Chapter 11: Tame a Hungry Beast
Disclaimer: read chapter 1
Mia was holding her breath as the men by the club's entrance were patting her down. Ever since the poisoning incident, Victor Zsasz had upgraded security with stricter protocols. She hoped that someday Roman could grow up and live again. His paranoia became ridiculous. Who would stash weapons behind an eyelid or up inside the nose? Mia felt agitated but self-conscious after one guy quietly stated that she required a nose trim.
She was surprised to see Tupeng in the club for he didn't have to come in till 3:00 PM. Tupeng explained that he needed to be here for obvious reasons. Mia sighed, knowing what he was talking about.
"You don't have to worry," Mia whispered, more to herself than Tupeng. "I'm sure it's just an easy clean, and that's it... just a simple clean."
"You don't sound very sure of yourself," Tupeng claimed. Mia closed her eyes and lowered her head. She couldn't hide the fact that she wasn't thrilled to be here, especially up in Roman's condo. There was no telling whether he would point a gun at her or make her clean up his kill.
"You shouldn't have gone up there," he scolded.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Look," Tupeng grabbed her hands, trying to soothe her but remain firm. "There's nothing we could do about that now. All I can say is go up there and do your job. That's it. Don't talk to him unless you have to. Understand?"
Mia nodded, "Yes, sir."
"Sadly, Mr. Sionis doesn't want you to start down here. You must go upstairs first."
Mia was afraid of that.
"The supplies are there and ready for you in the hall. Rosie wrote specific instructions for you to follow. Most importantly, don't cross the line between the hallway and the living area, not unless Victor or Roman permits you. We can't afford a repeated offense."
"Victor is up there?"
"What do you think?"
Mia knew better than to ask that. Of course, Victor was up there, caring for Roman's needs. No doubt, he might try to talk Roman into killing her for coming up there uninvited.
"Hey, Mia!" Matt came from the boss's door, waving at the girl downstairs, "Everything is prepped for you. Whenever you're ready."
Mia wasn't ready, far from it. Unfortunately, the situation would become intolerable the longer she delayed the inevitable. It's best to go up there and face the music, praying to God that it would be quick and painless.
~000~000~000~
"Does she have to come up here?" Zsasz asked, standing by the doorway. He still couldn't find a plausible explanation for it. Roman had yet explained why. Rules were in place for a reason, and they must follow those rules. The girl must suffer for breaking the most important one. Just because Zsasz gave Mia a key, it didn't mean it was for her. He should've known better. Was Zsasz going to admit that he was in the wrong? No. Now either he or the cashier must pay for that mistake.
"Victor, somebody has to clean house," Roman explained, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. "Would you rather do it?"
"But didn't she clean up here yesterday?" There must be a reason for her being here. Zsasz could feel it. This was more than just keeping a condo tidy.
"And?" Roman looked at Zsasz as if he was an idiot. There was a saying, 'a clean condo is a happy condo.' Rosalie was recovering in a hospital, and until she's sick-free, someone must keep this place in order. If this young Cinderella was the only one able to do it, so be it.
From the monitors in his closet, he spotted the girl with Tupeng. His smile extended at the sight of her high ponytail and black clothing. "There she is. Right on time." Without looking away, he ordered Zsasz to bring her up. Before Zsasz could leave to follow the command reluctantly, Roman stopped him to ask a straightforward question.
"How do I look?" Roman opened his arms, gesturing his maroon robe and matching satin pajamas.
Why would Roman be asking that? He looks great whether he just got up from bed or ready to slice someone's face. However, why did he want to look great for the help? Zsasz answered to Roman's satisfaction then ordered Matt, who was standing downstairs, to send Mia up.
Roman combed his hair as he listened to the voices outside. He didn't greet the girl right away, for he was a man who loved a grand entrance. He quickly reached his hand out to steady himself as his mind spun for the twelfth time this week. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
After waiting three minutes, he triple-checked three key elements - hair, odor (both body and oral), and the loaded gun hidden in the back of his waistband.
