Butler Boy - Chapter 18 (Patreon)

“I still can't believe you went swimming. Honestly!” Mom sighed as I began spooning up beef stew, mashed potatoes, and fresh-baked bread. Besides the dishware, it wasn't anything particularly fancy, but it was warm and filling, especially after I'd had to fill my stomach up with random snacks from the limo. Real food was a godsend.

“Leave them alone, honey,” Dad rolled his eyes. “Mr. Wayne doesn't seem upset, so you shouldn't either.”

“Indeed, I don't might at all, Abigail,” Bruce smiled winsomely at my mother. “The pool doesn't get anywhere near enough use these days, so I'm actually quite glad someone took advantage of it. Even if I'd prefer AJ to have asked permission from you before offering its use to Arden.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Villin,” the teen girl replied obediently, dipping her head as Bruce gestured to her with his right hand.

We were seated in the grand dining hall as a 'dress rehearsal' to the party tomorrow, though we only took up a scant seven seats at the hundred-foot long table. I'd been offered – and accepted – the seat next to AJ. Adelaide was on my right. Dad and Mom were on the other side of the table, Dad taking the seat next to Bruce and Mom next to him, with Algernon on the far side of Mom.

Addie might be warming up to Mom a bit more now that certain things were resolved, but putting them next to each other in a setting like this was a recipe for... not quite disaster, but definitely a passive-aggressive argument.

Confronted with the reality of having to blame the host's child for her son's indiscretion, Mom exhaled heavily and shook her head. “It's alright dear. I just don't want Arden to take undue advantage of being a guest of your guardian.”

“The youngest Mr. Villin doesn't seem the overly adventurous type to me, Ma'am, if I may,” Alfred stated as he refilled a serving dish off to the side.

I felt my cheeks get hot as my siblings and father chuckled ruefully.

“Oh, he's usually pretty well-behaved. Better than Algie and Addie were at that age, certainly,” Dad smirked as the two of them cringed lightly. “But he has his moments.”

“And those are way more impressive than anything we got up to,” Addie pointed out with a sly smirk in my direction.

“Remember the zipline incident?” Algie snickered.

“I would rather not,” Mom sighed.

“Oooh, I smell blackmail,” AJ giggled, looking between the various members of my family. “What'd he do?'

“I watched Home Alone one too many times,” I replied with a roll of my eyes.

“That's... that movie about the kid who gets those two thieves nicked, right?” AJ asked, screwing up her face.

“A fine piece of American Cinema,” Alfred chimed in. “Might I recommend a 'movie night' to help acclimatize Miss AJ to the culture of her new homeland?”

“That's not a bad idea,” Bruce's deep baritone hummed as he looked at his ward, who perked up at the offer. “There are a number of films I, myself, never found the time to see as well.”

“Wizard,” AJ grinned, twisting in her seat slightly. “So, ah... what was this stunt you did, anyway?”

“I strung a rope from my second-floor bedroom window to a tree outside and used the handlebars off an old rusted bike to slide down it,” I replied with a sigh, making her eyes blow wide at the reveal.

“My heart nearly stopped when I heard you yell and looked out the window, young man,” Mom stated, shaking her head. “I swear my first gray hair came in not a week later.”

“Damn,” AJ snorted. “You-”

“Language, AJ,” Bruce chided lightly, his eyes cutting to her as he consumed more soup. “I'm usually pretty tolerant, but when we have guests over...”

She flushed slightly and grimaced, looking to my mother and father, who seemed relieved that Bruce had called her on the swear. “Sorry, Ma'am. Sir. Still learning 'ow to keep a civil tongue in me head.”

“It's alright, dear,” Mom stated.

“Man, squirt, you're so lucky Mom's mellowed since we were kids,” Algie chuckled, waving a spoon between himself and Addie. “One of our friends drop a swear at the dinner table? They'd have been dragged by the ear to their parents' front door and never been invited back again.”

AJ winced a bit, looking away.

I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but mentally resolved to get her help to set up a small prank before we left.

“You make it out like I was some kind of harpy, Algernon,” Mom scoffed. “The only time I remember anything like that happening was when you had that Justin Bridger boy over and he-”

Dad coughed rather loudly, cutting off the story abruptly and dimming Addie's shark-like smile while Algie's expression whitened.

