In Another Life IX

"Welcome, Gotham, to the future! The future starts today! Look forward, Gotham, to the future! Our dreams are shining bright! With heart and hope to light the way, we're welcoming a brand new day! Welcome Gotham to the future! The future starts today!"

Jack Napier hated that song. But he couldn't avoid its annoying, cheery, upbeat strains as he waited outside the Gotham World's Fair for Mr. Valestra. Mr. Valestra had his own vision of the future of Gotham, and wanted to see if it agreed with the one at the World's Fair. Jack highly doubted it.

He didn't buy all this optimistic, happy-clappy crap about the future being all sunshine and roses, especially with people like Mr. Salvatore Valestra competing for control of the city. Not that Jack was a pessimistic guy - he was a realist. And he had lived in Gotham all of his life, and things had only gone from bad to worse. He didn't see anything magically changing in the future.

He tapped out his cigarette and then put it back to his lips, inhaling slowly and glancing at the sky. It looked like a storm was coming – black clouds gathered slowly on the horizon. A literal storm and a metaphorical storm, Jack thought – Mr. Valestra was not in a good mood, and that could only mean trouble.

Not for him, of course, he thought, exhaling a cloud of smoke slowly. Mr. Valestra relied on him to be the heavy in all his delicate operations, the guy who made sure everything went smoothly by whatever means necessary, and those means were usually violent ones.

Jack was a man who took great pride in his work – he always enjoyed the satisfaction of a job well done. And those jobs for Jack were often either bullet-ridden corpses, or occasionally a slower end prefaced by some brutal torture which had the victim begging for death before he killed them, something that Jack could really sink his teeth into. He had always thought of himself as an artist working in the medium of pain – to create masterpieces of suffering before the inevitable end, that was Jack's joy. And one of the few pleasures he indulged in.

Although, he thought with a sudden smile, if that Andrea Beaumont had shown any interest, that would certainly have been a pleasure he couldn't refuse. Andrea Beaumont was the daughter of one of Mr. Valestra's associates – a hot little redheaded number. Jack generally preferred blondes, but something about the Beaumont girl, her spirit and her sass, really did it for him. Unfortunately the woman was currently dating brainless billionaire Bruce Wayne, more money and muscle than style and substance. Some women just had no taste, thought Jack, tapping out his cigarette again.

A rumble of thunder distracted his thoughts and he looked up to see that the rain had started. Mr. Valestra wouldn't want to get wet, so Jack sighed, threw down his cigarette, and then went around to the back of the car, opening the trunk and pulling out the umbrella in preparation for his return.

He suddenly heard a scuffling noise behind him, and then a female voice muttering, "No, no, no!"

Jack turned to see a young woman stooping down to collect a bunch of boxes from where they had fallen on the ground, trying desperately to conceal them from the rain and to get them off the ground before they soaked through.

Jack opened the umbrella and then headed over to her, bending down to help her. "Allow me," he said, holding the umbrella over her head as he collected the remaining boxes.

"Oh…thank you," she stammered, awkwardly balancing the boxes in her arms. "Uh…I don't trust myself not to drop them again. Can I be a pain and ask you to carry them over to my car? It's just there."

"Sure," said Jack. "It's not a pain at all. But it looks like you've bought the whole shop out!" he chuckled.

"Yeah, I…uh…just wanted to send some souvenirs back to my folks in Brooklyn," she said. "This whole Gotham World's Fair is a pretty novel thing for them. For me too, actually – just glad I got to see it."

"Well, sorry the weather ain't better for you," said Jack, nodding up at the sky. He continued to hold the umbrella over her head as she walked. "We locals are used to the constant rain, but it must be pretty depressing for visitors."

"The weather ain't great in Brooklyn either," replied the woman, unlocking her car. "And I'm not technically a visitor – I live here now."

She dumped the boxes into the car, and then took Jack's and did the same. Sighing, she wiped her bangs out of her face and then looked up at Jack and smiled.

He saw her clearly for the first time and was absolutely stunned. The girl was young and incredibly pretty, with big, wide blue eyes and long golden hair, and a gorgeous smile which beamed at him gratefully.

"I can't thank you enough for coming to my rescue, Mr…?" she asked, holding out her hand.

"Uh…Napier. Jack Napier," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "And you, Ms…?"

"Harleen Quinzel," she replied. "But call me Harley – everyone does."

"You say you…live here now?" he prompted.

"Yeah, got a job at Arkham Asylum a few months ago," she said.

"Oh yeah? What do you do there?" he asked, expecting her to be some secretary or orderly.

"I'm a psychiatrist," she replied. "Technically it's Dr. Harleen Quinzel, but I don't like to introduce myself like that – it sounds so formal!" she laughed.

"Oh…wow," he stammered. "That's…really impressive. I mean, for someone so young and…uh…young," he repeated, lamely.

