Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has shown interest in this story so far – whether you've reviewed, favourited, or followed, I'm incredibly appreciative of and pleased by your interest.

I didn't mean for such a long gap between these chapters and for that, I apologise! After I posted chapter one, I fell ill for a month and thereafter I was dealing with a tough university year. Right as I was gearing up to write again, my laptop gave up the ghost the day before my last exam in December. Then, university kicked in again and I lost all motivation. Since the summer started and after delving back into reading TDK ff, my muse has been rearing its head, and so I've resorted to writing bits and pieces on my phone when I've not had the chance to sit down properly. So, apologies if there are any typos!

Additionally, I'll take this moment to note that I've edited chapter one. There's not much change, but the most important correction is the price quoted by Slade regarding Mr. O D. That was a typo: instead of $50,000 it should have read $5,000. That's pretty much it.

Now, on with the story!

Chapter Two: les trois coups - part II

It took Harvey Dent a moment to register his cousin's greeting, still shocked by her appearance.

However, after the shock had dissipated somewhat, he was stepping forward, sliding his hand into hers and pulling her into a long-overdue hug, his other arm encircling her shoulders. He felt her chin press into his left shoulder, indicating that she was smiling, and her free hand patted his back gently. A genuine smile etched itself across his face as his eyes welled up for the first time in months.

"My God, Annie - it's been too long. This is such a welcomed surprise!"

Harvey pulled away to hold her shoulders in his hands and saw Annie looking at him expectantly, seemingly puzzled by his reaction. She was searching his eyes for something, not engaging with him further until she found it. And, like a lightbulb had gone on above his head, he pulled back further to address Rachel.

"Your perfume! You put it on purposely this morning - it was a clue, wasn't it? Nicely done, you two," he smirked, slow-clapping three times to emphasise his approval. Rachel sighed and looked skyward, shaking her head as Annie laughed through her nose. Faintly, he felt her skirt brush his shin as she changed her footing.

"No, Harvey, you arranged this," Rachel's hands were on her hips, a sign that meant she was almost pissed off at him. Her eyes were now on Annie. "I told you he'd forgotten, as much as it pains me to say."

Harvey stared mouth agape at his partner, confusion evident on his face.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. After Annie and her mom sent us birthday presents, like my perfume, you emailed to arrange a visit. Annie was going to be back in Gotham for the summer, anyway, and so you decided on this date. Honestly, your memory's like a sieve sometimes."

Running a hand through his hair, Harvey turned back to his cousin, adopting a sheepish stance.

"Jeez, 'm sorry, Annie. It's been a really busy time recently, what with the Maroni ca-"

"Harvey, it's cool. Don't worry about it, I understand," Annie smiled at him before adding, "Even if I haven't seen you in ten years."

Harvey stared at her wide-eyed completely taken aback by the remark, before he realised she was smirking at him. She laughed at his expression and gently punched his shoulder.

"Just teasing."

Rachel chuckled and moved to rub Harvey's back, hoping to coax him out of his surprise. After a few seconds, he exhaled noisily and wiped the invisible sweat off his forehead.

"Well, as long as I haven't upset you personally," he chuckled warily and scratched his neck again. He froze suddenly as a thought entered his head. "Were we meant to go for dinner? Have you eaten? Oh, Jesus, I'm such a moron."

Annie laughed properly this time as Rachel rubbed his shoulders.

"No, no, we weren't. I mean, it would've been nice..."

Harvey gave her a look as she started giggling again. Rachel was laughing now too. Glad they were having fun with this.

Rachel gently pushed off of him and squeezed past him to open the fridge.

"I'll make some coffee, you two should go sit down in the other room," she called over her shoulder before directing her attention to the coffee machine.

Harvey turned to find Annie looking at him, waiting patiently for his next move. With an awkward smile, he gestured to the doorway and nodded as if to say, 'After you.'

Annie turned and headed back to the room she and Rachel had come from, whilst Harvey paused briefly.

"Why didn't you remind me?"

Rachel stopped to face him, and both of them were struggling to hide their indignation.

"I tried to-"

"The perfume was a hint, not a reminder, Rachel." He knew he was going to pay for that later, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't understand why she hadn't just mentioned it, reminded him properly, instead of turning it into a little game. It wasn't fair.

