Shots

1: December

Taken from the notes of Harleen Quinzel

"Dec. 15:

Thanks to Mr. Cobblepot, I finally got my opportunity to prove my thesis regarding Jack Napier, aka the Joker. For review, in my original thesis, I put forth the proposition that Mr. Napier is not, in fact, insane. My theory is that he is faking in order to evade a proper trial and the inevitable incarceration that he would face. To understand the validity of this theory, one needs only to observe his behavior closely to notice clear signs of lucidity and even conscience.

My first meeting with Jack was considerably less than stellar. He was generally unresponsive to any of my attempts to converse with him in any meaningful manner. Rather, he spent the entire session flirting with me. While flattering, this actually serves to add validity to my theory; clearly he was being evasive in order maintain his cover."

"We are rolling in three, two..."

Vicky Vale stood just outside the gates of Gotham Penitentiary, about to cover what would possibly be the biggest story since Killer Croc escaped from Arkham Asylum last month. The fact that nobody has seen nor heard from the Batman since then only serves to amplify the importance of what is happening today, and thank God Knox is nowhere in sight. He was too busy with the Class Action suit that Oswald Cobblepot initiated almost immediately after Croc was recaptured. If she did this right, she might be able to scoop him on that, too.

"Good afternoon, Gotham!" Vicky greeted into the camera as soon as the cameraman gave her the signal. "This is Vicky Vale with channel 6 news. At this very moment, I am standing just outside the gates of Gotham Penitentiary where an unexpected turn of events has taken place and Floyd Lawton, also known as the notorious gunman Deadshot, has been granted Parole. Why this is unexpected is because initial reports indicated that his application for Parole was expected to be denied, but for reasons that are not yet clear, that decision was suddenly overturned and his Parole was granted."

A camera flash caught her eye. Being a professional and on camera live herself; she did not blink. Neither did she frown when she saw the source of the flash; it was Alexander Knox and his slippery photographer. They made it to the show after all.

"Standing here with me is Sergeant Janine Toussaint of the Gotham PD," Vicky continued. "Sergeant, what can you say to the people of Gotham about this unlikely turn of events?"

"Only that it was unexpected, and that the Police will be keeping a close eye on Mr. Lawton." Toussaint replied.

"Is that to say, then, that Commissioner Gordon disagrees with this decision?" Vicky asked. In her mind, this was a rhetorical question that needed to be asked. It was well documented that James Gordon played a key role along with Batman in the capture of Deadshot; much like Toussaint did in the recapture of Killer Croc one month ago.

"He has his doubts that Mr. Lawton is suitable to be allowed back into society, yes."

"The question the people of Gotham really want answered, Sergeant," Knox barged in, "is how did this happen; is this in any way connected to the Mob?"

"What we do know," Toussaint responded, "is that attorney Harold Dustman appeared late in Mr. Lawton's hearing to represent him, and shortly after that Parole was granted."

"What about the fact that Dustman is known to have a client list that includes the likes of the Falcone family and Oswald Cobblepot in addition to Deadshot?" Knox pressed. "Is there any speculation that either of them is in any way related to the decision to grant this known assassin Parole? Do the Police know if either of them is planning on hiring him? And if so, to what end, and how do the Police intend to keep the people of Gotham safe now that the Batman has gone into hiding, clearly to avoid being arrested?"

"No comment." Toussaint said plainly. She wanted desperately to tear one off of Knox, but she knew she couldn't do that. Gordon's Police Force doesn't do that. While it was true that Cobblepot had gained enough support in his Class Action suit to put the screws to Gordon to issue a warrant for the arrest of the Dark Knight, scumbags like Knox spun the matter so far sideways it wasn't even worth tabloid coverage, let alone news. Batman wasn't hiding; he was recovering after the beating he took last month. She wasn't even back to 100%, and he got it ten times as bad as she did.

"Look!" someone in the crowd shouted. "Here he comes!"

All attention turned away from the Sergeant and towards the activity inside the gate as they started to slowly open. On the other side, Floyd Lawton, aka Deadshot, was being escorted out of Gotham Penitentiary by two armed guards, and was accompanied by Harold Dustman, Attorney at Law.

Vicky Vale nudged her way towards the pair as they exited the gate, making certain that Alexander Knox was well and far behind her.

"Mr. Lawton!" she called out. "Do you have anything to say now that you are a free man?"

Floyd stopped, turned, and smiled at the camera with a casual shrug. "What can I say?" he replied, "I guess there really is a Santa Claus," he paused with a wink, "Merry Christmas, everybody."

With that, at Dustman's urging, they pressed on towards a car waiting for them on the street. Dustman opened rear passenger door and let his client in.