She grinned. "What about you, Mr. Napier? What do you do, when you're not being a gentleman and saving women's shopping?"

"Uh…I…work for…a small, independent business," he said.

"Oh, so you're in sales?" asked Harley.

"Uh…no, I'm in the communications department," he said. "Making sure our customers get…what they deserve."

"That must be rewarding," said Harley.

"Er…yeah, it is," agreed Jack. "Not as impressive as being a shrink, of course. Sorry, is it disrespectful of me to use that term?" he asked, hastily.

"Nah, I hear it a lot," she said, smiling.

Jack cleared his throat. "Is your…uh…husband a shrink too?"

"I'm not married," replied Harley.

"Oh. Boyfriend?" he guessed.

"Single," she replied with a grin. "What about you?"

"Yeah, single," he agreed. "Nice coincidence, ain't it?"

"Uh huh," she said, smiling up at him. "It is."

"Jack!" shouted a voice from the entrance to the World's Fair. Jack turned to see Mr. Valestra standing there, looking annoyed.

"Uh…that's my boss…I gotta go," said Jack.

"Why? Is he gonna fire you for not carrying his umbrella for him?" laughed Harley.

"Maybe something worse than that," muttered Jack, glancing at the expression on Mr. Valestra's face. "Uh…before I go, can I have your number?" he asked, turning back to Harley. "Just to maybe…buy you a drink sometime?"

"I should be the one buying you a drink for being such a gentleman," said Harley. "But I guess we can sort that out later, say Saturday night? Here you go," she said, scribbling down some numbers onto a slip of paper and handing it to him.

"Thanks. Saturday night sounds great - I'll call you," he said.

"Please do," she replied, smiling at him again and then climbing into her car. Jack hurried over to Mr. Valestra, who had lit a cigarette and was smoking it irritably as he glared at him.

"Who was that?" he demanded.

"No one," replied Jack.

"Don't tell me no one!" snapped Mr. Valestra. "I saw you talking to some bitch that you apparently thought was more important than your boss! I wanna know who she is!"

"Just some shrink," said Jack. "She dropped her shopping in the rain, and I helped her pick it up…"

"Ain't you the gentleman, Jack?" sneered Mr. Valestra. "You know I've killed people for standing me up, doncha?"

"You kill me if you wanna, boss," retorted Jack. "You find somebody else to replace me. I'm sure you can."

Mr. Valestra growled. Jack knew his talents were fairly rare, even in the criminal business, and Mr. Valestra wasn't about to lose them over a slight infraction. But he still had to reassert his control as the boss, so he puffed out a cloud of smoke in Jack's face, and tapped the cigarette out onto his suit, burning tiny holes into it.

"Don't keep me waiting again," he muttered, heading toward the car. Jack followed with the umbrella, pocketing Harley's number. He helped Mr. Valestra into the car, and then shook the rain out of the umbrella and climbed into the driver's seat, heading back to the hideout.

"Jack, you remember your friend and mine, Carl Beaumont?" asked Mr. Valestra, puffing out another cloud of smoke.

"Yes, sir," replied Jack, nodding.

"You remember how he swore to pay us the money he owed us by today?" continued Mr. Valestra.

"Yes, sir," repeated Jack.

"Well, guess what, Jack?" sighed Mr. Valestra. "He ain't paid us. Just got a call from Buzz and Chuckie who showed up at his place to collect, saying he's skipped town."

Jack was silent. It wasn't necessary for him to comment, although privately he thanked his lucky stars he wasn't in Carl Beaumont's shoes right now. Not that he ever would have been stupid enough to break a promise to Mr. Valestra if he had been.

"We're gonna find him, Jack," said Mr. Valestra, quietly. "We're gonna find out which godforsaken corner of the earth he's run off to, and we're gonna take that money outta his hide. Or you are, I should say."

"It'd be a pleasure, boss," replied Jack.

"Gotta find him first, though," muttered Mr. Valestra. "Gotta send people out searching. Pain in the ass is what it is, Jack."

He exhaled his cigarette slowly, leaning back and shutting his eyes. "Beaumont's taken his kid with him too. Let's start there. I want you to get in touch with any friends she might have and…persuade them to tell you if they've heard from her."

"What about Wayne?" asked Jack. "They were seeing each other, and it'd be a pleasure to rough up that rich son of a…"

"No, Jack," interrupted Mr. Valestra. "Roughing up a celebrity like Wayne would attract publicity. Bad publicity that we don't need. But roughing up some spoiled, nameless rich kids nobody cares about, that's something else. Use whatever methods you want, threats to their families, personal injuries, whatever, but I want them singing like birds by the end of it."

"Yes, sir," said Jack, smiling. That gave him something else to look forward to this weekend. Couldn't be out torturing people too late, though – he had a date.