Friends and Scars

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I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or any of the other Batman characters presented. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). The other characters are from my imagination. This was written purely for fun.

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Commissioner Jim Gordon stood on the rooftop of the Gotham City Police Department, his eyes scanning the skyline from behind thin lenses. He looked up to the bat-signal against the blanket of clouds that seemed to hover over Gotham City year-round. He ran a hand through his grey hair and heaved a sigh, his breath becoming visible in the late fall air.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw the caped figure behind him. He turned and completely faced him. "Good evening, Batman," he greeted the Dark Knight.

Batman strode out from the shadows and into the light given off from the bat-signal. He allowed his large black cape to hang down over the golden and black symbol on his chest. From beneath the dark cowl that hid much of his face, he stared out at Gordon. "Jim," he finally greeted the commissioner in a low voice accompanied by a faint nod.

Gordon shoved his hands into his pockets. "There was a break-in at Arkham earlier this evening."

Despite not showing any changes in his face, a feeling of dread came over the Caped Crusader. "Who got out this time?" he asked.

"Arnold Wesker," Gordon replied.

"The Ventriloquist…" Batman murmured.

Gordon pulled out a notebook and flipped to a certain page. "Mr. Charles 'Rhino' Daily was the one to grab Wesker. We think some of their gang members planted the explosives outside Wesker's cell before they all scattered."

"Does he have Scarface?" the caped man asked.

"No," Gordon answered, "but he did take a "therapeutic" dummy with him."

Batman turned and looked out over Gotham City, his city. "That gives us some time to find him before he becomes dangerous."

"How long do you think we have?" Gordon asked as he gazed back to the skyline.

"It usually takes Wesker around three days to rebuild the dummy," Batman said. "After that, he will be a threat again."

"I'll have my men patrol the streets and check out past hideouts," Gordon said. When no response came, he turned to find that Batman had vanished into the night.

Feeling slowly began to return to him, the first feeling being a throbbing pain in his head. He took a deep breath and brought his hands to his face, his mind barely registering the clinking of the metal links of the handcuffs that still circled his wrists. He opened his eyes and stared dully into nothing.

After another deep breath, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He finally realized he wasn't in Arkham anymore once his eyes began to focus on his tremendously blurred surroundings. The walls he last remembered were white and padded; here they were wooden, and dull with age.

He reached over to a wooden box and retrieved his glasses. Once he had them in place, he looked around with groggy eyes. The lighting here was terrible; only faint rays of sunlight came through a tattered curtain, shutting out the world beyond it. He had no idea where he was; nothing (from what he could see in the darkness) seemed familiar to him. He gazed down at the cuffs around his wrists.

He finally stood and began to make his way to the door, stumbling to catch his footing. He collapsed against the doorframe and drew a sharp intake of air. His hands went to the back of his head where the club had hit him only hours earlier.

Wesker pushed the door open with an elbow and squinted through the sudden light of the next room: a kitchen.

"Oh, good mornin', Mr. Ventriloquist."

Wesker gazed over at Rhino, who was sitting at a wooden table and reading the newspaper. "Rhino?"

The massive man rose to his feet, folding the newspaper. He cautiously approached his boss. "How're ya feelin'?" he asked.

"Like I was hit with a club," Wesker replied slowly, his words slightly slurred. He rubbed the area on the back of his head that throbbed as he looked up at Rhino. "Was I tranquilized too?"

The henchman nodded. He noticed the handcuffs around his boss's wrists. "I think I may have somethin' to get those off."

Wesker put his arms in front of him, studying the metal links. "That would be nice…"

Rhino motioned for the Ventriloquist to head out of the room. "There should be somethin' out there."

The smaller man gazed toward the doorframe and began walking. He turned the corner and—

His eyes widened, the groggy feeling lifting completely. He jumped back behind the wall that separated the rooms, nearly knocking into the massive henchman behind him.

Rhino dodged Wesker and nearly lost his balance. He grabbed the doorframe and looked over at the Ventriloquist. "What the Hell's your problem—?!"

