"So this is what you've earned these past few days. Not bad." Roland looked over Jason's ledger. "Your actual income must be even higher."
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
"Did you really think I wouldn't notice you cooking the books?" Roland rolled his eyes at him. "You can't even balance the accounts, and you're already collecting protection money."
"Tch. My mistake. I should've found a partner who knows accounting. I'll also have to find a way to bribe the Police Department. Gordon doesn't take bribes, but we've got Barbara now—" Jason pursed his lips. "Better give Kara a cut too. Then nobody would dare come after me—"
"Hiring an accountant to cook the books, bribing the police, hiring muscle—are you trying to start a gang?" Roland said irritably. "Is that what I wanted you to reflect on?"
"So what did you want me to reflect on?" Jason asked.
"Obviously, the way you're keeping everything for yourself! Where's my share, as per the rules?"
"—Tch." Jason handed Roland a thick stack of loose bills. "Count it."
"This is way too little." Roland hefted it in his hand. "It's only enough to buy a few thousand bottles of cola."
"Everyone nearby is poor. Most of the income still has to come from shaking people down."
"That's true." Roland nodded. "But Commissioner Gordon could easily catch you doing this."
"Easy. Just take Barbara along," Jason said. "Though her fighting skills are still a little lacking—"
"That's easy too. The poor rely on mutations; the rich rely on technology. Have Nightwing sponsor a suit of armor for her."
"Right! I'll go tell him now." Jason nodded and went out to find Nightwing.
"Was that what I meant just now—" Roland thought for a moment, then gave up. "Forget it. That'll do."
The next