The sound of a can clanking against the pavement echoed through the narrow stone alley. It bounced once, then twice, before beginning a lazy roll down the uneven ground. The aluminum rattled over cracks and loose gravel until finally bumping against the ribs of a sleeping man sprawled beside an overflowing dumpster.
"Fuck!"
The man jolted awake and nearly swung at the can before realizing what had happened. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes, glaring at the offending piece of metal as though it had personally insulted him. With a groan he pushed himself upright, stretching until his back cracked loudly.
"Overslept," he muttered before spotting the group gathered around a barrel fire farther down the alley. Immediately his expression darkened. "Oye! Why are you throwin' away a perfectly good can?" he shouted while marching toward them. He snatched the aluminum cylinder off the ground and waved it accusingly. "These things are great for storage, y'know?"
The small gathering looked up from their meal. One of them smirked. "Hadta wake you up somehow, Len."
"It's Lenny, you fuckin' asshole," he snapped automatically before dropping down beside the fire. "Hate that goddamned nickname."
"Quit complainin' and eat," Brandon said while handing him a spoon. "Food's gettin' cold."
Lenny eyed the contents of the pot with obvious suspicion. "I swear, Brandon, if you gathered up some slop again, I ain't eatin' it."
"You're eatin' it anyway," Frankie replied without looking up.
"Can it, Frankie."
Despite the complaints, Lenny scooped a portion into the can and began eating. The meal wasn't good by any stretch of the imagination, but it was warm, and warm food had a way of lowering standards. The group settled into a comfortable silence broken only by the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the city.
Eventually Lenny spoke again. "That guy come back today?"
Every face around the fire immediately soured.
"Jesus Christ, Len," Brandon groaned. "Don't jinx us."
Unfortunately, fate appeared to have a sense of humor.
A large figure emerged from the far end of the alley, strolling toward them with the relaxed confidence of a man completely at ease. He was broad-shouldered and carried himself like someone who knew exactly how much space he occupied. More concerning was the smile. It was warm, friendly, and entirely too persistent.
"Evenin'," Dre drawled as he approached. "You boys in a better mood today?"
Brandon let out a tired sigh. "Leave us alone. We ain't buyin' your shit."
Dre spread his hands innocently. "I ain't tryin' to alarm nobody. I understand the hesitation. Hell, I had some of my own when I first made the plunge. Back then we weren't even called the Underpass yet." He chuckled to himself and shook his head. "Different times."
Frankie pointed toward the street. "Just leave, man."
"Listen," Dre continued as though he hadn't heard him. "I can get one of you a job. A real job. No crime. No favors. No shady nonsense. Just steady work, steady pay, and nobody breathin' down your neck."
The alley fell quiet.
Frankie shook his head immediately. "We don't want any trouble."
Dre nodded understandingly, but his eyes drifted toward Lenny. The older man hesitated, spoon halfway to his mouth.
"What kinda job?"
"Len!" Brandon hissed.
Lenny ignored him.
"You don't understand how people like this work," Brandon continued.
"I am thinkin' about it!" Lenny snapped, suddenly angry. He slammed the spoon against the side of the can and glared at his friend. "I don't wanna eat slop for the rest of my goddamned life, Brandon."
Nobody responded.
Because nobody disagreed.
Dre's smile softened. "The Continental."
Lenny blinked.
"The fancy hotel opening up?"
"That's the one. I can get you in as a baggage carrier easy enough. Learn the floor, learn the business, put in the work. Maybe you get promoted. Front desk. Valet. Who knows?"
Lenny stared at him.
Everyone in Star City had heard about the Continental. People talked about it constantly. The massive building had become one of the city's biggest construction projects.
"You serious?"
"Dead serious." Dre leaned casually against the wall. "You'll have to pass orientation and training. Drug test too."
Lenny's face immediately fell.
Dre laughed. "Urine, not needles. I promise."
Hope returned almost instantly.
Lenny looked down at his meal. Then at Brandon. Then at Frankie.
The conflict was written plainly across his face. Fear battled with common sense while hope stubbornly refused to surrender. Eventually one side won.
"Fuck it."
"Lenny—"
"No." He shook his head firmly. "I gotta take the chance, Brandon. I gotta."
Dre's grin widened, "Good."
***
"You played your part wonderfully, Len."
The grin that spread across Lenny's face was impossible to suppress. A few nights had passed since the conversation in the alley.
