Lance stepped forward at just the right moment, holding his cane horizontally in front of the security guard.
"Misunderstanding. Just a misunderstanding." He smiled as he pulled a business card from his inner pocket and handed it over. "I am Lance Prescott, and this is my client. Young people have hot tempers. I apologize on her behalf."
The security guard glanced at the card, then at Waylana Jones, hesitating.
Footsteps sounded from the stairs.
A middle-aged man in a silk shirt, his slicked-back hair shining with oil, walked down with four bodyguards behind him.
"Causing trouble on my turf?" The man looked Lance up and down, then let his gaze linger on Waylana for a moment longer. "A lawyer? Bringing a… mutant?"
"Mr. Maroni?" Lance raised an eyebrow.
"That's right."
Salvatore Vincent Maroni moved to the side of the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey.
"Your little friend injured two of my men. By the rules, she leaves behind two fingers. Otherwise, we talk."
Lance smiled.
"What a coincidence. I'd like to talk too." He glanced around the first floor, now silent because of the scene, and gave a small shrug. "Are you sure you want to do that here?"
Maroni stared at him for a long moment, then smiled.
He turned to the thug beside him. "Invite our guests upstairs."
Then he faced the crowd on the first floor and gave a gentlemanly bow. "Apologies for the disturbance. Tonight's tab is on me. Everyone…"
"Enjoy yourselves."
Before he even finished speaking, the crowd of addicts, gangsters, and assorted patrons erupted into thunderous cheers.
"Maroni! I love you!!"
"Hell yeah!!"
"Forever backing you!!!"
Maroni raised both hands and pressed them down with a smile, then looked at Lance and lifted a brow.
"Please?"
"Thank you." Lance nodded and took the lead, following the security guard upstairs to the second floor, with Waylana close behind.
Maroni watched Lance's back intently, murmured something to the man beside him, then followed.
Once inside the private room on the second floor, Maroni dismissed most of the unnecessary people, leaving only two bodyguards behind him. Instead of speaking immediately, he topped off his drink, then personally poured two glasses of whiskey for Lance and Waylana.
"Try it. Good stuff I took from the Red Crows Gang. Strong, too."
Lance studied the two glasses in front of him. After Number 1 finished analyzing the liquid and confirmed there was nothing dangerous, Lance gave Waylana a look. She picked up the glass and drained it in one gulp.
Maroni kept smiling, watching their exchange.
"I was quite interested to talk to you myself, Mr. Prescott. Now," he said, "I'm eager to know about what you want from me."
"What a coincidence." Lance smiled as well.
"Look at me. I'm practically the model of a law-abiding, honest citizen. I only came because I heard a few rumors."
He reached out and patted Waylana's arm, then pinched her cheek lightly before turning back to meet Maroni's narrowing eyes.
"You see, this child beside me should be living a carefree life. Instead, she's mutated. Scales, beast-like eyes. Not ideal."
"But I happened to hear from some friends that you've recently taken in children with similar… conditions. Scales. Eyes changing color. So I came to you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"That's strange. My client, Waylana Jones, found a syringe in the East End landfill a month ago and, out of curiosity, pricked herself with it. Then…"
"She became like this."
"My lord, you know, this child once had a bright future. Ruined by a single injection. I don't think anyone can tolerate something that goes against God's will."
At that moment, someone knocked and entered. The man hurried into the private room, bowed, and whispered a few words into Maroni's ear.
After listening, Maroni waved him off.
"So you're a Christian?" Maroni asked.
Lance casually traced a cross over his chest. "In a society like this, people always need something to believe in."
Maroni laughed. "Interesting. I didn't expect Adrian Knox's student to be like this. If I'd known it was you, I would've opened my best champagne and waited for you to come knocking."
Who? Adrian Knox?
Lance had no memory of the name, but judging by Maroni's tone, there was clearly a significant connection.
A student?
Fuck! I focused too much on Marvel that I underestimated this body's pre-transmigration life in this world!
Wait.
Could this be the original Lance Prescott's teacher? The one who brutally murdered five students before disappearing?
Maroni knows him? What kind of relationship do they have? And why bring up that name now?
Questions flooded Lance's mind like a rising tide. As for anything before he arrived in Gotham, he knew nothing at all.
But he couldn't just sit there, laugh it off, and tell Maroni, "Sorry, I don't know who Adrian Knox is. You've got the wrong person," then stroll out.
That would only ensure that both he and Waylana ended up in pieces in Gotham's sewers.
There was only one move left.
Lance picked up his glass and took a sip. "My teacher never mentioned you."
"Of course, of course." Maroni raised his glass and clinked it lightly against Lance's. "We've only just met, after all. A real shame."
"Your teacher, Adrian, left Gotham just a week ago. Otherwise, I could've arranged for you to meet. A reunion between teacher and student… what a touching scene that would've been."
Adrian Knox was in Gotham a week ago?
"You said my teacher… he left recently?" Lance suppressed the shift in his expression as best he could, but the question still slipped out. "You mean he was in Gotham just a week ago?"
"That's right." Maroni nodded. "Let me think… yes. It was the second week after you arrived in Gotham that Adrian Knox came to see me. Then he left about a week ago."
"I've never seen a teacher care so much for his student. He's been keeping a very close eye on you."
That bastard.
If even Bruce Wayne could uncover things, there was no way Maroni wouldn't know.
Adrian Knox had slaughtered every student except Lance, then followed him all the way to Gotham.
Calling it teacherly affection was laughable. It was far more likely that Knox had simply come to finish the job and kill the last remaining student.
And yet Maroni spoke as if they shared some deep bond.
Lance could only interpret it as a threat. Or a warning.
What made it worse was the reaction in his body. The moment he heard the name Adrian Knox, a wave of panic surged up from somewhere deep inside him.
Not his own fear.
The body's instinct.
…This is bad.
Lance lowered his gaze slightly.
He had come here to fish.
He hadn't expected to end up as the bait.
___
And the plot thickens~~
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