In Another Life II

Jack of Spades on the Queen of Hearts. Ten of Diamonds on the Jack of Spades. Then Nine of Clubs on the Ten of Diamonds. Joker card…

"Thought I got all those outta the pack," muttered Jack Napier, tossing the card aside and focusing his attention back on the game of solitaire. He puffed on his cigarette as he turned over three more cards and tried to match them to the cards in front of him.

"You say something, Jack?" asked Chuckie Sol, turning away from the TV and glancing at him.

"Yeah. What's the trump card that nobody wants?" said Jack.

"I dunno. Queen of Spades?"

"That's Hearts, you moron," snapped Jack, throwing the Joker card at him over his shoulder.

"I dunno. I don't play cards," retorted Chuckie, picking up the Joker and handing it back to him. "If nobody wants 'em, why are they even in the pack?"

Jack chuckled, putting down the card and turning around. "I always see it as that little surprise to make the game more interesting," he said, smiling. "You're sitting there, going by the rules, shuffling the cards, flipping them over one by one, when suddenly Joker appears and throws everything outta order. He's a nice little surprise, a wild card in the deck, to make the game more fun."

"Doesn't look like that'd be hard," commented Buzz Bronski, looking up from his newspaper. "Is there any game more boring than solitaire?"

"I like it, Buzz," replied Jack, turning back to his game and inhaling from his cigarette. "Gives me time to think."

"About what?" asked Buzz.

Jack grinned at him. "How to play the game, that's all, Buzz," he murmured, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "How to play the game."

Buzz snorted, looking back down at his newspaper while Chuckie turned back to the TV, munching loudly on a bag of potato chips.

The door opened and Salvatore Valestra stormed in. "Did we make the news?" he demanded.

"I dunno," replied Chuckie.

"Well, for God's sake, why don't you find out?" snapped Sal. "Ain't you interested?"

"Sure, boss, but I really like this gameshow," said Chuckie. "And anyway, don't they repeat the news at eleven…"

But Sal had already seized the remote and changed the channel over to the news. "Our top story tonight is a sabotaged drug smuggling operation supposedly orchestrated by Carmine Falcone. This has been the third operation foiled this month…"

"Serves Carmine right for getting into drugs," muttered Sal. "That's dirty business."

"Yeah, you ain't a guy who gets his hands dirty, are ya, Sal?" said Jack, smiling.

"Not with drugs," retorted Sal. "That stuff gets outta hand real fast. I'm a businessman, Jack, and I like controlling my business, not seeing it descend into chaos."

Jack shrugged. "Probably more profitable, though," he murmured. "And chaos can be a lotta fun."

Sal ignored him, turning back to the TV. "The operation was sabotaged not by any local law enforcement as might be expected, but by a masked, caped vigilante known only as Batman. The mysterious figure has aided the police in foiling several major crimes, but nothing else is known about his identity or his motivation…"

"What the hell is this?" snapped Sal. "We're being put second to a story about a guy in a Halloween costume?"

"He's more than a guy in a Halloween costume," piped up Buzz. "He's hit Maroni's business as well. The police ended up confiscating several thousand grand of his last week thanks to this Bat guy."

"Maybe we might be next, boss," said Chuckie.

"Yeah, so?" snapped Sal. "Think I'm scared of some freak dressed like a flying rodent?"

"Falcone and Maroni are," retorted Buzz.

"And do I look like either of them?" he demanded.

"Nope. You're thinner, for one thing," chuckled Jack.

"You say something, Jack?" snapped Sal, rounding on him.

"Just a joke, Sal," replied Jack, smiling at him.

"I told you to stop with the jokes – you ain't a comedian," growled Sal. "Nothing you say is funny, Jack, you got that?"

Jack didn't reply, puffing on his cigarette and turning slowly around to face Sal. "Yes, boss," he murmured.

Sal nodded, turning back to the TV. Jack glared at him in pure hatred and loathing, before he too fixed his eyes on the TV to see hazy, grainy images of a man in a bat costume. He exhaled another cloud of smoke but said nothing.

"And finally, it is believed that Salvatore Valestra's gang hit a jeweler's earlier today, although no witnesses could identify the…"

Sal flicked off the TV in annoyance. "We're the bottom story?" he demanded.

"Well, whaddya expect, boss?" asked Buzz. "We hit a small jeweler's just outside of Gotham, took maybe eight grand in total. I mean, who cares? It's peanuts compared to the kinda cash Falcone and Maroni are dragging in, so we can't expect to make the same headlines as…"

"You wanna go join Falcone and Maroni, Buzz?" snapped Sal, rounding on him.

"No, boss, I ain't saying that. I was just thinking maybe we could think about hitting bigger, more prominent targets, if fame and respect is what you're after," replied Buzz. "I mean, I guess we're safer from the cops and stuff, but you ain't gonna make headlines if you don't take risks, am I right?"

"And if you were in charge of the gang, what would you suggest?" demanded Sal.

"I ain't in charge of the gang, boss," retorted Buzz, firmly. "So I dunno."

Sal nodded. "That's right. You ain't."

"I'd hit Wayne Manor," said Jack.

Everyone turned to look at him. "Whaddya say, Jack?" asked Sal, quietly.

"I said I'd hit Wayne Manor," he repeated. "Maybe during a party, when security's a bit more lax. Talk about publicity – billionaire celebrity playboy robbed by the Valestra gang. Millions in jewels and valuables taken. Pictures all over the papers. That's where I'd hit. If I was in the charge of the gang."

Sal leaned forward, staring into his eyes. "But you ain't," he murmured, quietly.

"No," replied Jack, staring back calmly. "I ain't."

He exhaled his cigarette into Sal's face. Sal fanned the smoke away in annoyance and straightened up. "We ain't doing Wayne Manor," he said, firmly. "But we do need a bigger target next time. I'll let you boys know the plan soon – you wait around here for further instructions."

"Aw, Jesus, Sal, can't I go off to Gina's?" asked Buzz. "She's been nagging me to come over…"

"Then you go, and explain to her why you ain't got a job no more and can't afford to buy her those fancy jewels and minks she's come to expect from you," retorted Sal.

Buzz sighed. "I'll give her a call," he muttered, glaring back down at the newspaper.

"Chuckie, you need to call your brother and let him know you won't be home?" asked Sal.

"Nah. Harry expects me to drop in and out," replied Chuckie, switching the TV on and changing back to his gameshow.

"Jack?"

"Happy to wait, Sal, as usual," replied Jack, smiling at him before returning to his game.

Sal looked at him a moment more, and then left the room. As the boss of a group of gangsters, Sal knew not to poke his nose into his employees' business, but usually when you worked with people, you tended to find out things about them. Sal knew that Buzz had a girlfriend, Gina, who he'd been seeing on and off for a couple months. He knew that Chuckie lived with his brother Harry, who made a honest if humble living as a plumber. But he knew literally nothing about Jack Napier.

Jack never spoke about any family, friends, or relationships. He didn't appear to have any. He never talked about his background or his ambitions. He was silent, solitary, and self-contained, with a strange sense of humor. He wasn't a funny guy in Sal's opinion – Jack clearly thought himself a comedian, but all his jokes were cruel, and all his smiles were false. Sal didn't like him, but he never liked anyone too much. And he didn't trust him, but he never trusted anyone too much. He trusted Jack even less than usual. Jack made him feel uncomfortable, and he didn't like it. He resolved to keep a very close watch on Jack Napier.