"What's he doing here?!" Wesker asked frantically in a hushed voice, remaining plastered against the wall.

Rhino raised an eyebrow and gazed out into the next room. On a beat up sofa was Mr. Friend, sitting lifelessly. He turned back to Wesker. "You grabbed 'im, remember?"

Wesker stared over at Rhino with wide eyes, not daring to look back into the other room. "Mr. Scarface is going to have a fit if he sees—!" He stopped short. "Where's Mr. Scarface?!"

"Arnold?" came the British voice from the next room, making Wesker jump nearly out of his skin. "Arnold, is that you?"

A few tense moments of silence filled the air. Wesker finally peeked around the doorframe at Mr. Friend. "…y-yes," he answered in a small voice.

"We need to talk, Arnold," Mr. Friend said.

Rhino stepped into the room, patting Wesker on the shoulder. "I'll let youse two talk about whatever it is youse need to while I go find that thing."

Wesker watched Rhino walk off, silently wishing Rhino would stay, before turning back to Mr. Friend. "A-About the break out?" he asked quietly.

"That was not a good idea, Arnold," Mr. Friend answered.

Wesker finally stepped into the other room and slowly approached the therapeutic dummy. He fiddled with the metal around his wrists nervously and never let his eyes fall directly on Mr. Friend. "W-Well, I couldn't just stay there…" he mumbled softly after a beat of silence.

"And why not?" Mr. Friend asked in an irritated tone.

He gazed over at the sofa for a moment before his eyes fell to the wooden floorboards. "R-Rhino and the rest of the gang had risked incarceration to bust Mr. Scarface and I out," the older man responded, his voice growing strained at the mention of his abusive boss's name. "Their efforts would have been wasted if I had stayed."

"So, what, were you just being polite or something by escaping?" Mr. Friend snapped. "What about your doctors?!"

Wesker stared down at the dummy with somewhat startled eyes at the outburst. Before he was able to answer, Rhino's head popped into the room.

"Found somethin'," he said to Wesker, not even bothering to look at Mr. Friend.

The Ventriloquist's eyes shot to the enormous thug standing in the doorway. He looked back at Mr. Friend and forced a nervous little laugh. "W-Well, I would r-really love to stay and chat, but I have to go," he said in one breath, pointing after Rhino.

"We're not done here, Arnold," Mr. Friend said somewhat harshly as Wesker had tried to move out of the room. Wesker cringed at the tone of the puppet's voice.

Rhino's eyes shifted to where the unfamiliar dummy sat with a look of distaste on his face. He finally stepped into the room and grabbed the chain between Wesker's wrists. "He don't have a choice, buddy," he said to the dummy as Wesker looked up at him with surprised eyes. "I ain't gonna wait around for youse two to finish your therapy session."

Before Mr. Friend or Wesker could say anything, Rhino gently tugged on the cuffs. He led the small man from the room and away from Mr. Friend.

Once they were out of the room and far enough away from the dummy for the older man to slightly relax, he heaved a shaky sigh of relief. "T-T-Thank you, Rhino," he managed to say.

"Ain't the friendliest of characters, is 'e?" Rhino asked as he released the chain between Wesker's wrists.

As Rhino turned and walked further into the hideout, Wesker stole a quick glance over his shoulder. "I-I'm beginning to think his friendliness was all a façade…" he mumbled before scurrying after Rhino.

The brute let out a small chuckle without turning. "Who is 'e, anyway?"

They turned into a small room being dimly lit by a single light bulb overhead. That single light did very little to shine through the darkness of the room. There was a small round table in the center of the room, four chairs circling it. On the table sat a finished game of poker and a number of little metal picks.

As Rhino moved around the table, picking up one of the pieces of metal, Wesker paused in the doorway. He stole another glance down the hall to where Mr. Friend was left. "My doctor introduced me to him yesterday…" he finally answered. He moved into the room and sat down across from Rhino, his hands palm-down on the tabletop. "Dr. Myers thought Mr. Scarface wasn't very good company, so they…" his voice trailed off.