Rachel scoffed at him, incredulous at his sudden attitude, and turned again.

"I'll be through with the coffee in a minute."

Harvey sighed, taking the hint, and went through to the living-cum-dining area.

Annie had chosen to sit at the dining table rather than on one of the couches. She was sat facing him as he opted for the chair opposite her.

Quickly, Harvey resembled the picture of comfort: tie removed, first few buttons of his shirt undone, one leg upright, the other splayed out under the table. He ran a hand through his hair and stretched his other arm across the back of the empty chair beside him.

Annie was more composed – back straight, hands clasped on top of the table, and, from what Harvey had been able to see as he'd pulled out his chair, her feet were firmly planted on the floor. She reminded him of some of his clientele, which irked him. She was a kid, she didn't have to be this business-like – especially not with him, the cousin she'd once deemed the coolest guy she knew. But he understood that time and distance, especially large doses of the two, altered relationships.

And, now, he was experiencing the awkwardness that came with it.

"So, it's been a while since I've seen you," Harvey started, a nervous smile on his face. "But we've still kept in touch. Obviously, not entirely recently but in touch enough for Christmas presents."

She was looking at him with furrowed brows. He understood why too – it seemed as if he'd completely lost the ability to have a normal conversation with someone. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny and relaxed only slightly when Rachel appeared at the table with a traythe coffee, milk, and sugar. From her pant pocket, she pulled out a sleeve of cookies and placed it down. As she took to pouring everyone a cup, asking Annie, 'Milk, sugar?' — yes and no, thanks — she looked between the cousins before settling on Annie.

"How's med school going, Annie?"

Harvey could've kissed Rachel; of course, she'd know how to get the conversation started. A glance at Annie told him she was relieved by her question too.

"Well, I've only just finished the third year of my pre-med but I'll be applying to med schools in a month or two. Otherwise, it's going pretty well."

"Where are you again?"

"Uh, I'm at the University of Pennsylvania," she said, a small smile forming.

"You know, I don't think I'm ever less surprised — or less proud — every time you tell me that," Harvey remarked, one of his trademark, boyish smiles spread wide on his face. "You enjoying it? The boys there aren't giving you a hard time, are they?"

Annie laughed as he caught Rachel rolling her eyes as she down next to him.

"No, no, they're not. It's great, I'm really loving it so far. The social aspect is so much better than that of high school, as well."

Harvey was genuinely glad for her. When he'd been at university, he'd never once let himself enjoy any other aspect except the academic — he had been there to learn, driven by the unrelenting urge to prevent injustice and to protect his city from lowlife criminals, not to socialise or indulge in any debauchery that some young men do. There were times though, for example times like now when he was working long hours on mobster cases, that he wished he had socialised, that he had been reckless and had let loose.

"Where do you think you'll apply to next year?" Rachel asked, leaning forward with both elbows on the table.

"Everywhere and anywhere," Annie snorted. "Honestly, with the competition — and the extortionate fees —these days, I'd really be happy to just get into a med school end of."

Harvey let her drink some of her coffee before he started asking the question he had lined up.

"How's the money situation anyway? Are Oliver and Ellen helping out?"

At that, he watched his cousin blanch. Her tongue poked out to prod at the inside of her bottom lip and the crease in her forehead told him she wasn't too comfortable with what he'd asked. Slowly, she put her mug down.

"Uh, money's okay. I guess," she shifted and looked down at her hands. "I mean, Mom's now out there living in Philly so I don't need to worry about rent. But I've been working as a kitchen porter the past three years, literally saving as much as I can."

Harvey nodded as he let her words sink in. He'd forgotten Ellen had left Oliver a while back. He could see it was a topic Annie herself wasn't too happy with and so thought it best to move on.

"What you going to be doing this summer then?"

Annie looked up again and this time, her shoulders seemed less tense. Good.

"Well, I'm staying with my dad. Not been back to his yet since I just got in town but I'll head over there soon," she took another sip of her coffee. "The med schools are super keen on seeing almost months' worth of experience, be it in a hospital, a day practice, or first aiding. So, I've applied to several of the hospitals here as well as a company who supply the first aiders for concerts, that sort of thing."

