Joseph Napier was an utterly contemptible excuse for a human being. But like all utterly contemptible excuses for human beings, he hadn't started out that way. His life had never been ideal – he was raised single-handedly by an abusive, alcoholic father, who had taught him that the only way to be respected was to make people afraid of him. It was a lesson young Joseph had learned well, and one of his first jobs, apart from the early morning paper runs he had done to bring in cash as a child, was as a heavy for a "security company" – using threats and violence to get people to pay up. He had enjoyed that job, and the money it provided. And since, in his mind, he had achieved career success, the next step was personal success. He intended to find himself a wife, but he didn't want to use anything like manners and charm to get him one.
One of his fellow workers at the security company was constantly complaining about his daughter, an ungrateful little brat, in his own words, but one who had been well trained from an early age in the duties of a wife toward her home. He had visited a few times to see the girl before he bought her, to make sure he was getting his money's worth. She had a pretty face, and did what she was told, which was good enough for him. He was only interested in a wife who would take care of the household chores while he was away at work, and have dinner on the table when he returned home, and be ready to attend to any husbandly needs he might have later that evening. He had made a deal with the girl's father, paid a fair price, and married her.
He had thought at the time that it was a pretty good bargain. He hadn't realized how much trouble the girl would end up being, how much she would cry all the time, how she would try to defy him and disobey him, so he would have to expend the effort beating her into submission. She did do all her chores, she did have meals ready on time, and she did lie back and submit to him quietly when he wanted to claim his husbandly rights. But little things about her annoyed him. He could never put his finger exactly on what, but everytime he saw her, he felt like being violent toward her. These desires only increased when the security company was shut down by the police, and he was suddenly out of a job, with no money, no savings, and a wife depending on him. So he turned to what many a man in his time had turned to before, including his own father: alcohol.
If Joseph Napier had ever been in the habit of self-analysis, or if he had ever decided to go see a psychiatrist, he might have discovered that his anger and violence toward his wife was actually misplaced aggression towards himself. That the damage his father had done as a child had given him a permanent inferiority complex, which made him use violence and aggression as a tool to try to feel superior to other people. The thing that annoyed him about his wife was that she was too good for him, and secretly he knew it. She put up with every trial and tribulation with patience and grace, and it irritated him how bad that made him look, when the same trials and tribulations had turned him into the miserable wreck of a man he was today. He hated her for showing off, and being better than him, although his wife had never intended to do anything of the kind. But Joseph was a very selfish man, and saw everything everyone in his life did as a slight against himself.
When Mary had got the job at Wayne Enterprises, and began spending a lot of time away from home, Joseph was relieved at first. It was easier for him not having to deal with her patience and grace on a daily basis to make himself feel worse. But his relief gradually turned to jealousy and suspicion – Mary was his wife, and her place was in his home. She was working to spite him, to prove to him that she didn't need him, that she could support herself. So he treated her even worse, trying to beat her back into submission, and make her grateful for her place. He was secretly terrified when she began spending time away at conferences with Mr. Wayne – his own lack of self-worth made him paranoid that she was having an affair with him. And so he demeaned and abused her, telling her that no decent man would want her, that she was worthless and useless, and beat her so that no man would think she was pretty.
And things only grew worse when she told him she was pregnant. Already paranoid about her affair, he wasn't even sure the child was his, and didn't want it even if it was. He had tried to convince her, using threats and violence, to give up the baby, but she refused to bow to his wishes this time, and that made him even more desperate and panicked. If he lost his power over her, he'd have nothing left. Or so he thought. Once the child arrived, and he saw how tender and affectionate Mary was with it, he knew he had another road to power over her. And another person to use his power against, to make himself feel better.
He made life a living hell for both of them. But still Mary never complained, and always did her best to pretend to be happy and strong, for the kid's sake. It made him furious. When the kid was old enough, in his opinion, he sent him off to make himself useful, working eight hours a day in a factory, despite his mother's protests. When Jack and Mary came home from work every day, Joseph would take their money from them and keep it safe for himself. The kid was starting to cave – he could see the rage and hatred growing in him every day. But still Mary tried to keep the peace, telling her son to be good, and smile. Despite this, Joseph and Jack had come to blows a couple times, while Mary had tried to separate them, screaming and sobbing until Jack relented, and let Joseph beat him too into submission for her sake.
And then had come the party, where Joseph had found out the truth that he had always suspected. It was confirmation that he was right, that everything he had always believed was right, and that his actions had always been just. He knew rich boy Wayne wouldn't stand idly by and let his son suffer anymore, so Joseph had moved fast. They had returned home from the party, Joseph had ordered them all to pack their things, and they relocated to a different part of town. It was still poor and run-down, but so were many areas of Gotham, and it would take Wayne and the police ages to find them. Joseph wasn't worried. Now that he knew the kid wasn't his, he intended to treat him even worse than usual. It was the bastard son of his wife and some rich snob. It deserved pain.
