After the fiery interview, Adam didn't head back to the police station right away. Instead, he slipped into a dingy old phone booth, the kind that looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the last mayoral scandal, and made a quiet call.
The other end clicked. Deadshot Norton—ex-special forces, expert marksman, and all-around professional killer—answered with his usual dry drawl.
"Hey, man," Adam said, cutting past small talk. "You saw the news, right?"
Norton snorted. "Oh, we all saw it. The headlines are calling you and Gotham's richest playboy 'love rivals' or something. What the hell, Adam? You pick a fight with Bruce Wayne and still end up in the hospital? A spoiled rich boy from a penthouse beat you like that? That's just… embarrassing."
Adam's eyebrow twitched.
'Embarrassing?'
Oh, that was rich coming from this guy. He gritted his teeth but kept his tone polite. "That's exactly why I'm calling you."
Inside, Adam was raging, 'This bastard… Deadshot, you have the nerve to mock me? You're the same guy who's been dragged to Blackgate like a stray mutt, humiliated in Arkham, and outplayed by Gotham's psychos more times than I can count. And now you're laughing at me because I lost to Bruce Wayne?'
He took a breath, forcing a calm smile he knew Norton couldn't see. "I need help. Serious help. I can't keep fighting like this. My fists might scare drunk thugs, but when it comes to real pros—or even Bruce freakin' Wayne—I'm a sitting duck. I need to learn. Fast. You're the best guy I know for the job."
Norton chuckled, but there was hesitation in his tone. "Training? Man, I've never played teacher. I shoot things, Adam. Your department's got instructors, why not use them instead of bothering me?"
Adam sighed dramatically and replied, "Instructors? Please. Our station doesn't have that luxury. Only the main Gotham precinct has proper trainers, and going there would be like admitting I suck in front of the entire police force. I'd never live that down. I can already hear the whispers—'Oh, there goes Adam, the guy who got his ass handed to him by a playboy.' No thanks."
Deadshot paused, seemingly weighing it over.
"Look, Norton," Adam said earnestly. "You're a legend when it comes to firearms. Even half the underworld is terrified of your aim. If I can't learn from you, I might as well hang my badge and retire to a donut shop. Here's the deal: I'll make it worth your while. I'll get you hired as a personal trainer, or even better, as the chief instructor for our Arkham Division. Full pay, cushy perks. Or if you don't want the badge life, I'll bring you on privately. You'll get paid. No favors—this is business."
On the other end, Norton went quiet. He'd been struggling to find steady work lately; even the mob wasn't calling him as often. Adam's offer was like someone dangling a steak in front of a starving wolf.
"…You're serious?" Norton asked.
"Dead serious. I need you, man."
Finally, Norton sighed. "Alright. When do we start?"
Adam didn't hesitate and quickly replied, "Tonight."
"Tonight?!" Norton exclaimed. "Didn't the news say your hand's busted? Shouldn't you… I don't know, heal first? My training isn't exactly gentle."
Adam's face hardened and he replied, "No time. Every second I waste is another chance for some Gotham psycho to gut me. Bruce Wayne already humiliated me. I refuse to be beaten like that again. We start tonight, no excuses. The shooting range behind the station is free after sunset. Meet me there."
Norton couldn't help but admire Adam's determination. There weren't many people in Gotham who were this stubborn about self-improvement, especially after taking a beating. "Fine," he muttered. "But don't come crying to me when you can't feel your arms tomorrow."
Adam grinned. "That's the spirit."
Of course, Adam wasn't just worried about Bruce Wayne. He knew Gotham was a city of surprises, and Batman wouldn't stay out of his business forever. Better to prepare now. By "training" with Deadshot at the police station, surrounded by other officers, he'd also be protected from any unwanted bat-shaped shadows lurking nearby.
After he hung up, Adam glanced up at the Gotham skyline. The clouds were their usual grim shade of gray, and in the distance, a ship's horn echoed across the canal.
"Alright," Adam muttered to himself. "Next step: wait for Loeb to get back. Once he does, this plan goes to the next level."