Chapter Twelve: Tomato Soup

A/N: I love these moments when I get to write Sylvia's dark side. Brings out the evil in me! :D


I entered my apartment around nine o'clock at night, turned on the lights, and when I strode into the kitchen I was met with an interesting sight. Tied to two of my kitchen chairs was a man and a woman, all alone and unfamiliar. Their mouths were covered with duct tape.

I stood in front of them. The word 'curiosity' didn't begin to cover the feeling.

The woman wore a black, long-sleeved shirt and a slate-gray leather, knee-length skirt with black fish-net stockings. Her open-toed, ruby high heels were placed neatly beside her; her ankles were separately duct-taped to the legs of the chair. She was blonde, green-eyed, and her hair was a matted mess. As I approached her, the woman's eyes grew large as saucers and she struggled against her bonds; her wrists were tied behind the back of the chair.

Her male counterpart looked to be in the same boat—wrist and ankle restraints were the same, and like her shoes, his had been neatly placed to the side. Shiny shoes, even. He matched the lady in color scheme: gray and black apparel. The man had a set of vengeful, dark blue eyes; he snarled at me when I first came inside the door.

"What in god's name is going on here?" I asked the two of them, not really expecting an answer.

But they certainly made the effort of trying to explain themselves.

"Mmffmh!" The woman cried.

"Mmmm! Mhhfffmm!" The man growled.

I let out a chuckle: "Well, I'm glad we finally got that cleared up."

Soft padded footsteps came from the hallway; a pair of hands extended towards me. I saw that it was Tomas; he strode into the kitchen with jeans and a white T-shirt; he was barefoot.

I said sternly, "Do you mind telling me why these people are in my apartment?"

Tomas nodded, gesturing me to come further into the kitchen. I leaned against the counter as he stood in between the two occupants, placing a sturdy hand on a shoulder each.

"You asked me to find out if there was anyone actively trying to go against the new owner," Tomas recalled calmly. "I give you these two as a result."

I looked at the two in a new light.

"Are they part of the staff?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Yes, Ma'am. This is Burke," said Tomas, gesticulating to the male. "His name is Burke Drifas. He was recently hired as one of the waiting staff. He—Hold on, let me get out my notes, I have a terrible memory when it comes to numbers." (He walked ten paces into the living room, pushed his shot gun aside so he could pick up a notepad that had been lying on the coffee table and then he hustled back.) "Burke lives on 10th on West Avenue, just outside of Gotham. He has three children, and an ex-wife, to which he referred as a 'fugly whore'."

Tomas shook his head with a laugh, clapping the man on the back saying, "That's not nice, man. You need to respect your exes—they gave you the time of day, didn't they?"

"Three children and an ex—go on," I noted.

Burke continued: "When I talked to him, he said that he doesn't think Penguin is in charge. He quoted, 'The little creep is Falcone's lap dog, and nothing more'." Tomas smirked, adding, "He's a bit of a creep himself, ain't he, boss?"

Burke tried his best to look around, to see my expression, but as I was behind him, he couldn't make heads or tails about my disposition. Patiently, I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a gallon of orange juice, and asked if Tomas wanted anything.

"You know how to make a Fuzzy Navel?" Tomas asked conversationally.

"Coming right up," I answered his question.

I took out the ingredients to make his drink and then I made one for myself. I placed his on the kitchen table.

"Thanks, boss," said Tomas, smiling widely. "Now…. when I told Mr. Burke here that by contesting Penguin, he would be going against Falcone, he said 'I don't give a shit'." He said to the man in question, holding his notepad out for the latter to see: "Those are your words, man. Not mine. I can't make this shit up."

Burke growled, saying some nasty muffled things to him.

"Burke," Tomas continued, "is a liability. He's been working as a waiter but I say that once everything started running and things are nice and calm again, he'd try to do something. Give Maroni some secrets, maybe?"

At the suggestion, Burke shook his head vigorously.

