"Two million, TWO MILLION? We don't have that type of cash are you insane!" Nolan shouted in alarm
"Calm down will you, the hotel is worth at least five million. It might not be the most active hotel but rooms are regularly booked and the land is the real worth." Kieran grumbled
"Still care to share how we will get two million dollars?" Quentin asked, "Oh here's a random idea we could rob a bank, just a thought."
"That was a one and done situation."
"Nuh uh."
"Stop bickering, I have an idea. Obviously we will still have to pay but it will be far less than two million." Kieran grumbled as he downed the rest of his wine and ignored the odd gazes he was being sent
"Now if you excuse me I need to send a alarming report"
***
The headlines hit local news first. A minor, tucked-away story on a blog known for chasing urban mysteries and forgotten history:
-Is Gotham's newly cursed Hotel Built Over a Lost Historical Site?
Most people wouldn't notice. But Leonard Harrow did.
It was two days after Kieran Everleigh politely declined further discussion at the vineyard, citing a new property he was already looking into. Now, Harrow sat behind his dark walnut desk, brow furrowed, skimming the article with a growing sense of unease.
Nolan had made sure it looked legitimate too legitimate. The article was credited to a fake historian with a convincing record, complete with a photo, fake interviews, and a well-researched backstory. It detailed how Ironcap Hotel may sit atop the remnants of Gotham's "Ironcap Foundry," supposedly one of the first steel smelting facilities built pre-industrialization destroyed in a fire and forgotten under layers of gentrified reconstruction.
Fake maps. Fake witness reports. Even a forged government petition pushing for recognition as a potential historical landmark.
It was all there.
The very next morning, a black sedan rolled up to the hotel. Harrow had just stepped out of a phone call when his assistant came in looking pale.
"There are three people from the Historical Society of Gotham here," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "They said they called ahead, but I never—"
Harrow rushed out into the lobby.
The inspectors stood in the middle of the marble-tiled floor, one in tweed, one in khakis, and one in a clean-cut dark suit that didn't look cheap. Clipboards. Flashlights. Badges that seemed official enough. One even had a city seal sticker crookedly slapped on a laminated ID.
"Mr. Harrow?" the woman in tweed asked.
He nodded slowly. "What's this about?"
She smiled politely. "We're here to begin a preliminary review of your hotel. There's a potential claim regarding historical land usage. We've received a few independent submissions about the site possibly housing remnants of Ironcap Foundry. Your foundation records are incomplete, which makes this necessary."
Harrow's stomach dropped.
The inspectors started walking through the hotel, poking along the baseboards, taking soil samples in the back courtyard, measuring wall thickness with some tool Harrow didn't recognize. One of them leaned in close to the wallpaper in the bar area and murmured, "This might be original. Late 1800s, maybe."
To sell the con Kieran made the evidence strong enough to get real historical surveyors to come out.
By the end of the inspection, Harrow was visibly sweating.
"What does this mean?" he asked, voice strained.
The woman from the Society gave a vague shrug. "We'll need to do more research, but if confirmed, this land might be ineligible for further development or major renovations. It's possible it could be declared a protected site."
"And how long does that take?"
"Hard to say. Bureaucracy. Sometimes weeks. Sometimes months."
They left him standing in the lobby, staring at the door.
An hour later, Harrow called Nolan.
The phone rang once. Twice.
Then, "Everleigh speaking."
"Nolan," Harrow said, voice thick with forced cheer. "I've been thinking. About our little real estate conversation."
A pause.
Then Kieran, Nolan, in disguise replied. "Funny. I thought we'd agreed there were too many miracles to work."
"I think we may have been too quick to write it off. You're a clever man. I think this could be exactly the kind of challenge you'd love."
"Oh, Leonard," Kieran chuckled, feigning polite amusement. "I've already begun talks with another property. They're offering it for significantly less and without the ghosts of Gotham's past clinging to its foundation."
There was an edge in Harrow's voice now. "Well, come on. For two friends. You can still get rich off this. You know you can."
Kieran let the silence hang for a moment. Then: "How rich can I get from a hotel I might not even be allowed to renovate? If it's declared a landmark, the government could seize portions of the land. Or worse—shut it down. My associates don't like that kind of risk."
"I'll match your new deal. I talked to the surveyors and they said it's highly unlikely that it's on historical land. Whatever the new place is going for. What do you say?" Harrow lied seamlessly
Another pause.
Kieran leaned back in the chair of his dimly lit apartment, smirking as he looked over at a mockup of the article he had pushed.
"Alright. If you say it's not going to be halted I'll trust you," Kieran said, dripping with faux sincerity. "Half a million. In cash."
Harrow laughed too hard, too relieved. He thought he'd won. That he'd offloaded a cursed property onto some starry-eyed investor with a knack for lipstick miracles.
"Yeah I can do half a million tell you what, meet me at the lounge we can go over all of the paper work right now."
