A/N: Well, this took me a bit longer than last time. It was one of those chapters I had to fight with to get right. I hope I did. I see there are a bunch of new faces and reviewers who have discovered this story and I'm so delighted and grateful! You guys are the only reason this story is still alive and kicking, so give yourselves a hug from me :) If you're wondering why these chapters take me so long to write...well, they are a bit on the twisted, convoluted side. And I want them to be good and twisted and convoluted. So I really hope you enjoy them!
To the anons/people I can't PM: Guest, Mr. J - very flattered to hear that aaaand well I'm not saying the undressed conversation won't happen, but you'll have to wait a bit for it :), bearaveo - oh, you're too kind, thank you, I'm glad it got your heart racing :) the repercussions are going to be glorious, Weirdo-lover - and you shall have more!, Momo - thanks, hope this one becomes a favorite too!, Anon, Guest, Guest - thank you!, Cassie - right now, I'm really digging Nabokov and Saul Bellow. I should really update my profile lol cuz my tastes have changed a bit. oh and Gaiman, can't go wrong with him. anyway thank you!, lia, Luna - aww, strap in for the ride then and thank you!, Guest - haha, you'll just have to keep on guessing :), a reader, meowmix - Penny's sanity is definitely one of those ambiguous things that I love playing with. but you're smart to doubt her mental stability :)), Guest, Guest - aww, 3 am in Chicago, I'm honored, thank you :), Guest, julia - yey another Penny fan, thank you!
This chapter introduces some new canon characters and lets the Joker play a little. I'm both following and changing the Dark Knight storyline, as you may have noticed.
Canon characters who are in the movie and appear/are mentioned in the chapter: Anton, Brian Douglas, Lau & the Chinese triad, Sal Maroni (head of Italian mob, mentioned in previous chapters), Carmine Falcone (ex-head of the mafia, mentioned in previous chapters), the Gambol (head of African-American mafia), the Chechen (head of Chechen mafia) and Thomas Schiff (former resident of Arkham Asylum). Becky belongs to me and you have already seen her in chapter twelve when Penny pinned her against the wall.
So, let's get to it.
Lucius Fox stared at the ear muffs with some hesitation before putting them on. He slipped inside the firing room with meek steps, very much unlike himself. But these places never inspired anything but disgust. He flinched at the sounds he couldn't hear. He hated violence, as a rule. Even feigned one.
His executive assistant, however, was another story. Penny was now on her third silhouette. The previous two were covered in bullet holes. She aimed around the heart and above the eyes.
Lucius watched the way her elbow seemed to dive in and out of her arm as she pressed down on the trigger. Her body tensed, and remained tense even after the shot. Almost as if the real bullet was still between her fingers. Something about her was changed, although he couldn't exactly say what. It was easy to notice change in someone like Penelope, but it was harder to pinpoint it, describe it, quantify it.
He was so lost in his own ruminations that he didn't even notice when she turned her head over her shoulder and looked straight at him.
She put down her firearm and lowered her ear muffs.
"Sir. I wasn't expecting you down here."
Truthfully, she didn't look surprised, which suggested she had more or less suspected the visit. But she looked bashful and somewhat embarrassed.
Good, he thought, since he was here to scold her.
"Are you letting off some well-deserved steam?" he asked amiably, the way you'd begin a conversation with a difficult client.
"Practicing, more like it."
"Ah. Practice implies preparation for a confrontation. I do hope you're not considering that an option."
Penny rubbed at her forehead to wipe away the sweat. "Practice only implies practice. That is all."
Lucius pushed a button on a panel behind him and the lights went out, one by one. Soon, it was pitch black inside the room.
"Sir? Lucius?"
Her voice had gone from level-headed-executive-assistant to young-girl-in-an-elevator. He knew what he was doing. He knew it was wrong. The dark was corrupted for her in ways he did not fathom. Giving her a blackout was not conducive to any kind of recovery. But right now, he needed her to forget about recovery. He needed Penny to listen and do as told.
He opened his briefcase and took out the infrared goggles. He could barely make out her moving body in the dark, but he nudged the pair against her arm and she grabbed them shakily.
Tiny red dots appeared everywhere on the silhouettes.
"Pick up your weapon and shoot. I believe that's better practice for when you find yourself in Gotham's less circulated neighborhoods."
Penny's breath came out chopped and dizzy, like waves in a storm.
"Now, now. You must learn to shoot in the dark."
"Is this your brand of punishment?" she spoke in an eerily calm voice.
"I am only testing my assistant."