I strode into the living room and pulled off my leather jacket, hanging it on the coat rack. Tomas flipped a few pages, assuming I was still listening (and I was), and continued telling me more about Burke. The man alone was a common denominator who despised Penguin just to despise him, because he wasn't Fish Mooney. I slipped off my heels in the living room.

"He's also told me," Tomas continued dully, "that if given the chance, he would—and I quote— 'Take Penguin out so I could take over, anyone is better than the freak'. Dude…."—Tomas bent over and held Burke's shoulder like he was a pal— "You can't talk about Penguin that way; that's her boyfriend, man. I mean, technically, he's her boss, but they're a thing, guy. So that's like a big double whammy for you, ain't it?"

Burke slowly looked at me, eyes wide in fear.

"I'm going to take a shower," I told Tomas, gesturing to the bathroom. "I'll be out in a jiffy. Do you mind heating up some of the left overs?"

"Sure—the steak casserole or the tomato soup?"

"Soup, please," I said sweetly.

"No problem, Boss."

I stepped into the shower and was only in for a few minutes, just enough to wash the dirt and grime of the day. I towel dried my hair and pulled it into a pony tail, slipped on a silk robe and tied it off. When I came out of the bathroom, I saw Tomas sitting on the table in front of the two contenders, reading over his notes.

In a pot, the left-over tomato soup from a couple nights ago was heating up. Seeing me, he handed me my drink and I thanked him once more. I gently rested my hand on Burke's shoulder; he eyed me suspiciously.

"It's so nice to meet you, Mr. Drifas." I greeted sweetly. "Continue, Tomas."

"Well, that's all there was about him," said Tomas apologetically. "He refused to talk after I hit him over the head."

"Typical," I said, shrugging. "What about the girl?"

The woman's eyes widened once more when the attention was directed at her.

"Yes, Ma'am," Tomas said with a wide grin. "This is Tiffany Rudderdale. She doesn't work for you."

I looked at him: "Why is she here then?"

"Because she's going to be the new Mrs. Drifas," Tom explained, smiling devilishly.

"Doesn't mean she's a rival," I said coolly.

"Sure," said Tomas lazily. "She didn't say she agreed with him, but she didn't deny it either. With all due respect, ma'am, that's just as bad."

I traced the rim of my drinking glass with my finger: "Mm. You have a point, Tom."

"HmmmffmM!" Tiffany squeaked.

I tilted my head to the side at her then glanced at my guard: "Did you understand that?"

"Not a damn word," Tomas snickered.

Her mascara started rolling down her cheeks as she said again more desperately, "Hmmffffffmm hrmmmfmmm!"

I sat on the table beside Tomas and gestured for him to do what needed to be done. Tomas ripped the tape off her mouth and knelt in front of her; she was panting immediately, jaw trembling.

"I don't know what you want," Tiffany squeaked. "But if it's money—"

"I'm not interested in your money," I said calmly. "And you couldn't afford the price even if I was."

"Miss Gordon, I assure you—"

Tomas slapped the tape right back on her mouth, craning his head at me.

"Do we really have to hear them talk?" Tomas asked, dreading the outcome. "I mean, do you really care to hear it?"

"I've got all night," I consented. "We might as well."

"Fuck me…. okay, you bitch," Tomas grumbled. "You better make these words count. She's gonna let you talk, okay? But you're not going to scream or cry or moan. Got it?"

Tiffany nodded furiously. I was impressed with Tomas so far. He seemed so calm and professionally stricken by violence that I would have never guessed he would be up for this kind of fun. I downed my drink as Tomas ripped the tape off her mouth again.

"I don't know what you want…. tell me what you want," Tiffany whispered, glancing at her fiancé then to me again. "What did we do?"

"You must be deaf," Tomas snapped. "I just sat here and listed all the things that you've done wrong!"

"Him!" Tiffany cried, glaring at Burke. "He said those things, not me!"

"Do you agree with him?" I questioned gently. "Do you think he's right?"

"I…." Tiffany looked at her husband who was sending all the signals of 'agree with me, please!' but she bit her lower lip. "I…. I don't…."

"Tomas," I said softly.

My guard straightened from his squatted position and turned to me expectantly.