Harvey gave her an impressed look to which she shook her head.

"Oh, I've not heard from anywhere yet. Well, that's a lie. I've not heard anything positive from anywhere yet."

Harvey frowned and shook his head. He was about to comment when Rachel spoke up first.

"Well, what about first aiding in the police? I mean, we know Lieutenant Gordon down in the MCU in the GPD, I'm sure we could talk to him?"

Wait, what?

Harvey turned in his seat sharply and cut in just as Annie was about to thank her.

"Are you kidding me? You seriously want to have my little cousin first aid down in the MCU? Oh, sure, Rachel, why don't we drop her off in the Narrows in a bikini afterward?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and finished off her coffee.

"What, you jealous she might get to meet the ever elusive Bat before you do?"

Harvey blinked at his partner. She was surely surprising him tonight. From his left, he heard Annie clear her throat.

"If it is at all possible, I would really appreciate that," she levelled him with a pleading look. "I might not hear back from anywhere at all, and any experience is good experience."

Harvey held her gaze, mulling it over in his head, before responding.

"Well, I can't say you'll be saying the same thing if Gordon allows you to join his team."

There was a moment before he saw it dawn on her that he'd not said no, but that he was considering it, that he would try with Gordon. And, God, did he love the smile she gave him for it.

Before any more could be said on the matter, a shrill ringing came from the coffee table by the sofas. Rachel stood, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. Alright, she'll get it.

He waited until he heard her answer and leave for the next room.

"So, I know I've not spoken to your dad in ten years, and I know that it's shitty I've not reached out," he swirled the remnants of his coffee in his cup before downing them. "I just wanted to ask, though — how is he?"

If Harvey's eyes were true to him, he could've sworn he'd seen her actually squirm. She took a few moments before allowing herself to meet his eyes.

"Well, I've not seen him for a while. Not since Christmas. But we text every few weeks or so-"

"Annie, you know that's not what I mean."

She sighed.

"Well, you know, my parents split a few months after he fell out with you. He'd started underground betting rings at work, fun, harmless stuff at first. Then someone got dogs involved," Annie shuddered, Harvey grimaced. "When he got found out, he was in jail for a bit. That's really when I started living with Mom more, because when he came out," she whistled long and low, as if to emphasise the change in her father.

"He'd developed some nasty habits in jail. He never drank before and then, all of a sudden, he can happily drink almost an entire bottle of vodka every night? Mom was royally pissed off."

Harvey offered what was meant as a sympathetic look.

Although it was news to him about his uncle serving jail time — seriously, what the hell? — he'd known about the gambling and he could've even guessed the drinking given that his father had ended up that way too. Suddenly, he wanted to reach across the table and take her hands in his and just hold them, keep them safe. But, they weren't at that stage yet.

"By the time I left for college, I barely recognised him. And he barely recognised me," she shook her head as she let out a shaky breath, and pushed her mug away. "To be honest, it's one of the reasons I wanted to come back this summer. I want to help him, you know? Mom tried but, I don't know, I think she could've tried harder."

Harvey nodded as he idly ran a finger along the table.

"Do," he exhaled through his nose before sitting up properly, leaning across the table in the hopes of catching her eye again. "Do you think it'd help if I called him? If I got back in touch with him?"

The look in her eyes told him she honestly wasn't expecting him to offer that. She seemed so taken aback, so pleasantly surprised by the extending of the olive branch.

"Harvey, I think he'd really love that," she beamed at him and, because he now felt good in himself for cheering her up and possibly helping her put an end to a shit chapter of her life, he beamed right back at her.

At that moment, Rachel came back in the room. She glanced between the two cousins, a smile of her own forming on her lips.

"Wow, what's with all the megawatts then?"

Harvey reached across and patted Annie's hand before facing Rachel.

"I'll tell you later, who was on the phone?"

Rachel sat down again and crossed her legs towards him.

"That restaurant, the Ocelot? Yeah, they've brought our booking forward."

This time, Harvey was the one laughing. He turned to Annie, practically radiating arrogance.

"This maître d', or whatever, thought he could pull a fast one on me, ha! I pulled the city health inspector card and look where that's got us."