Now he sat inside one of the Continental's training rooms wearing a clean uniform while dozens of other employees moved throughout the building.
"Thanks, boss." His smile widened further. "Happy to help."
Dre chuckled, "Don't get too comfortable."
Lenny straightened immediately, "You still gotta be around to show your progress."
"Of course."
"You've got a role to play."
Dre gestured toward the bustling training floor beyond the glass windows. Employees moved between stations while supervisors demonstrated procedures.
The activity was impossible to miss. Just as Vey had intended. People noticed things like this.
Word spread.
Questions followed.
And questions often led to curiosity.
"I know you're senior staff over at the Gotham site," Dre continued. "Don't worry too much. Boss says he'll fast-track you once the ball gets rolling."
Lenny's eyes lit up. For a moment he looked like a kid on Christmas morning.
"I appreciate it, boss."
Dre smiled, "Now we just have to prepare for opening night."
****
Nolan sat alone in his suite overlooking Star City.
The office attached to the room had long since fallen victim to the realities of business expansion. Papers occupied nearly every available surface. Construction reports sat beside staffing reports. Employee evaluations mixed with budget forecasts while opening-night projections competed for space against security briefings and shipping manifests.
Weeks. That was all that remained until opening night. Weeks sounded like a long time until someone was responsible for an entire hotel.
Then suddenly it wasn't nearly enough.
Nolan rubbed at his eyes and leaned back into his chair. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows he could see portions of the Continental below. Workers moved in and out of the building carrying equipment and supplies. Employees hurried through training programs. Supervisors prepared departments. Managers practiced schedules.
Everything was progressing exactly as planned.
Which somehow made him more nervous.
The staff were doing well. Better than well, actually. Most of the department heads he had hired locally had exceeded expectations, and employee training reports continued coming back positive.
That wasn't the problem.
The problem was time.
There simply wasn't enough of it.
Metropolis still remained on his list of destinations. The city represented an entirely different challenge than Star City and one he couldn't ignore forever. Superman's city would require personal attention, but every day spent in Star City pushed that trip further back.
At this point he had already resigned himself to visiting during his return journey to Gotham.
Thinking of Gotham only made his headache worse.
Several plans were currently unfolding there, each one connected in some way to opening night. Marcy was managing her responsibilities admirably. Terrell and Naima were handling their territories. Operations continued moving forward despite his absence.
Still. He disliked being away. Nolan had always preferred being present. Preferred seeing things with his own eyes. Preferred solving problems before they became problems.
Instead he was forced to trust others. Something he was admittedly getting better at.
Very slowly, "So much to do," he muttered.
His gaze drifted toward another report resting on his desk. That particular folder had been bothering him for days.
Perhaps weeks.
Opening it again, Nolan flipped through several pages before stopping at a collection of photographs.
Hotel guests.
Ordinary at first glance.
Businessmen.
Travelers.
Tourists.
The sort of people luxury hotels attracted every day.
Yet the attached notes painted a different picture entirely.
Assassins they are all highly trained assassins. The number had steadily increased over the past several months.
And the only reason he was aware was because they were using his hotel specialties yet not using the contracts.
At least not his. His organization monitored that sort of thing carefully.
Nolan stared thoughtfully at one of the photographs. A woman seated at a hotel bar.
Former intelligence operative. She had spent four days inside one of his Gotham properties before quietly leaving.
A lesser man might have assumed they were targeting him.
Nolan wasn't a lesser man.
"No," he murmured.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"They aren't here for me."
That realization brought surprisingly little comfort. If anything it made the situation more interesting.
Nolan knew deep down as soon as he figured out what organization their from everything would click into place. But first he needs to find them.
Eventually Nolan closed the folder and pushed it aside.
The problem could wait. At least for a few hours.
He exhaled slowly.
Then again.
Years ago such breathing exercises would have seemed ridiculous.
Now they had become necessary. The tension gradually left his shoulders. His heartbeat slowed.
The noise of the outside world faded away. And with practiced ease, Nolan descended into his own mind.
A figure waited there.
It looked exactly like him.
And nothing like him.
"Hello." Nolan's smile was small and sad, almost resigned
The other version of himself sneered, "Come to let me out finally?"
Nolan chuckled softly, "Not yet." The figure's expression twisted further, "Your hobbies would get me in trouble, you know?"
The joke landed exactly as expected.
Poorly.
Rage exploded across the figure's face, "You will need me sooner rather than later!"
"I know."