章 23: Getting Ahead
Yo! It's Hamtaro!
Sorry for not updating these last few days, life got in the way, so to speak.
Here's a nice lil chappy, so drop yer stones, leave a comment, kiss your mom and drink plenty of water.
Hope you have a great time :)
Vampire Rule N°21: Don't ever underestimate the power of a pointy stick, the basis of all human warfare.
… … … … … … … …
The Gotham Gazette's newsroom was abuzz with the usual clamor of journalists typing furiously, phones ringing, and the occasional shout over breaking news. Vicky Vale sat at her always cluttered desk, her mind still spinning from the whirlwind of recent events. The tip she received about the shady dealings of a wanna-be crime lord had made waves, but it wasn't without consequences. The newsroom's whispers were growing louder, and the atmosphere felt thick with tension.
Vicky leaned back in her chair, sipping her coffee as she reviewed the latest batch of intel. The phone rang, snapping her out of her thoughts. She answered, "Vale."
"Vicky, it's Gus," came the familiar voice of the editor. "Got a moment?"
"Sure, Gus. What's up?"
"I've got some news for you. Let's chat in my office."
When she walked into Gus's office, the elderly editor was leaning back in his chair, a half-smile playing on his lips. He motioned for her to sit.
"Listen," Gus said, crossing his arms, "I've been hearing some grumbling around here. People are saying you're using... let's say, unorthodox methods to get ahead. Now, I know you're a hard worker, and the stories you've been bringing in are top-notch. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about the rumors."
"I've heard them too. I assure you, Gus, it's just that I've been getting solid tips. And you know I wouldn't jeopardize my integrity for a few stories." Vicky sighed, not quite understanding what all the fuss was about.
Keep your head low, and people hound about how you should get ahead, no matter what.
Get ahead without spreading your legs, and now people complain because you didn't do it their way, as if blowing Ferris Boyle to get an exclusive interview was more legitimate than getting tips from people in the thick of the action, right there in Gotham's worst parts.
"I believe you, Vicky. I've seen you work too hard to doubt you now. But this city is full of snakes. You got to be careful. Don't step on too many toes, or you might end up on the wrong side of a few." Gus's eyes softened, but his words were starting to put him on her wrong side.
'Don't step on too many toes,' that's just another way to say she shouldn't tell the truth if it's too inconvenient.
"Thanks for the heads-up," Vicky replied neutrally, standing. "I appreciate your support."
As she left Gus's office, she was met with the cold, critical stares of some of her colleagues. Scott, a journalist known for his cynical demeanor, was at the forefront. His gaze lingered on her with a mixture of disdain and envy.
"What's got them all riled up?" Vicky asked, trying to sound casual.
"Oh, nothing much. Just the usual jealousy from those who don't play ball the same way." Scott sneered.
"Is that what they're saying?" Vicky asked, eyebrow raised. "That I'm... playing ball?"
"More like playing dirty. But, hey, if it works for you, who am I to complain?" Scott's eyes narrowed.
Vicky decided to ignore Scott's bitter tone and focused on her work. The intel John had provided her was invaluable. He had been discreetly feeding her information on smaller-time crime lords and scandals.
These were nuggets of truth that, while not earth-shattering, were significant enough to get her noticed.
Vicky had made a habit of using these tips carefully. She had published a piece on a corrupt local businessman who had been skimming from his own charity—information she'd gotten from one of John's sources. It had been a hit, and it felt like the walls of her career were finally starting to crack open. But with success came scrutiny.
If she could just keep it up, just write a few more solid pieces, then she'll be able to get a proper camera crew and start reporting on the ground in places where she wouldn't get stabbed by a drunk hobo.
. . .
Meanwhile, John Harker sat in his new study, the room bathed in the soft glow of a single desk lamp. He'd just finished a meeting with Reginald, who had come to report on the relative success of their various ventures.
Reginald strolled into the room with his usual air of casual confidence. Dressed in a sharp suit that fit him well, he looked every bit the professional, though the street smarts and sass still lingered in his demeanor.
You could take the fiend out of Brideshead, but you couldn't take Brideshead out of the fiend.
John didn't say it though, or his ever-so-loyal retainer would find a way to frame it as gay and lecture him on the virtue of saying 'pause' and 'no homo'.
He dropped into a chair opposite John, a grin playing on his lips.
"Well, well, well..." Reginald said, crossing his legs. "Seems like the stars are aligning, Mr. Harker. For the first time, all your businesses are showing a profit without needing to launder a shit ton of dirty money. Impressive."
"We've come a long way since the days of dodging bullets and trash cans." John smirked, leaning back in his chair.
"Indeed," Reginald said, eyes twinkling despite his lack of mind-reading tendency or intense affection for little boys and lemon drops, "I must say, it's nice not having to cook the books as much. Cleaner money is so much more... elegant."
John chuckled, he could agree with that.
"We've built something solid here. The car flipping business, the scrap metal venture, the hostel and cafe. It's all falling into place." He said, quite satisfied with it.
"And you're really going to expand into buying up property around your businesses? That's quite the ambitious move." Reginald raised an eyebrow.
"Absolutely," John replied. "I want to create a buffer zone around our operations. A safe zone where drug dealing and violence are strictly off-limits. It will protect our investments and the people working for us."
Not to mention how his plan to clean up Brideshead would raise the property values on ground of it no longer being Crime Alley's drugged-up cousin.
Now housing in Gotham would always be cheap, but buying everything while it was worthless just made more business sense
"You're a real piece of work, you know that? Most people would just take their profits and run. But you're out here trying to clean up the whole neighborhood." Reginald shook his head with a grin.
"Just business," John said with a shrug. "And a bit of pragmatism. I don't want to see our ventures jeopardized by petty crime. Plus, it's good for the community. Gives us a more stable foothold."
Reginald looked at him with a look that said 'I see right through your bullshit' but he had enough sense to refrain from asking unpleasant questions.
"I appreciate that. And speaking of handling things, we need to start cracking down on anyone who thinks they can skirt the rules. I want citizen patrols, and stricter enforcement. No one gets to mess with our turf." John nodded, he still hadn't actually started buying out the property but planning ahead was always a good thing, just ask Batman, "Get us some idle hands and prep them for the job if necessary, prioritize men who lost people to this nonsense out there."
"Consider it done," Reginald said. "I'll have our people on it."
"Perfect. Keep up the good work, Reginald." John smiled at the ghoul who gave him a mock salute.
Now that would've been fine if he didn't do it the Roman way.
At least he didn't do this kind of stuff in public, it wouldn't be that good for his PR.
John laughed as Reginald closed the door behind him. He leaned back in his chair, contemplating the next steps. He had a plan in place for expanding his empire and cleaning up Gotham, but he needed to be careful.
Every move had to be calculated when you could still die from enough shotgun rounds in the head.
One day he would strong enough to just ignore everything and take a walk as he pleases, when he pleases, with whoever strikes his fancy.
One day, he too would be a bona fide fuckmothering vampire.
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