I grinned at AJ and shot her a wink, mouthing, 'later.'

That seemed to perk her up more than the smile had.

“At any rate, I think Arden had a few things he wanted to discuss with Mr. Wayne,” Dad offered, changing the subject bluntly.

“Oh?” Bruce asked, turning towards me. “Is this about the shares in the company?”

I tried and... mostly succeeded in not squirming under the man's gaze. “Ah... no, sir. It's, um...”

“Arden's got ideas for stuff he thinks you can sell,” AJ shrugged, both cutting me off and getting straight to the heart of the matter at once. “An artificial heart and stuff.”

“An... artificial heart?” Bruce asked, frowning thoughtfully as he turned to me. “Really? I saw the article Ms. Sullivan published, but...”

“It's a work in progress,” I admitted. “I have preliminary design notes, material requirements, and general specifications drawn up that I can show you after dinner, if you'd like. I know that I'm young, but Wayne Enterprises is primarily a company which deals in the medical sector and was hoping you'd at least hear me out.”

Bruce hummed slowly, nodding. “Okay, shoot.”

I blinked, “Now?'

He shrugged with a boyish grin. “I don't see why not. Do you have a pitch?”

I stared at the man owlishly for a moment, then shook myself and reached into my bag hanging over the back of the chair I was sitting in. Carefully, I removed the binder I'd been putting my designs in, then selected the ones related to the...

I shook my head and just handed the entire thing over to AJ to pass to Bruce.

“Thank you,” Bruce hummed, laying the binder out on the side of the table as he looked over the page. “Interesting...”

I busied myself with eating as he carefully read over the first page, then the second, then the third. My parents and siblings pretended not to be anxious or nervous over his quiet contemplation while they shot each other heavy looks... except for Algie, who was relaxed and confident, the weight of the exchange sloughing off him like water off a duck's back. Say what you will about my brother, but he could handle stressful situations.

“So what are you looking for?” Bruce asked finally, raising his gaze up from my binder. “Sell this design or do you want to license it to my company?”

“Ideally the latter,” I nodded, “though I can live with an outright sale if necessary. But I was hoping for funding to provide a functional prototype, first. I think the design is good, but it needs improvements, fixing problems I'll likely only spot once I move into proper fabrication.”

“What kind of investment are you looking for?” Bruce asked, idly flipping through the rest of the binder.

“There's a list of machines, materials, and software I'd need... plus additional funds for a building, which will likely need at least moderate renovation...” I hesitated, my eyes flicking towards my parents. “Probably looking at upwards of five hundred thousand.”

Dad choked on his drink as Mom gasped.

“Conservatively,” I muttered.

Addie covered her mouth with a hand as she quietly cursed into it. Algie, who'd been unbothered before, had been reduced to staring owlishly, mouthing the number. AJ was little better, seeming startled as well before she shook it off.

Alfred cleared his throat harshly-

I frowned.

-and stepped forward as Bruce chuckled. “You'll find, Mr and Mrs. Villin, that such a sum, while not paltry or insignificant, is not as substantial as it might appear at first. In fact, it's rather tame for a startup investment of a potential invention of this magnitude.”

Bruce nodded, smiling as he flipped another page and frowned, reading. “People usually ask for several million dollars when they come to me – or my company – with an idea like this, yes. I'd get first right of refusal for anything coming out of this hypothetical laboratory?”

“I'd agree to that condition on anything that has straight-forward medical applications, at least,” I nodded. “Presuming we can come to terms on any given product. Refusal contingent on arbitration?”

Bruce looked up, mildly surprised and pleased. “I see you did your research, Arden. That's good. Still, you shouldn't show off designs like these to people in the future. I have no doubt someone's already filed patents for this very idea.”

Mom gasped slightly, looking alarmed. “I-is that... will it cause problems?”

“It wouldn't work,” I interjected before Bruce could answer her. “Even the designs Mr. Wayne is holding have key details omitted or constructed incorrectly, intentionally.”

“So even if someone steals your book, they won't get anything other than a headache,” Dad huffed a laugh. “Good thinking, son.”

“Those are excellent precautions, yes,” Bruce murmured, his eyes glued to one of the pages in my binder. “This... it's labeled 'medigel.' Are these specifications accurate?”

I shrugged, tapping one of my temples. “They work in my head.”

