catching the afternoon sun until the city seemed to shimmer beneath them.
Metropolis.
It was difficult not to compare it to Gotham and Star city,
Where Gotham was all jagged silhouettes,
stone, and perpetual shadows, and star city was a mix of prestige and slums, Metropolis gleamed with polished steel and impossible ambition. Even from several thousand feet in the air the city looked… optimistic. Everything seemed cleaner, brighter, newer. Nolan couldn't decide whether he liked it or distrusted it.
The landing gear unfolded with a loud mechanical groan before the aircraft touched down with a pair of heavy bumps. The engines roared in protest as the plane slowed along the runway, eventually taxiing toward one of the private terminals waiting nearby.
Within minutes the cabin door opened.
Nolan descended the staircase with practiced ease, the warm breeze immediately greeting him. Waiting beyond the security fence were three identical black SUVs, each spotless enough to reflect the afternoon sun. Several sharply dressed security personnel stood nearby, scanning the surroundings with the casual alertness of professionals who knew exactly what they were doing.
The middle vehicle's rear door opened before Nolan reached it.
"Sir."
Nolan acknowledged the greeting with a nod before climbing inside.
The small convoy pulled away almost immediately, weaving effortlessly through airport traffic before merging onto the highway leading toward downtown Metropolis.
For several minutes Nolan simply watched the city pass outside his window.
Unlike Gotham, where buildings seemed to compete over who could appear the oldest and most intimidating, Metropolis favored openness. Parks interrupted stretches of towering office buildings. Public sculptures occupied intersections. Even traffic somehow felt more orderly.
Even with the intel he had Nolan found himself questioning whether there really is a large slum,
The convoy eventually left the heart of downtown, continuing west before entering a district undergoing rapid redevelopment. Warehouses were slowly giving way to modern apartment complexes, restaurants, and office buildings. Construction cranes dominated the skyline, each one serving as another reminder that the city was still growing.
Finally the vehicles rolled to a stop before an enormous construction site.
Steel skeletons stretched several stories into the air while dozens of workers moved across temporary platforms with practiced precision. Concrete mixers churned endlessly near the entrance, forklifts ferried pallets of materials across the property, and the rhythmic chorus of hammers, welders, and heavy machinery filled the afternoon air.
A massive banner attached to the temporary fencing displayed a polished architectural rendering.
THE CONTINENTAL — METROPOLIS
Coming Soon.
Nolan stepped from the vehicle, taking a slow look around the property.
Compared to Star City's location, this project was months behind.
The foundation had long since been completed, and much of the structural steel now stood proudly against the skyline, but the building still resembled an unfinished skeleton waiting for flesh. Exterior walls were only partially enclosed, cranes still occupied nearly every corner of the site, and entire floors remained nothing more than exposed beams.
He found himself smiling.
Progress was progress.
A man wearing a white construction helmet hurried down the temporary stairs leading from the site office. Though dressed professionally in pressed slacks and a reflective safety vest, there were enough dust stains across his clothing to show he actually walked the site instead of hiding inside meetings all day.
"Mr. Everleigh."
The man extended his hand enthusiastically.
"It's good to see you again."
Nolan returned the handshake with a warm smile, "You as well, Mr. Callahan. It looks like you've been keeping everyone busy."
James Callahan laughed, glancing back toward the construction crews.
"They don't leave me much choice. If I let them slow down for even a day, they'll find a week's worth of excuses."
"I've met construction crews before."
Nolan's smile widened slightly.
"I believe every word."
Callahan chuckled before reaching beneath the folder tucked beneath his arm.
"Oh, before I forget." He produced a cream-colored envelope sealed with dark blue wax. "Someone stopped by the site this morning asking if you'd arrived yet. When we told them you were expected today, they simply asked us to hand this to you personally."
He extended the envelope.
"They never gave a name."
Nolan accepted it, turning it over once in his hands.
There was no address nor any return information.
Only his name written across the front in elegant handwriting.
He weighed it thoughtfully for a moment before slipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket without opening it.
Callahan noticed but wisely chose not to ask.
"So," the project manager said instead, gesturing toward the construction site with obvious pride, "would you like the grand tour? We've made quite a bit of progress since your last visit."
Nolan's eyes swept across the growing structure once more.
"I would."
He smiled.
"Let's see how my newest headache is coming along."
***
Night had settled over Metropolis by the time Nolan returned from the construction site. The city had transformed since the afternoon, its countless towers illuminated by oceans of white and gold that reflected endlessly across polished glass. Streets bustled with life far below while aircraft blinked lazily overhead, disappearing between skyscrapers that seemed determined to meet the clouds.
The elevator climbed silently before opening directly into the penthouse Nolan had reserved for the week. It was precisely the sort of suite one expected from one of Metropolis' finest establishments. Warm walnut floors stretched beneath carefully chosen furniture, a marble fireplace occupied one wall despite the pleasant weather outside, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Centennial Park and much of the downtown skyline. Everything had been arranged with understated elegance. Nothing screamed wealth, yet every piece quietly whispered it. Nolan rolled his suitcase inside, thanked the attendant who had accompanied him upstairs, and waited patiently for the elevator doors to close once more before engaging both locks on the entrance. Only then did the relaxed smile he'd worn throughout the day finally disappear.
His suitcase found its way onto the living room rug where Nolan knelt beside it, opening a compartment hidden beneath the false lining. Inside rested a compact black case containing several pieces of electronic equipment, each secured inside precision-cut foam. He lifted out a handheld scanner no larger than a television remote and pressed a single button.
