Let's start off by thanking all you readers out there and of course all reviewers/favoriters/followers. It's really something to know this is getting read. That said, I had mixed feelings about this chapter. But... to be fair, from the beginning I did say 'starts out fluffy but will get dark'. This chapter's Rated M: For Mature because of adult/violent themes. Oh and also language. Though with this crowd, I'd expect by now that goes without saying. ;) I'm still writing at a good clip, so I'll keep updating as quickly as I can!

(x)

6 Years Prior

Madeline sat on a soft surface, relatively certain that it was either the end of a bed or the edge of a plush couch. She supposed the comfortable seating should have helped her feel at least a little less distressed. It didn't. Her nerves and joints were more tense than they'd ever been in her life. Every single sense was hyperalert, and with her hands twisted up behind her back, she sat with her spine excruciatingly straight.

The Amazon and the hired gun mostly sat alongside her, and when they did leave their spots, she could tell by their voices and footsteps that they didn't stray far. The two heavies on payroll were joined by others at points, others like them. Though Madeline couldn't see anything past the black cloth bag, she could hear every word they said. Not that it helped her. When they did speak in English, it was to make remarks that seemed designed to rattle her. That or they joked about heinous subjects only they were willing to laugh at, which they did loudly. She was thankful when they went back to talking in Russian.

Time passed. It felt like she sat there for a long time. Or maybe not. Maybe it only felt long. Each second waiting for whatever was coming next felt like an hour. But eventually, the Amazon grabbed her up underneath her arm, lifting her to her feet, and ordered again, "Walk."

They didn't walk far. Within moments, she was deposited again into a sitting position, this time in a chair with a hard back. Then, without ceremony, the black bag was suddenly yanked off of her head, shifting her from total darkness to light. Madeline squeezed her eyes shut as brightly colored spots danced in her line of vision, like right after the flash of a camera.

When the room came back into focus, she saw an olive-skinned businessman, who looked to be in his late forties, in front of her. Everything about him read "smooth", from his neatly shaved face to his leather, polished shoes. He was exceptionally tall and precisely groomed, and he stood with a stillness that bespoke of poise and self-discipline.

He seemed to study her, and Madeline studied him right back, because …something about him was familiar to her. She'd seen him before. Then her eyes flashed with recognition. He was the same man from the notice board at the GCPD. The one at the top. Though currently, his face held none of the menace it did in his photograph.

This was the man Harvey had been after for … Jesus, for at least as long as she'd known him. So this was the man who set bombs to go off in neighborhoods, schools, and community centers. This was the man who was no doubt responsible for killing nearly a hundred people just a little over twenty-four hours ago. She stared fixedly at him, vaguely aware that she'd stopped breathing and should probably start again if she didn't want to pass out.

Madeline inhaled a deep breath as best she could, though it was difficult with the duct tape across her mouth. Sitting in place, she made a quick inventory of the room around her. It was decorated minimally with opulent reds and golds. She sat on a simple wooden chair that faced a dark wood desk, clear except for a working intercom on top it. Behind her, she could see the light and feel the warmth from a working fireplace back against the wall behind her. The entire room was set up with few if any personal touches as far as she could tell. The space was spotlessly clean and smelled faintly of air freshener like … a hotel. She was in a hotel.

The man in front of her walked over to the Amazon and murmured, "Thank you, Alya. Please, leave us to, uh, to talk." He placed his hand on the crown of the woman's head in what appeared to be an absent-minded display of affection. Alya smiled just slightly, looking pleased about something, before she left, shutting the door behind her.

The man stepped towards the wall behind Madeline, and she looked over her shoulder, keeping an eye on him. He pulled back the screen of the fireplace and tended to the fire, stoking the embers. When he returned to her side, he blinked at her as if he'd just noticed something out of place.

He pulled up a tiny corner of the duct tape covering her mouth. "I'll try to do this as fast as possible…" Then he ripped the duct tape off in one swift movement. She flinched and pressed her lips tightly together, fighting not to make a sound.

He crumbled the duct tape and tossed it into the waste basket by his desk. "I apologize for the discomfort. I assume... it is like a band-aid. It's best to just …" He looked her over before he said distractedly, "Make it quick."

When he turned his back, Madeline arched an eyebrow and shook her head incredulously at him.

...And what the… fuck was this … unreal interaction taking place?

She instantly went deadpan, trying to look impassive, as he returned with a paper towel and a glass of water in his hands. As he bent down to her level, she tensed, until she realized his motivation. He dunked the paper towel in the water and began cleaning up a deep scratch on her face.

She winced at the sting, and he said, almost as if to himself, "I told them not to be rough with you. Unless it was absolutely necessary…"

Madeline's cheeks went red at his words. She was pretty humiliated that she'd done this to herself, back when she was clawing and fighting for her life at the open door of the van. If she'd been able to get up the nerve, she might have assured him that he didn't need to worry. That the people who worked for him were more than capable of getting her where they wanted without having to hurt her.

