They said there was no rest for the wicked, and Nolan was beginning to suspect the saying had been written specifically for him. For weeks, he had been moving between Gotham, Star City, and Metropolis, spending barely enough time in any one place to remember what a proper night's sleep felt like. Every city had its own problems, its own collection of ambitious men and women who needed managing, and its own collection of unfinished business that seemed to multiply whenever he turned his attention elsewhere. The management system he had implemented was supposed to ease the burden, allowing trusted people to handle the day-to-day operations while he focused on the larger picture. In theory, it worked beautifully. In practice, it had only given him enough breathing room to discover how many more problems he could take on before the entire arrangement collapsed.
Still, the workload wasn't what worried him most. Nolan had begun to wonder whether expanding the Underpass so quickly had been a mistake. He had spent years building something that could survive beneath Gotham's notice, carefully weaving together the homeless, the desperate, and the overlooked into an organization that possessed influence far beyond what anyone expected. The Continental had given that influence a respectable face, a place where criminals could conduct business without drawing unnecessary attention, while the Underpass handled the work that happened outside its doors. It had been a practical arrangement, and for a time, Nolan had been content to let it grow at a manageable pace. Then the opportunities had come, one after another, and he had taken them. Now the organization was spreading across multiple cities, attracting the attention of people who rarely tolerated the emergence of a new power without first determining whether it could be controlled.
The League of Assassins was the most immediate concern. Ra's al Ghul had made his interest in the Continental abundantly clear, and Nolan had little doubt that the League of Shadows would follow wherever its master chose to lead. Ra's had approached him with negotiations, demands, and the promise of a place among the powerful, but beneath the civility lay the same assumption that had governed the man's dealings for centuries: that anything of sufficient value could eventually be brought under his control. Nolan had prepared for the possibility that negotiations would fail, and the Continental's security arrangements were considerably more thorough than their guests realized. Preparation, however, was not the same as certainty. Ra's had resources, loyal assassins, and generations of experience in removing obstacles. If he decided that the Continental would be easier to acquire by force than by negotiation, Nolan would have a war on his hands in three cities before he could even begin to consider the consequences.
And where there were shadows, there was the Light.
Of all the threats gathering around him, the Light was perhaps the most difficult to measure. Ra's was dangerous, but his ambitions were recognizable, and Nolan could at least understand the shape of the game they were playing. The Light was another matter entirely. Its members operated through layers of influence, concealed agendas, and arrangements that might take years to reveal their true purpose. Lex Luthor's recent interest in Nolan had only complicated matters. The man had drawn him into his circle of political and corporate associates, offered connections that proved unexpectedly useful, and made himself available in ways that were either remarkably generous or carefully calculated. Nolan couldn't decide which possibility was more troubling. Lex might have been trying to cultivate a useful ally, or he might have been laying the foundations of a relationship that would eventually leave Nolan indebted to him. Given Lex's association with the Light, neither possibility could be dismissed.
Of course, an enemy could become an ally, and an ally could turn out to be a more dangerous enemy than anyone anticipated. Nolan had survived long enough to understand that the distinction often depended on the circumstances rather than the people involved. For now, he would continue to watch Lex, keep Ra's at arm's length, and ensure that the Underpass remained useful enough that neither organization could casually decide to crush it. It was hardly a comfortable position, but comfort had become a luxury he could no longer afford.
So, despite the management system, the expanding network of branch managers, and the growing number of people who were supposed to keep the organization running without his constant supervision, Nolan found himself busier than ever. He leaned back in his chair on the penthouse terrace and stretched until his spine gave a satisfying series of cracks. The city spread out below him, its lights glittering against the deepening evening, and for a few precious seconds he allowed himself to enjoy the quiet. He had a drink waiting beside him, a comfortable chair beneath him, and a locked door separating him from the reports, phone calls, and decisions that awaited him inside. It wasn't much of a vacation, but he had learned to appreciate smaller victories.
He was halfway through rising when he heard footsteps behind him.
They were quiet enough that an ordinary person might have missed them beneath the distant hum of the city, but Nolan had spent too long living among people who preferred not to announce their arrival. He turned without hurry, his hand settling around the glass of Crown Royal on the table, and found Green Arrow standing several paces away. The vigilante had chosen his approach carefully, stopping well short of the terrace doors and keeping his hands where they could be seen. His hood concealed most of his expression, but not the tension in his shoulders or the way his attention moved over the surrounding space. He had come alone, though Nolan doubted that meant he was without backup.
"What do I owe the pleasure?" Nolan asked, reaching for his drink as though an armed vigilante had appeared on his private terrace every evening for the past week. The gesture was deliberately unhurried. He had no intention of letting Oliver Queen dictate the tone of their conversation simply because he had decided to pay a visit.
