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Grayson's office.
"Who do you represent?"
Marla asked, her tone sharp.
"The Justice League," Saul replied, dead serious. "Of course, if DC's not enough for you, there's always Marvel…"
Seeing Marla's icy stare and no response, Saul shrugged. "Sorry, guess you're not into comics, huh? DC's got the Justice League, Marvel's got the Avengers.
Me? I'm a Justice League fan all the way.
But tastes are so diverse, you know?
A lot of people think justice just doesn't cut it.
Revenge? Now that's satisfying.
Thing is, both sides are just copying each other anyway. Same core vibe.
And whether it's justice or revenge, for the folks labeled as the 'bad guys,' it's all the same in the end."
"Interesting," Marla said, eyeing Saul as he rambled. Inside, she felt a sharp pang of threat, but years of success had wired her to rely on her instincts.
Men, she thought. Always the same tricks. Because she's a woman, they figure some tough talk will scare her off, make her drop the golden goose she's got in her hands.
They're wrong. She's never been afraid of this stuff, and she's damn sure she'll come out on top in the end.
"Revenge or not, I don't care," she said. "Justice? That's whatever the judge says it is.
And in the judge's eyes, I'm always the just one.
Unless you can prove me wrong?"
"…You're not wrong," Saul admitted, sizing her up. He could tell words alone weren't going to crack her. Time for the big guns. He grabbed his lawyer briefcase and sighed. "I didn't want to do this…"
Marla's eyelid twitched.
But years of outsmarting men kept her rooted in place, unfazed, watching as Saul popped open the briefcase.
Then she smirked.
She'd won again.
"Here's $150,000. Cash!" Saul said, flipping the case open to show her.
Normally, this kind of money was his little bonus on the side.
But not this time.
"Pretty generous," Marla said with a grin, her words almost making Saul laugh. "But starting with $150,000? That tells me Jennifer Peterson means a lot to your Justice League—or Avengers, whatever.
So how about this: $5 million!
Give me $5 million, and I'll hand over the 'justice' you want."
"$5 million?" Saul burst out laughing. After a moment, seeing Marla wasn't joking, he blinked in surprise. "Wait, you're serious?
The superheroes in those leagues—fighting evil, busting their butts—they'd have to grind for a year and a half to scrape that kind of cash together.
You're saying you want the whole team working for free just for you?
If I had the say, I'd give it to you, sure. But could you really take that money with a clear conscience?
Would you even dare spend it?"
"I'm not taking it for nothing," Marla shot back, her smile unwavering. She wasn't letting go that easy. "I've put in a ton of effort too.
So yeah! If you're willing to pay, I'm definitely taking it!"
"Okay then," Saul said, snapping the briefcase shut. He stood up, flashed Marla a nod and a smile. "Let's talk again next time. Hopefully, we can find terms we both like."
"Either give me $5 million or beat me in court," Marla said, shaking her head. "Otherwise, don't waste my time coming back."
"Bold move!" Saul grinned, throwing her a thumbs-up. "But let's not lock that in just yet. Things change, you know?
What you're thinking today might not be what you're thinking tomorrow. Who knows, maybe you'll come around by then…"
With Marla watching, Saul strolled downstairs, hopped into his sleek sports car, and peeled out, leaving her stewing in uncertainty.
Her next stop? Golden Glow Nursing Home. She tracked down the source of it all—Jennifer Peterson—determined to figure out who was really behind her.
The old lady wasn't playing nice. She kept resisting, but they had her doped up on sedatives, leaving her groggy.
"Tell me who you are," Marla demanded.
"Give me my phone and let me go," the old lady said with a weak laugh.
"I know you're not just anyone," Marla pressed, trying to rattle her. "I cracked open your bank safe. Took the gold bars and diamonds."
"Oh, so you're a thief," the old lady said, her suspicions confirmed.
"No, I'm your legal guardian," Marla snapped back.
"Then you're a thieving guardian," the old lady said, sharp as ever despite the haze.
"Tell me who you are, Jennifer," Marla asked again.
"Who am I?"
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The old lady laughed, a bright, genuine laugh. "I'm the biggest mistake you ever made!"
"I control your meds, your food, your comfort—everything," Marla said, dropping the act entirely. "It's me, not you! If you don't listen, I'll make things real bad for you."
"Oh yeah?" The old lady grinned, her eyes icy and fearless. "Bring it on, you little punk! Let's see what you've got!"
---
Meanwhile, in a swanky office…
Saul Goodman strolled in, beaming. "Boss, you're incredible! 😎"
There stood a bearded dwarf, hands gripping two gymnastic rings, his body perfectly parallel to the floor.
"How'd it go?" the dwarf asked, eyes closed, holding the pose.
"Sorry, boss. She's too greedy," Saul explained. "Opened with $5 million and hinted at even more.
The judge is in her pocket. If we stick to the legal route, it'll take forever to get Mrs. Peterson home."
"You know I hired you to handle the above-board stuff legally, right?" the dwarf said coolly.
"Yes, yes!" Saul nodded quickly. "But with someone like her, a few side tricks could work better.
Otherwise, she'll think she's untouchable and never back down!"
"Didn't a doctor get her locked up in the first place?" the dwarf asked, dropping from the rings and opening his eyes with a cold stare.
"Yeah," Saul confirmed. "Dr. Karen Amos, Peterson's primary doc. Testified in court that she's got dementia."
"With me as her son, my mom's a walking medical miracle," the dwarf said with a chilly laugh. "Once that miracle kicks in, give that woman one last chance to let my mom go—immediately!"
"Yes, sir," Saul agreed, bowing his head.
He knew if it weren't for keeping Jennifer Peterson's existence under wraps, this man would've already wiped out everyone who dared hurt his mom.
And even if Marla caved now, Saul was certain she'd meet a grim end down the line.
---
The next day, at the medical center…
"Did you hear?"
"I heard! It's nuts! 😱"
"No clue who did it."
"Probably a patient. It's not the first time."
"Wait, I thought they hadn't ruled anything yet? Could've been suicide."
"Her life was great—no depression, ran her own clinic, light workload, not even a shrink. Why would she off herself?"
"Poor Dr. Shepter's gonna be crushed."
"Hey, perfect chance for you to swoop in and comfort him, you flirt!"
Adam stepped out after surgery, catching the nurses' whispers. Curious, he walked over. "Who killed themselves?"
"Dr. Karen Amos," a nurse replied. "Dr. Shepter's old classmate. Found dead in her clinic this morning. Cops don't know if it's suicide or murder."
"Wow… that's awful," Adam sighed, though inside he thought, It's starting already…