Chapter Twenty: It Tolls For Thee.
Hooray for Murder!!
--
Jack Parker tried to stop quivering as he made his report to the boss. It would have been easier if the man had put down that damn throwing knife.
"Well, ya see, I delivered the message, but they guy didn't seem to take it, if you take my meaning. I came back three days in a row, and they still wouldn't get with the program. I don't think they was taking us seriously, boss."
Zucco raised an eyebrow, and leaned forwards, the knife never stilling in his hands. "My, my. Then we must provide evidence of our earnestness."
Parker looked up. "What sort of evidence, if you don't mind me asking, boss?"
Zucco waved a hand. "Oh, I think you know what I mean."
Parker grinned. "You want me to, eh, talk to their boss, boss?"
"Oh no. After all, who would be left to pay us? Just a drone will do."
Parker nodded, slowly, as an image came to mind. Every time he'd gone to the firm, there had been a big guy there. Parker hadn't appreciated the way the guy had looked at him.
"I know just the guy, boss."
--
Gar sat in the kitchen, fidgeting as Starfire tended to a long gash across his forehead. Normally, physical injuries were not a problem for him, as he could just shift into an uninjured shape, but Starfire had expressed the worry that it might get infected, and Gar didn't have the strength to argue.
He gasped as she dabbed antiseptic to the wound, and involuntarily moved.
"The more you fidget, the longer this shall take. I shall not be much longer, if you will only hold still," she chided.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
After a moment, Starfire spoke again. "I am concerned for Wallace. Do you think he is alright?"
Beast Boy sighed. As had become routine, as soon as they got back to the penthouse, Wally had gone running.
"I don't know, Star. He's probably just frustrated or something. I mean, this like, what, the third time this week?"
Starfire nodded. "I believe you are correct. I must admit I am feeling somewhat dispirited by our lack of success recently."
Gar nodded, and Starfire cuffed him lightly.
"Hold still."
"Sorry. But we'll beat them. We have to."
"I agree. I am finished now."
"Cool," Gar replied, and the cut vanished in seconds. "But how are you? I mean, Gizmo shot you with a rocket. That's gotta smart."
Starfire nodded. "I admit, it is not an experience I wish to repeat, but I am undamaged."
"Good." He walked into the living room, and slumped on the sofa. Checking his watch, he spoke up. "Hey, your show about parasites should be on soon."
"Oh, yes! Thank you for reminding me." That seemed to be all that was required to bring her out of melancholy.
Even so, Beast Boy wasn't sure reminding her had been a good idea, and decided to go shopping when she settled in to watch, popcorn in hand.
No matter that he could turn into any animal on this earth or any other, tapeworms were still way beyond gross.
--
John nodded a goodnight to the secretary as he left the offices. Lost in thought, he failed to notice the large man enjoying a cigarette opposite his office, nor would he have attached much significance to it if he had.
He might have been more alert if he had seen the man stub out his cigarette and follow him.
John huffed in the cold air, and idly noted how dark it had gotten recently. Winter was drawing in. His introspection was shattered when a small figure rushed out of the gloom and knocked into him, making him take a step back to steady himself.
John looked down, and couldn't retain a short gasp of recognition as he noted the dour, pinched features and shabby moustache. The man looked up brightly at him, and smiled.
"Hiya, pal," he said, just as someone hit John in the back of the head.
--
Dick was sitting at home, watching television when the phone rang.
"Dick, could you get that?" his mother called from the kitchen.
"'Kay." Dick rolled off the sofa and plodded over to the source of the shrill noise. "Hold on, hold on, I'm coming," he mumbled to the device, and answered it.
"Hello?"
"Dick? Is that you?"
Dick scowled. "Dad? Is something wrong?"
--
John internally groaned as he lay face first on the asphalt, and grunted when he felt a sharp pain in his ribs, courtesy of Weasel Man's boot.
Thinking quickly, he rolled to one side and sprang to his feet, putting as much space between him and his attackers as he could. He didn't see Weasel draw a silenced pistol from within his jacket, but he did feel it when the bullet hit his calf.
With a cry, he tumbled to the ground, but kept going, forcing himself to get up and hobble into an alleyway, where he collapsed against a wall. Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, and hit the speed dial.
"Hello?"
"Dick? Is that you?"
"Dad? Is something wrong?"
"There's no time. Dick, I want you to do something for me."
"What?"
John could hear deliberate footsteps getting closer.
"Dick, I want you to look after your mother."
"...Wah?"
"Can you do that, son? Can you make sure she's safe?"
"Dad, what's going on?"
The footsteps were almost on him now.
"Promise me, Dick!" John shouted, "Promise me you'll look after her."
"Alright, I promise, now what's going on?"
John looked up to see Weasel standing above him, smirking.
"Sayin' your goodbyes?" When John didn't reply, Weasel crouched next to him, levelling the gun at his head. "Now, right about now, I bet you're thinkin' 'Boy I wish I hadn't messed with Boss Zucco like that', ain't ya?"
John's only reply was to spit at the man.
Dad? What's going on?" Dick's voice was growing frantic, as he heard the newcomer.
Weasel looked down at the blob of spit on his lapel, and scowled. The silencer spat, once.
"Dad? Dad?!"
--
The initial plan for this chapter was for me to actually show the fight with the HIVE, but you can only write Titans getting slapped around in so many ways before it gets boring. So you got gratuitous murder instead. Aren't you glad?