Over the course of the next few hours, the three of them chatted about everything and anything: the next big court cases, Annie's time as a kitchen porter during uni, as well as reliving some of their favourite memories from when both of the cousins were younger.

At some point during the night, pizza had been ordered and delivered, beers had been passed around, the TV had been turned on, and they'd swapped sturdy, upright dining chairs for the comfort of the large sofas.

Just as Harvey was about to bring up one of his favourite memories, Mike Engel for Gotham Tonight popped up — it must've been ten o'clock — with Breaking News.

"Tonight in Gotham Tonight: Breaking News. It's been reported that multiple Bat-men have been sighted across town, most particularly in a parking lot downtown where it is believed they crashed a drug deal between Russian mob leader, the Chechen, and the masked criminal known as the Scarecrow," Engel paused as footage showing the real Batman being attacked by three Rottweilers started to play.

"However, due to an appearance by the Batman, it is believed that Dr. Crane was reapprehended and has been taken into custody."

Harvey sighed as the other two watched on.

"In other news: earlier this afternoon, Gotham City Bank fell victim to a heist of around $68 million, with several casualties found at the scene. It is said that the culprit, the man believed to be the Joker, escaped in a school bus as schools let out for summer and is still at large."

Harvey groaned, reached for the remote, and muted the TV.

"Enough. Just once I want Mike Engel to come on and announce that absolutely nothing horrible happened in Gotham today. Just once."

Rachel laughed and patted his leg.

"And I'm sure, as crime gets worse, he wants to be able to say something like that too."

Annie snorted and started to yawn as Harvey drained the rest of his beer. Stretching forward, she sat up and started to stand.

"Anyway, I should be heading over to my dad's," Annie sighed, placing her empty beer bottle on a coaster on the coffee table.

A quick glance at his watch and Harvey was standing too.

"No, no way. Not at this time, Annie. He's still living in the Narrows, right?"

"Yeah, but that area's doing we-"

"You're not going tonight. I don't care if the area's up and coming, or 'doing well'. It's a risk I really don't want you to take, not when that kind of stuff is kicking off out there along with all the rest," he gestured blindly at the small kitchen TV. Annie's eyes followed and there it was again, the blurry security footage of the Scarecrow gassing fake Batmen.

Harvey cleared his throat.

"We have a guest room – it's small but it'll do for tonight."

Harvey watched as his cousin's shoulders visibly drop and her head nod in defeat. He smiled and held a hand out towards the direction of the spare room.

"Great. Let's go get you sorted, then."

The Narrows, 1:11am.

Slade could've been sick there and then.

All the red flags he'd counted, all the unease about being kept in the dark about this guy, all the dread building in his stomach hadn't been for nothing after all.

He sidestepped to stand in the doorway, eyes moving from photograph to person on the couch and back again, and with a shaky exhale, he dismantled the frame to retrieve the photo. On the back he found written in pencil, 'Uncle Oliver and Harvey at Grad. Gotham University, Class of 1997.'

If there had been any sliver of a doubt before, the open confirmation before him quelled that. It was definitely Mr O D, or rather Mr. Oliver Dent, shaking hands with the unmistakable Harvey Dent. Harvey fucking Dent. Of all people to be related to, of course, he had to be related to Gotham's most popular District Attorney. It was just Slade's luck.

Slade shuffled from side to side, pocketing the photo and resting the frame on the dresser. From his left pant pocket, he withdrew his phone and was about to dial the number of the Boss when surprisingly, beyond the barrage of sounds from the tv, he heard the couch creak.

He whipped his head up, expecting to meet the wide, open eyes of a man confused and scared by his presence. However, the cause of the creak had not been that Mr O D – Slade preferred his alias before he discovered he was a Dent – had woken up, but that his left leg had been brought up and crossed over his right, shifting the body's direction more toward Slade. The arm nearest the edge of the couch had dropped and fallen over the edge and his head was now slumped on the armrest.

Given the panic he'd just felt, Slade decided he needed to do something to prevent any sort of interruption during his phone-call. He couldn't have Mr O D waking up and either a) running out of the apartment, or b) running at him, whilst he spoke to the Boss. However, he wasn't sure killing him was the right way to go in this case. Things had just become more complicated and he had an inkling that the Boss would want to change up the game plan because of it, so he returned his phone to its original hiding place.