Vey raised the glass to his lips and took a measured sip, then regarded the archer over its rim. The change in his demeanor was subtle but immediate. Nolan's tired ease disappeared beneath a colder, more calculating presence, his posture settling into the quiet confidence that belonged to Quentin. "Here to put an arrow through me?" he asked.
"Not today," Green Arrow replied. He didn't move closer, but neither did he retreat. "I heard you have some information."
Quentin's mouth curved into a faint smile. "How disappointing. I was beginning to think you had come all this way to admire the view." He took another drink, allowing the silence to stretch just long enough to become uncomfortable. "Information, though? That's an interesting request from a man who makes a habit of interfering with my business. I thought I was a criminal."
"You are."
"And yet here you are, standing on my terrace and asking me for a favor." Quentin gave a quiet, amused laugh. "Then again, you've worked with criminals before, haven't you? I suppose that makes you something of an expert in knowing when to overlook a man's profession. So, tell me, what information has suddenly become worth your time?"
Green Arrow's expression tightened beneath his hood. Quentin couldn't tell whether the man was irritated by the insinuation or simply trying to determine how much he could safely reveal. Either way, he had not come to trade insults, and Quentin had no intention of making the negotiation easier for him. Oliver finally answered with the question Quentin had expected from the moment he heard those footsteps.
"The Reach and the Light. What are they planning?"
Quentin chuckled and rolled the glass between his fingers. "Straight to the point. I can appreciate that." He glanced toward the city, apparently considering the question, though his mind was already working through the possibilities. The Justice League was off-world, occupied with the trial on Rimbor, while the Reach continued to maneuver on Earth. Young Justice was investigating, but the clock was ticking, and the people who stood to suffer most if the investigation failed were not necessarily the ones with the resources to prevent it. Green Arrow knew that. More importantly, Quentin suspected Batman had sent him because Batman knew Quentin knew it.
"Even if I possessed the information you're looking for, something of that importance wouldn't come cheap," Quentin continued. "We're talking about the Light, an organization with enough influence to make entire governments dance to its tune, and the Reach, an alien power that has already demonstrated a willingness to interfere with this planet. Information about their plans could be worth a fortune. Then there's the question of who's asking. You and your friends have given me nothing but trouble while I've been trying to run a small, humble business."
"How much?" Green Arrow demanded.
Quentin paused, studying him. The archer wasn't going to entertain a lecture about the value of information, and he certainly wasn't going to offer money without knowing what he was purchasing. Quentin could have demanded cash, access, or some form of assistance, but any conventional price would invite a conventional negotiation. Money was useful, yet the Justice League possessed resources that made even a substantial payment almost meaningless. Nor could he reasonably expect Oliver to perform a criminal favor. The man's ethics would prevent it, and Batman would undoubtedly find a way to turn any such obligation into a problem later.
A different kind of currency might prove considerably more valuable.
"How about a favor for the future?" Quentin suggested, smiling as innocently as a man in his position could manage.
Green Arrow scoffed. "I'm not a fool."
"No, but you are suspicious by profession. It must get exhausting." Quentin set his glass down and leaned back in his chair. "Let's be practical. Anything I might want from you personally is probably something your pesky ethics and morals would prevent you from providing. I'm not going to ask you to break the law, help me move contraband, or turn a blind eye while one of my people does something unpleasant. We both know you'd refuse, and then we'd waste the evening pretending the conversation had been productive."
"Then what do you want?"
"One meeting." Quentin held up a finger before Oliver could object. "At a time of my choosing, I can request a single meeting between myself and the Justice League. The meeting will be conducted in good faith, and neither side will use it as an opportunity to attack, arrest, threaten, or otherwise interfere with the other. No ambushes, no hidden strike teams waiting outside, no Batman deciding halfway through that the terms no longer suit him. You come to the table, we talk, and everyone leaves under their own power. That's the offer."
Oliver stared at him. "You want a guaranteed meeting with the Justice League in exchange for information about the Light?"
"I want the opportunity to speak with people who are otherwise remarkably difficult to get in a room without someone throwing a punch." Quentin lifted his glass again. "Besides, you're not agreeing to anything on their behalf. You're taking the offer back to your friends. If they don't like it, they can refuse. I'm not holding a knife to anyone's throat."
"You're asking for access to some of the most powerful people on the planet."
"And you're asking for information that might determine whether those people return to Earth in time to prevent a catastrophe. We all have our little inconveniences." Quentin's smile sharpened. "Besides, I think you're overlooking the most important part. I'm not asking the League to help me. I'm not asking them to endorse the Underpass, protect my businesses, or interfere with an investigation. One meeting. That's all."