When he finished cleaning up the cut, he set aside the glass and sat back behind his desk. "It's very good to meet you in person, Madeline. Though I do wish you and I were meeting under better circumstances."

She kept eye contact, but didn't reply. She didn't know a lot about what to do next, but she knew not to volunteer information if she could help it.

He paused to check the time on his watch. Then he asked, "How are you doing, right now, at the moment?"

At this, she raised her eyebrows. It took a serious level of self-control on her part not to say, Aside from this minor manner of being scared shitless, I feel fine.

He hesitated before he said, "I only ask because I wanted to wait until you were calm and able to listen and engage in conversation." He shrugged in almost a sheepish manner. "Otherwise, what would be the point, hm?"

Her voice was hoarse. "... The point?"

He watched her carefully. "Do you know why you are here?"

She began to realize that she didn't care for the way her spoke to her. At all. She decided to see how he liked it when the boot was on the other foot. "No idea."

"No idea?" He echoed the words as if they were foreign to him. "Not one?"

Madeline thinned down her lips and didn't change her answer.

He asked in the same soft tone. "Do you know who I am?"

"I don't. Should I?" She suddenly wished she'd had more experience lying. She had her fortes, but this wasn't one of them.

His expression said that he didn't believe it could be possible, but that he'd been raised to be polite. "I don't mean to, uh, discredit you… But life has taught me that if the evidence is suspect, so is the result."

She let the obvious irony of his statement hang between them.

He waited for a long moment, before he spelled it out for her. "I find it highly unlikely that someone in your profession working inside Blackgate, often working far past the hours required, would not be aware of my presence in this city."

She'd been unsure as to how the Russian Mob knew that she'd be leaving Gotham by plane, when the decision had been made only hours beforehand. Now, she knew. And she'd never once had a clue until she came face to face with Alya in the airport bathroom. She closed her eyes for a short moment. That said a lot about how much she didn't see.

When he saw that no further response was forthcoming, he rested a hand against his chest. "My name is Dimitri Codmolov. My people … they have been following you for quite some time."

"I didn't know my life was so captivating."

"You were too important for us to overlook."

A sudden motorized sound cut into the conversation, and she jolted in place. She relaxed a measure as she recognized it as a cell phone on silent, vibrating.

He ignored the noise. "Come now, Madeline. I believe we both know why you are here."

Though she typically used her powers for good, she knew an awful lot about manipulation and how it could be used to assert control. Dimitri wanted her to think he already knew what she knew, when really he was just fishing for information.

She didn't change her pitch up. "I do?"

"You're a highly educated woman. And I believe you know … more. Certainly more than Detective Bullock would have himself believe."

With that, his name was spoken into the room. She'd made him be the one to say it though. She tried a little shrug. "I think you're talking about police stuff. All that information's confidential."

Dimitri nodded vigorously. "Yes, I'm sure it's nothing he would ever talk about with you. It's a grave mistake in our world to tell these things to the ones we care for. But … how much do you know, Madeline? How many connections have you made?"

Her next thought struck her with such force that it was nearly painful. That was why Harvey never told her anything. Why he balked, diverted, and stonewalled. It wasn't done to divide or inflame. Like most things he did, it was a move made out of concern for her safety.

She shook her head. Whatever. If Dimitri wanted some truth, he could have it. "I've met a lot of people who've killed other people. So I know what they want, and I know how they think."

He squinted and then pointed at her. "Ah, I've seen this. This is the, uh, the armor you wear."

It gave her pause. Dimitri spoke as if it were a certainty, but that wasn't the problem. The real problem was that he had it right.

He sat back. "But underneath this layer, this exterior, you do have the capacity to be reasonable. And if you think about it, there's no need for this part to be particularly unpleasant."

Her breathing was shallow, but she did her best to maintain her poker face. The two words repeated in her mind. This part.

He took her in very slowly then, paying close attention, obviously making mental notes. "Though it must be difficult. Working in the type of atmosphere you do. From what I understand, it is a young person's job because of all the burnout."

Madeline was surprised by the evenness of her voice. "Well, you know, it beats minimum wage."

"No. No, it is remarkable, how intrepid you are," he said. "Walking unarmed into rooms with criminals who believe they are above the law. I'm sure you try your best to make convincing arguments. To stop them from engaging in illegal activities they've already made up their minds to carry out." He sighed a little and shook his head. "But honestly, it is... repulsive. The extents to which people will go to excuse their behavior."

She fought the scowl that threatened to cover her face. Behind her back, her hands dug themselves into fists. She began to think about how Harvey'd had to deal with this maniacal jackass for a year and a half, about all the masses of people Dimitri murdered at will, and about how he intercepted her the second Harvey went to move her out of harm's way. She wasn't thinking clearly, and she wanted nothing more than to dive across the desk and take her best shot.

Somewhere again, a cell phone vibrated loudly, breaking off her thoughts. She got the idea that it was probably inside the desk drawer. Over top of that, the drumbeat continued thrumming in the confines of her mind. This part. -This- part.