Rummaging through his pockets, he sourced two black cable ties and an old handkerchief. A glance over his shoulder and he picked up his gun off the bedside table – just in case. Slade of all people knew that appearances could be deceiving. A deep breath in as he forced himself through the doorway into the open living room again, eyes focused on his target.

Slade advanced on Mr O D with the stealth he'd learned and honed during his training. Placing his gun somewhere slightly out of Dent's eye range, he took one of the cable ties and gently, quietly, slowly brought his two ankles together then slipped one end through the other, ensuring the pointed end was past the ratchet, before moving to do the same to his arms.

A long, low groan stopped him and made him step back.

Mr O D had stirred and was now shifting on the couch. Slade predicted his next movement correctly, stepping back once more just before Mr O D rolled completely off the couch, his lack of control over his legs keeping him from preventing the fall. The Skittles that had been perched on his exposed belly flew everywhere as he fell, some even hitting Slade as far up as his forearm.

"Wha-what the?!"

Slade stepped forward as he saw Mr O D's hands begin to push up, and firmly placed a steel toe-capped boot below the nape of his neck in between shoulder blades. He dug his heel in just enough to earn a sharp gasp.

"Don't move. Or I'll stomp your head into the ground until you no longer have a face."

Dent froze and Slade made a noise of approval in the back of his throat.

He gripped both of Mr O D's arms harshly, eliciting a whimper – what an excuse of a man – and pulled them taut behind his back. He spoke as he fixed the cable ties around his wrists, "Now, you're going to remain here all nice and quiet as I make a phone call."

He shifted forward, gripping the handkerchief in both hands at either end and brought it down over Mr O D's head. "Open."

Slade heard an audible gulp and watched as Mr O D's jaw loosened, and he took the opportunity to slip the handkerchief in between his lips and tie it tightly behind his neck. He straightened and pressed down slightly on the back of Dent's head with his boot. The man took the hint and bowed his face to the floor.

Slade sighed and once again took out his phone.

Dialling the Boss' number, he headed to the television set and held down the 'Volume Down' button on the side of the screen. The apartment was engulfed in sweet, blissful silence just as he heard the click on the other end.

Another moment of wonderful silence before an impatient sigh came from the other end.

"Well, what is it, Slade? You in n' out just like that?"

Slade scratched the back of his head at the sound of the gruff, accented voice. If he didn't know the Boss like he did, he would've guessed the accent was put on to come across as some high-flying, tough mobster-type. Instead, the Boss' voice was naturally as rough as it sounded, exacerbated by the numerous cigarettes he puffed on throughout each day. Slade idly wondered if the smoking would lead to his Boss' death before his occupation did.

"Uh, well, not quite," an irritated sound came from the receiver, hurrying Slade to finish. "There's been a new development. One I'm fairly certain you'll want to see for yourself."

"Spit it out, Wilson."

"Well, I found a photograph-"

"What did I tell you about fuckin' snoopin' around? You're there to get in, do what yer paid to do, get out. How hard can tha-"

"I know, I know. But something wasn't quite right, Boss. Anyway, I found this photograph and," Slade sighed as he took the photo out his pocket, brushing his thumb over one of the corners. "And it's the target at some graduation ceremony. He's shaking hands with Harvey Dent."

Silence.

"I took the frame apart and on the back, someone's written 'Uncle Oliver and Harvey at Gra-'"

"Uncle?"

"Uncle."

Slade glanced at Mr O D lying prostrate on the floor, forehead burrowed into the carpet. Faintly, he could see fresh tear tracks down the man's grimy face.

"Right. Stay put. I'll be there with the boys soon. Have you restrained this guy?"

Slade wrinkled his nose as he remembered how awful the apartment was to experience, having only just become acquainted with all the smells and..feelings, and nodded his head.

"Yeah, he's tied up on the floor right now," he answered before eyeing the door. "You want me to wait outside? This place is an absolute hellzone."

He heard a snort.

"Are you fucking dumb, Wilson? You go outside – you might get caught or he might get away. Neither of those situations ends well for you. So, stay put. You got that?"

Slade murmured his understanding and heard the phone click, his Boss' voice replaced by the dial tone.