"On my way."
As the call ended, Kieran looked into the dark monitor, where the barely-visible reflection of Nolan's tired eyes stared back.
Nolan didn't say anything.
But he was smiling.
***
The lounge was quieter than usual. Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching in the slow swirl of dust and the golden rim of a freshly poured whiskey glass. Kieran Everleigh was already seated in a private booth by the time Leonard Harrow walked in, a slim leather briefcase in hand and sweat blooming faintly beneath his collar.
"Mr. Everleigh," Harrow greeted with theatrical warmth, sliding into the booth opposite him. "Appreciate you making time for this. Figured it'd be easier to meet here than drag ourselves to some stiff office setting."
Kieran gave him the kind of smile that made it feel like they were old friends. "Well, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that people do their best business with a drink in hand."
He raised his glass slightly. Leonard didn't bother ordering he set the briefcase down and clicked it open.
Inside were two manila folders, the corners already marked by quick handling. He pulled one out and laid it gently on the table between them.
"Let's get right into it," Leonard said. "This is the purchase agreement, plus the deed transfer forms. I've had my people prepare it for an all-cash sale, as requested. No banks. No escrow. Fast and clean."
Kieran took the folder and flipped through it casually, though his eyes were scanning with sharp precision. Nolan had already briefed him on the basics: the title needed to be clear, the seller had to sign an affidavit confirming there were no liens or back taxes, and a notary had to witness the agreement if it was to hold up later. But none of this would go through official systems under his real name anyway.
"Does this include the business license?" Kieran asked, sipping his whiskey.
Leonard nodded. "Transfer of ownership for the entire operating entity—hotel name, business license, vendor contracts, the whole lot. I've even thrown in the liquor license, assuming you'll want to keep the lounge running."
"How generous."
"I like to think I take care of my friends."
Kieran looked up from the folder. "And no hidden surprises waiting for me behind the curtains?"
Leonard chuckled. "Nothing that isn't already public knowledge. The building's aging, sure. Needs some touch-ups. But like you said—you work miracles."
"Indeed I do." Kieran leaned back, casually clicking his pen. "But I need to know if this miracle's going to cost me more than five hundred thousand after the fact."
"No liens. No active lawsuits. No outstanding debts. I had my legal guy put it all in here." Leonard tapped the last few pages. "Seller's affidavit. Transfer of ownership. You sign, I sign, we both get copies. Notarized at the end."
Kieran paused on that last point. "And the notary?"
Leonard turned slightly and motioned toward the bar.
A man in a slate-gray suit stepped forward, pulling a slim black briefcase from beneath the counter. "Mr. Harrow told me you might be ready today," he said, opening his case to reveal a notary seal, stamp pad, and a small stack of forms.
"Convenient," Kieran murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
He reached under the table and took a briefcase out from under and then a second one. Opening the first Kieran showed the lining of cash, "Five hundred thousand." Kieran said with a small smile
Leonard frowned, "When you said cash I assumed a check not actual cash."
Kieran smiled almost sheepishly, "For something like this I would prefer to keep it under the table I'm sure you understand. If I can't even touch the property until it's verified to not be on historical property, it would be a rather embarrassing venture."
Leonard thought for a moment and then thought of the financial sink hole he wss about to unload onto this poor sap. He had other properties, and his reputation was worth a lot more than losing out on some money.
"Let's sign. Of course I have a confidentiality clause which dictates you nor I can disclose how much you bought the property for." Harrow explained with a cunning smile
Kieran look pensive before nodding, "Fine it's a deal."
They walked through the paperwork—Kieran signing as Kieran Everleigh, the name attached to all the fake history, all the fake assets and online records that Nolan had spent days building. Everything passed muster. The notary signed off, stamped everything official, and handed them duplicate copies. The room seemed to still for a moment.
Then Leonard leaned back with a breathless chuckle. "Well. It's all yours."
Kieran folded his copy and slipped it into a slim folder. "Congratulations, Mr. Harrow. You've just been relieved of one very historic headache."
Leonard raised a brow, as if trying to read deeper into the words. "And you've got yourself a real fixer-upper."
Kieran smiled and stood, straightening his cuffs. "I like a challenge."
He gave Leonard a firm handshake, and then patted him on the shoulder lightly.
"Pleasure doing business with you."
Leonard grinned, masking the unease that threatened to surface. "Likewise."
Kieran walked out of the lounge with the sunset casting gold along the sidewalk. In his pocket was the deed to a crumbling hotel. On paper, he'd just made a terrible investment.
But in his gut and in Nolan's quiet hum beneath the surface he knew otherwise.
"Well we are broke now." Quentin complained
"But about to become oh so rich."
—
A/n: if your confused on how he had 500k, it's what the network is collecting on top of the usual supplies, usually most of it would go back into the network but he's making a gamble. Think about everyone someone commits a crime for money (rob a bank for example) they will request payment for their services.