Oliver said nothing for several seconds. The offer was suspicious precisely because it seemed so reasonable. Quentin could have asked for far more, yet he was offering something that might help the League while demanding no immediate concession beyond a future conversation. It was the sort of deal that made a man wonder what he was failing to see. Oliver had dealt with enough criminals to know that the most dangerous bargains were not always the ones with the highest price. Sometimes the danger lay in agreeing to something that appeared harmless until the other party decided it was time to collect.
"I'll discuss it with the others," he said at last. "I can't promise they'll agree."
"Naturally. Take your time." Quentin rose, leaving the unfinished drink on the table. "I'll be back in Star City soon enough. If your friends decide they're in a hurry, they can send someone to Metropolis instead."
He turned toward the penthouse doors, then stopped with one hand resting against the frame. A thought had occurred to him, one so delightfully convenient that he almost laughed aloud. The Continental's grand opening in Metropolis was approaching, and it would be an event worth attending even without the added entertainment of a few caped guests. If the Justice League wanted to meet him, there was no reason to make the arrangement unnecessarily difficult.
"Actually," he added, glancing back at Oliver, "keep an eye on the invitations. You never know when something interesting might arrive in the mail."
Before Green Arrow could ask what that meant, Quentin stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
Oliver remained on the terrace for several moments, watching the closed doors with a troubled expression. He had expected Quentin to demand money, favors, or some sort of concession that could be used to strengthen the Underpass. Instead, the man had offered information in exchange for a single meeting with the Justice League, under conditions that appeared designed to prevent either side from exploiting the other. It was too good a deal on the surface, and Oliver had survived long enough to know that the surface was rarely where a man like Quentin kept his real intentions.
He left the building shortly afterward and returned to his base, where he established a connection through the communications system Batman had provided. Oliver still had no idea how half the technology worked. The equipment was compact, secure, and capable of maintaining a connection over distances that should have made ordinary communication difficult, but Bruce had explained just enough to get it operational before disappearing back into his own investigation. Oliver had learned not to ask questions when the answer would involve a lecture about encryption.
The familiar faces appeared on the screens one by one. Superman was the first to speak, his expression open but concerned. "So, how did it go?"
"About as well as could be expected," Oliver replied, settling behind his desk. He tapped one finger against the wood while he organized his thoughts. "He offered information on the Reach and the Light in exchange for one meeting with the Justice League. Anytime, anywhere, at his discretion. He wants the meeting to be conducted in good faith, with no arrests, threats, or attacks from either side. I haven't agreed to anything yet, but I find the whole thing suspicious. He's practically giving away information that could be worth a fortune."
"One meeting," Green Lantern repeated, leaning back in his chair. "That's it? No money, no favors, no promise that we'll leave his organization alone? I agree it's suspicious, but if he actually knows something about the Reach and the Light, we can't afford to ignore it. Young Justice is still investigating, and they may be good, but they could find out what the Light is planning after it's already happened."
"Which is why we need to consider the offer carefully," Superman said. "If there's a threat to Earth, we should at least hear what he has to say."
Batman had remained silent throughout the exchange, his face partially obscured by the shadows of his own room. When he finally spoke, his voice was as measured as ever. "He isn't giving the information away. He's buying time."
Oliver stopped tapping his finger. "That's what I thought you might say. How?"
"Kieran knows that sooner or later, we'll have to turn our attention toward the Underpass. His organization is expanding too quickly, and its influence is spreading into cities where we already have active investigations. He's building infrastructure, establishing relationships with criminal groups, and creating a network that will become increasingly difficult to dismantle the longer we allow it to grow. He understands that we can't ignore him forever." Batman paused, allowing the implication to settle. "When we finally decide the Underpass has become a threat that requires a coordinated response, he'll invoke this agreement. He'll call the meeting in good faith and force us to honor the terms. That buys him time, interrupts our momentum, and gives him an opportunity to redirect our attention toward something else."
"Assuming we agree to the terms," Wonder Woman pointed out.
"Even then, he gains something." Batman turned slightly toward her. "He gets a direct line to the League, and he gets to establish the precedent that we can negotiate with him. He can use that meeting to learn what we know, gauge our priorities, and determine how far we're willing to go. He doesn't need to leave the room with an agreement. The access itself has value."
"Then why offer us the information at all?" Oliver asked. "If he wants to buy time, why not keep his head down and let Young Justice continue investigating?"
"Because telling us about the Light benefits him regardless of whether he gets the meeting," Batman answered. "Look at the position he's in. Ra's al Ghul has already shown interest in the Continental, and Lex Luthor is cultivating a relationship with him. Both men are connected to the Light. Kieran may have been approached, perhaps even offered a place in their plans, but that doesn't mean he's working with them. We may have mistaken proximity for allegiance."
Wonder Woman considered that. "You think he's trying to remain independent."