"Poor choice of test, I might add."
"No one who is tested is going to like the test. After all, what's the point if they do?"
"Why is this necessary? Beyond the fact that I fell for the same distraction everyone else did, I did nothing wrong. I got into the car with Devlin because I thought it was safe. You would have done the same thing. What happened afterwards was out of my control. No one knew he was –"
"That's not what this is about and you know it. This is about your unsavory affair with the press."
Penny arranged the straps on her goggles. The world looked red.
"You forget I am your employee, not your child."
"And as my employee, you are endangering my investments by endangering yourself."
Penny turned her body towards him and the sudden cold current cut through him like a knife.
"I am saving your investments by promoting myself," she spat, her voice quivering with anger and resentment, although she was not sure it was directed at Lucius. She was not sure it was directed at anyone, but it felt good to let it ripple to the surface. "Showing anything else to the public would have weakened my position at Wayne Enterprises. I had to choose between embarrassment and advancement. I think I made the right choice for you and everyone else."
The elder man sighed.
"You thought of no one. Much less yourself. You acted recklessly."
"That's one way of looking at it."
"It's the only way," Lucius retorted. "I don't know if you're aware that you have an ego, Miss Liss. But it's quite big. And it's going to get you in trouble."
Penny breathed hard through her nostrils, enjoying the way the anger coursed through her. She'd have to get used to well-meaning people, people who cared about her, telling her what was wrong or right. She'd also have to get used to ignoring them.
"Sensationalism will always be better than a gun," she replied at length.
"Then why are you at the shooting range?"
Penny was tempted to retort that she was only a couple of floors below the Penthouse. Still at Wayne Towers, still trapped, still protected.
She was quiet for a moment or two, recalibrating her forces, it seemed. Then, he heard movement in the dark. She had cocked her gun. He had no idea when she had picked it up to begin with.
She aimed it at the red dots on the wall, few and far between as they were. She began shooting blindly.
Once, twice, thrice…Seven times.
Every time, she shot at the wall, she bellowed in her head, I won, I won, I won, I won, I won, I won, I won…
But something in the ensuing silence felt wrong. She had won, but just one battle.
A war was coming. And victory was still a far way off.
His name was Anton, and he had a wonderful plan for the 30-somethings gathered in his basement, half of which were unemployed and down in the dumps. The men's faces were worn out with cynicism, but Anton's enthusiasm was, if not contagious, at least hard to remain completely indifferent to.
"Do you see this woman, gentlemen? Do you know her?"
He went round with his laptop and showed them the front-page of Gotham Post.
They nodded their heads tiredly.
"Of course you do. It's hard not to, these days. It's a pity she's only become a thrilling story and nothing else. I mean, naturally, people admire her courage, but they shy away from any determinate action, don't they?"
His salt-of-the-earth demeanor clashed strongly with the delicate way he enunciated his words. He unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. The radiator was groaning in the corner.
"It's enough that the Batman was there to help her, isn't it? The poor woman almost died, twice, but lucky for her, the Batman arrived in the nick of time. Or did he? Well, no, actually he appeared after she'd already faced off with a psychotic criminal. So, what exactly did the Batman do?"
He went up to one of the men who was scratching his chin in thought and, shoving the laptop in his face, made him read the underlined quotes.
"He provided moral and emotional support, as well as persuaded Ms. Liss to speak –"
"That's enough, my friend. Thank you. 'Moral and emotional support'. That's what the Batman was good for. Now I ask you, gentlemen, isn't that something any one of us can provide?" He didn't wait for them to answer. "Then why is this man the Batman?"
The men looked at each other, not knowing what to say, except to hum and raise their eyebrows in annoyance. With Anton or the Batman, or both.
"He let Devlin Davenport escape through his fingers – the man has not been seen or heard from in two weeks – and the Clown Joker, or whatever he is called? He's still roaming the streets, somewhere out there, making a sham of our police force. Do I even need to discuss the Gotham National Bank? Either the Batman is too busy to do something, or he finds himself overwhelmed."
The legs of one of the chairs scraped the floor as one man got up to pour himself some coffee.
"A lot of people will always think he's not doing that well," he said, putting his hands around the warm cup.
Anton smiled, tapping the man on the shoulder. The brown liquid tilted precariously inside the cup.
"My friend, I'm not in any way criticizing the Bat. I'm only painting a rather grim, but very real picture."
"Not criticizing?" another man chimed in, leaning back in his chair. "Well, you sound displeased."