He tapped the tips of his fingers absently on the desk and his gaze became distant and thoughtful. "He would be proud of you, I think. Of what you are accomplishing here in this moment." When he smiled at her, it crinkled the crows feet at the corners of his eyes. "It's been quite something ... watching you two. There would be far less problems in the world if more men looked at women the way he looks at you."

She could feel her face warm with anger as she struggled to keep her temper in check.

He met her gaze frankly, eye to eye. "Forgive me. I go on sometimes. I get off track. It's a, uh, a bad habit." He sucked in a deep breath. "I feel it's important for you to know that there have been opportunities that have been missed, which would have caused us to avoid all this ... unrest."

The phone vibrated for the third time, and this time she looked directly to the drawer of the desk.

Dimitri opened up his hands. "But of course, that's all past us now. Nonetheless, I am deeply sorry that I have no choice but to involve you this way-"

"No, you're not." Madeline wanted to stop herself, but she couldn't. She hoped that if maybe she spoke with enough icy disdain she might not sound pathetic. "And you can stop implying that Harvey is in any way responsible for my being here. The only reason I'm here is because you brought me here. You can use all the cultivated language you want, but really everything you're saying is just a load of sadistic crap. I know the only reason people like you spout off bullshit like that is to try to get control you don't have. And while you're at it, you can stop talking about Harvey like you know him. Because you don't. He's self-possessed. And he's tough as nails, and he'll fight his way out of whatever corner you plan to back him into." She paused before she added, "He's not impressed by you. And he's not afraid of you. And neither am I."

His bland voice came with a nod of his head. "That was very brave, Madeline." She frowned in response, and he said, "Unfortunately, in this city these are not times for brave people. These are times to be concerned strictly with survival."

She shifted in place as a glare set into his eyes. It was like watching a tinted car window roll shut. Dimitri sat up straighter, looming over her, using his size in an intimidating way that he hadn't before. He folded his hands as he leaned forward. Something was coming. "And I think you are neglecting to understand the severity of your situation."

Dimitri's eyes shone when he looked down at her, but not with warmth. She told herself to hold her ground and to meet his eye. Because it didn't matter. This was the man she'd heard about. This was the man who couldn't be reasoned with or called off. And if she had to meet him, the real man behind the mask, better to meet him after calling him out for what he was. But she could feel her face going pale and her throat going dry.

He eyed her. "How much would it affect him if something were to happen to you?"

Madeline stared forward and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

He then said, "Let me rephrase myself, since you prefer me to be more direct. What would it do to him if you were to be killed?"

She glared right back at him. "He's going to do everything in his power to shut you down, and he won't stop until he finds me-"

"Who do you think will aid him in your rescue?" She screwed up her mouth to fire something back, when he cut her off with sharp precision. "The majority of the police force is paid obscene amounts of money to ensure that I am not disturbed in any of my dealings. They work for me." He took a pause, and Madeline heard her own sudden silence. He ventured, "Maybe you think his Captain will use her position on his behalf. Essen answers to powerful people above even my station ... and all that means is that in truth she has even less power than Bullock. Her loyalty has long been bought out by the crime lords who run this city, and she is interested first in her own self-preservation at all times."

Watching the effect it had on her caused him to speak with even more confidence. "Maybe you think his partner, your friend, will help him. His partner won't antagonize me, because of what it would cost the people he cares about most. He won't want them ending up like you." He tossed up his hand. "Perhaps you think some other person in this city will put themselves in harm's way to help either of you." Just the very idea made him shake his head. "Gotham has been saturated with graphic news footage of the deaths of Bullock's last confidential informant, his CI's wife who worked for Robinson Community Center, and everyone who happened to be there with her. Opposing me in any way is a death wish, not just for themselves but for anyone related to them in any manner."

Dimitri continued softly, "And if there is still a question in anyone's mind as to whether or not I would grant that wish, it will be answered once they see how I've dealt with him and with you." He leaned in closely when he said, "No one is coming to save you, Madeline. The only reason I've kept you alive is because I want Bullock to be there when I kill you myself."

Madeline kept her glare, but at the same time her heart rate increased. She could feel her armor slipping.

With that, Dimitri checked his watch once more, and then he hit a button on the intercom on top of the desk. "Alya? Would you join us? Bring along Ivan, if you please."

The two thugs entered into the room. Madeline glanced over in the midst of trying to keep herself together. She saw Alya walk straight over to the fireplace. In one swift movement, she pulled out the iron poker that Dimitri had left in the fire. She sent Madeline a tight smile of satisfaction as she held up the fire iron, showing it to her. The point burned bright yellow, almost white with searing heat.

It was like a dream where you take a wrong step and all of a sudden you're just falling down fast. Madeline didn't want to show her fear, but it was a body-wide reaction. It was impossible to hide.

The two words returned. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. This part. Clearly, -this part- was over.

The insistent buzzing of the vibrating phone returned. He reached into his desk drawer and lifted up a cell phone. Madeline recognized it as her own. He checked the number on the screen. "He's been calling. Ever since your plane landed."

Dimitri cleared his throat, inhaled deeply, and took the call.