"Hey, Deadshot," Knox called from a distance, tape recorder held high overhead. "What do you have to say about the speculation that you were set free as part of a fee for a big hit?"

"My client has no further comments at this time, thank you!" Dustman called back, closing the passenger door. Without another word he then opened the passenger front door of the car, and let himself in. Before anybody else could get a coherent question out, the car drove away.

Inside the car, Floyd couldn't help but chuckle.

Harold glanced at him through the rear-view mirror. "That wasn't very smart, you know," he said. "I thought I told you to say nothing to the press or anyone until we got into the car."

Floyd scoffed. "Relax." He said. "I wouldn't have given anything up. Besides, making smartass remarks like that is kind of my trademark."

"Exactly my point, Floyd," Dustman retorted. "You are supposed to be rehabilitated; a changed man who has learned his lesson."

"Whatever," Floyd dismissed the admonishment. "So where are we going now, anyway?"

Dustman grinned. "I want you to meet somebody."

Taken from the notes of Harleen Quinzel

"Dec 21:

I'm finally making some progress with Jack. Today he opened up a little bit and started talking about his childhood. He claimed that his father was an abusive drunk with a severe gambling problem, which led first to the death of his mother and then his father at the hands of the Falcone family; specifically one of their goons named Cyrus Gold. I take note that Cyrus Gold was a notorious criminal long ago. Just how old is Jack, anyway?

His narrative also included accounts of abusive language towards himself and his mother, as well as numerous severe beatings in their crappy apartment in the poor district. I can relate to that, which is why it was really quite the trick for me not to fall into his attempts to trick me into making our conversation about me. I should add here that Jack is obviously a very intelligent man, and that I get the sense that any post secondary education he may have is likely based on scholarships rather than being able to afford enrollment. Again, this is something I can identify with.

Somehow it must have gotten out that I too have no parents or siblings, because at the end of our session, Jack invited me to join him Christmas Eve for dinner. As this showed signs of compassion which adds even more validity to my theory, I accepted, on the condition that it was clear to him that this dinner was not a date. He readily agreed."

Alvarez ushered the sniper into a back service entrance to the Estate once he was certain nobody had eyes on them. He closed the door quietly and led the sniper up a set of stairs and down a hallway which led to a small apartment within the Estate on the Hill. At the door of the apartment, Alvarez stopped the sniper and knocked lightly on the door. After a moment, the door opened to reveal Lt. Brian Dustman on the other side. Brian nodded at Alvarez, looked the sniper over, and nodded in approval before letting them in.

Inside, the sniper recognized Brian right away, and of course he knew Alvarez. The room they were in was a small front room that served as an office; there was a desk directly in front of him, and behind the desk was a man whose facial features could not be made due to the positioning of the lighting in the room.

"Do you know who I am?" the man behind the desk asked. He had a slight southern twang to his voice, which the sniper immediately recognized; he'd heard it before.

"Yes, sir." He replied politely.

The man cleared his throat. As if this was a signal, Brian started to reach into his coat for his sidearm.

"Let's try that again." The man said. "Do you know who I am?"

The sniper caught on this time. "No sir, I do not." He said. "I've never seen your face."

"That's better." The man said. "Do you know why you're here?"

"I only know what I need to know."

"I like that." The man said, impressed. From his desk he pulled up a sheet, which he handed to Brian, who was standing beside him. "Go on," the man said to Brian. "Hand the gentleman that last piece of information he needs."

Brian Dustman stepped across the office and handed the sniper the paper. The sniper took it and saw that it was a photograph. The sniper smiled.

"Do you know who that is?"

"Yes, sir, I do." The sniper said.

"Do you know how to find him?"

"Yes sir, I do."

"That man is your target." The man behind the desk explained. "You will be well paid."

"Thank you, sir."

From the notes of Harleen Quinzel

"Dec 25:

Merry Christmas! I have to admit, dinner with Jack last night was fantastic! I had no idea the cooks at Arkham could put together such a fabulous spread! Jack was surprisingly charming and disarming, and even wore a Santa hat the whole time. To his credit, he went out of his way to make sure it was not a date. While somewhat adolescent, his calling it 'not a date' all night long was really quite an entertaining gag which never quite got old. He really does have quite the sense of humor; he even shared in the laughter when he spilled the Christmas pudding in his own lap. He made light of it by saying 'just call me pudding from now on!' How we both laughed long and loud at that.

I think I'm starting to win him over."

2: January

The conference room fell silent the moment Oswald Cobblepot stepped in. Just seconds before, two of three men inside were bickering – albeit behind a translucent veil of polite hostility – over a combination of cultural differences and on ongoing dispute over gambling territories. The third man sat back and let the other two have at it; observing with only the most fleeting of interest.