"I do! But not with the Batman. I'm displeased with you! Yes, all of you, and that includes myself and the rest of Gotham too. Whoever came up with this crazy idea that one man in a cape could save us all while we stand back and watch? Of course one man, no matter how capable, is still just a man. He's not enough! He cannot be. I'm not blaming him. I'm trying to help him. I think we all should. The very idea of 'Batman' can't survive and was never meant to survive without us! There shouldn't be one Batman. There should be Batmen! That's what he has been trying to tell us from the start!"
After such an impassioned speech, Anton needed a cup of coffee too, but his hands shook too hard to pour himself one. He wished his girlfriend could be here to do the honors, but he had come to the conclusion that this was better done between men. She wouldn't have been very happy he was still looking at Penny Liss, much less that he was using her as part of his argument.
"Bat-men?" another man asked doubtfully. "That's a nice thought, but a bit utopic, Anton."
"Why?" he shot back instantly. "Because we don't have the gadgets, the sophisticated machines? They seem impressive when you see them dash across your TV screen, or on the cover of some newspaper, but all that technology can't tame a whole city. If you could push a button and solve Gotham's problems, hell, we wouldn't be having this conversation. But all that fancy stuff can't find the rats hidden in the places where only men like us go. All we need are some guns, some motivation and some latex. And we'll go where he hasn't yet."
Anton wiped his chin and rubbed his hands together. He might be verging on the ridiculous, but he knew whom he was talking to. Many of these guys he had met in Anger Management. Two of them were ex-cops. Brian Douglas, for example. Had quit the force after Falcone had almost killed his sister. She was paralyzed from the neck down.
He went up to his chair and held out the coffee flask.
"I know most of you will scoff and think this is just an idiot's fantasy. I'm pretty sure the Batman was prepared for such reactions. You know why the mob in this town hasn't yet been eradicated? Because too many of you scoff."
Brian visibly flinched and squeezed his eyes shut.
Anton smiled. "What do we lack? Discipline, training, leadership? Well, that's why we're here, right? So, for once, let's take this seriously. Let's discuss the possibility of more than one vigilante. Back in the day of our forefathers, that was the law. If you could, you did. Let's talk like real men."
He turned to his laptop again and pointed at Penny's face. "She made a call to all of us. Are we going to be her knights, or are we going to be a bunch of sissies?"
That seemed to rattle a good portion of them. They had sat patiently and listened to his raillery and now they were getting a bit fidgety.
"That's bullshit, Anton."
"Really? Give me a reason, Jerry. Tell me why you want to sit this one out."
"I didn't say –"
"Better yet, tell me why the Batman is better than you, why you're just a low-life citizen and he's a hero. I'll disprove all of your points."
"I don't need to be a hero."
"Sure you don't, but you do need to eat and sleep in this goddamn town without fearing that some fat cat is going to take your kids' organs and sell them on the black market. You do need to live in this dump without shitting your pants every time that Clown psycho kills someone else."
The man called Jerry got up precipitately and had to be restrained by two other men.
"But it's not a dump, is it?" Anon asked, completely disaffected. "It's our town."
"You want to go up against murderers and Mafioso?" Jerry yelled. "Be my guest!"
"A twenty-something woman did it," Anton retorted, his eyes gleaming. "She took him on by herself. And you can't do it?"
More men got up to shout and argue, either in Anton's favor, or in Jerry's. But either way, this was good, he thought. This was getting somewhere.
Towards the end of the meeting, Anton had come up with two tentative names. "Batmen" and "Penny's Knights".
The point was to remove all the pieces and reach the Queen. The Bat was the Knight, Harvey was the Bishop, and James Gordon was the Rook. He wasn't the King. No, that was a rather useless position. He was only a pawn, and a pawn could move seamlessly through the debris and elegance of a chequered world. A pawn could topple her power and uncrown her.
His first move was simple and rather comical. Well, that was expected of him nowadays, wasn't it?
He offered Devlin Davenport his testicles back in return for his bank account.
After he had shot him in the groin, little could be salvaged of his manhood, but he had made sure the testicles were surgically removed and preserved in a jar above Devlin's make-shift bed.
Some of his men thought Devlin wouldn't survive the bus ride. But rich bastards die slowly. Their grip on life is exemplary, if a little pathetic. And what would a bunch of Arkham convicts know about that? Well, one of them used to be a medical practitioner. That came in handy when Devlin's minuscule balls were snipped off.
When Davenport came to from his fever and was made aware of his…omission, he bawled like a baby. Sobbed until his eyes were rimmed red with snot and tears.
