Tonnage

Sunday.

>>

Sunday morning, 8:23 AM. Tom's Tent.

Tom steps out into his walkway carved into the mountains of rusty scrap and nearly runs into a woman who had been poking around in the detritus near his home. She is Asian, that much is obvious from her face and eyes. Tom isn't an expert, so what kind of Asian is beyond him. But Asian, anyway. His home sits in an area where they leave cars and other large metal things to be crushed, and not too far from the new crusher. So it can be loud at times, but the odd smells are slightly lessened here. Most of the smells here are old decaying automobiles, the occasional gas leak from an aging tank, and the fizzle and pop of the few batteries that got missed and were left in the old cars. More or less the same smells as everywhere else in Gotham, just more of it.

She is picking away at an old raised decal on a car. She seems quite interested in the R that sits on the front of the vehicle for some reason.

"Hello?"

She jumps just slightly when Tom speaks, her jeans and do-rag bracketing a baggy, button-down blue and green flannel shirt which is obviously a size or two on the large side and not tucked in or buttoned up. Under it, she is wearing a green and yellow t-shirt of much brighter material.

She's young, maybe twenty-five? Thirty at the oldest, Tom's not the best at judging ages even in what was his demographic, he isn't going to waste time trying to sort out this woman's.

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle you.” He pauses for a second, and when she doesn't seem to be getting ready to run, he continues to rumble on a bit more cheerfully. “I'm Tom! Is there something I can help you find? It can be kind of a maze in here sometimes.”

She looks up at this rotund, yet seemingly happy and cheerful individual who is offering assistance and smiles. She speaks in strong but accented English.

“Yes, I am trying to find letters I can use for an art project that will end up part of my grade in the community college here.” She pokes at the raised plastic lettering and frowns. “I found my 'R' but it is being quite stubborn and I do not desire to see it broken.”

Tom nods. Believe it or not, this isn't exactly uncommon and they are just gonna crush the suckers anyway. If somebody wants to fork over a couple of bucks for plastic they were going to write off, hell. Bonus.

“Sure, I can help with that. First thing you need to understand is that all these old car decals are just plastic, and a lot of them were before people really understood just how bad ultraviolet rays are for that kind of thing. So if you want them off in one piece, it's usually a good idea to come at it from the backside. Sometimes they're just glued. But on these older cars, a lot of the time there is a bit that pokes through and hooks in behind the metal, and if you don't come at it from the back you are putting the strength of a structural post or two that hasn't taken damage from the sun against the 'art' portion. It doesn't work out great most of the time.”

The woman is sidling closer to see while obviously listening attentively. “Some of this I am aware of, but I was unable to open the hood of the vehicle to come at it from the back.”

Tom nods. It isn't uncommon on these old wrecks for the cable that pops the hood to get broken, and at that point raising the hood can be a nightmare if you aren't interested in accidentally breaking things or tearing the front end apart to replace the cable. He sends a quick message off to Lou, just to make sure that nobody has sent in for a hood off of one of these. His answer is quick.

>>

Louis: No, for god's sake why would anybody want scrap off of one of the poppers?!

Tom: Art for school.

Louis. Ah. Gotcha. They can have anything they want off of the rear-end-detonations. It isn't like people are busy looking for scrap off the front end of those suckers. Help them out and then get over to Fabrication. Still can't believe they gave you an arc welder and taught you nothing about it. Karl's in and ready to teach class.

Tom: Okay, no worries.

>>

Turning to face the woman, who he notices has gotten awfully close to him as they were prodding the hood of the car, he reaches out to the edge of it.

“Um... I think it might be best if you step back a little. I know there are springs and stuff sometimes and when the cars get this corroded they can pop out weird when you start moving things around. Maybe just move behind me? I make a good block these days.”

The woman looks at him with a smile. Obviously amused.

“You would like me behind you?”

Not quite sure what the issue is, Tom nods and rolls with it. “Well, yeah? I'm about to tear the hood open and I don't want to risk you getting hurt.”

The woman giggles. Actually giggles for a moment. “I will, then, move behind you. For safety. Thank you.”

Shaking his head at the weirdness, Tom steadily applies pressure to the edges of the hood until he can slip a finger under it, and then deforms the sheet metal as he makes his way to the latch which he pops. Once he is at the back, it's nothing to remove some heat insulation type of crud that was falling apart anyway, and poke the plastic catches with his finger, popping them loose.

Triumphantly, he hands the now liberated 'R' to his customer with a smile. “Here you are, ma'am. Did you need anything else?”