In truth, before the Penguin made his appearance, there were a total five men and one woman in the room; each of the men had brought one bodyguard, as was permitted for this meeting. Cobblepot, accompanied by Bruno, made up a sum total of eight in the room. Before he spoke, Oswald did a quick scan of the room visually to account for who was present and where they situated themselves; taking specific note that all of them made a point of being sure they had their backs neither to the door nor to the large window.

First, there was Frank Falcone of the Falcone Family. Nothing needed to be said about him; he was, apart from Penguin himself, the true veteran of the business. His family had been at it for several generations before he was even born. Frank was born, bred, and trained all his life to carry on the Family tradition. His escort was Tony; his son and heir apparent. In appearance, he was very much a younger version of dear old dad, though it was no secret to anyone in the room that Tony was the finest fruit from the Falcone family tree. Perhaps Frank was hoping he could teach the poor boy something today.

Next was Himura Akio; by no means an upstart, but recent transplant from Japan to take over Japan town after the recent death Himura Anjin. Little beyond that was known about him. His escort was the woman, who was very thoroughly covered so as to not be clearly identified. It was Akio and Frank who were bickering. Apparently, some of Akio's advances had stepped on Frank's toes somehow. As he had hoped, his litigation against the Bat had put a cork in that dispute; at least for now, as both parties were quick to join in on the Class Action suit.

None were as quick to join as the third man; who was most commonly known as Black Mask. Since this was Penguin's chief rival of late, some may have been surprised at his cooperation so far. Cobblepot was not. Mask's hatred for Batman was so intense it could be played upon; anything that might hurt the Bat, Black Mask was likely to want to be part of it. The real question was; could he be trusted? The answer was; of course not! Part of the reason he was invited was to be able to watch him closely and see what his next move would be. Mask had brought with him one of his goons; the one with the tattoos.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!" Penguin greeted. "I'm so glad you could come."

"Get to the point, Bird-man," Black Mask said sharply. "And this better be good."

"Hey, shut up, freak!" Tony blurted out. Before he could say anything more, Frank raised a hand to silence his son.

"I apologize on behalf of my son," he said in calm, measured tones. "Etiquette has never been a strong point for him. What Tony is trying to say, Mask, is that if you insist on interrupting our host, it will only take him that much longer to get to the point, as you so eloquently put it." He turned his attention over to Penguin. "Please, continue."

Oswald gave a courtesan bow to Frank. The two had developed a deep respect for each other; it was well earned on both ends. Over a long many years, the two had managed to stay out of each other's way; and had in fact risen to their current stations alongside each other as a result.

"Let me start by saying thank you to you all for your support in my Class Action suit." Oswald said. "As I am sure you all aware, it has to date proven quite successful in neutralizing the Bat and his efforts to meddle in our affairs. While I'm sure each of you may have heard that you have all heard that it was Killer Croc who put the Bat on the shelf, I ask you; when has the Dark Knight ever left us alone due to physical duress?"

All three of them remained silent.

Oswald continued: "So now that we have seen that it is possible for all of us to cooperate with each other, I come to you with a proposition: We consolidate our networks and operate as four cells of one greater organism. Each of us would have territories and specialized fields in which we oversee all operations, and we all share in the overall profit margin."

"Rather than fight each other, or work as separate entities, we operate as a community." Akio said quietly, as if to confirm.

"Hai, Akio-san." Penguin replied with a bow. Though his Japanese was very limited, he had hoped the effort would earn him some favor with the new head of the Himura Clan.

Akio nodded once. "A divided village has no foundation and quickly falls, but a village in harmony with itself can withstand much."

"Tell me something, Oz," Frank chimed in. "How would we decide who runs what in this model of yours?"

"That, Mr. Falcone, is what we are here to work out."

Black Mask picked up the Martini glass in front of him from the table. "Before you three get too deep in your love fest," he interceded, "Let me ask you something; who's going to chair this council of bosses? Are you guys really going to let Penguin here bamboozle you that easy? Don't get me wrong, I get the whole strength and safety in numbers deal, but why should any of us let him be the man in charge?"

As Black Mask started to bring the glass to his lips, Penguin cleared his throat. That exact moment, a bullet shot through the window alongside them and shattered the stem of the glass Black Mask was holding. Black Mask shouted in surprise.

The goon with the tattoos pulled out a .45 and trained it on Penguin.

Bruno pulled out a .45 and trained it on the goon.

Tony Falcone pulled out a .44, uncertain who to train it on.