"Would you mind taking Ms. Rudderdale to my room? Untie her, give her one of my robes from the closet, and a bottled water," I instructed. "When you've untied her, please lock the door and rejoin Mr. Drifas and myself back in the kitchen."

"Why?" Tomas asked incredulously. "She's just as guilty—"

"No, she's not." I said, looking at Tiffany.

Tiffany looked at me as though I had grown three heads: shocked, confused, and a little terrified.

Tomas leaned into me, whispering in my ear: "Why are you doing this?"

"She's been strong-armed into this mess," I hissed curtly. "She wants to tell the truth but she's afraid of him" (I gestured to the man).

"How can you tell?" Tomas asked.

"I know a battered woman when I see one," I said sympathetically. "Personal experience."

Tomas' expression changed from its stern placement and softened when he heard the last part. He looked at me, confused, but then understood. He nodded dutifully, grabbed both sides of the kitchen chair and proceeded to drag Tiffany out of the kitchen; the woman, although terrified, didn't scream so that was a good sign. When she was out of range and I heard the door close, I turned to look at Burke.

"And then there were two," I sighed deeply.

"Hmph."

"My sentiments exactly," I mused, smirking at him. "If I let you talk, Mr. Drifas, you have to promise not to scream. I have yet to make any rude remarks to you so I would hope that you would show me the same courtesy. Does that sound fair?"

He glared at me.

"Nod your head if that's fair," I instructed.

He nodded once.

"Good."

I leaned forward and slowly took the tape off his face. He was glaring daggers and he appeared to be biting off his tongue not to say something terrible. I leaned my backside against the table, crossing my arms over my chest. I caught the way he was looking me over; his attention lingered especially over the hem of my robe which cut off just above my knees.

"You're wondering why you're here," I said calmly. "Would that be correct?"

"Sure," he grumbled. "What I am really wondering—"

"Remember. We're being nice." I interrupted cautiously.

"This is nice?"

"Well, you're not being tortured," I humorously pointed out. "At best, you've been hit across the head."

"Thanks for that."

"Tomas likes Penguin," I explained. "You insulted his boss. He hit you on the head. I'd call it even."

"You weren't there."

"True, but I doubt I need to know your side of the story to determine that." I replied honestly. "What about your girl?"

"What about her?"

"Does she want Penguin dead too?" I asked.

"Yeah—"

"She didn't say she did."

"Well, she's a fucking liar."

I said smoothly, "She didn't say she wanted him alive either."

"What the fuck does it matter, lady! She agrees with me; she wants him dead too! She ain't telling you anything because she's just scared!"

"Well, we can both agree to that—I'm not blind!" I said heatedly as I advanced towards him. "But I don't think she's scared of me, Mr. Drifas. I think she's afraid of you."

He frowned at me.

"You raise your voice to me," I reprimanded, "Then I will raise my voice to you. You want to act tough, I can handle tough. You're not making it easy on yourself, buddy. So how about you start showing some fucking respect!"

He continued to frown. Then he asked icily, "Why the hell am I here?"

"So, you do want to know that. Well," I held up my hands, "that's easy enough. You're here, Mr. Drifas, because I asked my guard—you met Tomas already—to do a few things for me. I asked him to look into all the hired staff and to notify me of anyone who is still loyal to Fish Mooney."

"So, I'm here because I liked the woman. You plan on attacking anyone who likes her, who is loyal to her?"

I shrugged carelessly, "I don't give a shit who they are loyal to, Burke. That's not why you are here. You told Tomas that you would take Penguin out if you had the chance—"

"—Everyone who is anyone would do anything like that," Burke argued. "Maroni says stuff like that but you don't have him tied up, do you?"

"Maroni is a whole different issue. The fact of the matter is that you, Mr. Drifas, actually work for Penguin," I pointed out. "That puts you in a situation where you can get close to him and then when you find whatever you're looking for, you can give the information to the highest bidder."

"You would know," Burke grumbled. "You're working for the boss. You're dating the snitch. He put you up to this, I bet."

"True on all counts except the last," I admitted. "He doesn't know you're here."