She is looking at where he has mangled the metal. It isn't as though it was a feat of strength, any decently strong man with a crowbar could have done the same.

But flesh against sharp metal tells a different story. As does the polite and helpful nature of the young man.

“No, Tom. But I thank you for your assistance.”

Tom smiles as he begins walking towards the lot warehouse. “You are quite welcome, thanks for coming down to Park Row Salvage, where the detritus of Gotham comes to be reborn!”

The woman smiles as she looks thoughtfully at the bit of plastic in her hand. Then between one breath and the next, she's gone.

>>

Bruce nods, sighing. “They're here?”

Alfred nods. “I have them in the sitting room, Master Wayne. Shall I bring them here to your office, or would you prefer this meeting to take place elsewhere?”

He stands. “Better have it in the dining area. This may take a while, and I wouldn't bet against at least Damien and Tim showing up at some point. Possibly Cassandra as well.”

“Very well. As it will be in the dining area, is there some form of refreshment or light meal that you would like to offer your guests?”

“Surprise me, Alfred.”

“Very good, Master Wayne. I trust that you can find your way, I will be by with your guests followed by the basics in short order.”

Stepping into his dining room a few minutes later reveals a pair that he'd expected to see today based on things that happened at the station the day before.

“Oliver, Dinah. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Bruce sits down as he says this and places a briefcase on the table. Oliver speaks up first, but that is somewhat expected.

“I'd like to know what you're doing about Tom. As far as we're concerned we owe that kid the life of our granddaughter. The fact we've divorced doesn't change that, and hearing him talk about his life is just a wrench.”

Bruce nods sadly. “You dug around on the web and got a hold of the original rant he gave to Dent, I take it?”

Dinah sighs, nodding. “How can we expect people that have lives like that to turn out to be decent people, Bruce? Everybody has a breaking point and when we leave people in conditions that guarantee they will slam into theirs over and over... Is it any wonder that people turn out like Croc?”

Bruce nods. It's been on his mind as well.

“I have done everything I can for Tom, and I got the faxes that he accepted last night. So this is what I'm doing there.” Then he opens the briefcase and slides over a stack of paperwork for them to peruse.

As they are doing that and Bruce is pecking away at a Tablet for the current news, Alfred walks in pushing a cart with coffee, tea, a few kinds of juice, and some toast and jams. The best he can do on this short notice. However, as they are deep in paperwork it seems and it is nearly eleven, he simply adds the two guests to his lunch list.

Oliver grunts in appreciation as he snags a cup and Alfred fills it for him. Dinah gives him an eye roll.

“Thanks, Alfred. You're the best.”

“So I have heard, Ms. Lance. Worry not, I shan't let it go to my head.”

Oliver breaks in. “You're making this kid a modern warlord in the middle of the worst part of town. How is that good for him?”

Dinah looks horrified and her eyes snap back to the documents.

Bruce shakes his head. “If I thought I could get him to leave, maybe join one of the younger teams, I'd have already done it. There's a streak of stubbornness and pride in both him and his uncle that I can't get past and frankly, I'm not sure I want to.” He turns to Oliver. “This is the financial statement for the 'Park Row Salvage' and an additional one for 'Atlantic Yards' which is the only other place like it at that scale within twenty miles. Tell me what you see.”

It doesn't take Oliver long to spot it.

“His going wage is half again to double. And he's hiring twice as many people.” He turns to Bruce. “Taking it in the teeth to afford that, isn't he?”

Bruce nods. “He's down to living on site right now due to Black Mask. But before that, he was living in one of the block apartments Wayne Construction renovated in the seventies for higher occupancy. Trying to get people off the street. He's lost money everywhere. But he refuses to throw away his people. If more small businesses operated like his...”

Oliver nods. “Grassroots folks are the worst sometimes. Gotta love 'em. But they get in the way more often than not.” Turning back to the plans, he shakes his head. “A nine square block area though, as his kingdom?”

Bruce shrugs. “For now, at least, I've given up on getting that area back to what it was. The corruption is just too deep, it may be able to make that metamorphosis at some point. But for now, and despite my misgivings, it is going to have to change to get better. Dramatically. So, I am building a city within a city. These nine blocks were once connected by overhead walkways. It was an extensive living and shopping arrangement, where the upper floors were apartments and the lower floors were shops and businesses. All put together not long after the turn of the last century. Age and the moisture that permeates everything here have done a number on things. But redefining that nine-block area as a safe zone. With buildings that can be locked down, and that have modern and effective environmental controls. Buildings that are hardened against a gas attack or explosives. Above-ground access to other buildings, so once you are home for the day you needn't risk going outside again. And at least for the first six years, a resident who will see to it that the place doesn't get compromised. His mere presence on the property should guarantee it.”