"'Kay, Roman. It's showtime," he flashed a smile at his reflection before gracing his presence outside.
"Ah, there you are. Good morning," Roman's smile never faded when greeting the girl who remained behind the invisible line. "Good morning."
"Good-good morning, Mr. Sionis," she softly spoke. "How are you?"
Roman blinked, "I'm doing very well. Thank you, my dear." He motioned Matt to let the girl pass by swiping his finger to the side.
Mia stepped forward with a Swiffer 2-in-one at hand. Thankfully, she didn't have to drag a cleaning cart, for Matt had done it for her. It was sitting by the hallway, waiting for her to use the products on top. Roman motioned the boys to leave the condo; they obeyed. As he was going, Zsasz gave Mia a hateful glare when neither one was looking.
Roman watched Mia intently as she set the Swiffer against the wall and whipped out a microfiber rag from her pocket. According to Rosie's list, she must dust and sanitize the furniture before moving onto the floors. Mia picked up the wood polisher to begin the dusting. She scanned the area, debating where to start.
"What are you waiting for?" Roman asked, gliding his right hand towards his back.
"I'm sorry," Mia shook her head. "Can I ask you a quick question?"
"Is it about my collection?" he wondered, pinching his brows together in suspicion.
"Maybe. I read - read Rosalie's specify-specific instructions on how to - you know - clean your place, but she didn't tell me what not to do."
"So?" he pressed, sipping his whisky.
"So what are your boundaries, Mr-Mr. Sionis?" Mia asked. "Is there something you don't wanna-want me to touch? I don't want to mess anything up or upset you at any-anyway."
Despite the delay and lack of communication, Mia asked Roman an excellent question. She was indeed cautious and respectful.
"Mm," Roman withdrew the glass from his lips, "I only have three rules when entering Roman's Condominio." He pointed down the hallway where the painted ugly ladies took place. "Remember the closet?"
How could Mia forget? The panel with a fresh bullet as its accessory.
"Don't open it," he instructed.
Mia nodded in understanding, "Yes, sir." He motioned her to move towards the acupuncture models, pointing at one particular, taller piece. How didn't she notice it before? She was facing a statue replica of Roman himself.
"You see this handsome specimen over here?" he asked.
"Mm-hm," she hummed in response.
"Don't touch him. Don't even go near him. This is a one-of-a-kind masterpiece made by a very famous Gotham artist."
Mia looked down and noticed an engraving on the tip of its loafer, reading the name out loud, "Lazlo Valentine."
"Valentin," Roman corrected. "As I said, this a work of art. I don't want anyone breaking him. You understand?"
Mia nodded, taking note that he referred to the statue as a person, "Yes, sir."
"Outstanding, isn't he? The details are fine and exquisite."
'Not really,' Mia thought. Instead of speaking the truth, she decided to bend it without having to lie entirely.
"I guess, but I'm sure we can agree on one thing."
"What's that?" Roman noticed that she didn't say 'yes.' Didn't she like him? Did she think of the statue as ugly? Insulting the figure was insulting him. He reached his arm back, hovering over the metal through his robe.
"That paintings and sculptures are not-nothing compared to the real and-and the most handsome thing," she grinned sheepishly. Why did she say that last part? It sounded a lot better in her mind than out. She didn't want him to think that she was flirting or kissing his ass for a raise. She should've risked lying. How could she be so stupid?
Roman inhaled sharply at the bold but a positive statement. Did she think of him as handsome? He withdrew the hand away from the gun, reciting his last house rule before Mia could begin cleaning.
"Always use a coster," Roman chuckled, then Mia laughed with him. However, the light-hearted moment had deflated just as quickly as his fallen face, resuming his paranoia personality.
"Seriously, baby, don't even think about trying to fuck me over."
Mia pressed her lips tight together, knowing very well what Roman meant. He wasn't talking about her sleeping with him; she was engaged after all. Her breath hitched as he approached her, smelling the alcohol in his breath. Even though he's only an inch taller than her, Roman already proved that he had the upper hand, the same hand that's tucked behind his back as if he was hiding a weapon. His voice was low. He seemed content, but his piercing, hungry eyes gave him away.
