"Hello, is this Mr. Jude?"
"Speaking. Who's this?"
"Lucius Fox. You can call me Lucius. I found an unusual electric wheelchair last night and wanted to ask if you've recently lost one."
"Oh. Yes, that's mine." Jude kept his voice steady while his brain went into overdrive.
Lucius Fox. That Lucius Fox. Batman's tech guy. One of the only people in Gotham who knows Bruce Wayne's secret.
Why is he calling me about my wheelchair?
"Where did you find it?"
"It rear-ended my car yesterday evening." Lucius's tone remained pleasant. "I've spoken with GCPD. We're minimizing the incident—no charges, no compensation required from you. However, I'm personally interested in some of the items found with the wheelchair. Would you be willing to discuss this privately?"
Jude's mind raced. Items? What items?
"I understand your hesitation," Lucius continued smoothly. "Let me be clear. I'm the Technical Director of Wayne Enterprises. This isn't an investigation or a threat. I'm simply interested in potential technical cooperation."
"You've already confirmed my phone number and probably everything else about me, right?"
"Yes. I apologize if that seems invasive—it's standard due diligence. We have no interest in your privacy beyond this matter."
It was obvious Lucius was being polite. If Wayne Enterprises' investigation hit a wall, someone else's investigation would come next. Maybe GCPD. Maybe worse.
In Gotham, paranoia kept you alive.
"I don't understand," Jude said carefully. "Why contact me at all? The wheelchair isn't that advanced. It's just modified consumer electronics."
"We'll discuss that in person, Mr. Jude. Would you be available today, tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow? Between three and five PM. Call this number when you're ready, and I'll send a car."
"What if I don't want to come?"
"I respect your choice. But I hope you'll reconsider. This conversation will benefit us both, and I won't take much of your time."
"Can I come after ten tonight? I work until—"
"I'll compensate your lost wages for taking time off work. Please come between three and five PM."
Jude exhaled slowly. "Alright."
Lucius's tone was unfailingly polite. Almost courteous. The kind of courtesy that made refusal seem unreasonable.
After hanging up, Jude sat thinking.
Wayne Enterprises owned half of Gotham—healthcare, real estate, transportation, construction, technology. A corporate titan so powerful even Falcone avoided direct confrontation.
You didn't have to work with Wayne Enterprises.
But you absolutely couldn't be their enemy.
He called Donald.
"Sir, Can I have the afternoon off."
Donald didn't even ask why. "Fine. Be back tomorrow."
3:26 PM. Wayne Tower.
The building rose like a cathedral of glass and steel, dwarfing everything around it. Security at the entrance was professional but not oppressive. They checked his ID, gave him a visitor badge, and directed him to the executive elevator.
Lucius's office was minimalist. Clean lines, no clutter, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Gotham's skyline.
The man himself was middle-aged, Black, impeccably dressed. He stood when Jude entered, gestured to a chair.
"Mr. Jude. Let's get straight to the point."
He set a small evidence bag on the desk. Inside: fragments of blue petals.
Jude's poker face cracked slightly.
Oh shit.
"This was found in your wheelchair," Lucius said. "We're still analyzing it, but preliminary results suggest the plant is... unusual."
Where did he—
The memory hit like a freight train.
The modified wheelchair. The thoughtfully-designed cup holder. His thermos, carefully placed there before work.
The thermos he'd forgotten when the robber stole the wheelchair.
Goddammit.
His mind raced through options. Deny? Impossible—his DNA was in that thermos. Lie about where he got it? Risky. Lucius clearly had resources to verify any story.
Better to admit partial truth.
"I thought you called me about the wheelchair," Jude said.
"The illegally-modified wheelchair is interesting too. But as I said, I'm more interested in what was on it." Lucius leaned back slightly. "I advise against using such dangerous transportation in the future, incidentally."
"The tea." Jude gestured at the evidence bag. "I only got it after arriving in Gotham. Small amount—just one pouch. I'd never tried it before yesterday. Didn't know it would be so... effective."
"Effective how?"
"Energy. I drank a cup at two PM and couldn't sleep all night. Fell asleep for maybe ten minutes the next afternoon. Way better than coffee."
Lucius's expression shifted slightly. Relief, maybe.
Not a street drug, Jude could almost hear him thinking. Just a natural stimulant.
"Interesting. Where did you acquire it?"
Jude shrugged. "Found it."
"Found it?"
"I arrived in Gotham by train. Fell asleep in the station for a bit. When I woke up, someone had left a bag next to me. Old homeless guy, maybe. Gone by the time I noticed. Inside was a note saying 'for you' and this pouch of dried flowers." He maintained eye contact. "Seemed harmless. Figured it was tea."
The lie was plausible. Gotham was full of random acts—violence, kindness, weirdness in equal measure. A stranger leaving mysterious tea? Barely registered on the city's strangeness scale.
"You can't identify where this person might have obtained it?"
"I was half-asleep. Old man, beard, worn coat. Could've been anyone."
Lucius nodded slowly. "And the remaining tea?"
Jude pulled a small cloth pouch from his pocket. "All I have left. You're welcome to it. If you want to buy it, make an offer."
Lucius took the pouch, examined the contents. Same blue petals.
"I'm willing to pay fairly. Or—" He set the pouch down. "I can offer alternative compensation."
"Such as?"
"Employment. Wayne Enterprises Technical Department."
Jude blinked.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You modified that wheelchair yourself, correct? The engineering was crude but effective. More importantly, creative. We could use that kind of practical innovation."
"I..." Jude's brain stuttered. "I don't have formal qualifications. I'm a waiter."
"Wayne Enterprises values capability over credentials." Lucius smiled slightly. "Consider it. The salary would be considerably higher than restaurant work. Full benefits. And you'd be working on more interesting projects than racing wheelchairs through East End alleys."