Chapter Text
It would be a cold day in hell before a Drake allowed someone to get one over on him. The lawyer- some pretentious guy with some pretentious name, and Jack knoew pretentious- frowned, glancing at the documents Jack had dumped on his desk.
“Mr. Drake, I can’t in good conscience allow you to do this.” Mr. Pretentious gently pushed the papers across the desk in Jack’s direction.
“I’m not paying you to have a conscience. I’m paying you to win.” Jack snapped, shoving the papers back.
“Mr. Wayne’s lawyers will rip both of us apart. Under New Jersey’s rules of professional conduct 2.1, I must consider the moral, social, and economic impact of your actions when advising you. The only advice I can offer is to stop this.” Again, the papers were pushed towards Jack. Inside, his blood began to boil. Some jackass thought he knew more about Jack’s life than he himself did, all because he passed some bar? Bullshit.
“Well, you’ve advised me not to do it. You’ve done your professional duty. Now advise me on how to destroy this jackass in court.”
“I’m afraid I can’t, Mr. Drake. Following rules 1.16(b)(4) and (6), I am declining to represent you. I fundamentally disagree with your actions, and representing you would financially threaten my entire firm. The secretary will see you out.” And with that, Jack was escorted off the premises like some sort of hooligan. It was an embarrassing blow to his reputation, but that was par for the course these days. Jack’s name had been dragged through the mud, then dung, and finally whatever sludge was at the bottom of Gotham Harbor. He stood on the street outside the law office, glaring at the firm name and hoping it would burst into flames. Where was Firefly when you needed him?
Jack Drake scowled and turned away from the offending sign. That was the last law firm he could find in Gotham. All of them had turned him away, unwilling to get into a legal battle with the Bruce Wayne. Some were terrified of the massive fortune behind the name Wayne, unwilling to risk their firm’s finances. Others objected morally, swayed by the good PR of a man who donated to good causes.
What Jack needed was a lawyer who hated Bruce as much as Jack did, one unafraid to go for the throat. Then the answer appeared, in black and white on the cover of a stray newspaper littered on the sidewalk in front of him. For the first time since he started looking for lawyers, Jack felt hope. He knew exactly who would represent him.
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The date of the initial hearing arrived, and Jack was dressed to kill. He had a suit tailor made for the hearing, making him look sharp and wealthy. One of the first rules a buisnessman learned was to dress well enough the other side couldn’t see your flaws. Of course, Jack wasn’t foolish enough to expect he could hide anything from Bruce. The man was too observant for his own good. But Jack could still look unshakable in front of the judge and whoever Bruce got to represent him.
Jack strolled through the double doors into the courtroom alone, knowing it may take a while for his lawyer to arrive. Bruce was already there, of course, standing next to a lawyer Jack recognized. She had been the first one Jack went to. He had hoped to secure New Jersey’s foremost expert, or at least give her enough confidential information that she couldn’t represent Bruce either. Instead, Jack didn’t even make it past the front desk. Oh well. Jack smirked. Maybe it was for the best.
“No lawyer, Jack? You know what they say about someone who acts as their own attorney.” The expensive lawyer shushed Bruce, whispering something about staying silent. Jack smirked at Bruce, the hot fury in his veins only barely tempered by his cold confidence.
“Not to worry, Brucie. I have a lawyer. He’s just a little tied up, but he’ll be here.” Bruce’s crystal blue eyes narrowed at Jack, but the man didn’t let himself feel fear. He stood up straighter, like a soldier, because this was a battle. It was a battle for his honor. Brown eyes met blue, neither man willing to back down and look away first. The staring contest ended only when the Bailiff announced the entrance of Judge Rutberg.
“Mr. Drake, I see your attorney isn’t here. Will you be representing yourself?”
“No, your Honor. My attorney will be here any moment. He’s just a bit tied up with things.” Jack could see Bruce pick up on the repeated phrase. Bruce’s eyebrows narrowed a microscopic amount, taking the expression Jack always referred to as Bruce’s thinking face. Bruce didn’t need to think for long, because in the next few moments the courtroom doors swung open dramatically.
“Harvey Dent, your honor, representing the Plaintiff.” He placed a business card on the deputy’s desk white side up. “I apologize for my lateness, but I was a bit tied up.” Harvey lifted his wrists towards Judge Rutberg, showing off the shackles with dangling broken chains. To her credit, Judge Rutberg was clearly burying her fear down deep. Instead of appearing as petrified as she likely was, she looked mildly perturbed.
“Don’t let it happen again. Court is now in session. This is the matter of Jack Drake versus Bruce Wayne for the dissolution of marriage.”