The device emitted a faint hum as it came to life. "Nothing personal," Vey murmured quietly while beginning his sweep of the room. "Trust is just expensive these days."
He moved through the suite with patient efficiency born from repetition rather than paranoia. Smoke detectors, air vents, decorative paintings, electrical outlets, lamps, mirrors, furniture, even the expensive coffee machine received equal attention as the scanner drifted methodically across every surface. The first listening device revealed itself tucked neatly inside a smoke detector near the entrance. Vey climbed onto a chair, removed the cover with practiced fingers, and examined the tiny microphone before placing it back exactly as he'd found it. There was no reason to announce he'd discovered it. The second hid beneath the entertainment console. The third had been cleverly concealed within the base of a standing lamp. Cameras proved equally plentiful, one hidden behind an ornate wall clock while another peered discreetly through the ventilation grating overlooking the living room. By the time he completed his inspection, Vey had catalogued seven audio devices and three miniature cameras scattered throughout the luxurious suite.
He wasn't surprised in the slightest.
Metropolis housed politicians, CEOs, diplomats, celebrities, and every variety of wealthy individual imaginable. Hotels like this attracted people worth listening to. Whoever had planted the surveillance knew what they were doing as well. None of the devices were cheap, none had been carelessly installed, and every single one occupied a location that maximized coverage without drawing attention. That narrowed the list considerably.
Nolan returned to the open case and withdrew several flat circular discs roughly the size of poker chips. One after another he placed them throughout the penthouse with the same care he'd shown while locating the hidden devices. The discs activated silently, producing a carefully calibrated field of electronic interference that spread invisibly through every room. He watched the scanner confirm his work with quiet satisfaction. Every microphone still appeared functional. Every camera still possessed power. Anyone monitoring them would believe their equipment remained exactly where they'd left it. The only difference was that voices would now dissolve into distorted static while every image would be swallowed by dancing interference and useless visual noise. Better to let someone believe they were watching than to inform them they had been discovered.
Though if whoever was watching and listening was smart enough they would know he found out.
Satisfied, Vey returned the equipment to its case before securing it inside the suite's safe. He loosened his tie, unbuttoned the collar of his dress shirt, and wandered toward the kitchen where he poured himself a modest glass of bourbon. Only after settling comfortably onto the leather sofa overlooking the glowing skyline did he finally reach into the inside pocket of his jacket. The cream-colored envelope emerged perfectly preserved despite the day's travel. He studied the elegant handwriting for another moment before breaking the blue wax seal with his thumb.
The invitation inside was unlike anything printed commercially. Thick ivory paper carried a subtle texture beneath his fingertips while dark black ink formed immaculate lettering across the page. There was no company logo, no return address, and no signature identifying the sender. Whoever commissioned it clearly valued discretion almost as much as extravagance.
Mr. Everleigh,
Your recent accomplishments have not gone unnoticed. Individuals of exceptional ambition often find themselves invited into circles unavailable to the public eye. It is our pleasure to extend such an invitation to you.
Attendance is by invitation only.
Discretion is expected.
Questions are discouraged.
Your presence has already been anticipated.
Beneath the final line rested nothing more than a date, an address, and an embossed emblem depicting a pair of golden scales wrapped in ivy vines.
Vey read the invitation twice before lowering it into his lap.
"A hidden auction…"
His fingers traced the embossed seal thoughtfully. Invitation only. No names. No organization. No explanation beyond the promise of exclusivity. That alone narrowed the possibilities. Events like these weren't designed for businessmen looking to network over cocktails. They existed because people with extraordinary wealth occasionally wished to purchase extraordinary things away from governments, regulators, and inconvenient questions. Artifacts, weapons, information, contracts, people—there was no telling what sort of merchandise changed hands behind closed doors when enough money occupied the room.
A slow smile tugged at the corner of Vey's mouth.
"…Curious."
***
Several miles away, high above the streets of Metropolis, another man watched his own collection of screens with equal interest.
The office occupied the uppermost floor of LexCorp Tower, its walls almost entirely glass, allowing the city lights to stretch endlessly in every direction. Expensive artwork decorated the room with restrained elegance while polished marble reflected the pale glow cast by dozens of monitors arranged across a curved workstation. Lex Luthor sat alone behind his desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin as diagnostic windows quietly updated one after another.
One audio feed dissolved into static.
Then another.
Moments later every camera inside the penthouse erupted into harmless interference despite continuing to transmit normally.
Lex watched the reports scroll across the monitors without speaking. There were no hardware failures. No loss of power. No indication that a single device had been removed or tampered with. By every measurable metric, his surveillance remained intact.
It simply wasn't seeing or hearing anything useful anymore.
A faint smile appeared.
"So…"
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"You found them."
Most people never noticed surveillance. Smarter individuals occasionally discovered it and removed the offending devices in a panic. Only a select few possessed the experience—and confidence—to leave every bug exactly where it was while quietly ensuring it served no further purpose.
Lex leaned back comfortably, genuine curiosity replacing his usual detached expression.
"Interesting…"
With a single keystroke, another file opened upon one of the monitors.
KIERAN EVERLEIGH
For a long moment Lex simply regarded the name before adding a single line beneath it.
Subject possesses counter-surveillance training. Increase observation accordingly.
The smile lingering on his face widened ever so slightly.
Metropolis, it seemed, had just become considerably more interesting.