"He fucking snitched on Fish Mooney. You used to work for her!"

"Also, true," I voiced coolly. "I did used to work for her. I bet it just burns you inside and out, huh? You want revenge, don't you, Burke? That's why you took the job. You knew you'd end up working for Penguin. What was the plan, Burke, huh?"

"Go to hell, you crazy broad."

"There isn't any need to insult me. Remember what I said? We were having a polite discussion? 'Polite' is the operative word, here."

Burke glared at me. Padded footsteps came down the hallway.

Without taking my eyes off Burke, I addressed Tomas, "How is she?"

"She's fine. Scared is all. But fine."

"Did you lock the door?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"What about windows?"

"Yes, Ma'am. But there's probably no need for that," said Tomas, shrugging as he sat in one of the empty dining chairs. "I doubt she'll escape."

Burke and I glanced at one another suspiciously.

"Why is that?" I asked.

"She didn't resist when I untied her." Tomas said. "And she seems appreciative."

"I wonder why that is." I commented pointedly, looking back at the fiancé.

"Don't give me that crap," Burke sneered. "She's just biding her time so she can get away from you. She'll play innocent. When you're complacent, she'll escape. She'll get out, and she'll call the police. You'll be locked away in prison…."

"Jeez," Tomas scowled. "You talk too much."

"I know, right?" I agreed.

Burke stopped talking for a moment, his mouth contorting into odd shapes before he seemed to pop his fuse.

"You know what," Burke seethed. "You're right. I don't like Penguin. He's a freak. He's a no body. He's running the whole place down, ruining everything!"

Tomas glanced at me nervously.

I stood next to the stove where the tomato soup was boiling.

"I wanted to kill him," Burke continued hatefully. "I want him dead! You think I care if you hurt the whore in the other room? I'm not scared of you at all! I'm not scared! You think you can fucking scare me! A bitch like you! HA! YOU HAVEN'T SEEN WHAT SCARED LOOKS LIKE!"

He was screaming his head off as I looked at Tomas and said gingerly, "Do you care to fetch a few towels for me from the bathroom?"

"Sure," Tomas said wearily. He left to do as I asked.

Burke shot fire from his eyes: "You are a worthless bitch! You're a worthless, steaming pile of fucking shit! And you know what! You know what? I would say the same shit to Penguin—I'm not lying down for someone so fucking—"

Tomas was on his way back when he punched Burke square in the jaw.

"Tomas!" I chided.

"What!" Tomas snapped. "He's insulting you!"

"Let him," I ordered. "When you've finished placing the towels down, would you kindly tape his mouth shut. But do not hit him."

"With pleasure!" Tomas exclaimed with zeal.

He took a long piece and purposely punched the tape onto his face. Burke groaned in pain as his nose began to bleed.

I scowled.

"What?" Tomas said innocently. "I had to make sure it stayed on!"

Tomas and I both glanced at the front door when it opened. Oswald and Gabe entered the apartment, both of them were in the middle of the discussion before they both turned to see Tomas and me standing in the kitchen with a fuming Burke tied in the chair. Gabe shut the door quickly, locking it.

"Sylvia," Oswald began slowly. "What is going on?"

Gabe pointed at Burke, "Hey! He's one of our waiters!"

"Sylvia?" Oswald repeated.

I twisted the dial on the stove to the highest level, and stirred the soup with a wooden spoon.

"Do you want any left overs?" I asked.

"No thanks," Gabe politely declined. "I had pizza for dinner."

Oswald rounded the table, observing the state Burke was in, and the towels that circled the chair.

"This is Burke Drifas," I said, tapping the man's shoulder. "As Gabe pointed out, he is, indeed, one of the waiters at your club."

"Why is he here? And why is he tied to a chair?" Oswald questioned, noticing the ropes binding the man's hands and the tape around his ankles.

"That's my doing," Tomas chimed in.

"That's a nice tape job," Gabe complimented.

"Thanks!" Tomas said, grinning.

Oswald interrupted their exchange of nice words, saying, "Again—Why is this man tied to a chair in the middle of the kitchen!"