Then I grinned.

“I'm guessing you want that one, too,” I stated. It wasn't really a question.

“I'm honestly more interested in that one,” Bruce replied, his eyes narrowing. “But you lead with the artificial heart to see if I was interested in something bigger.”

“Something longer-term, yes,” I nodded. “If you took the hook, I'd be willing to license those – the full formula and process, not the slop you'd get if you followed that recipe.”

Honestly, I doubted this was the same 'medigel' I'd once heard tale of in the Mass Effect universe. If memory served, there was some bullshit about needing an exception to gene-editing laws or something to get that passed through the alien government. This wouldn't be anywhere near as complex, though it probably wouldn't be as capable, either. The concoction would function more like wound-sealing ooze that could be absorbed into the body over days or weeks.

Also, it didn't trigger my fucking curse, so I'd been able to hammer out the idea pretty quickly on the flight over.

Bruce casually flipped through the next few pages, his expression growing more controlled as he glimpsed the page for the male contraceptive pill, the cure for male pattern baldness, a hangover remedy, and a few other things I'd started on. Leaning back, he shut the binder and drummed his fingers on the notebook, his stew forgotten in front of him.

“You'd want the prototyping lab in Thomasville?” Bruce asked finally.

“Ideally,” I nodded. “It can be in Shiloh if necessary, I guess, but that would limit the work I'm able to do, since Mom wouldn't want me staying overnight too often.”

“Darn straight,” Mom snorted, coming as close to a curse as she ever did. “You're thirteen, you belong at home after the sun goes down, young man.”

“Yes ma'am,” I nodded, glimpsing AJ's teasing smirk out of the corner of my eye. “I was thinking... the Lucas' place, Dad?”

“Ah, that's... not a horrible idea,” Dad muttered, frowning thoughtfully, then meeting Bruce's gaze as he replied. “It's a property off the main strip of the town and it used to be owned by an elderly couple who passed away about... five years ago? Something like that. Anyway, they had a dual-use place that ran a gas station and convenience store out of the side. We had someone interested in it, but then it caught fire last year. Now whoever buys the place will need to dig up and replace the tanks if they want to keep the gas station in business, and it's a heck of a reclamation job otherwise. Even knocking the entire thing down and rebuilding something new is outside most people's price ranges... add onto that the rezoning...”

“I'll have to look some things over and have a few people look the site over for suitability. That and get the ball rolling on the legal side of things, see if anything bureaucratic needs to happen before we break ground,” Bruce trailed off into contemplation again, staring out at the middle distance.

Alfred cleared his throat again, harshly.

My eyes narrowed.

“Ah, right,” Bruce shook himself, handing my closed binder back to AJ, who passed it to me. “Well, suffice to say there's still a lot to do, but as long as nothing too alarming pops up, I'm inclined to accept your funding proposal, Arden.”

Algie pumped a fist as the room – mainly my family – breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“Actually...” Bruce began. “I'd like to talk to you about specifics after dinner, if you're not too tired from the flight? We obviously can't sign anything or even write up an agreement without a lot more groundwork, but both you and AJ could stand for a bit of a crash course in financing vehicles and the general dos and don'ts of money. Mr. Villin, Mrs. Villin, if you don't mind me borrowing your son for a bit?”

Mom pursed her lips, looking to me for a moment before I gave a nod of approval. “I suppose... I mean, it's not as though Archibald or I have experience with anything past household finances.”

“As long as you don't sign anything, son,” my father said pointedly, giving Bruce a nod. “You're still a minor, so it wouldn't be too awful, but we'd still have to go before a judge and get anything you signed thrown out. That can be a huge headache, especially when you're dealing with lawyers like Mr. Wayne has on payroll.”

“Don't worry, Dad. I won't settle for anything less than one tenth of a percent when the time comes,” I grinned.

“I'd hope you'd get more than that,” Mom frowned, her eyebrows creasing. “Even if Mr. Wayne is taking on the bulk of the work getting your inventions through testing and quality control and production... I'd think being the one to come up with it in the first place would still be worth... twenty or thirty percent?”

Dad nodded slowly, “That sounds fair to me too, honey.”

“Mom... Dad,” I grimaced, pulling a twisted face. “That's... way too much money.”

My parents looked at each other cluelessly.

