Chapter 15 : Consolidation
Mrs. Chen's store had new windows.
I stood outside, watching the glass catch the afternoon light. Three days since the Marco operation. Three days of walking my expanded territory, meeting every business owner face-to-face, explaining the rules.
This was the last stop. The most important one.
The bell chimed as I entered. Mrs. Chen looked up from behind the counter, her expression guarded. The last time I'd been here, her store had been a shattered wreck of glass and spray-painted threats.
"Mr. Broker."
"Mrs. Chen." I stopped a respectful distance from the counter. "How are the repairs coming?"
"The windows are fixed. Insurance covered some." Her voice was neutral, careful. "Marcus helped with the cleanup."
"Good." I took a breath. "I owe you an apology."
Her eyebrows rose slightly.
"I told you you'd be safe," I continued. "Marco proved me wrong. That shouldn't have happened. It won't happen again."
"You killed him?"
"No. But he won't be coming back to Gotham. Ever."
Mrs. Chen studied me for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"The new windows are stronger than the old ones. Reinforced glass." She moved to a shelf, began straightening cans that didn't need straightening. "A man came by yesterday. Said he used to work for Marco. Asked if he should pay protection to you now."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him to talk to you." She glanced back. "But I also told him you're not like Marco. That you have rules."
Something loosened in my chest. Not forgiveness—not quite—but something close.
"Thank you, Mrs. Chen."
"Don't thank me. Just keep your promises."
I left the store and continued my rounds.
The pawn shop owner was a problem.
His name was Gregor, and he'd operated on the border between Marco's territory and mine since before I'd arrived. Fat, balding, with a face that had learned to sneer early and never unlearned it.
"I don't answer to some nobody," he said when I explained the new arrangement. "Marco's gone? Fine. I'll pay Maroni. Or the Penguin. Or anyone who isn't some jumped-up punk playing crime lord."
Terry shifted behind me. Big Pat's hands tightened into fists.
I just smiled.
"That's your choice, Mr. Gregor. I won't force you."
The sneer faltered slightly. He'd expected threats.
"But I should mention—without my protection, the Narrows can be unpredictable. Lots of crime. Lots of desperate people. Bad things happen."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's an observation." I turned to leave. "Take care of yourself, Mr. Gregor. The Narrows can be dangerous for a man without friends."
That night—completely unrelated to anything I'd done—Gregor's pawn shop experienced a break-in. Someone smashed a back window and stole two hundred dollars from the register. The police took a report and did nothing.
The next morning, Gregor asked how to set up payment.
"I didn't order the break-in. Didn't have to. The Narrows takes care of itself when you understand how it works."
Marco's remaining men were a mixed bag.
Five had fled the city entirely. Two had joined Maroni's operation in other districts. That left eight who needed work and didn't want to leave their homes.
I interviewed them one by one in my warehouse office.
The first three passed easily. Professional, capable, no obvious red flags. They understood the code and agreed to follow it.
The fourth was a problem.
"I don't see why I can't rough up whoever I want," he said. "That's the job, isn't it? Make people pay?"
"Not women who aren't in the game. Not children. Ever."
"What if a woman owes money?"
"We collect. We don't rough up."
He snorted. "Marco let us—"
"Marco is gone. I'm not Marco." I leaned forward. "Do you want to work for me or not?"
He considered it for too long. When he finally said yes, I didn't believe him.
"Get out."
"What? I said—"
"I said get out. There's a bus station three blocks east. Here's fifty dollars. Find somewhere else to be."
He left, cursing. Terry was waiting outside the office.
"Think he'll cause trouble?"
"Maybe. But not our trouble." I moved to the next name on my list. "Who's next?"
That night, I took my inner circle to dinner.
Not anywhere fancy—a diner on the edge of my territory, decent food and indifferent service. But it was the first real meal we'd shared since the operation. The first time we'd sat together without planning or threat assessment hanging over us.
Terry told the story of Gregor's face when the pawn shop got robbed. Big Pat actually laughed—a rare, rumbling sound that made other diners turn their heads. Julio's anxiety had settled into something more like normal human nervousness.
Marcus was there too, picking at a burger that was too big for him. His mother was responding well to treatment. He'd mentioned it once, quietly, and I'd pretended not to notice him wiping his eyes.
"This is what I'm building. Not just territory. Not just reputation. Something like a family."
The thought surprised me. I pushed it aside, focused on my coffee.
"So what's next, boss?" Terry asked. "We've got the Narrows locked down. Income's steady. You thinking about expanding?"
"Maybe." I thought about the East End. About a woman in black who'd appeared on my roof. "There are opportunities. But for now, we consolidate. Make sure the foundation is solid before we build higher."
"Smart." Terry raised his coffee cup. "To consolidation."
We clinked cups around the table. Big Pat's attempt almost shattered his mug.
Later, alone in my office, the system updated.
[PHASE 2 COMPLETE: RISING PLAYER]
[Territory: 4 blocks (Narrows central)]
[Crew: 9 active members]
[Weekly income: ~$800]
[Fear Index: 420]
[Level: 9]
[NEW PHASE DETECTED: TERRITORY ESTABLISHED]
[Advancement requirements: Expand influence, form major alliance, increase network]
I dismissed the notification and stared at the wall.
Six weeks ago, I'd been dying in an alley. Now I had an empire—tiny by Gotham standards, but real. Growing. Sustainable.
"I've survived. I've established myself. What comes next?"
The answer came unbidden: Selina Kyle's face in moonlight. Her voice saying "don't disappoint me."
"The East End. Her territory."
It would be complicated. Dangerous. Potentially the kind of expansion that attracted attention from the real powers in this city—Penguin, the remaining crime families, maybe even Batman.
But when had anything in Gotham been simple?
My phone buzzed. Unknown number. I answered.
"Broker." Selina's voice, low and amused. "I heard you had an interesting week."
"Word travels fast."
"Word travels when people are paying attention. And I pay attention."
A pause. I could hear city sounds in the background—traffic, distant music.
"I have a business proposition," she said. "Something that might interest you. Meet me tomorrow. Midnight. East End, the old Monarch Theater. Come alone."
"That sounds like a trap."
"It sounds like an opportunity." Her smile was audible. "Don't disappoint me."
She hung up.
I stared at the phone for a long moment.
"A meeting with Catwoman. In her territory. Alone."
It was either the best opportunity I'd had since arriving in Gotham, or a very elegant way to get killed.
Only one way to find out.
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