He waited for fifteen minutes, continuing to nose around the apartment – this time the kitchen was inspected – and thinking over certain plans he could pose to the Boss. Mr O D had stuck to obeying his order and hadn't made any attempt to move or make a noise, possibly down to the fact that Slade had used the word 'target' to describe him on the phone just a moment ago. Maybe he was now realising the threat his life was under.

Poor guy. Who would care enough to off this guy? Honestly, his place was a dump, he looked like he hadn't taken care of himself in years, and yet someone had decided to shell out five grand to rid the world of him. Slade smelled a rat. And it was coming from near the fridge. With a cough, he turned and trudged back through the filth towards the bedroom doorway. He turned on his heel and faced the front door, not sparing M second glance.

A short, sharp rap on the door broke through the silence and was accompanied by a hoarse voice calling out, "Room service?"

Slade almost chuckled.

The door pushed open to reveal the Boss, flanked by four henchmen with their weapons drawn.

Almost immediately, he heard them all gag upon entering the apartment. That time, Slade did chuckle.

"What did I say, hmm?"

The Boss rounded the corner first and it still baffled Slade how the man could send a single chill down his spine every time he saw him.

Stood just behind the ratty couch, he surveyed the apartment. His three-piece, white pinstriped suit was a stark contrast to the dark, grubby living area and in the television light, he appeared to be faintly glowing. His black leather gloved hands were unclasped and clutched the back of the couch, as he bent over slightly to take a look at the man tied up on the floor.

A ragged chuckle came from his direction and Slade had to stop himself from backing away when the Boss whipped his head up, still in that bent-over position.

It was the part of him he least liked about his boss: the mask affixed to his face.

Ebony – heavily rumoured within the gang to have been taken from the casket of the Boss' father – had been carved into the shape of a skull, complete with sharp angular cheekbones, teeth painted off-white, and holes for where a nose should be. The only indication of something living behind the mask was the presence of cruel, brown eyes glaring out from beneath the empty eye sockets. In the few months Slade had been working for him, he'd never seen it removed. It was ghastly, a turn of his head and he'd had victims screaming, and the glossy finish of it allowed light to manipulate it, making it appear almost… alive, in ways a mask should not be.

It was only fitting he was known as Black Mask.

"So, this the guy? Jeez, what an anticlimax," Black Mask whistled and straightened up to come around the right side of the couch, black dress shoes inches away from coming into contact with Mr O D's face. He glanced around with eyes narrowed, a look Slade thought was probably disgust. "And what a fuckin' shithole."

It didn't go unnoticed by Slade that the target had started shaking at the sound of the gravelly voice. In a way he almost wished he possessed that kind of power – intimidating just from speaking, appearing – but he'd been taught to wield power in other forms. Literally.

He nodded at Black Mask and stepped forward, boots just grazing Mr O D's left shoulder, arm outreached to pass over the photograph he'd found.

"That's what I was talking about on the phone."

Black Mask took the photo and hummed in understanding.

"There he is. Gotham's White Knight," he growled before tucking it away inside his suit jacket. He bent over and roughly smacked the back of the man's head. Not a sound came from him. Just as well. Noises only encouraged the Boss. He picked up one of the stray skittles, inspected it, then threw it down harshly on top of the man's head. Poor guy. "Oh, what are we gonna do with you, hmm? Can't kill ya now, can we?" He returned to full height with a satisfied groan and stepped away from him.

"What we could do, however, is we could- wait. He's conscious, ain't he?"

Slade nodded.

"Right. Boys!" Black Mask snapped his fingers at the four goons standing idly nearby, all immediately straightening and inching closer at the call to attention. "Get him outta here and into the car. You know where to put him," the four henchmen nodded. "He ain't big either, so only two of ya should carry him. The other two – you're on lookout."

He glanced down again at Mr O D's head and tsked. "And, also, someone bag his head," he rounded on Slade. "Don't you use yours?"

The henchman took care of Mr O D faster than Slade thought they'd be able. One bagged his head with a pillowcase and bunched the ends together with an elastic band. Two of them hoisted and carried him with ease, even as he tried his best to struggle free. A quick twist of his ankles and a muffled yelp later, and he'd given up on trying to stop what was happening. A few moments and then they were out the door.

