The Old Fuck Speaks.
The Old Fuck Speaks.
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“Who stopped by?!” Is Tom's startled rumble as he looks down at his uncle from his seated position on the bed.
Louis shakes his head as he gets the paperwork back out. “Yeah. The loon stopped by after you took off. He stopped by and made a hell of an offer, but you need to know the flip side.”
Tom puts down the paperwork. “What flip side?”
Lou looks at the ceiling and closes his eyes. “He's willing to offer all that to you with the caveat that you are willing to maintain that as your primary residence for the next six years. He wants to put up a bunch of charity kinda things in the warehouses next to it. Says they don't last in Crime Alley, but he figures the ones next door to you will be okay. It's the last five or six pages.”
Tom takes a minute to read through it. “This would help a lot of people, Lou.”
He nods. “And it will most likely work if you're willing to do it. Help people, bring property values in the area back to something reasonable. My only problem is that it puts a bullseye on you. But that is a hell of a problem to have.”
Tom shrugs. “The villains here already hate me. At least this way they can hate a guy that has some money and a nice place.”
Lou sighs, nodding. “The free ride for college and beyond makes it hard to turn down. That trust fund is nice.”
Tom grabs a pen off his desk and starts the process of signing the many pages on which it is required. “Do we mail it to him or something?”
Lou shakes his head. “He just wants the paperwork faxed to him. It's all technically in his name aside from the trust fund, and even then he manages it. Your 'allowance' is a security position, technically. He's just going to make your weekly salary whatever it needs to be so the leftover after taxes is five thousand. He also said that at least until you turned eighteen, he'd be continuing your food and medical assistance.” Louis scowls. “Honestly, it feels like he's trying to buy you. But that is what all employers do anyway, and at least he's willing to make it worth your time.”
Tom nods as he pushes the paperwork towards his uncle. “Yeah, but I'd have hung out at his charity warehouses for free. I just think it's way cool that I'm going to get all of this instead. When are things going to get started?”
Louis shrugs as he starts signing. “He said something about assigning a team from Wayne Construction to the effort. They'll be doing the work as soon as plans are finalized. He said he wants you to go to Wayne-Tech to meet with the guy who got you the phone. Apparently, that guy manages a lot of Wayne Enterprises, and will be coordinating the initial planning, building inspections, dealing with the putzes in city hall. All that crap.”
“Mr. Fox?” Tom's face is scrunched up into something less than worry or concern but still betrays a certain amount of discomfort.
Louis looks at him sharply. “What's wrong?”
Tom blows out a heavy breath from behind pursed lips. “Nothing. Mr. Fox is great, they had one employee that... He wasn't even mean. He just didn't know how to deal with a guy like me and was floundering pretty bad. He was the door security guy, and I think he had some kind of meltdown trying to decide if I was a threat. Mr. Fox called us both up to his office and gave that poor bastard the most polite 'one more fuck-up like this you're gone' talk I ever heard. Then he just set me up with the phone so they wouldn't have to pay their lawyers to squash a discrimination case because they had a dimwit employee. Explained everything, told me that his time and my phone was considered 'damage control.'”
Tom looks over at his uncle and furrows his brows in confusion.
“Now that I think about it, I don't even know what my phone plan is. They just built it, handed it to me, and shooed me out the door.”
His uncle shakes his head, a smirk beginning to form. “I'll be damned. I wonder...”
“What?”
His uncle rubs his bald head for a moment. “Well, this is just speculation you understand. But listen. I'm some ridiculously rich playboy that has so much time on my hands that I spend my life finding ways to piss away money. Got it?”
Tom nods. “It looks good on you.”
Louis snorts in amusement. “Thanks, I think it will too. But I'm this guy, and I have this fucking obsession with this shit-hole part of a nightmare town for whatever damn reason. But there's these crazy-ass powerful weirdos popping out of the woodwork causing chaos and wrecking his obsession. What do you do?”
Tom rolls his eyes. “Weirdos? Thanks Lou.”
Louis laughs. “I think at your level they call you 'eccentric,' but think about it.”
“Get his own metas to fight it out?”
Louis snorts. “Not likely. Why risk throwing uncontrolled potential threat after known threat if you don't have to? Naw, he works at a different level but we both know business and that isn't a winning proposition. Too many variables. Too many ways for things to blow up, and you can only buck odds like that for so long. Eventually, something serious happens and a lot of people die. Honestly, it could have already happened. When I saw the footage of that bullshit with Dent, all I could think of was how I could have gotten you out of the country if that chopper had hit the face of the Grand and then dropped on those retarded rich idiots that were standing on the street. If that pilot had been any less skilled than he was, that would have been the reality we'd be in. Bruce Wayne is too smart to fuck that up.”
He sighs, a smile of appreciation crossing his lips as he continues. “No. What you do is start things up that will make these powerful people stop being a problem. He's already started with that Wayne Foundation thing you're in. Flat out tells us what that's about. But that gives him a chance to scope out any up-and-coming metas that take advantage of his program. Think about it. That guy you've had to screw with. Croc. How much different would the world be right now if that guy had gotten the opportunities you're getting? He'd probably be making millions of bucks a year completely legitimately working on oil rigs for Wayne right now. Instead, we got a recurring nightmare that murders people for yucks.”
He leans back in the recliner that they brought in for visitors in Tom's tent, hands behind his head. “And the whole damn thing would probably even be tax deductible as some kinda scholarship kinda thing. So he gets the pick of the litter in an up-and-coming workforce that has huge potential, they get better lives, the world gets less trauma, and hell, if his world does go tits up he has hundreds of fucking metas that make him tons of money and are rich themselves that will probably not be thrilled that somebody is fucking with their meal ticket.”
Tom is just sitting there, stunned. “Do you really think so, Lou?”
Louis shakes his head, a grin on his face. “Hell if I know. But I'll tell you what if he hasn't, I'll pick up the slack. You meet any metas that you think might want an after-school kinda gig, tell 'em I'll hire anybody that's under a Wayne charity like that. If they're from the alley they'll know I shoot straight and they'll sign up. He does the background check for me, it gives them the chance at this life I'm hoping Wayne is going for, and gets me some after-school help that will actually hang out with my kid.” He frowns. “Don't think I haven't noticed that none of your old friends have stopped by.”
Tom frowns as well but doesn't say anything.
Lou lets out a half grunt, and half sigh as he stands. “Sorry kid, that was kinda blunt. Might have tied off one too many before I came down. Just know that I care, eh?”
Tom nods, a grin returning. “But do you really think that's what's up?”
Louis chuckles as he collects up the paperwork and heads to the tent flap. “Fuck, kid. I just hope somebody is. Something has gotta give soon. I'll get this stuff faxed tonight, maybe they can go live on Monday. Don't be shocked if it takes a while though. I would imagine that getting somebody that important the time on their calendar for something as big as this might take a bit.”
“Good night, Lou!”
“Sleep tight, Tom.”
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Oracle: (Typed Into Phone) B, WHY THE FUCK AREN'T WE DOING THIS!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
Oracle: (audio.exe.)
>>
Author's note:
I like Louis. LOL.