Addie, amused, coughed politely for attention. “Mom... I was looking over Ardie's shoulder when he was sketching out that medigel stuff. If it really does what he says it does... we're talking billion dollar military contracts.”

My parents' eyes widened and they stilled, more than just surprised.

“A tenth of a percent might not sound like much, but... out of a billion dollars?” Addie paused, looking at me, “Correct me if I'm wrong, squirt, but... a million, right?”

I cleared my throat awkwardly as my parents' gazes turned towards me in disbelief. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Though I think your mother's got the right of it,” Bruce hummed, and I turned towards him in shock and betrayal as he continued. “Normally for something like this... I'd have to pay an entire team of research and developers for months of work, let alone the other expenses. And shares in the profits or licensing fees are usually so small because they have to be shared among all those personnel and the company itself to reimburse for expenses. Unless the whole process drags out longer than I anticipate, twenty-five percent isn't out of the question.”

Twenty-five percent of a billion is two-hundred and fifty million dollars.

For one invention. Sold explicitly on a military contract, to say nothing of the domestic or international civilian markets.

“I will seriously not accept more than one percent,” I said, shaking my head at Bruce. “I don't need that much money.”

The unrepentant bat-bastard just smirked and shrugged. “I'm afraid that once I run things by my legal department, they're going to insist. And after my press team gets involved, well... I'm not going to be seen stiffing the boy genius inventing miracles like this.”

I almost whined as I leaned back in my seat.

“We can talk about charitable contributions if the idea of having that much money bothers you, Arden,” Bruce chuckled. “But I think a change of topic is in order. Now, tomorrow is going to be a little hectic, so-”

I listened with one ear as Bruce described how one of his drivers would have us taken downtown for a fitting and lunch out at a restaurant he's reserved for us. Hopefully he didn't mean the entire building. After that, we'd return to the manor in plenty of time to get ready for the party. I was mildly surprised that AJ would be accompanying us, but I suppose she probably could use some time out of the manor if Bruce was... well, being Bruce about things.

Meanwhile, I was trying to think of solutions to get rid of billions of dollars.

Maybe I could create a trust to fund public libraries in impoverished areas? Or did I want them to be private ones so that the government couldn't tell me what to do? Maybe buy some shopping malls that were going defunct soon and start repurposing them for affordable living? C-can I just... give money away? I mean, I probably can, but would I get in legal trouble for it?

“-so you're really not bothered by this whole mess? That people are saying you're some kind of masked vigilante?” Mom asked, drawing me out of my musings.

“Only insomuch as it might impact mine or AJ's safety,” Bruce shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. “It's patently absurd anyway, as I've said a few times this week during press releases.”

“We've actually seen a few of those,” Dad chimed in. “Arden's been watching them like a hawk and micromanaging our investments.”

I turned a bit red as Bruce grinned at me. “Well, I'm glad to see someone is making money off this fiasco, at least.”

Steve was earning his paycheck, at least.

And probably making bank by selling 'anonymous tips' after he got off the line with me.

“But apparently Batman's been sighted a few times while I've been giving interviews and sitting with AJ to get the entire incident with Dodge straight,” Bruce explained. “That's gotten people off my back about the mess, but I still want to have the party tomorrow to drive the point home. Of course, I can't control whether or not he actually shows up, but...”

“Well, regardless of all the good he seems to do,” Mom shook her head, “it's terrifying that someone is out there jumping around in the shadows violating peoples' civil rights like that.”

“I completely agree, which is why I've been trying to help the legitimate authorities with donations and acquiring more effective gear. The state of the body armor and vehicles alone has made it almost impossible for them to do their jobs,” Bruce explained, going into a more detailed digression regarding his philanthropic efforts.

And it was working, both on my parents and on the public at large.

Bruce had been on something of a press blitz the last week after his initial interview, AJ usually at his side as a tacit reminder he had a kid now, was trying to reform his image, and generally refraining from being the playboy most people knew him as.

The charm offensive had turned a lot of heads. Most people still thought of him as a deeply unserious young man playing at the role of a billionaire activist throwing money around. But combined with opening up his financial records to a general audit and Cormac Dodge's general lack of credibility as a lunatic criminal, almost no one who mattered believed he was actually the Batman.

That discussion lasted into the desert phase of the meal, eventually winding down when everyone was full and satisfied.