Shifting his eyes from the door back to the Boss, Slade visibly jumped at finding him already staring back with eyes narrowed.

"How the hell is sweat not pouring from out that helmet? I've been up here five minutes and I feel like I've jumped in a hot tub with my suit on."

Slade actually laughed this time. Truth be told he hadn't really been focusing on the temperature once he'd found the photo.

"I'm trying not to think about how damp I am," he answered truthfully and scratched the back of his neck. The pads of his fingers came away glistening with sweat. "So, no killing him? What do you have in mind instead?"

Black Mask chuckled, a foreboding sound that Slade never wanted to hear directed towards him.

"You'll see, Wilson. Just follow my lead, hmm?"

Slade watched as Black Mask turned away from him, slowly making his way out the door.

"What about the apartment? We need to make it look like we were at least here. Or someone else was."

Black Mask stopped.

"You seen any cigs around?"

Without answering Slade strode back into the bedroom and picked up a few of the old cigarette butts spread out on the bed. He came back into the living area holding them up.

Black Mask scoffed. "Nice one. Try and get one of 'em lit, leave it on the couch or on the floor beside it – whichever one smells more of booze." He turned and stood closer to the door.

Slade opted for the floor. He didn't actually smell it – it's not like he was going to get paid extra for that – but it was where more of the beer cans were. Kneeling down, he picked his spot and tentatively held some of the surrounding cans upside down one by one, just to see if there were any dregs left. He felt himself smile when he saw a small puddle form on the floor and hastened to chuck the can away. He retrieved a lighter from his jacket pocket and managed to get two of the butts lit. He placed one at just the edge of the puddle, and the other smack bang in the middle.

About twenty seconds in, a small fire soon broke out, not without further help from Slade lighting and adding to it one of the numerous pieces of junk mail.

Quickly he stood, saw his gun lying on the ground – shit, hopefully Boss hadn't seen that – and picked it up. Backing away, he watched the flames spread, one side catching onto the bottom of the sofa.

"Alright, it's done," he called out. Turning, he saw that Black Mask had already left, door half open.

Another glance back at the growing fire and it seemed he'd looked just in time: the fire had doubled in size and was encroaching on those bastard speakers. A sudden bang that sounded too much like a gunshot reverberated around the apartment and he watched with glee as the speakers melted into the blaze.

With a satisfied smirk, Slade ducked out the door and slammed it shut.

As he ran down the hall, he could hear the sound of a baby's wails growing louder and louder as he reached the stairs. That stopped his pleasure and his feet.

They had only been here to kill one man. What they'd settled on was starting something which had the capability of harming many more. It wasn't in his contract.

He stepped out of the stairway entry and started banging on doors as he went up and down the hall.

"Fire! Get out! Fire!" He repeatedly yelled.

He heard a door open and quickly he shut the visor of his helmet down. They stared at him with a look of tired confusion, obviously woken up by the ruckus he was causing.

"Fire! You gotta get out!"

They nodded hastily and turned from him. He did so too, this time deciding it was time for him to go.

He ran down the stairs just as he'd climbed them: two at a time. He shoved the door open and almost fell flat on the sidewalk due to the momentum.

A sleek black car with tinted windows was sat outside just a few steps in front of him, and, once he'd looked up, the back passenger door closest to him was thrown open.

Without hesitation, Slade propelled himself into the car and shut the door just as the driver stomped on the accelerator.

From his left, the voice like jagged glass came.

"Now, we just bide our time."

A/N (again): For those of us who are not Slade Wilson, Mr O D, or Black Mask - now, the story can take off!

Sorry if any of this reads as clunky or awkward. Some of the awkwardness is intentional, but I've read this so many times I had to post it before I scrapped it all.

From now on, unless I change my mind again, heh, I plan on writing from Annie's POV rather than Harvey's. I just had to stick with his for this one because it's a two-parter. Also, I know a lot of you will be wondering when our Clown Prince of Crime shows up - don't worry. I've been setting the stage for him (I think he's still in Hair and Makeup at the moment) but he'll arrive soooOooOon enough.

I'm away for a few days without access to a laptop, so the next chapter probably won't be up until later next week.

xoxo