"Now, now, Devvie. You need to have more faith. Science is the miracle of the modern world. The things we can achieve now in plastic surgery…it really warms the cockles of my heart. You'll soon be reunited with your tiny friends once more. In fact, I'm willing to trade them, if you just take this pen between your fingers and stop shaking, will ya? No need to piss your pants...oh wait, you can't! Ha! So, take the pen and write what I tell you. If not…I'm sure a lot of strays would love to try some "oeufs de Davenport". That's eggs in French. So whaddaya say? Do it for Devvie Jr.?" he teased, shaking the jar before his eyes.
The trick was to move the money from one of Davenport's off-shore accounts into other…off-shore accounts. Spread it so thin until no one would bother to figure out how Devlin had squandered his money right before his death. Half the money was placed in a traceless account in Zurich, which fed two anonymous investments in Belarus and Poland.
The other half, which amounted to the felicitous sum of 1.5 million dollars, he offered as a small meal to the Chinese Crime Triad in Gotham, led by one sick motherfucker called Lau. He happened to be the CEO of Lau Security Investment Holdings which was hoping to strike a joint business venture with Wayne Enterprises. What a nice fit.
You had to pick your crime lords by race. Lau couldn't be touched by Gotham City law. International status will get you many things.
His meeting with Lau was nothing short of poetry. Well, if being kicked in the stomach and having two teeth knocked out of your mouth can be considered poetic.
But Jack rolled with the punches. He laughed when the two Asian thugs pinned him to the wall.
He had just called Lau a "sissy-pants" for not taking monopoly over crime in Gotham.
"I mean," he wheezed, trying to catch his breath, "you gonna let Sal Moron rule over the ignoble masses? That Italian meatball? No Siiiiir, I'd brush him off like a fly."
Lau was humming something softly under his breath, holding the tips of a page between his fingers, grudgingly. He was perusing the transfer file with feigned boredom. The money was all there, as the Joker had promised. And he couldn't scoff at the offer.
"Sal Maroni is said to be more dangerous than his predecessor," Lau commented calmly.
Jack nodded vigorously, his face still plastered to the grimy wall. "And what am I tellin' ya? Idiots are more dangerous. They're unpredictable, like kids in the park. Running around, throwing sand in your face. Bunch of little shits with toy tractors. You know, those big red things? That's how they carry the sand...to throw in your face! But you know how you get them? You know how you get Maroni? Let me tell you. I got the recipe."
"Why should I listen to a low-life criminal who's been called an impotent coward by a woman?" Lau teased almost amiably. "You must realize you've made a reputation in the papers. A pitiable one. And yet you insult your superiors."
Jack closed his mouth and nuzzled his nose against the wall, breathing in the filth. He counted back from one hundred. Better not flinch, better not grit his teeth. Minutes passed in tense silence. Lau raised an eyebrow impatiently. He tapped his fingers against the table.
"Well?"
Jack sighed, lifting his shoulders in helplessness. "Can't breathe, chief. Can't talk."
Lau rolled his eyes.
"Put him back in the chair," he ordered swiftly.
Jack was planted down on the wooden stool with a bit too much force and his spine cracked audibly.
"Well?" Lau asked again, lips pursing.
Jack licked his lips, feeling the dirt in the dry cracks. The tip of his tongue reached into the inside of his jaw.
"The papers are right. I'm a bad joke," he muttered, extracting the metal pins from his mouth.
The first bodyguard wasn't fast enough. The second one lunged at him too quickly. He had jabbed one pin in the first guy's throat, zig-zagging it across his jugular. He ducked when the second guy came at him and, picking up the stool, hit him over the back with it, momentarily making him stumble. He broke one of the legs and thrust it into his thigh without a pause. It happened so fast, that Lau forgot to shout.
The second thug was howling in pain. Jack bent down and pierced his lips together with the pin, sealing his mouth and muffling his screams.
"The Gambol," Jack explained, a little bit out of breath, hitting the howling man with his foot. "Head of the black mob. You take him out first."
"Aaaand then the Chechen," he continued, pointing at the dark pool of blood that was now forming around the first thug. "That one you want fully dead."
Lau's hands were shaking as he held onto the table. Beads of sweat fell down his forehead on the open file before him.
"That's how you take out Sal Maroni and crown yourself king. That's the recipe," Jack finished with a bow.
Lau gripped his tie, trying to loosen it, without success.
"You know I can have you killed right now. With the simple push of a button. My men are waiting outside."