Rhino began to tinker with the keyholes on one of the cuffs, pausing to look up. "They took Mr. Scarface away?" he asked slowly.

Wesker nibbled on his bottom lip nervously and nodded, the light from the bulb overhead reflecting off his thick lenses.

Both parties were silent for a few moments, the only noise in the air being the sound of tinkering metal. The massive thug stole a quick glance up at Wesker to find him staring down at the table. He cleared his throat. "So, uh, speakin' of Mr. Scarface, I need ya to make a list of stuff you'll be needin'."

The Ventriloquist's eyes rose to Rhino, a look of complete confusion on his face. "Stuff?" he repeated in a small voice.

"Yeah," Rhino said casually as he continued to pick at the locks on the handcuffs, "y'know, to rebuild Scarface."

He missed the pure look of irrational astonishment he was given by Wesker. "Rebuild?!" he repeated loudly. As Rhino gazed back up at him, he continued to stare at him. "I can't rebuild him!"

Rhino didn't look back down as he turned the pick in his massive fingers. The first lock released. "Sure you can," he said. "You've done it before—"

"I-I-I can't rebuild him!" Wesker continued hysterically, fumbling like mad over his words. "R-Rebuilding him is just about as probable as rebuilding you!" He hardly noticed the metal around his left wrist had come loose. "I-I-I just can't do it!"

"Well, what do you suppose we do, then?" Rhino asked sharply as he started working on the cuff on the other arm.

Wesker thought for a moment, his brow slightly furrowing in concentration as he tried to collect his scattered thoughts. "There's only one thing we can do, Rhino…" he finally said. When Rhino looked back up from the other cuff, Wesker looked him straight in the eyes. "We need to bust him out of Arkham."

Rhino immediately lost his grip on the metal picks and his eyes widened on Wesker. "You can't be serious…" he said slowly. When his boss made no comment, he ran a hand over his face and down to his chin. "Lemme get this straight; you wanna break back into the place me an' the boys just broke you out of?!"

"It's for Mr. Scarface," Wesker answered simply as Rhino returned to busting the lock on his other cuff.

Rhino paused to look back up at the Ventriloquist for only a moment. "You're crazy," he muttered as he continued working.

Arnold Wesker's eyes immediately hardened on the massive brute across from him. He loathed being called crazy, absolutely loathed it. "You would pull that card, wouldn't you?" he growled in a low, menacing voice as he quickly pulled his hands off the table.

Rhino's eyes lifted when the cuffs were pulled from him. He stared at Wesker with confused, yet irritated eyes.

Wesker took his hand out of the unlocked cuff before he rose to his feet. "I may be clinically insane, but I think this is the most rational I have been in a long, long time," he said coldly. "And if you're not going to help, I'll do it myself." He turned to leave.

Rhino's eyes widened again, finally realizing what he had done to upset him. He lunged forward across the table and grabbed the freely-swinging cuff at the end of the chain still attached to Wesker's right wrist. "Wait," he said. His grip on the metal gave Wesker little other choice.

The Ventriloquist turned and shot Rhino a glare, his glasses gleaming sinisterly through the darkness, and remained silent.

"I…I don't want you goin' back in there alone," Rhino finally said in an apologetic tone, hanging his head slightly. "You're gonna need my help."

Wesker's glare softened. The feeling of tension in the air seemed to dissipate and he started to relax. "T-Thank you," he mumbled as he pushed his glasses up his nose with his free hand.

Rhino looked back up at his boss. He opened his mouth to say something, but paused when the table creaked underneath him. "Oh man," he said with a half-embarrassed laugh as he released the chain and lifted himself from the table. He grabbed one of the metal picks, cleared his throat, and glanced at Wesker. "Lemme get that other cuff off."

Wesker stifled a small smile and nodded. "Alright."

A/N: Ever since I became a fan of Wesker (less than a year ago), I have always imagined him being somewhat...lethargic while rebuilding Scarface, to the point where he would have no memory of rebuilding him. I hope that kind of explains why Arnold is freaking out...