The van rumbled down the street, thick steel walls vibrating with every pothole and bump in the road. Nolan sat shackled to the bench, wrists and ankles bound in cold restraints, with one guard seated across from him, shotgun resting between his knees. The other sat up front beside the driver, murmuring into a radio.
Outside the narrow, grated window, Gotham rolled past in smears of gray and muted neon. Rain slicked the sidewalks. A pair of officers on horseback moved through an intersection slowly, directing traffic away from the convoy. Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance probably unrelated, Nolan thought. 'How is it every time I step outside I hear sirens.'
He stared forward, unmoving. Not afraid. Not calm either. Just… bracing.
Kieran was silent. Vey stirred once and went quiet again. But Quentin whispered, 'Looks like rain.'
Nolan didn't reply he just counted the seconds in his head, each one pulling him closer to the inevitable.
After fifteen more minutes and two unnecessary detours either for security or to mess with his nerves the transport van pulled up to the courthouse. Stark stone pillars greeted him, blotched with water stains and decades of bureaucracy.
The van doors opened with a screech.
"Move."
The guards led him inside, chained like a prize. The clack of his boots echoed through the marble foyer. People glanced his way press, cops, maybe a few early court-goers but most averted their eyes quickly.
No one wanted to look too long at a man in shackles.
He was guided down a hallway, past two checkpoints, and finally through the double doors into the courtroom. The judge hadn't arrived yet. The gallery was mostly empty, save for a few reporters and two camera crews stationed by the back wall.
Nolan's eyes scanned the room instinctively.
He froze when he saw someone already seated at his defense table.
A sharply dressed man in a navy three-piece suit sat flipping through a folder, perfectly calm, pen tucked behind one ear. His black hair was slicked back, and he had the kind of polished grin that belonged more at a cocktail party than a criminal hearing.
Nolan's first thought 'Public defender? I should have thought to get a real lawyer.'
The man turned and caught his stare then gave a small, knowing smile.
"Your friends in the underpass say hi," he whispered just loud enough for Nolan to hear him, "I'll be your lawyer."
A beat passed.
Then Nolan allowed himself the smallest smirk, no more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth, before stepping forward and taking the seat beside him.
The guard unshackled him at the table, then retreated to the courtroom's edge. The man beside him leaned in slightly, voice still low.
"Call me Adrian. Don't worry I've read everything. They're playing fast and loose with the charges. I can get the assault dropped, and maybe half the organized crime angle, if the judge isn't a complete bastard."
Nolan stayed quiet. Adrian continued.
"Now… Arkham's temporary. The state just wants their shrink to make sure you're not going to eat anyone mid-trial. Technically you should be in Blackgate with everyone else awaiting trial, but…" He tapped the folder. "We can move you. One form, one hearing. You'd be in a real prison by the end of the week."
Nolan's fingers drummed faintly on the wood.
Quentin stirred in the back of his head, 'Blackgate's crawling with Mask's men. You walk in there, you're target number one.'
'They'll kill you, black mask was just put there too.' Vey added.
'We can't take that chance,' Kieran finished.
Nolan turned to Adrian and spoke evenly.
"No. I'll stay in Arkham."
Adrian raised an eyebrow, amused. "Most people don't say that."
"I'm not most people," Nolan muttered.
Adrian grinned wider, then adjusted his tie. "Fair enough."
The doors at the front of the courtroom opened.
"All rise."
The judge stepped in. Nolan stood.
"All rise."
A lean man in his late fifties with deep lines under his eyes and the air of someone far too tired of Gotham's never-ending flood of criminals. His black robe swayed as he approached the bench, and he dropped into his seat with a sigh.
"You may be seated."
The murmurs died down as the court clerk began rattling off the case number and charges.
"The State of Gotham v. Kieran Everleigh. Charges include conspiracy to commit armed robbery, organized criminal activity, unlawful possession of restricted weaponry, and accessory to multiple counts of homicide, among others."
Nolan sat motionless beside Adrian, jaw tense.
The judge skimmed through the preliminary folder handed to him.
"Does the defense have anything to submit prior to scheduling formal proceedings?"
Adrian stood smoothly, buttoning his jacket.
"Your Honor, the defense would like to submit a formal request for bail."
A ripple moved through the courtroom.
Kieran didn't flinch.
Adrian went on, confident and composed. "My client, Mr. Everleigh, is a respected Gotham businessman with a clean record. No prior criminal convictions. No history of violence. He's well-documented, traceable, and has remained cooperative since his detainment. There's no evidence that he poses a flight risk, and given the nature of the charges, all of which we contest we believe bail is appropriate. He has deep community ties and no prior reason to flee the city."
He handed a copy of the motion to the bailiff, who brought it up to the judge. For a moment, the courtroom held its breath.
The prosecutor a sharp-faced woman in a dark red suit rose immediately.
"With all due respect, Your Honor, Mr. Everleigh's identity itself is under suspicion. We believe he is connected to an ongoing criminal enterprise operating in the shadows of Gotham, one that has only grown in aggression since his arrest. He has access to resources stolen, illegal resources that could easily help him flee the city or retaliate against witnesses."
She let that hang in the air for a beat before continuing.
"Furthermore, while he has no documented criminal history, we have strong evidence that he has used multiple identities in the past. The risk is too high."
The judge looked at both lawyers, then at Nolan.
Nolan met his eyes but said nothing.
The gavel came down.
"Bail is denied. Defendant will remain in Arkham Asylum under medical evaluation until the next court date."
Adrian sat back down slowly, whispering out of the side of his mouth, "They're scared of you. That's a good sign, in its own way."
Kieran didn't reply.
The judge continued, "Formal trial proceedings will begin in two weeks. Discovery materials must be exchanged in the next seventy-two hours. And if either side is found to be tampering with the investigation—"
His eyes flicked toward the prosecutor, then back to Adrian.
"—you'll answer directly to me."
With that, he struck the gavel again.
"Court is adjourned."
The bailiff approached. Kieran stood as the cuffs were reattached, wrists clinking in front of him.
Adrian gave him a nod. "I'll be in touch."
Kieran gave the barest nod back before being escorted from the courtroom.
As he passed through the doors, the press began shouting questions outside the hall.
But Nolan's thoughts were already drifting back toward Arkham.