Tomas said pointedly, "Well, we couldn't interrogate the guy at his house—that would be weird."

Gabe chimed in, "Why does he look like he wants to kill you, Miss G?"

Tomas answered swiftly, "He's just upset because his entire plan is going to hell. Guess the 'freak' knows now, huh, Drifas!"

"Tomas!" I scolded.

"Ma'am, Burke said it—not me," said Tomas, glancing arbitrarily at Burke, Gabe, Oswald, then at me. "I figure if you're going to tell him everything, let's tell him everything the guy told us."

"I think this guy might piss himself before that happens," Gabe muttered, watching Burke's eyes dart to everyone in the kitchen.

"WILL SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!" Oswald shouted.

Tomas and Gabe jumped, looking at me expectantly.

"I can," I said gently.

"Then, by all means!" Oswald said irritably, gesturing to me.

I explained calmly: "I told Tomas to look into the background of all the people who are gainfully employed, and to give me the names of all those who were actively seeking retribution for Mooney's banishment. Tomas found Mr. Drifas as well as his wife-to-be, Tiffany Rubberdale, and brought them to me."

"Where is—" Gabe began.

"Ms. Rubberdale is sitting in our bedroom—she has neither confirmed nor denied whether Mr. Drifas' intentions were legitimate."

Tomas added, "She also seemed a little hesitant to talk in front of this guy."

"Because of that," I said, nodding my head to Tomas, "I allowed her to sit in a different room. She's clearly afraid of Mr. Drifas." (I glared at the latter.) "So far he has tried to implicate her in his death threats. And, Oswald, before you came in, he confessed to having wanted you dead. He is tied to this chair in the kitchen because that was how Tomas presented him to me. Now that I have learned that he was hell-bent on killing you, I have every intention of torturing him."

Burke glared at Oswald who stoically observed him. When I had finished, Oswald's temper seemed extinguished.

"My, you have been busy," Oswald exhaled with surprise.

Burke glanced between us.

"What do you want me to do to him?" Tomas asked me.

"Nothing yet," I answered.

I stripped the tape off Burke's mouth and he cried out in pain.

"Anything else of importance you'd like to add?" I asked softly.

"Yeah," Burke seethed. "Fuck you—and fuck Penguin!"

"Hmm." I drawled. "I was hoping you'd say that."

I grabbed the boiling pot of tomato soup and dumped it over Burke's head. He screamed bloody murder as the broth seared and cooked his flesh. The skin of his face and hands started bubbling, he was crying out for mercy. The tomato soup drizzled from his body, to the chair and onto the towels.

Oswald, Gabe, and Tomas appeared shocked.

I pulled the kitchen towel off the rack, rolled into a ball and shoved it into Burke's mouth to muffle the screams of agony.

"His screaming was giving me a fucking headache," I noted when Tomas and Gabe looked at me quizzically.

"So that's why you made me put on the soup," Tomas chuckled darkly. "And lay out the towels. You had this planned from the beginning!"

I nodded.

"He threatened to kill the love of my life. It seemed to be the only logical thing to do," I uttered.

"What about the wife?" Gabe asked, peering down the hallway. "What do you want us to do with her?"

"Nothing. I'll deal with her." I told him.

Burke was shivering and shaking from the heat. I left him there in the chair and started towards the bedroom. I heard Oswald tell Gabe, "Do you mind taking care of this?" And Gabe silently agreed to do whatever Oswald was referring to.

I opened the bedroom door, and I saw Tiffany sitting up, wearing my robe. She looked at me fearfully.

"Your fiancé is going to die tonight," I told her passively. "If not from a bullet, he'll die from third degree burns. Now that he is out of the picture, out of the way, and away from you, I am only going to ask this one time. Please do not make me ask it again."

She nodded shakily.

"Were you aware of Burke's intentions?" I asked. "Be honest."

She fearfully nodded.

"Do you agree with him?"

Tiffany stammered, "N-no. He made me go along with it. He wanted me to agree but…."

"Are you telling me this so that I may spare your life?"

"No, ma'am. Not at all."