Which led to me sitting in Bruce's study, releasing a huge yawn, my parents and siblings having headed to bed.

“Are you quite sure you're fine to do this right now, Mr. Villin?” Alfred asked as I stretched and popped my neck.

“Mmm, yeah, I'm fine...” I sighed, and thought about toggling STIM, but refrained. I didn't really want to go through the trouble of eating another meal today. “Besides, Bruce would rather interrogate me while I'm sleepy than fully-conscious.”

The man himself twitched slightly at that, AJ giggling off to his side.

Alfred cleared his throat, chuckling at the statement.

I yawned again and looked at the older man fully. “Hey, umm... this is going to sound weird, but... do you have a stethoscope?”

Bruce turned from reaching for... something on his bookcase and frowned at me. “A stethoscope? Why?”

I jerked my chin at the butler, who blinked. “Alfred's been hiding coughing fits when he clears his throat and it sounds wet, not dry. So he's probably trying to keep it from you so you don't worry.”

Alfred stiffened as Bruce and AJ turned their attention on him, the caped crusader's eyes narrowing. “Actually, I have my father's old one over here, behind the desk.”

“That'll work,” I nodded, rolling up my sleeves. “Mr. Pennyworth? The coat?”

“I assure you, Master Bruce, I'm perfectly fine,” Alfred replied, crossing his arms stubbornly. “It's just a slight cold.”

Something itched in the back of my mind.

“Well, if it's nothing, then we can entertain a child's curiosity, can't we?” Bruce stated, a hint of stern immovability in his gaze.

“Yeah, Alfie! Bruce was just talking about Arden's skills the other day after reading that article! C'mon, play along!”

Alfred heaved a put-upon sigh, which triggered a small fit of coughs, making Bruce take a firm step forward with the medical instrument in hand, which he passed to me. It was an older-style medical instrument, but... stethoscopes hadn't changed all that much in the past fifty years. There were some digital ones out now, of course, but that was for people who hadn't restored their inner ears to peak condition three hours ago.

“You have fluid on your lungs. It's not much. Probably very early in whatever is progressing,” I said without preamble, pulling away from Alfred's shirt-clad chest, noting the sharp inhalation behind me. “Any other symptoms? Weakness? Headaches? Fever?”

“I... no?” Alfred asked, blinking in mild shock. “I hadn't... I'd just thought I had a mild cough.”

“Could it be pneumonia?” Bruce asked, stepping up.

“Mmm... maybe,” I stated, reaching up to rub at my chin as I stared at the older man. “But I don't think so. Very atypical presentation. But it's possible.”

“I can have him go in for tests tomorrow,” Bruce stated firmly, Alfred looking ready to object before slumping slightly.

I nodded, but my mind was scrolling through diseases and conditions. Hundreds, thousands, there were so many things that could go wrong with the human body. But... “Did you have a family member who died of pneumonia?”

Alfred frowned, looking taken-aback as he reached for his button-down shirt to put on over the thin undershirt he was still wearing. “Actually... yes. A grandfather, why?”

“British isles genetics... do you have a history of smoking?” I asked, cocking my head as an idea began to unfold.

“Well... I was part of Her Majesty's military,” Alfred chuckled, rubbing his chest ruefully. “Could it be cancer, then?”

“Unexpected weight loss? Fatigue? Is this your first cough or a recurrent infection?” I asked, running down the list in my mind. “How about unexplained chest or bone pain? Discoloration of the skin such as bruising without apparent cause?”

“It's the first time I've gotten sick in quite some time,” Alfred shook his head after thinking for a moment. “But, regarding all the rest... no, I haven't noticed any of that. And I had blood tests done at my last regular appointment. I'd think those would have picked something like that up.”

“They'd have picked up something that would cause secondary tests,” I nodded, still picking at the thought. “How long ago was this?”

“Just last month,” Alfred replied.

Something early, something that wouldn't be picked up on a general blood-test. Genetic preconditions. Alcohol and smoking. An ancestor who died of 'pneumonia.'

“It's very likely you have MacGregor's Syndrome,” I replied with a frown. “A very rare condition that results in the immune system attacking its own tissue, typically in the lungs. It's genetic, but tends to occur later in life, activated by a number of different factors including excessive alcohol and tobacco consumption. You're in early stage one, which has treatment.”