"Whether you succeed in killing me or not, my associate will make you suffer for it..." He paused and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the head spins. He lifted a finger, "All it takes is one time, my dear..." He internally motivated himself to keep on talking. He needed to finish his threat before he could settle onto a couch. His eyes opened when the dizziness ceased for a brief period. "One broken rule will be the end of you, and that's a promise." He stepped back, nearly lost his footing. He tried to lighten the mood by his grin - continuing to wear the false facade, "'Kay?"
Mia broke the intense contact briefly to check his hands; one remained behind his back. She knew that words don't matter to Roman Sionis, only action. However, she couldn't stop herself from assuring him once again. He required comfort after what he had just been through.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Sionis."
"What?" Roman questioned her words. His nose wrinkled in disgust as if her words contained a germ, though a part of him was intrigued. What did she have to be sorry for?
"I mean, I know my words don't mean-mean much to you for you have every right not to trust me. We are strangers, after all."
His eyes narrowed, carefully pulling the robe from his back to prepare the gun tucked in his waistband. When Mia was paying attention to the floor than him, Roman pulled back the hammer.
"But," Mia returned to his gaze, trying not to shake or stutter as she spoke, "I-I'll prove it to you, Mr. Sionis, that you can trust me. I think you do a little. Otherwise, you would still be pointing your gun at me right now."
Roman couldn't help but slant his eyes briefly to the side, considering her words carefully as his fingers remained around the handle.
"You are my boss. I don't want to - I could never hurt you," Mia bit her lower lip and returned her attention to the floor when the man said nothing. This was indeed awkward. Mia should've just said 'yes' and continued cleaning when she had the chance.
Finally, he cleared his throat, waving his glass towards the hallway, precisely the cart.
"Get to work," he commanded. Roman Sionis was her boss.
Mia didn't need him to tell her twice as she nodded and retreated to her station. Little did she know that Roman switched the safety back on, his hand finally dropped to his side.
Roman watched her as he gulped down the remaining liquor in his glass, trying to ease his nerves.
~000~000~000~
For the first time, Munroe was right about something. By the time the detectives made it to Gotham CPS around seven last night, the office was closed. They drove back when their hours were open - 8:00 AM.
The man in charge - Bernard Busy - greeted the detectives, offering them a tour and coffee. Renee could see the heavy bags in the man's lids and could smell the coffee in his breath. It's clear that he didn't get enough sleep last night; Tim didn't either. Her partner must've stayed up to watch his girlfriend strip at some sleazy saloon. As for Renee, her mind was an alarm clock. She could only have a minimum of five hours to sleep. She knew it wasn't healthy; her ex told her as much. Though Renee didn't mind it, she adopted the routine when she enrolled for the Police Academy.
Just when Munroe was about to accept his second cup of coffee for the day, Renee wanted to get down to business. She demanded that they speak with the caseworker in charge of the Ramirez family.
The task proved to be a struggle for the detectives weren't the only ones working on a related CPS case, and Ramirez was a common name. Bernard did warn the detectives ahead of time that this system was a mess, just as worse as ICE. They believed him for Gotham was known to have twice as many orphans and foster kids in the system or on the streets than the average number.
Munroe tried to kill time by conversation, "Didn't you guys investigate Bruce Wayne one time? When his foster son had died in mysterious circumstances - Jason something?"
"Yeah, I remember," Bernard grumbled as he tried to search the interest's name on the computer. "Felix Desidero took the case," no doubt, the man was mentally shaking his head from that embarrassing time. "Fortunately, Mr. Wayne is forgivable. Though, I can't say the same about his butler."
"Excuse me?" Renee lifted a finger. "I could've sworn we are investigating Marco Ramirez, not Bruce Wayne."
"Lighten up, Renee."
Renee slit her eyes in Tim's direction; her partner raised his hands for defensive.
"I'm sorry. I thought having a pleasant conversation could make this investigation more tolerable."