"I think he's trying to remain profitable." Batman's answer was blunt, but not dismissive. "We're accustomed to dealing with threats that want to conquer territory, impose an ideology, or reshape the world according to their own designs. The Underpass isn't necessarily interested in any of that. Criminal organizations like this are usually concerned with wealth, influence, security, and control over the markets they depend on. Kieran isn't trying to rule the planet. He's trying to build an organization that can operate wherever there's a demand for its services, with the Continental providing legitimacy and the Underpass supplying the infrastructure that makes the entire arrangement work."
"And the Light gets in the way of that," Superman said.
"Potentially. If the Light is planning something that destabilizes the cities where Kieran operates, that threatens his investments. If Ra's tries to take the Continental, that threatens his business. And if the Reach gains greater control over Earth, every arrangement Kieran has made becomes subject to forces he can't easily influence." Batman folded his arms. "Giving us information about their plans keeps us focused on the Light and the Reach. It also keeps those organizations occupied with us. We race to uncover their plans and stop them, while Kieran continues to expand his network beneath everyone's notice. By the time we turn our attention back to him, the Underpass will be larger, richer, and more deeply embedded in the cities it serves."
Wonder Woman's expression changed as she followed the logic. "So he isn't necessarily trying to help us defeat the Light. He's trying to make sure we and the Light are too busy dealing with each other to interfere with him."
"Exactly," Batman said. "He can profit from our success, our failure, or the conflict itself, provided the Underpass survives and grows. If we stop the Light, he removes a threat to his independence. If we fail, he can claim he warned us and use the resulting chaos to strengthen his position. Either way, he has very little to lose by giving us enough information to keep us moving."
Oliver leaned back in his chair, thinking about Quentin's smile and the casual way he had presented the offer. "You make it sound like he's doing us a favor by telling us something that serves his own interests."
"He probably believes he is," Batman replied. "That doesn't make the information useless. It means we need to understand what he expects to gain from providing it."
"There's another possibility," Wonder Woman said. "He may be trying to prove that the Underpass can be useful to us. If we see him as a source of intelligence rather than simply another criminal organization, perhaps he believes we'll hesitate before moving against him."
"That's possible," Batman conceded. "But Kieran understands that usefulness isn't immunity. He knows we won't tolerate everything the Underpass does simply because it occasionally provides information. He's trying to make the cost of opposing him higher than the cost of leaving him alone."
Green Lantern let out a low whistle. "That's a hell of a way to build a business."
"It's a very effective one," Batman said. "Especially when the person running it understands how we think. Kieran may be mentally troubled, but he isn't stupid. He knows we have priorities, and he knows how to make those priorities work in his favor. He doesn't have to beat the Justice League in a fight. He only has to make sure we're always dealing with something more urgent."
The room fell quiet. They had faced alien invasions, world-ending weapons, and enemies who could level cities with a gesture, yet the prospect of an expanding criminal network presented a different sort of challenge. The Underpass did not need to defeat them outright. It could survive by becoming too useful to eliminate cleanly, too dispersed to uproot quickly, and too intertwined with ordinary city life for a single operation to destroy it without consequences. Batman had seen the beginnings of that pattern in Gotham. Oliver had seen it in Star City. Neither liked what it suggested about the future.
Superman finally broke the silence. "Then should we take the deal?"
Batman didn't answer immediately. He was already weighing the risks: what Quentin knew, what he might conceal, and what a meeting could give him in return. Refusing would preserve the League's distance from the Underpass, but it might also mean losing their best chance to understand what the Light and the Reach were preparing. Accepting would give Quentin precisely what he wanted, though no one yet knew why he valued a meeting so highly. The offer was a trap, perhaps, but a trap could still contain something worth retrieving.
"We don't accept it yet," Batman said at last. "First, we determine what he knows and whether Young Justice has uncovered anything that corroborates it. We need to understand the terms and the limits of what he can demand. If we agree, the meeting happens on our terms as much as his, even if he believes he's the one setting the stage."
Oliver nodded slowly. "And if he calls in the favor at the worst possible moment?"
"Then we make sure we know what we're walking into before we arrive." Batman's eyes narrowed. "Quentin wants a meeting with the League. That means he wants something from us that he can't get any other way. We need to find out what that is before we give him the opportunity."
What none of them could know was that Quentin had already begun considering the same question from the opposite direction. He didn't need the League to promise him protection, and he had no intention of asking them to compromise their principles. He simply needed them to agree to sit across from him, listen to what he had to say, and leave the door open for a conversation that might otherwise never happen. If they accepted, the meeting would give him access to some of the most influential people on Earth. If they refused, he still had the grand opening in Metropolis to look forward to.
And there was no reason a few invitations couldn't find their way into the right hands.
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A/N: trying to find some avenues for action.