“I assume there's tests for this?” Bruce asked, taking the stethoscope back as I handed it to him.

“Very specific ones, yes,” I nodded. “You'll need to have those run. I'd be quick about it, though. Stage one usually only lasts three months or so and is usually miss-diagnosed as pneumonia. After that, stage two substantially worsens the patient's state and things go downhill from there. Once you get to that point, the treatments become ineffective... but can prolong things for a year or two.”

AJ looked... out of sorts as she stared at Alfred, who busied himself with replacing his clothing. “But we caught it early, right? Alfred's going to be okay?”

“He'll be fine, AJ,” Bruce stated with a nod, his gaze lingering on me. “Is this... something you saw?”

“It's comparatively rare, but... yes,” I nodded, yawning again. “It happens... sometimes? I guess that's the best way to put it. If... after you confirm things, I can help Alfred, if you want.”

Bruce stared at me for a long moment. “That's one of the abilities the creature you summoned gave you?”

I looked him in the eye... and waggled my hand. “Kind of. It's... complicated, but... the power given to me is essentially random. You can think of it like a roulette, in effect, giving me any manner of result when I meet the conditions to use it.”

“And what are those conditions?” Bruce asked intently, crossing his arms.

I sighed. “If I don't tell you, you're just going to keep me under surveillance long enough to figure it out for yourself, aren't you?”

When Bruce's gaze only hardened to Batman-levels, Alfred chuckled. “That does sound like Master Bruce, unfortunately. He's proven himself to have little understanding of the concept of other people's privacy since he returned from abroad.”

“Alfred,” Bruce stated, his voice firm, warning.

“Master Wayne, I will remind you that the Villin family are, at this time, your guests. Guests of the Wayne family, in effect. That requires certain behavior from their host,” Alfred replied, his tone equally intense.

Bruce grimaced, turning away.

“You have better things to do than worry about me, I suppose,” I sighed again, rubbing at my head. “But the only way to prove that is to tell you enough that you stop thinking I'm some kind of threat. Plus... I feel like I owe you some honesty, since I already know so much about you. So, I guess...”

AJ looked between the two adults curiously, but kept quiet this time.

“Be interesting,” I told Bruce bluntly. “Do interesting things. Live an interesting life. Be someone who was worth giving the power to.”

I paused.

“Or else,” I finished. “If I'm not interesting enough... powerful enough, if I haven't done enough to change the world when he gets back... well, he left the threat hanging, but it was obvious enough.”

“Damn,” AJ swore, and this time Bruce didn't correct her.

“I see,” Bruce muttered, cupping his chin. “Should I ask for what 'interesting' means in this context?”

“I choose to define it as doing good,” I replied matter-of-factly. “Saving people, stopping disasters, arresting criminals... being a hero.”

“And if that's not interesting enough for... whatever this creature is?” Bruce asked.

I shrugged. “Then I fight for my life.”

AJ's eyes widened, her mouth dropping open.

“Your siblings know,” Bruce stated, crossing his arms.

His bat-senses probably told him. Or, more likely, some kind of cold-reading technique he learned from ancient monks in Tibet.

“They know about the powers, not the price,” I replied with a nod. “I'd prefer they not, if you please.”

“You're putting me in an awkward position, then,” Bruce sighed.

“I'm willing to offer substantial information as compensation to look the other way until I screw up so badly you can't,” I replied with a shrug.

Alfred coughed, the noise masking a chuckle.

“That... is ethically-questionable,” Bruce rumbled.

“But it is operationally-sound and an optimal solution to the situation,” I rebutted, making him scowl. “I'm not bribing you. I'm conditioning temporary silence on providing information of immense importance to ongoing and future cases. It's a matter of operational security, not morals or ethics.”

Because I was dealing with Batman, and nothing was more important to Batman than the mission.

Nothing could be.

Bruce turned and hit a hidden switch, one of the bookcases swinging open to reveal a waiting elevator. “Talk. If your information is good enough, I'll consider the value in exchange for what you're asking.”

~~~

Chapter 18!

The first proper introduction of Bruce Wayne!

And Arden Villin's confrontation with him!

I hope everyone enjoys this one, I... accidentally made it extra long? Not sure why, the scene just didn't really have a good place to end.

Next up will be Paldean Knights, I think.