Fortunately, Bernard ended the tension by finally locating the case on his computer, "Here we are. The Marco Ramirez Family. Right under ten different Ramirez's in alphabetical order."
"Who is in charge of the case?" Renee asked, pulling out her notepad to take down her notes.
...
Bernard escorted them to a screen office of a younger man named Elliot Tyson. Fortunately, his workspace was cleaner and roomier, unlike Bernard's large one.
"Yes," Elliot nodded before handing the papers to the detectives. "Marco and Isabella Ramirez. I remember them."
"Really?" Tim furrowed his brows as he flipped to the next page, "Out of a hundred cases in your file?" He took the words right out of Renee's mouth. Renee dismissed it as luck for Munroe had indeed made many mistakes and ridiculous theories throughout their partnership.
"Well..." Elliot shifted in his chair slightly, "I didn't exactly remember them until I saw the man on the news."
"What can you tell me about the family?" Renee pressed.
"Well, it all started back on Marco's DUI charge," Elliot slanted his contact on the computer, scrolling and reading the notes out loud. "His sixteen-year-old daughter was in the car with him. As you know, when somebody has a drunk driving charge, and a child is involved, of course, we have to question the family's safety."
"Nothing was going on at that time that hit your radar? Did the children show any signs of physical abuse? How did the home look?"
"Well, the first son, George Ramirez, had some questionable bruises and scrapes on his arms and legs, but the entire family insisted it came from soccer."
"And you believe them?"
Elliot shrugged helplessly, not satisfying Renee's curiosity. He moved on further, "Now ten months ago, we had a couple of reports against the family, accusing the father of physically abusing his son."
"Juan Ramirez," Renee declared.
Elliot furrowed his brows, shaking his head, "Uh, no. It's the older boy, George Ramirez."
Renee's face fell, "George? His father abused him?"
"Well, no, according to them, it came from soccer and a few school bullies."
"Do you know who reported them?" Tim asked. Renee facepalmed, shaking her head at Tim's stupidity.
Elliot explained that the office couldn't disclose that information because the reports were anonymous, "However, all I can say is that the calls came in on the first three Sundays in September."
"Three times," Renee said quietly with a hint of anger in her tone. "Somebody has reported this family, accusing them of abuse, three fucking times in one month? Five times if we include the DUI and the rape incident!"
"Rape?" Elliot asked quietly more to himself than Renee, who raised a brow at him questionably. He quickly shook his head, "I mean, yes, we are aware of all incidents against the Ramirez household."
"Are you kidding me?"
"Montoya," Tim cautioned.
"Why kind of social worker are you?" Renee demanded. "Five times, not enough for you? Is there a limit of reports you people need to take legal action?! Or do you guys usually wait too little, too late."
"Officer Ramirez-" Elliot called with a raised hand.
"Detective Montoya," Renee corrected him by jabbing a finger in his direction.
Elliot ran his fingers down his face, the dark circles around his lids deepened their color, "I'm sorry, ma'am - detective - I stopped by the house to investigate those times; nothing came up." He returned his attention to the computer, subtlely trying to read his notes. Renee rolled her eyes and laughed at Elliot, much to the men's annoyance. She somewhat understood that Elliot was dealing with the other ninety-nine cases in hand, but for now, she was too angry to care. Three times. She believed it's more than enough.
"The home was clean and in working order, except for the family washer (Mrs. Ramirez had to wash the clothes by hand). The children act like - you know - children. The parents seemed normal."
"So was Harvey Dent, sir, and look what happened to him."
"Fifty percent of his body got burned," Tim argued. "Anybody could go crazy from that."
"He was mentally ill before the burns, Munroe," Renee pointed out, emphasizing her correction. Joker was the crazy one, but Harvey Dent used to be one of the good guys - Gotham's White Knight. It was a shame to have heard about his colorful past that Harvey had kept hidden for so long. "He was suffering a bipolar disorder and schizophrenia which escalated far darker without proper treatment."
