The rain in Gotham had finally eased, but the sulfur on the wind still stung the nose.
Yang Ming trudged through the mud back to 22 Lake Street. Falcone's deposit check still weighed heavily in his trench coat pocket, and the web of his right hand throbbed faintly-a lingering consequence of blocking Batman's heavy punch in the study.
"You'd better have a reasonable explanation for why you didn't lock the door." Yang Ming stopped in the shadows of the alley and spoke coldly.
Selina Kyle leaned against the redbrick wall beside the rolling shutter, an unlit slim cigarette held between her fingers.
At the sight of Yang Ming, unmistakable relief flashed in her catlike eyes, only to be replaced by intense seriousness.
She hurried over, her voice lowered almost to a whisper, with a barely perceptible tremor. "Don't go in. Or... think about what you're going to say before you do. There's a man in there who could buy the entire East End and dump it into the sea."
Yang Ming raised an eyebrow, his hand already finding the scalpel handle in his pocket. "One of Falcone's people, or has some American tycoon graced us with his presence?"
"No." Selene took a deep breath.
"It's Bruce Wayne. The young master Wayne who just returned to Gotham and makes the front page every day. He's been sitting inside for over ten minutes. He even brought Maggie a box of handmade chocolates flown in from Upper Town."
Yang Ming's heart skipped a beat, but not a crack appeared in the sickly exhaustion on his face.
Bruce Wayne?
Twenty minutes ago, this bastard was fighting me for his life in Falcone's study like some rabid mutt of a bat. Now he'd changed clothes and come to corner me at my own door?
This rich kid had so much stamina it made me want to dissect him and see whether he had a nuclear battery installed.
"What's he doing in there?" Yang Ming asked.
"He said he needed to see you." Selene wore a strange expression.
"But he's telling Maggie about a yeti he met in the Himalayas and a homeless man he saw under London Bridge. He looks... like your typical kindhearted playboy who isn't very bright."
Yang Ming sneered inwardly. Kindhearted? That Batarang nearly severed my carotid artery.
"Oh? Really? Come take a look with me." Yang Ming pushed past Selene, pressed his palm against the cold rolling shutter, and hauled it upward.
Clatter-
The crash of metal sounded especially harsh in the silent neighborhood.
Inside the clinic, the dim yellow lights had been turned up a little. Beside the Stark Industries Hyperbaric Chamber, the cold black specter was gone.
In his place was a young man wearing an expensive bespoke suit, his shirt collar slightly open and his hair a little disheveled, giving him a rakishly handsome air.
Bruce Wayne sat in Yang Ming's battered swivel chair, holding one of Maggie's fairy-tale books.
At the noise, he turned his head, his deep blue eyes filled with just the right measure of surprise and warmth.
"Let me guess. You must be the miracle doctor Selene mentioned, the one who can snatch people out of God's hands?" Bruce stood, his smile as radiant as a boy just back from vacation.
Maggie lay in the Hyperbaric Chamber. Though she was still very weak, her eyes shone, and she clutched a chocolate wrapper in her hand.
Yang Ming closed the door behind him and locked it. He casually hung his rain-soaked trench coat on the rack, revealing a slightly rumpled white coat beneath.
"Young master Wayne." Yang Ming sounded as flat as if he were reading a death notice. "This is a clinic, not an afternoon tea salon for Gotham's elite. If you're not sick, the registration fee is still nonrefundable."
"A doctor with quite a personality. I like that." Bruce chuckled and strode forward.
His steps were steady, betraying none of the rough shape he had been in during the fight at the manor.
The expensive cologne on Bruce's body diluted the clinic's medicinal smell, but there was no hiding how overpowering it was after he had hastily sprayed himself to save time.
Yang Ming stared hard at him. A tiny bruise marked the corner of Bruce's mouth, right where Yang Ming had struck him with the scalpel handle.
"Allow me to introduce myself. Bruce Wayne." Bruce held out his right hand, his gaze sincere.
"I hear you've saved a lot of people in the East End who didn't deserve to die. As you know, the Wayne Family has always supported healthcare in Gotham. Perhaps I could offer you some... funding?"
Yang Ming looked at that hand.
Those hands were covered in calluses, their bone structure perfect. An ordinary person might have taken those marks for the traces of rock climbing or racing. To Yang Ming, they were medals earned through relentlessly honed killing techniques.
"No need for funding. I prefer cash transactions." Yang Ming extended his hand as well and clasped Bruce's palm.
The instant their hands met, the air seemed to freeze.
Yang Ming's fingers abruptly tightened. This was the best way to return the favor. That damned bat had brought it on himself by pestering him all the time.
Bruce's pupils contracted slightly, but the smile on his face did not so much as waver.
His palm was like a lump of iron, unmoving under Yang Ming's force. Then Bruce rotated his wrist at an almost imperceptible angle, applying pressure against the web of Yang Ming's hand.
A brutal surge of strength traveled up his arm from Bruce's core.
The two stood in the center of the clinic with false smiles on their faces, while the concrete beneath their feet gave off an exceedingly faint scraping sound under the silent clash of their strength.
"You have quite a grip, Dr. Yang. Not what I'd expect from someone who spends all day holding a scalpel." Bruce narrowed his eyes, his tone relaxed, though his grip had already tightened enough to crush finger bones.
"Your hand is very steady too, young master Wayne. Not what I'd expect from a rich boy who spends all day drowning in booze and women," Yang Ming retorted. His left hand remained in his pocket, where he had quietly pinched an anesthetic needle between his fingers.
Selene stood to one side, still holding her slim cigarette, utterly dumbfounded.
From her perspective, the two men looked like brothers reunited after years apart, shaking hands as they caught up. Even their eyes seemed to hold a kind of mutual appreciation.
Yet her keen sixth sense was screaming a warning-the atmosphere around those two was so cold it made her want to sneeze.
They knew each other? (´･ω･`)?
No, it was more than that. Selene felt certain something had happened between these two, something that could never see the light of day-perhaps even a fight to the death.
"Cough." Maggie coughed softly inside the Hyperbaric Chamber.
Yang Ming abruptly released his grip.
Bruce took the opportunity to withdraw his right hand and slip it into his pocket. His fingertips unconsciously rubbed against the inside of the pocket-a large patch of his hand had already turned red.
"Dr. Yang, I'm actually here for treatment." Bruce rubbed his wrist, his gaze turning a little playful.
He pointed beneath his ribs, where Yang Ming had stabbed him in Falcone's study. Though his titanium alloy armor had stopped the blade, the force transmitted through it had certainly injured the soft tissue.
"My chest has felt tight lately. I may have hurt it in a racing crash a few days ago. I hear you have some kind of... green medicine with remarkable effects?" Bruce lowered his voice, openly probing.
Yang Ming walked behind the reception desk and sat down. He opened a blank medical chart, his pen scratching harshly across the paper.
"That medicine is very expensive, young master Wayne." Yang Ming looked up, his black eyes fathomless. "So expensive you might not be able to afford it in your entire lifetime."
Bruce braced his hands on the counter and leaned forward, that oppressive presence descending once again. "Can't afford it? The Wayne Family owns property all over Gotham. What do you want? Whatever it is, I'll give it to you. There's nothing the Wayne Family won't grant!"
Yang Ming's pen stopped. Nothing you won't grant? You'll probably turn around and build an anti-Yang Ming Batsuit afterward. (///￣皿￣)○~ Fuck, all I want is for you to get the hell out of here, rich boy!