Oliver looks at him in questioningly. Bruce continues, not quite angry but definitely feeling emotional about this.

“How can we expect people stuck living in that hell to care what the cops, or the politicians, or even what Batman says when every day they have to skirt death just to live? Something like this has never been possible. Not really. There was no way to keep it from falling into the hands of the rogues. But with Tom there, and him being a friend to the kids? We will always have access. Tom himself is a hell of a deterrent, but for the first time we can set it up and know that if something seems off, we'll be able to simply go in and find out without there being a way to connect us to Bruce Wayne. Instead, they'll connect us to Tom, who has contacts with me.”

Dinah nods, looking a little excited. “This is going to be a huge amount of money, Bruce. It'll take years to get done, too.”

Oliver grimaces. “It's going to be a huge money sink for a long time. The only upside will be the changes in property values if it works.” Then he considers. “You really think Tom can keep out the riffraff?”

It's Bruce's turn to grimace. “No. I expect that when they show up and cause problems we'll end up with more broken bones. But I believe in the spirit and potential of the project enough to have bought a lot of the property in the area at current market value and dumped a third of Wayne Construction's assets on it. We should have the basic construction and protections up, everything able to be sealed against chemical attack and reinforced against explosives by midsummer. After that, we'll start with the interior of his own building. We believe that it is currently slated to be this one here.”

He passes over a folder with some paperwork in it.

Dinah peruses the paperwork. “What was the place?”

Bruce nods towards it. “An old firm that dealt in bulk materials. Paper stock, textiles. Anything that you could put on a giant roll and mount to a wall for easy access. Like all the other buildings in the project, this one has access from the fourth floor to the other buildings, but this one has the benefit of being built to a standard that can take huge amounts of weight. The fact that it is also the largest, and located in the center of the formation also works out well. The plan is to set it up as a club. A workout space that can cater to the residents, but also has areas that are intended for metas to use. Complete with a pool, climbing walls, an arena, the works. The upper floors will be residences and Tom will of course have the penthouse. The top floor of the building. We plan to run the management of the place ourselves through Wayne Realty and Land Acquisitions, leaving him to his 'security' work, but once that is done and the area is secure we'll start sending in crews to finish the rest of the buildings. The ground floors on those will end up with everything from straight charity work to job training and a medical clinic that caters to the underprivileged. All told the project could take years. And it will no doubt cost me billions that I'll have to hope I can make up on the surrounding property values down the line. But it's better than leaving it like it is, and as I said.”

He looks somehow pleased and saddened a the same time. “Right now I have a volunteer to help make it work.”

Bruce is distracted by his phone beeping using a tone that he knows is important. He raises an eyebrow at the screen.

>>

Oracle: (Typed Into Phone) B, WHY THE FUCK AREN'T WE DOING THIS!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Oracle: (audio.exe.)

Oracle: I caught this on the overnight feed, they had a chat pretty late and I missed it among patrol noise. Listen to it and tell me what you think, my only problem with it at all is that I don't want to have to admit to Tom I have him bugged, even if it is for his safety.

>>

Bruce looks at the phone curiously, and after glancing across the table decides that whatever this is, it's probably fine for them to hear as well.

The audio of Louis' speculation washes over their ears as Alfred happens to choose this moment to step into the room. He stops as they all have until the audio is done. Then he begins placing a small assortment of snacks on the table.

Oliver is the first to break the silence a few moments after the audio stops. “We'd looked into it before but were worried about some kind of discrimination clause from the unions. But if it was all put together as a scholarship for metas to get them the education they needed, from the ground up, then the union would just let them in. Same wage as everyone else, just they would tend to end up in areas with higher risk and pay I would guess. Like the oil rigs that this guy mentioned.”

Bruce nods, rolling around the possibilities. “Croc as a roughneck could have been a spectacular success I would imagine. There are some rogues where it seems like the aggression is baked in, but for many, this might work.”

Alfred's droll tone permeates the room. “To paraphrase your statement concerning your current real estate projects: 'It could hardly be worse than what exists now.' I would think. I will have lunch ready for you all within the hour. Enjoy your meeting.”

>>

Author's note.

Yeah, that was Cheshire, Lian's mom in the beginning. Roy was right to be worried, as assassins go Cheshire isn't always all that subtle. But I have to believe that she would put in the extra effort for her daughter.

Take care, people!