Weaver had been pacing the upper deck of the luxury cruise ship for half an hour. His polished shoes clicked against the wooden boards with mounting impatience. Captain Loeb, who had promised to meet him, was nowhere in sight.
As a veteran officer of the Gotham Police Department, Weaver's instincts flared like sirens. 'This is bad. When Loeb delays a meeting, it's never for good news.'
"Did Adam get to him first? Maybe he gave Loeb some kind of warning?" Weaver muttered under his breath, his face souring. But then he shook his head. "No… impossible. The ship only just docked. I've been here since dawn. There's no way that kid could beat me to this."
A sharp whistle cut through the damp morning air. The ship was pulling into port, its hull brushing against the dock as workers scurried to secure ropes. Passengers began disembarking in small groups, suitcases in hand, while the crew prepared to replenish fuel and supplies before heading to Beach City.
"Eh? Isn't that Weaver? What's a big shot like you doing here?"
Weaver froze, his stomach dropping like a stone. He didn't even need to turn around. He knew that smug, infuriating tone.
Sure enough, when he turned, there was Adam, leaning against the railing with a cigarette dangling from his lips, that same cocky grin plastered across his face. The young detective who had stolen the spotlight in Arkham, and worse, humiliated Gotham's richest man.
"You…" Weaver's jaw clenched. "You haven't changed a bit, have you? You think the police force is some street gang where you can act like a thug? You don't even know the meaning of rank and respect!"
Adam's grin widened as he exhaled smoke. "Oh? My bad, Chief Weaver! Or is it Division Weaver? Bureau Chief Weaver?" Adam dragged out the titles mockingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He stressed Division so hard that Weaver's ears burned red.
"You little—!"
"What?" Adam cut in, his tone sharp but lazy, as if swatting a fly. "When Director Loeb gets here, do you plan to kiss his boots and call him Director too? Or do you only bark at me? Huh?"
Weaver's fists clenched, but Adam just strolled over, sat on a bench across from him, and crossed his legs, puffing on his cigarette with that infuriating look of superiority.
The tension between them was thick enough to cut. Their rivalry was no secret anymore. Everyone knew Weaver had tried to use Adam as a scapegoat during the nerve gas case—a suicide mission that should've destroyed Adam's career. Instead, the rookie detective solved the case in just ten minutes, earning the nickname Arkham's Sherlock Holmes. The media loved him, and Weaver's reputation had taken a beating.
Weaver's glare darkened. He was seconds away from snapping when, thankfully, the sound of approaching footsteps drew both their attention.
"Well, well. The two pillars of Arkham District are both here? I feel honored," a voice boomed.
Director Loeb stepped out of the luxury cabin, looking fresh and far too cheerful for Weaver's liking. His tailored suit was immaculate, his face glowing with the smug satisfaction of someone who had enjoyed a long, luxurious trip. Beside him walked the Police Chief of Coast City, who had joined Loeb on the Metropolis security forum.
"Director! You've had a long journey, sir," Weaver said with an eager smile, his tone overly sweet. "I've already booked a private dinner at the Zeus Hotel to welcome you home. Please, allow me the honor of—"
Before Loeb could reply, the Coast City Chief laughed.
"Wow, Jillian, your subordinates sure know how to roll out the red carpet! Flowers, dinners, personal greetings… I wish my people had half the initiative. Hell, I'm lucky if they remember I exist."
Loeb chuckled, clearly pleased with Weaver's groveling. "I'll admit, it's good to be welcomed back like this. But you have it easy in Coast City. You've got a Green Lantern keeping the streets clean. I've got this whole city of lunatics—and now a masked vigilante running around playing Robin Hood."
The two chiefs chatted, their conversation too high-level for Adam or Weaver to interrupt. But Weaver's smug smile returned. 'You hear that, kid? I've got this wrapped up. Loeb's mine tonight.'
Adam just leaned back, watching silently, the cigarette glowing between his fingers. He looked unconcerned, and that annoyed Weaver even more.
After the Coast City Chief left, Loeb turned to the two men with a smirk. "Well, isn't this convenient? I needed to talk to both of you anyway. Let's find a quieter place."
He led them to the cruise ship's café, a corner table overlooking Gotham's skyline. Steam curled from the fresh coffee Loeb ordered. He leaned back, his gaze sharp.
"Adam," Loeb began, his tone low but cutting, "you've really outdone yourself. In just a few days, you've managed to beat up Gotham's richest man. That takes some serious nerve."
Weaver almost choked on his drink, barely hiding his grin. "Isn't that what I've been saying, Director? Bruce Wayne might have a reputation as a spoiled playboy, but he's also our biggest donor. If he's pissed off, who knows what happens to our funding? I think Detective Adam could use some time at Blackgate Prison to cool off. Get a little perspective."
Loeb sipped his coffee slowly, letting Weaver talk himself into a corner before speaking. "Funny you should mention that, Weaver. Because Bruce Wayne himself called me. Or rather, his butler did."
That made both men pause.
"What?!" Weaver shouted in shock, "Bruce Wayne… interceded? For him?!"
Loeb smirked. "Alfred said the Waynes don't hold grudges over scuffles. Bruce doesn't want this incident blown up. He even donated fifty thousand dollars to the Police Home as compensation. And now, half the retired cops are joking that Adam should go 'beat up Bruce Wayne again' if it means more money."
Adam smirked, tapping ash into the tray, 'Figures. Even when I'm 'in trouble,' I come out on top.'
Weaver, meanwhile, sat there frozen, his face pale with disbelief, 'How? How does this idiot keep getting away with everything, and looking like a hero while doing it?'