Learn From the Master
Alberto sits strapped to a wooden chair in a tiny concrete room, his back against the wall and his head resting on his shoulders. He never woke up, but I watched Harley assure Dad that he was still alive, so that's gotta mean something, right? I'm not... I'm not a murderer. Not yet, anyway. Not if he wakes up. And he should wake up. He has to wake up. Dad's not going to start until he wakes up. And, if he doesn't? Then I'm a murderer and Dad'll make me pay. And I'm not sure what I'm more afraid of.
Harley and I are sitting on a table pushed against the opposite wall. There's another table to the left, on the other side of the door, and Dad's leaning over it, inspecting the array of knives Harley put there. Both his jackets are thrown over a spare chair in the corner and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He took his gloves off as soon as he entered the room, throwing them in my direction and I'm still holding them cause he never told me what he wanted me to do with them. Dad hasn't said anything since he entered and that frightens me. I'm glad I'm not going to be on the receiving end of this because he looks like murder.
There's a soft groaning noise and the three of us look up at Alberto as he rolls his head back and sits blinking in the harsh fluorescent light. He looks completely out of it, and I can't say that I blame him at all. My eyes flick to Dad and I can see him grin like some kind of predatory animal and my blood runs cold. I shuffle back onto the table and try to make myself small, trying to escape his notice because that look is dangerous. I've seen it before and that never ends well. Alberto, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have noticed exactly where he is or who he's with; he's just sitting there looking dazed and confused and I feel so guilty for putting him in the position. He's going to die tonight. Dad wouldn't look at him like that otherwise. I brought this man to his death and now I have to sit here and watch it and all so I could save my own stupid skin. But, Lonnie's as well, I suppose. I let my mind wander back to that one happy moment, that one perfectly wonderful moment in my life and I have my purpose. I would kill to keep that moment possible. I would. So if skinny little Mob boss wannabes have to die, so be it. It may tear me up inside and I might end up hating myself for it but it would be worth it.
Dad turns back towards the table and selects his knife, then starts strolling towards Alberto. From where I'm sitting, I can see his face perfectly as he stares around blankly, and I could tell the exact second his senses came back to him as he locked eyes upon the Joker. It's almost funny, in a tragic kind of way. I bet Dad's grinning; showing all his teeth like a hungry animal. Alberto's gone pale and, from the growing stain on his trousers, I'd say he's wet himself. I don't blame him for that. Dad's terrifying, especially when you don't know him. I can hear Dad start to chuckle, low and deep, and he reaches Alberto and leans down til they're face to face and I can the skinny man whimpering. "You thought you'd lie to me." Dad doesn't phrase that as a question but I can still see Alberto shaking his head. "No," Dad says softly, reaching out and grabbing his face. "You... misunderstand me. I know what you've been doing. I know exactly how bad your betrayal is. You have no secrets from me."
"It was Cobblepot," Alberto says weakly, and part of me is expecting to hear Dad cut him off, but that never comes. All I can hear is Alberto's frantic breathing. "He came to me. Told me how we could make a lot of money in Gotham. That he knew someone who knew someone who could get us access to guns. The kind of assault weaponry that Bane as. I was doing this for you. To help your cause."
A silence falls over the room, and then Dad starts to laugh. I get goose bumps at the sound and cross my arms across my chest as he rocks backwards on his heels and throws his head back and roars at the ceiling. "Don't," he growls, bringing himself back down to Alberto's level in an instant. "Lie. To. Me." He moves his hand and Alberto starts making a kind of whimpering, whining noise and I can only guess that Dad's started to cut into him. "I am... not happy. Y'see, I own this town." He straightens up slightly and indicates to himself with both hands; one clean hand and the other holding a knife and covered in blood. "All the men you can find; they belong to me. The guns? They're mine. So, when little men think they can just step in and start running my city from under my feet, I get a little mad." His voice is getting louder until he's almost screaming and I know it's for effect but I'm still terrified. I think Alberto goes to say something, but Dad shakes his head and his hand shoots out and covers his mouth. "I think we've had enough of your explanations," he says, and beckons to us over his shoulder with his knife. I don't know what to do, or if I should be doing anything at all, but Harley jumps off the table immediately and runs to his side. He seems satisfied with that, so I just stay put. Harley moves round Alberto, getting behind him and holding his head back as Dad forces open his mouth. "Andrew," he barks, and I leap off the table, dropping the gloves onto it as I run to his side. He doesn't tell me to do anything, so I just stand beside him, watching as Harley forces Alberto's mouth to stay open and Dad reaches his fingers inside, pulling out his tongue as far as it will go. I know where this is going and I don't want to be here, I don't want to look but they're both standing so close and they can't see me not looking, so I watch as Dad takes Alberto's writhing tongue in between two of his fingers, then draws the knife across it. A thick red line bubbles up out of the wet pink mass and then Dad starts hacking away as Alberto screams and wrestles with him and Harley until Dad has a bloody wet mass in his hands and blood is pouring down Alberto's chin. I want to gag but I know I can't, so I bite my lip and try not to think about what I just watched.
