DC: I Became A Godfather

The universe really had a way of slapping Adam when he least expected it.

The moment he picked up his phone, a furious voice exploded through the speaker:

"You useless bastard! Are you trying to piss off Bruce Wayne now of all times?!"

Black Mask's angrily shouted, "Do you even understand what you've done?! The inspection team's selection goes through him! You've got zero chance now. Zero! I burned millions in bribes and lobbying for nothing!"

Adam's brow twitched. 'Great. The Mafia King of Gotham is having a tantrum.'

Black Mask wasn't done. "You're worse than trash, you little detective! If I sent a hundred street thugs after you, I'd have you beaten into—"

"Shut up."

Adam's voice cut through like a blade. It wasn't loud, but the venom in his tone was enough to silence even a lunatic like Sionis.

"I fought Bruce Wayne in broad daylight. Do you honestly think I'm afraid of you?" Adam snarled. "You think you can challenge the Wayne family? Go ahead, I dare you."

There was a brief pause. Then Black Mask's voice dropped, colder now, but still dripping with threat, "Adam… if you fail to get into that delegation, I'll make sure your body's at the bottom of Gotham Harbor—cement shoes and all."

Adam smirked bitterly. "And if you keep talking like that, I'll blow your ugly mask to pieces before you take a single step. Don't test me."

With that, he hung up.

Adam tossed the phone onto the desk and stared blankly at the muted TV screen. His fingers tapped nervously against his holstered pistol. He hated being cornered, and right now, his entire plan to get to San Pedro Sula was falling apart thanks to Wayne's interference.

He pulled out a cigarette but didn't even light it—just held it between his fingers, lost in thought.

---

Bruce Wayne, freshly done with his TV interview, slipped into the backseat of his sleek black Bentley. Alfred, ever the perfect butler, started the engine.

"Is this the full list of applicants?" Bruce asked, flipping through a stack of papers on his lap. His sharp eyes scanned each name with surgical precision.

"Dr. Jason Wood?" Bruce muttered, raising an eyebrow. "This snake is only interested in polishing his résumé. He's corrupt, selfish, and not the kind of man you trust with a humanitarian mission. Strike his name off. Now."

Alfred glanced at him in the rear-view mirror, sighing softly. "Sir, while I understand your… disdain… Dr. Wood is Gotham's leading authority on botany and toxicology. Without him, the delegation will lack critical expertise. You don't expect politicians to tell the difference between a rose bush and poison sumac, do you?"

Bruce's lips curved in a faint smirk. "Then we'll replace him. I pour millions into Gotham's research institutes. There must be someone competent who isn't a weasel."

He skimmed the file again. "Pamela Isley. A young graduate, passionate about plants, uncorrupted by greed. Perfect. Send her instead."

Alfred raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He'd learned long ago not to argue when Bruce got that look.

Bruce continued marking names, eliminating a dozen more, until his pen froze mid-air.

His gaze lingered on a new name, and a slow, amused smile crossed his face.

"Adam," he murmured.

"You mean the detective who punched you in the jaw?" Alfred asked, dryly amused.

Bruce chuckled. "The very one. He's on the list. Interesting."

"Are you planning to cut him out?" Alfred asked. "Because if I may remind you, Adam is the only detective in Gotham bold enough to publicly defend Batman. He's saved more lives than half the department combined."

Bruce shook his head. "No. Removing him just because he fought me would be petty. Truth is, I like him. He's reckless… but he's real. Still, I'm not sure he's cut out for South America. His combat skills aren't—"

"Sir," Alfred interrupted gently, "perhaps he was placed there by Commissioner Loeb. Adam's fame, his clean record—he's practically the face of the GCPD right now. It's logical they'd choose him as Gotham's 'model officer.'"

Bruce tapped his pen thoughtfully.

His phone buzzed with a new message. Bruce's eyes lit up with mild amusement as he read.

"Well, well," Bruce said, leaning back in his seat. "Loeb just requested to add Adam's 'entourage.' One retired special forces soldier—Floyd Lawton. Clean record, but a dangerous past. And…" Bruce chuckled, "…his street-smart apprentice, Jason Todd. The boy's barely out of school, and Adam's already demanding to take him along. Claims the kid's too young to be left alone."

Alfred smirked. "That sounds like a man who doesn't want to go. He's hoping you'll reject his request so he can wash his hands of the whole ordeal."

Bruce's smile turned sharp as he replied, "Then he's going to be disappointed. Because I want him there. And I have a job that only Adam can handle."