"The point is," Elliot returned to the subject at hand, "we found no evidence of abuse. Both the family's neighbors and friends had confirmed no signs of foul play. I mean, if there was, shouldn't the children have said so?"
"Excuse me?"
Now Renee wanted nothing more than to punch Elliot in the face. Fortunately, Tim Monroe had once again taken the words from her mouth.
"There is a thing called fear, sir," her partner spoke with such hatred, which didn't apply to her for once. "I have a son and what you said is downright ignorant," Tim stood from his seat, towering over Elliot, who leaned against this chair, completely intimidated by his height.
"Thank you for your time, sir," Tim spat with a fake smile on his face. "Word of advice, choose a career that doesn't involve the living."
Renee's facial muscles slackened, completely astonished by what just happened. Tim looked down at her, nudging his head towards the exit. She followed behind but not without looking over her shoulder to see Elliot leaning back against his chair and closing his eyes as if he's ready to take a nap, and the day hadn't started yet.
They both stepped outside the office screen and walked down the narrow hall, passing two vending machines. Renee jolted when her partner kicked the snack vending machine in frustration, which knocked down a free bag of chips.
"Hey. Hey. Hey. Easy. Easy," Renee put her hands on Tim's back. He leaned his elbows and forehead against the machine. "Hey. Are you with me, Munroe?" She looked over her shoulder to see two employees staring. She pointed at the office area, telling them to walk away in gritted teeth.
Tim straightened up and breathed out a mouthful of air as he stared office screens, specifically Elliot's, that was hiding behind another office.
"Munroe, are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," Tim spoke honestly. "That guy just pissed me off, that's all." Renee narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. They both knew that there was more to the story. Renee could see the hesitation on his face. He wanted to tell her but couldn't bring himself to do it, not in a CPS office.
"Let's just get out of here, okay?" Tim begged in a whisper.
"Okay, let's go then," her hand still on his back, Renee led him towards the exit.
They got into the car - Renee in the driver seat, while Tim enjoyed the free chips in the passenger seat.
"So-"
"I don't have full custody of my son." Before Renee could talk about the investigation, Tim surprised her again by yelling out his painful truth.
Renee raised her brows and slouched her posture in disbelief, "What?"
"That's what you're going to ask me, right? I could see it in your eyes. You wouldn't stop looking at me that way unless I tell you."
Renee couldn't help but laugh in confusion, "Look at you in what way, Munroe?"
"Curiosity, Renee. You're a detective; it's in your nature."
"Isn't it in yours?"
"Unlike you, I have a line. I learn when to step in or mind my own business."
Renee scoffed, "For your information, Munroe, I didn't plan on asking for your fucking bio."
"No, you would just look it up behind my back later." Renee rolled her eyes at that as Tim continued. "We both know you would. But since we are partners, I guess you should know."
Tim sighed and stared ahead as he told his tale, "Chloe and I have been married for four years and had a kid - his name is Derek. He's turning nine in October."
Renee already knew that and what happened after. She had met the wife and baby at a Christmas party in Erickson's house. Nonetheless, she allowed him to talk.
"Anyway, after the divorce, Chloe got a job in Arizona and moved there, taking our son with him. A part of me knew it's for the best, considering my line of work and all, but the judge granted me visitation. Derek flies over here every other holiday week, fall break, and spring break. Oh! I even get Halloween, and it's not even a fucking holiday."
"So, you're going to see him on the Fourth of July?"
Munroe shrugged, "All the holidays, except for Christmas and Mother's Day. Of course, I still don't understand why I can't take him on Mother's Day." His smirk indicated that he was joking, which earned a snicker from his partner. Munroe gasped at the delightful sound, "Oh my gosh. Do my ears deceive me? Did I hear a laugh from the most uptight, badass broad in the station? Did I amuse you, Montoya?"
Renee hummed in response, "I laughed because your jokes are bad as always."
"Ooh," Tim clutched his chest as if the words had struck his ego but didn't. "Still, you did laugh, so that counts as 'mission accomplished,' huh?" he gently jabbed an elbow at her playfully. She pressed her lips together to seal the grin, shaking her head.
