Marcus could kind of understand why his coworkers feared this man. Gotham had its Black Knight often dismissed as a freak in tights or an urban legend. But it also had a White Knight. Not a myth. Not a hallucination. A very real man.
Harvey Dent, Gotham's District Attorney.
If Gotham still had anyone who truly upheld justice, there were only three left: one bat in the night, one police commissioner in daylight, and the man standing right in front of him.
Batman handled violence in the shadows. James Gordon dragged criminals into the system. Harvey Dent made sure they never walked free again. Because of Dent's iron will and razor sharp mind, every gang in Gotham knew his name. He held leverage on all of them. Sent countless members to prison. They hated him. And yet… respected him.
Plenty of people wanted to be good in Gotham. Almost none survived long enough to stay that way. But Marcus Reed? Marcus was terrified.
A White Knight is brightest before he falls. And when he falls he becomes something far worse. You're scared of Harvey Dent? I'm scared of Two Face! Aren't I one of you people?!
"Mr. Dent, please come with me," Marcus said.
Dent nodded and studied Marcus's face for several seconds.
"Your smile looks a little stiff," Dent said calmly. "Are you feeling unwell? Or nervous?"
"No, not at all!" Marcus replied quickly. "I'm just very passionate about my job so I'm excited! Haha!"
He forced his smile into something more natural. The last thing he needed was being remembered by a future supervillain.
"Oh?" Dent smiled meaningfully. "I thought perhaps you didn't like me."
"Of course not! The Red Dragon welcomes every guest sincerely. It's an honor to serve you! Haha!"
I really am an idiot, Marcus thought. I knew most superheroes aren't rich but I didn't know Harvey Dent liked provoking people to their faces. If he wasn't here to needle the Falcone family and fish for reactions, Marcus would write his name backwards.
Dent's sharp, clear gaze made Marcus uneasy. Please don't remember me after you snap, he prayed. I don't want my life decided by a coin toss.
"…Bring me the menu," Dent said. "Several pieces of trash were locked up yesterday. My mood and appetite are excellent. I'm deciding how many years to give them."
"…Right away."
Marcus handed over the menu and glanced back. Several faces in the room turned visibly red. Don't do this to me.
"Those rats," Dent continued casually. "Ever seen rats in groups? The big ones hide during the day. Only come out at night to bite."
About half the room was red now. Stop. Please stop.
"The sewer rats have no loyalty," Dent added. "Catch a few of the small ones, and the whole nest comes crawling out."
All red. Fantastic. Marcus instinctively assessed cover positions and felt the Beretta under his suit. If this turns into a shootout, just don't get blood on me.
Thankfully, after ordering, Dent stopped pushing. He asked about wine and dishes everything was in the training manual. Fine wine here was just storytelling: region, grapes, weather, vineyard history, tasting notes luxury turned into price tags. Dozens of wines meant dozens of stories. Memory mattered more than alcohol.
Marcus had planned to bluff with presence but with Dent here, bluffing wasn't needed. Dent used Marcus as cover to taunt the gangs. More than once, Marcus saw coworkers reach for their waist only to be stopped.
Then ring. Ring. Ring.
Dent answered a call, said a few words, paid, and left. Marcus had no idea what just happened. But his first tip and asset points arrived. That made him very happy.
The staff collectively exhaled. If Dent stayed longer, someone would've snapped. Strange timing. Dent booked today. Maroni men arrested yesterday. If coincidence Marcus had terrifying luck.
Thankfully, the rest of the day was normal. The supervisor's judgment was right Marcus's appearance masked rookie mistakes. He served countless elite guests and truly opened his eyes.
From nitpicky elites to raging midlife crises, arrogant peacocks to loud idiots his coworkers handled everything smoothly. Most of them were gang members first, waiters second. Professionalism at its finest.
Marcus wasn't useless either. One furious middle aged woman calmed down instantly after seeing him. Maybe he was born for this.