The woman pulled out a sword, ready to strike anyone who got too close to Akio down. Penguin had no idea where the sword came from.

Himura Akio extended an arm to halt his guard and spoke quickly to her in Japanese. He spoke too quickly for Oswald to catch the specific words; but he was able to get a general idea. It was something about a show of strength, and something about how rude the masked man was being. The woman put her blade away and bowed reverently.

Only Cobblepot himself and Frank Falcone remained unmoved.

Once everyone put their weapons away, Penguin spoke: "If the arrangement as it stands now is not to your liking, Roman, you are free to leave this table with no further incident."

Black Mask guffawed, checked his hand one more time for any wounds, and finding none he got up from his chair and left the room. Tattoos followed.

Penguin watched carefully as they left. Once they were gone, he returned his attention to the remaining pair.

"Now," he said, "shall we begin discussing the specifics of our consolidated Community?"

From the notes of Harleen Quinzel

"Jan 10:

I was right! Jack is starting to really soften up to me! There's still a lot of flirting from him, but that's actually become kind of fun. When we do get to an actual conversation in our sessions, he really opens up. The whole thing is really very heartbreaking once you know what he went through. He tried to do things legit, but those Falcones kept pushing him to pay off his father's debts until poor Jack could only see one way out. That was why he created the Red Hood personae. 'I mean the real Red Hood, not that fashion rebel imposter that's out there now!' he says. The original idea was to create a figure which would make a gang to take out the Falcones, be the one on top of the entire network, and then vanish forever, leaving the Criminal world in chaos. If you think about it, his original objective was really heroic. He even took down Cyrus Gold in the process. His plan would have worked, too, 'if the Dork Knight didn't interfere.' As a note, I point out that this kind of strategy shows a definite clarity of thought and methodology, which goes again to prove my thesis that Jack Napier is not insane."

The Bird-Man had Deadshot on his payroll. It had to be him. That shot was too perfect to be anybody else. I'm no slouch when it comes to shooting, but even I couldn't have made that shot. Just the stem of the glass I was holding, and not a scratch on my hand. I have to admit, when he says that he never misses, he can back that up.

Beneath his mask, Black Mask grimaced. Smart money said that by now, Penguin had his new hired gun tracking and watching him; Waiting for him to make his first move. It didn't matter; his first move was already made, and none of them even knew it yet. His agentshad both of the other guests' cars bugged, and he was able to hear their conversations immediately after their conference. Falcone was being smart, and choosing his words carefully. All he could really get was that this Community deal was better than going to war, which gets costly. This was told to his dimwit son in a fashion that was like drawing a picture out of words. Bugging Akio was, for now, a pointless endeavor; in private he spoke only Japanese. Roman made a note to get a translator.

There was a knock on the door; the sequence of the knocking was the correct code for Tattoo.

"Come in."

Tattoo opened the door with one hand. Under his arm he was carrying a package.

"This just came in from our new man, boss." Tattoo said, holding the package out. "I checked it, it's clean."

"Give it here."

Tattoo came into the office and placed the flat, oblong box on his desk, then turned to leave.

"Stay, Tattoo." Black Mask ordered. "If this is what it's supposed to be, I'll be calling you back in to take it to the Professor, anyway."

After Tattoo stopped and turned around, Roman opened the box. There it was, just as promised. Beneath his mask, Roman smiled.

It was one of the Bat's famous utility belts.

From the notes of Harleen Quinzel:

"Jan 21:

Jack started off in very cheerful mood today; more so than usual. According to him, today would have been his mother's birthday. We talked at length about his mother. It appears she was really the one bright point in his otherwise impossible life. I'll admit I sort of missed his flirtations today, but then it was his mom we were talking about. I guess it's fair that she get all his attention one day of the year. Very briefly, he shed a tear or two, indicating how much he still misses her. I guess it's actually very generous of him to otherwise give me his attention undivided. He brightened up quickly enough, saying that now he had me to talk to, and that I sort of reminded him of her.

What an absolute sweetheart thing to say!"

The Penguin was still fuming. So much, in fact, that it was difficult to maintain his composure. How long had this treachery been going on?

Less than two weeks ago, he received a text message from Deadshot. It was a report on his surveillance of Black Mask. The text was still burned in his memory:

Package received from new man. Merchandise confirmed; Gold.

Black Mask had infiltrated his inner circle. Even now he found it hard to believe that Cecil was a traitor! It was either him or Brian; possibly both. The merchandise in question and confirmed was the Bat's belt that Brian had acquired from the sewers some two months ago. Upon receiving the message, Oswald Cobblepot typed a reply, complete with instructions regarding the when and where to deal with this problem.