I sat on the bed beside her, staring into her eyes.

"How can I be certain of that?" I asked quietly.

Tiffany pulled the sleeves up her arms where underneath were bruises.

She said bitterly, "He did this to me…. a couple of days ago. And he…. he and I…at night—he would insist, but I wouldn't want to. But he would anyway."

"He raped you?" I whispered.

She started crying. That was all I needed.

"You're free to go," I told her.

She whispered her thanks. Tiffany opened the bedroom door, but she turned around with her hand still on the door knob: "Miss, I have something else to ask of you."

"What is it?"

"He was the only one in the family—his family—drawing income. I don't have a job. I'll need one."

I said humorously, "You want to come work for Penguin?"

"If it means working for you, yeah," Tiffany said, nodding.

"I'll see what I can do. Come by the club tomorrow, and Ms. Rubberdale…"

She met my eyes.

"Don't go falling for his type ever again." I said sternly.

She stepped over the threshold.

"Tiffany's leaving!" I called out through the apartment. "Let her pass!"

I heard the front door open and then close. I rubbed my face with my hands, feeling more than spent. I looked up and saw Oswald standing in the doorway, leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed.

"You're emotionally invested in this one, aren't you?" Oswald said knowingly.

"You have no idea."

"What do you want to do with Mr. Drifas?"

I looked at him imploringly, getting to my feet.

"I don't know yet."

"You haven't anything planned?"

I stood in front of Oswald, muttering, "Nothing easy. I want him to suffer."

"Why so vindictive?" he asked gently.

I answered resentfully, "He raped his own fiancée."

Oswald stepped to the side to let me by, his eyes following me.

Standing in the kitchen, I looked at the burnt figure sitting in the chair; he was crying, begging to die. I tilted my head, thinking of what I wanted to do with him. Tomas and Gabe glanced at each other, small menacing smiles tugging at their mouths.

"Tomas," I addressed. "How many sisters do you have?"

"One," he answered.

"Is she married?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"What would you do if you found out that your sister's husband has been raping her every single night?"

Tomas' right eye and jaw twitched.

He replied dangerously, "I would chop off his hands and feet, and throw the rest of him off the pier so I could watch him drown."

I smiled and said, "Do that with Mr. Drifas, here."

Happily, Tomas responded, "Yes, Ma'am. Gabe? You want to come along?"

"Sure!" Gabe said enthusiastically. "This should be fun!"

"This will be easy," Tomas stated, emitting a sinister chuckle: "I was hoping it would come to this. I parked out back just for the occasion."

"Need help lifting the chair?"

"Are you kidding," Tomas laughed. "This guy weighs as much as my big toe."

They dragged Burke out the front door. I closed it after them, turning to Oswald. He slowly approached me.

"I'm sorry. That's not what you probably wanted to see after working at—mmm!"

He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulled me to him, and shoved his mouth against mine. His tongued pressed down on my bottom lip, to the center, sliding in to find my own. The kiss had taken me by surprise, but settling into it, I rubbed my hands down his chest. When the two of us needed to breathe, we broke the kiss naturally and I blinked at him.

"You're not mad?"

"'Mad'? Why would I be mad? You not only eliminated a pest but what possibly could have been several more problems that would have arisen," Oswald said enthusiastically. "It's just…. well, when I gave you the job as my team leader, I didn't realize you would be so into your work."

I placed the pot in the sink, and ran the water.

"I have an idea," Oswald said thoughtfully. "When I am not present, you'll be my second-in-command."

I teased, "I thought I was just going to be the team leader."

"Don't be modest, Pidge. We both know you're more than that."

"Ah shucks," I joked, beaming at him.

"Why didn't you tell me what you were planning?" Oswald asked.

"Well, you were happy to be given the club. I wanted you to enjoy that moment without worry. Speaking of worry, dinner shouldn't be a problem. We do have leftovers," I suggested. "There's the steak casserole from the other day. I'd offer tomato soup, but—well you know."

Oswald chuckled, and I grinned broadly at him.

"Steak casserole sounds perfect."