"Putting all jokes aside," Munroe paused before he reluctantly continued, "I know you think I'm an idiot sometimes, maybe lazy, but I have feelings too, Renee. This case hits me close to home because children are involved. I'm a father. Protecting these kids is like protecting my son. If I can't be in Derek's life 100%, I'll be damn sure to be in another who needs help."
"Wow," Renee breathed. "And to think people say I'm dramatic and cheesy as shit."
Tim Munroe chuckled.
"Don't worry..." he paused to finish a chip, speaking with his mouth full, "you still are."
They mutually ended the sentimental moment and returned to the case at hand.
"So, I guess we've reached another dead end?" Munroe assumed. "That guy was of no help. Since the father is gone, I doubt, anything is going to happen to the boys, right?"
"Munroe, you're wrong as always."
"What?"
Renee opened her notes, "Look at this."
Munroe read the dates when the CPS reports took place, "Yeah, the first three Sundays in September. Three times."
"Yeah, but get this..." Renee flipped back a few pages, "I copied down Marco's list of crimes and allegations against him. Check out the date when the rape incident took place?"
Munroe furrowed his brows, "September 22nd..." he pulled out his calendar to confirm the date, "Didn't that happen on a Saturday night?"
"Exactly. The night before another call could've happened."
"But, it didn't."
"Munroe, think. These calls happened on a Sunday, every week. The pattern broke after the incident."
"It's probably a coincidence-"
"No, Munroe. It's not a coincidence. What if one of the victims could be the anonymous caller, and Marco had figured it out? On the night before the supposed call could've happened, he used the van to kidnap her and have his buddies rape her to scare her, to keep her quiet."
"If they planned to scare off one, why did they rape two instead?"
"Whether it was the prostitute or the friend, one of them sadly became a casualty. Another reason to keep her mouth shut."
Munroe paused to consider the theory, before sighing with exhaustion and defeat.
"Okay..." Munroe nodded, "I guess, maybe it's a possibility. But if we do find out the victims' names, what then? How is it going to help us find Marco?"
"I bet fifty bucks it will," Renee turned the key and drove the car back to the station.
~000~000~000~
Mia thought she could never leave the condo. All those eyeless faces, especially Roman Sionis, watching her every move was intimidating. There was no conversation between them, only the awkward silence. He laid down on the chaise the whole time, an arm across his forehead.
Mia had to repeat the cleaning steps to make sure there was no dust or crumb in sight. Everything must be perfect and spotless for Mr. Sionis's standards.
"Okay..." Mia breathed, redoing her ponytail. She was happy that an hour and a half of cleaning was over and done with. Upstairs wasn't much of a mess, for she did clean up yesterday, and Roman spent most of his time in the bedroom.
"I guess, I better move - move on downstairs," Mia declared, keeping her eyes locked on the Swiffer mop.
Roman Sionis was watching her from a distance. His right hand remained behind his back as he forced himself to sit up.
"You do that," he grumbled.
She took a step towards the hallway, feeling her stomach churn in a debate. Her heart was beating widely in her chest. Before Mia knew, she turned to face her superior.
"Is there anything I can get for you before I go?" Mia could hear her mind screaming to stop talking, but her mouth continued to move. She was raised to show some common courtesy, whether it's for a customer or a boss.
Roman furrowed his brows, ignoring his gurgling stomach, "Like what?"
"I-I don't know. I could ask Tupeng to get you some more whisky, or-or fix you a bite to eat..." It was a mistake to look at him. His face said it all - the pinched brows, narrowed eyes, and the curled mouth - it was as if the suggestion disgusted him.
"I-I noticed there isn't a kitchen or-or a fridge up here. Do you usually get food from downstairs or-or it's delivered from another restaurant?"
"Why do you want to know?" Roman spat suspiciously, pressing his fingers against his temple to massage the headache away. "Where I get my meal is none of your fuckin' business."