"Yeah…they probably think that's me screaming," Jack laughed, kicking the second thug's foot with glee.
"I can make you suffer much worse than what you did to these men," Lau said, voice strangled with fury and contempt.
"Oh, come on. This was just a demonstration. A bit of advertising. If anyone can rid you of the Gambol and the Chechen, it's me."
Lau reined in his faltering composure. He ran a stiff hand through his hair, although his forehead was still bathed in sweat.
The Joker's eyes were black as night.
"Kill me now and you get 1.5 million dollars. That money's yours no matter what you do. Kill me later and you get Gotham. That includes Davenport and a whooole bunch of other honey pots. Picture the Italian mob, the black mob and the Chechen mob…all shitting their pants when you enter a room. That's because I'll be right behind you."
Lau had seen Clowns before, but perhaps none like this one. His face may have been smeared with the colors of the rainbow but there was nothing funny about him. The papers had missed a couple of things.
Jack picked up the bloody teeth the thugs had taken out earlier.
"Ha. These belong to me."
He put them in his mouth and swallowed once.
Lau shuddered, drawing back in his chair.
"You're rather insane."
"Rather. Now how about we get you the top seat at the table, hmmm?"
Penny stepped inside the restroom and paused when the sound of strangled sobbing reached her ears from one of the stalls lined up against the wall. She considered retreating, because she was in no mood to deal with a disgruntled employee who was probably crying because of her or Lucius, but before she could turn away, a stall door burst open. She recognized the mascara-smeared face. It was Becky, the assistant she had snapped at during the Gala preparations. She still remembered the girl's terrified countenance.
"Oh! Oh, Ms. Liss, I – I'm so sorry, I was just taking a break," she stammered, wiping the tears away.
Penny closed the restroom door and walked towards her briskly. She took the girl by the hands and led her to one of the sinks.
"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
Perhaps it was the festering guilt that made her reach out. She had wrongly accused the poor girl of playing with her mind. She still remembered how she had pushed her up against the wall.
Penny gritted her teeth at the sight of her run-down makeup. Perhaps she also wanted to remove this unpleasant reminder.
Becky hiccupped as one fresh tear slipped from her eyelashes.
"Shh now. Whatever is wrong can be fixed," Penny soothed. "Let me fix it."
Becky held in a sob, but didn't dare speak further, because her boss was invading her personal space and the last time that had happened, well...she had almost attacked her. She stood still as Penny removed a cotton pad from her purse, dabbed it in water and started wiping her face.
The movements were precise but gentle. Penny held her by the chin and instructed her to close her eyes. Becky was tense at first, but couldn't remain so for long because the sensation was so nice. She sighed as the cool fabric caressed her skin, leaving behind a pleasant tingling sensation. It was like her troubles were being erased. When the cotton pad reached her lips, Becky blinked her eyes open.
Penny was staring straight into her soul. Or so it seemed.
"What's the matter? Tell me."
Becky glanced sideways. "I'm – not doing very well here. At my job."
Penny sighed.
"It's been a rough time for everyone. You shouldn't blame yourself. No one can do their job very well right now. And the Gala…the Gala was compromised only by external circumstances. Otherwise, it was a relatively smooth run, particularly for its size and scope. We could have done better, but…we were ambushed. There was little you or I could do."
Becky nodded her head hesitantly.
"What are you doing here so late, anyway?" Penny asked, still holding her chin.
"I – I wanted to catch up on all the extra work. And I don't really feel like going home, Ms. Liss. The city's not a very safe place right now."
Penny chuckled. She had once been this girl, too afraid to leave the firm during Crane's reign of terror, years ago.
"Stay, then. But no more tears. I won't always be here to wipe them."
Becky cracked a polite grin, but it wasn't very convincing. She tried to extricate herself out of her boss' grip, but Penny smiled and said,
"Of course, there were internal circumstances too. It was hard to discern during the general chaos, but you must have noticed them too, Becky. The people who should not have been there. The people who were not part of the general chaos. The traitors."
Penny's hand moved from the girl's chin to her mouth. Her thumb hovered over her swollen lips. And then, it wiped them clean, making Becky shiver uncontrollably.
"I know you will keep your eyes open for them. You're a smart girl. Remember. Stick with the winning side."
The girl's eyes widened as the thumb traced her bottom lip, trailed down her chin and rested on her throat, right above her erratic pulse. She felt a fluttery sensation in her stomach, fear and…
Penny's smile was innocuous. In fact, she was just being polite. That's what it was. The thumb was gone before she could blink. Her boss was clasping the lock on her purse, strapping it over her shoulder.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then. With a more positive outlook, I hope."