Harley lets go of Alberto's head and, stepping round the chair, takes me by the arm and leads me back to the table. Dad doesn't say anything so I don't resist, thankful for the comfort of the distance between me and them. Tossing the tongue over into the corner of the room, Dad wipes his hand on Alberto's shirt before turning and heading back to his table full of knives. Alberto's moaning is starting to die off and I think we might be losing him already and I'm not sure why but I don't want it to be over yet. I don't want to watch this happening to him, but I don't want him to be dead either.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Dad pick up a crowbar and a vegetable peeler and I start to feel very sick. I can't even tell if Alberto's aware of what's happening anymore but he's not reacting as Dad approaches with his new weapons so I kinda doubt it? I'm not even sure if it matters.
Dad tucks the peeler into the pocket of his vest and raises the crowbar, bringing it down on Alberto's shoulders with a crack and sending him onto the floor. He doesn't relent like he did with me, bringing the crowbar down again and again until the wood's splintering and I can see bone poking through the Alberto's ripped clothes. He's stopped moaning and I think maybe he's passed out. He's not dead. Not yet. I can still see his chest rising and falling but I know it can't be long. Dad doesn't let up until it looks like he's broken every bone in the guy's body, and then he throws the crowbar away and squats down over him, drawing the peeler from the pocket and raising Alberto's head. I watch in horror as Dad peels the skin from Alberto's face. I never knew that was possible, or that anyone could have that happen to them and still be alive, but Alberto's still breathing, even if he's not responding anymore. But as Dad tosses away a bloody lump, I know it's already over. He's dead, even if his body doesn't know it yet. I want to turn away, to get up and just leave but I know I can't. I know I'm trapped here until Dad says the word. And right now he's too busy peeling off bits of Alberto to dismiss me. So I sit and I watch and I feel sick but I do watch. I do see what he's doing. I'm learning. I'm learning about him as I'm learning how to torture someone to death. Very productive.
I have no idea how long we've been sitting here. Alberto's nothing more than blood and guts now, and most of him is strewn around the room. The floor is covered in his blood, almost an inch think in parts and I had no idea there was that much blood in a human body. Dad's still squatting over the corpse, but he finally looks up, pauses, then looks over his shoulder at us. "Get his men in here," he says as he stands. Harley gets to her feet and leaves the room, but Dad didn't expressly tell me to go so I stay put. He walks back to his table and grabs a towel, wiping the blood off his hands as he watches me. "What do you think?" He says slowly. I nod.
"I learnt a lot." He raises an eyebrow. "I did," I insist. "I never knew you could... peel someone's skin off."
Dad nods and looks back down at his table with a kind of fondness that makes my heart ache. He's looking at those knives like they're his children, but when he looks at me it's like he's looking at something disgusting he's stepped in. Honestly, I don't know what I wouldn't give to receive that kind of look from him. I've even seen him look like that at Harley once or twice. I guess you've got to earn it. And I'm here and I'm trying so I guess it could happen one day. Not that I really have my hopes up. It'll never happen and I know that. I'm not the son he wanted.
Harley comes back into the room, leading a bunch of Dad's thugs who are escorting men in dirty suits with bags over their heads. One by one the thugs get Alberto's men to kneel in the blood in the middle of the room and Dad ignores them, busy packing up his table and giving things to Harley to take out of the room. Eventually, Dad turns to look at the men kneeling in front of them and, at a wave of his hand, his thugs remove the bags from the heads of the men in suits. Their reactions are... Well, I probably shouldn't think so, but they're fascinating. Two throw up almost immediately, one gasps and squeezes his eyes shut, three are gritting their teeth and staring straight ahead, and the last one is swaying slightly like he's about to faint. Where did Alberto find these wimps? I had more balls then most of them as a teenager.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Dad begins, crossing his arms behind his back as he looks down at them. "You may remember me as your boss." He points to the bloody mess that was Alberto Falcone. "You may remember that man as your boss. As only one of us is still alive, I think you can figure out who you actually listen to. Got it?" The men nod quickly, seemingly eager to please and I do feel for them. They have no idea. Dad nods to himself, and begins to pace in front of them. "While it's true that you work for me, I'm so very... disappointed that so many of you betrayed me." He stops and turns to face them. "Why, all of you betrayed me. No, no," he raises a hand, "don't speak. You double-dipped. No man can serve two masters and certainly not men of your intelligence. So let me make this clear. Running deals with petty Mob bosses and arms dealers is betrayal. You are all fine, upstanding members of the Blackgate community. Surely you have enough sense to notice who is and is not working for me." He looks expectantly at them and they nod again. "Then why," he roars, kicking over the closest man and pressing his foot against his chest when the man hits the ground, "did you start running errands for Cobblepot?" None of the men look brave enough to speak and the one on the ground looks like he's going to be sick again. Dad kneels and puts his hand on the man's face, pressing it into the blood until the man starts to whimper. "I own you," Dad says quietly and the man nods. "I own all of you." He stands up and looks around at the men on their knees. "So we're going to make sure you remember that." At a movement of his head, Dad's thugs leave the room and Harley comes over to stand beside me, pulling me off the table. Dad points to Harley and she throws the large kitchen knife she's holding into the pool of blood the men are kneeling in. Dad turns and begins to walk out the door. "Only one of you comes out of here alive." Harley takes me by the arm and directs me out of the room, following Dad closely and behind me I can hear splashing as the men begin to scramble for the knife.