Mia wanted to run at this moment. Roman was getting mad. It was time to distract him again, soften the blow.
"Wow," she breathed with amazement.
"What?" he asked more in confusion than anger.
"I-I mean, you - you're going through a terrible ordeal," Mia stammered with hesitation. "You know the poison thing."
"Yeah, and?" Roman didn't want to talk about food right now. The thought of it either made him want to puke or pass out. It didn't stop his stomach from growling, demanding his attention.
"And you're still eating and drinking. Most people, especially me, would be too-too scared to try, let alone touch-touch a glass. They have to be very brave."
Roman blinked, "And you're saying that I'm brave?"
"Si," Mia replied with a brief smile. She thought it was her imagination, but she could've sworn she saw a hint of appreciation on his lips - a small twitch that nearly matched her smile if that's possible. She was relieved that her plan worked again for the time being. "Yeah, If-If I was in your shoes and starved myself, I would've done Penguin's work for him and suffered. Worse, I would have died."
Died? Roman hadn't thought of that. All this time, Roman was doing what Penguin wanted all along, killing himself by starvation. Though, it wasn't precisely Roman's fault. For the first three days of isolation, Victor presented a plate of world-class Chef Ferdinand's specialty. Each time, the food was becoming either colder or blander. He stopped eating after the fourth day, refusing to believe his private chef could betray him after all the years of service, even though Roman hadn't seen the guy's face since his hiring. Now Roman mostly relied on water, whisky, and multivitamins, which didn't help much.
"If I were you, I would've required taste testers, or-or cameras on the chefs, or just cook the meals myself."
"Ew," Roman uttered at the thought of getting his hands dirty.
Mia cleared her throat, "Well, anyway, if you don't need anything, I'll just - I'll go. Thank you, Mr. Sionis."
Mia hastily turned away while keeping her head down. She planned to ask Matt to assist her in carrying the cart back downstairs.
"Hey," Roman called. The girl ceased immediately on command, her muscles tensed up, the grip around the Swiffer tightened. She could hear her pounding heartbeat, her blood pulsing against her ears. Did Mia offend him?
"What did you say your name was?" he asked gently.
"M-Mia, Mr. Sionis, sir," Mia replied.
"Me-a. Mee-a," he tested the name, then nodded his head and pursed his lips. "Okay, Mia. Suppose if you were in my shoes."
Mia finally turned around to face Roman questionably. What did he mean?
"Suppose if you were hungry but couldn't trust anybody to prep your food, not even your private chef. How would you go about it?"
It was evident that Roman was referring to himself. If Roman could install blackout curtains for his windows, then there's no question that he hadn't been eating correctly. That would explain the signs that Roman had shown this past hour. She honestly didn't know which version of Roman was worse - the confident but conceited club owner with a smile on his face and a lust for torment, or the paranoid hermit with a short temper and an appetite for blood. Mia couldn't confront Roman of this dilemma but didn't want him to starve to death either. Mia must tread these waters very carefully, for she might drown just by one mistake.
"Um... I-I would-"
"No," he lifted a finger to silence her. "Don't tell me. Show me."
To think that the anxiety should've gone away after cleaning Roman's apartment, but no, there's always a twist in this hell of a place. If she manages to live another day, Mia must get a prescription for herself, maybe have a drink or two.
"Okay... um..." Mia looked around, gathering her thoughts before she carefully replied, "I do need to run to the store to get some things."
"What things?" he pressed, didn't like to be surprised.
"Ingredients like-like eggs, milk, and-and bacon-"
"And we don't have those essentials in the kitchen downstairs?" he asked.
"Um - no, sir. We don't. What we have in the freezer downstairs are frozen dinners."
Roman thought he imagined it. The lack of food was rotting his brain. He could've sworn he heard her say what she had just said.
"What?" he asked, raising his voice slightly. The pressure in his head intensified.
Mia could hear the aggressive edge in his tone. Didn't he know about the food?
"Yeah," she replied with hesitation, "frozen dinners - Ferdinand's exotic meals. We serve them to the public."