Becky watched her leave, her fingers itching to touch her swollen lips.
Thomas Schiff liked his new boss. He shared some of his ideals and dreams, things for which he had been classified a lunatic and a paranoid schizophrenic in Arkham Asylum. But the Joker just got him. He got what he was all about. He knew that his insanity was just a heightened form of lucidity. He trusted in his vision. That's why he had been assigned to talk to the girl. Of course, Boss was watching them from afar, but Thomas was in charge, and he was only too glad to prove himself every time.
She was a small, but agile thing. They had slept together only once and it had been a miserable experience for her. He had got the most out of it, because it was his creed that life should be enjoyed despite impairing circumstances. She must have not enjoyed it much because she was always thinking of her little brother. She kept bringing him up every other meeting. It was tiresome.
She had to understand, her brother was the only guarantee she wouldn't betray them. He was safe and sound and more importantly, untargeted, as long as she followed their instructions.
Thomas had tried to explain this to her multiple times. Humanity was flawed, corrupt and morally bankrupt. The only liaison left was family. The only bargaining chip stronger than money.
But Becky was a very irrational creature. She should have been committed.
Tonight was no different. She was rambling half-incoherently, and it took two harsh allusions to her sibling to stop her melodramatic speech.
Still, there was a strange aura about her tonight. And he could not pinpoint it. It stirred a terrible itch inside of him which had to be scratched before long. Of course, the job came first. Then the itch.
"Start from the beginning. And slowly this time," he emitted with a tremulous rise in his voice. You gotta prove yourself in front of the Boss.
"I told you…she knows something. She has to. She touched my face and my– my lips like she was trying to get it out of me...and she was gentle, but I can't explain it, it was like she was prodding inside of me. And then she had her finger over my pulse and she could tell how scared I was."
"She could tell? She could tell what? Eh? Come on, what do you think she knows?!"
"...I don't know, I guess it was just a feeling, but it was so strong -!"
"That's nonsense! You call this relevant information?"
"I'm telling you she's suspicious! That counts for something!"
"Why? Why is she suspicious? What did you do? You must've done something to set her off!" he retorted, sprays of saliva wetting her hair as he stood behind her and shook her shoulder.
"I just did what you people told me!"
"Show me, show me how she touched you. Right now."
"I – please no."
"What? What is it? Did she touch you elsewhere?" he asked crudely. "She did, didn't she?"
"No!"
"She fingered your dirty little pussy, didn't she?"
Becky started sobbing again. "No! No! Stop!"
"Get up. You'll show me what she did. Show me!"
Thomas knew he was getting a bit too excited, but he hadn't felt like this in a while. He would've liked to cut the middle man and serve Penny Liss on a silver platter to his Boss, but this would do.
Jack poured copious amounts of alcohol over his wounds. He let the sting simmer. His dinner was getting cold. Chinese food, courtesy of Lau. "None of that take-out shit. The real deal," the man who had delivered it to him had guaranteed.
It was probably poisoned. Although, no, that'd make little sense. Unless he had dearly overestimated the Chinese Triad's intelligence. Should he taste it and try? Perhaps he'd make Thomas do it. He could hear the paranoid fool growing more and more insane in the other room. Poor Becky. To have to bear that limp dick's ministrations. Then again, it was an effective means of keeping her in check.
He closed his eyes and swallowed a thin strip of zha cai, enjoying the spicy, and perhaps deadly, aroma.
It might've tasted like Moneypenny.
He could see her part Becky's lips with her thumb. Before Becky could gasp, Moneypenny was already swallowing the girl's tongue, just like he had gulped down the zha cai.
It was a slow dance. No resistance. One tongue caressed and guided the other into deeper pleasures. The other submitted blindly, desperately. Becky was fucking melting in her protector's arms. Moneypenny's thumb was now on Becky's throat, measuring her erratic pulse. She was backing the girl up against the sink, so she could hoist her up by her thighs. She was pushing up her skirt, tearing the slit until it revealed her dainty underwear.
And then, just like Thomas had said, Moneypenny was fingering her dirty little pussy. She was staring straight into the mirror as she fucked that little girl into oblivion.
Jack opened his eyes and realized he hadn't died of poisoning. He swallowed one more strip of zha cai.
A/N: I'm sure you all remember Becky and Penny's episode back in chapter 12. Thank you for reading this crazy chapter and feel free to drop me a review so I can write a bit faster! *wink wink*