And he wanted revenge. On the kid, on Mary, on Wayne, on everyone. On the world, for making him into the man he was today. But it wasn't the world's fault, not really – it never is, when people blame the world. Joseph had squandered every chance and opportunity ever given him, and instead taken his failure out on everyone around him. No one had made him into that man but him. But Joseph was too afraid to blame himself for his own failure. He was a coward, although he would never admit it.
Joseph was thinking all these thoughts as he drained the beer from his glass, his sullen, angry eyes fixated on the bar in front of him. "Rough night, Joseph?" asked a man, taking a seat next to him.
Joseph recognized him as a frequent drinking companion of his, a man who could be termed in the loosest sense, his friend. He nodded. "Yeah. Real rough night."
"Can I buy you another?" asked the man, gesturing the bartender over.
"Thanks. You're a pal," muttered Joseph.
"You wanna talk about it, or you wanna be left alone?" asked the man, handing Joseph a drink and taking one for himself.
Joseph sighed, taking a sip from the beer. "I wouldn't talk about it to anyone else," he muttered. "But you've always been there for me, and you know a lot of it." He took another swig from his glass. "You know my kid?"
"Yeah. Ungrateful little brat who gives you lip and complains about having to do an honest job," retorted the man. "Stupid bastard."
"Yeah, that's the size of it," muttered Joseph. "I found out a few days ago that…he ain't mine. My slut of a wife…slept with another guy. After all I've done for her, given her a nice home, and a roof over her head, and she ain't satisfied with any of that. She slept with her boss. And it's his kid. I always suspected…the weekends away, and the long nights at work, but I never had it confirmed…until now."
The man whistled. "Boy, Joseph, that's rough," he muttered. "I'm real sorry for ya. You always said she was a tramp and a whore, but I never thought she'd let another guy knock her up. You deserve better, you know you do."
"I know," muttered Joseph. "But what am I gonna do about it? Right now I'm just…so angry," he hissed, tightening his grip on the glass. "I feel like I could kill the slut, and her bastard, and her goddamn boss too."
"What's stopping you?" asked the man, taking a swig from his glass.
"The law, for one," retorted Joseph.
The man snorted. "Law," he repeated, contemptuously. "The law ain't for men like us, Joseph. It's for weak, lesser men who don't have the balls to take the law into their own hands. Guys like you and me, Joseph, we know what's right. We don't need some goddamn law telling us what to do."
"No, I…I guess not," said Joseph, slowly. He nodded. "It would be a piece of cake to off the bitch and the bastard. But the boss…that's something else. He'll be hard to get to."
"Why? Who is he?" asked the man.
Joseph took another long drink. "Thomas Wayne," he muttered.
"Wayne?" repeated the man. "Like Wayne Enterprises?"
"Yeah. That's him," retorted Joseph.
The man whistled. "Your slut's got expensive taste, Joseph, I'll say that for you," he said. He drank thoughtfully. "But I reckon not even Thomas Wayne is untouchable."
"He is to me," muttered Joseph. "He knows me now…he'd recognize me…unless I could hire someone to off him or something…"
The man drank again. "How much would you pay this someone?" he asked, casually.
Joseph felt in his pockets. "That's the other problem," he muttered. "Money's tight again. Mary said the heating bill's gone up, but I think she's hiding it away to buy something for herself, the selfish bitch."
"Well, you might not have to pay in money," continued the man. "If you had some other valuable property to trade, for instance. What about this wife of yours? She a looker?"
Joseph shrugged. "Yeah, she looks fine. Got Thomas Wayne's seal of approval and everything. I don't even wanna think about…doing her anymore. Not when I know he's been there."
The man shook his head. "Joseph, I hate to hear a man so defeatist," he said. "She's your wife, for Christ's sake. Your property. You need to go back there and claim her, hard, and make sure she never thinks about spreading her legs for another guy but you again. You…or a guy you might have given permission to."
Joseph looked at him. "You saying you wanna sleep with my wife?"
"I'm saying that would be a fair price for me," retorted the man.
"A fair price for what?" asked Joseph.
The man took another drink. "For killing Thomas Wayne," he murmured. "Hell, I'll throw his wife into the deal as well."
"What about their little brat?" muttered Joseph.
The man laughed. "Joseph, your wife may be good, but no woman is worth the lives of three people. I'll kill two for her, though. You're lucky you got a wife who's worth so much. Thomas and Martha Wayne are rich targets. Any hitman would charge an arm and a leg for 'em. You're lucky you got a friend like me who's satisfied with just your wife."
Joseph nodded slowly. "Yeah. Guess I am."
He smiled, extending his hand. "Mr. Joe Chill, you got yourself a deal."