"What?!" his eyes bolted wide. Ferdinand made a frozen dinner brand? That's a joke. It's impossible for Ferdinand was working in Roman's kitchen. He wouldn't dare do such a thing without Roman's permission. Victor would've told Roman about it. He wanted to point the finger, accuse Mia of lying, but why would she make this up? It's no wonder his last dish was served cold without flavor. The thought of him and his patrons eating that garbage made him want to puke. He clenched a fist and pressed it against his lips.
"Mr. Sionis, are you okay?" she asked.
"No!" Roman exclaimed, continuing to fight the disgusting urge. "Look at me!" He pointed at himself, "Do I look fuckin' okay to you?! I just found out I ate shit!" He buried his face into his hands, vertigo increased.
Mia was panting heavily, fearing of what Roman might do. Was he going to take it out on her or someone else? She silently hoped it was Victor. As she was debating between fight or flight, one question kept nagging at her. How could Sionis not know about the food?
"I'm so-so sorry, Mr. Sionis. I thought you knew."
"Get me my phone," Roman reached his arm out, keeping his head on the other hand. "Get me my fuckin' phone!"
"Where?"
"In the bedroom! In the fucking bedroom!"
Mia rushed into the bedroom for the phone that's lying on his nightstand. She tried not to stall too much time as she noticed the monitors in the cabinet.
"Maya, get me my phone!" he called.
Mia breathed out in frustration and whispered, "It's Mia, imbécil." She hurried out of the bedroom and handed the phone to Roman, which he snatched from her to dial a number, not bothering to speak his appreciation.
Mia looked over her shoulder then back to Roman, not sure if she should leave or stay. She had a feeling that his phone call wasn't going to be pleasant.
Roman tapped his foot impatiently as he listened to the ring intently. Much to his horror, a voice picked up, but it wasn't Ferdinand's voice on the other line.
"The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service..." Roman threw the phone across the room, knocking down a red, plastic gramophone display.
Mia froze, completely horrified; her mouth covered with both hands. She repeatedly screamed in her mind, 'Oh shit. Oh shit. Holy shit.' She wanted to run. She didn't want to be here when Roman was in Beast mode. Throwing the phone was just a tease of what's going to happen. All hell was about to break loose.
Victor Zsasz rushed upstairs without an invite to investigate the disruption; Matt tagged along behind him. The tattooed man remained behind the invisible line, while Victor crossed it and gave Mia the evil, silently asking her, 'What did you do?'
Mia wanted to run behind Matt, use his body as a shield. However, her body didn't move as her eyes made a fatal error.
Victor - pure evil - stared into her frightful brown, searching for her soul, trying to steal it like the five-dollar bill from her pocket. Goosebumps coated her skin by every passing second from his colorless captivity. His contact might have sealed her fate. If Mia wasn't his target before, she was now. This was a nightmare.
"Victor," Roman called for the scarred man's attention, "where is Chef Ferdinand?"
If looks could kill, Mia would surely be dead. She guessed Ferdinand was supposed to be a secret, but to be fair, how was she supposed to know? Nobody warned her nor mentioned his name before.
"Boss, what did she tell you?" Victor asked.
"Never mind what she has fuckin' told me!" Roman snapped. "Where is he? I can't get him on the fuckin' phone!"
Victor blew out some air as he slowly spoke the painful truth, "He left you, boss." Roman gasped into stunned silence, forcing Victor to explain further in detail. "He left four months after you hired him."
"Five years?" Roman questioned, dropping his jaw. "He left me for five years!"
Mia widened her eyes in shock by this revelation. Seriously, how could Roman not know?
"One of the cooks found his resignation on the stove, explaining how he accepted a once in a lifetime offer. By the time I got to his place, it was already too late," Victor rolled his eyes. "It's like he vanished into thin air with a little help."
How did Ferdinand see that turning world-class food into frozen dinners as a golden opportunity? Mia guessed people would do anything for money - quantity over quality.
"Who helped him?" Roman demanded. "Who would dare steal him from me?!"
"Your dad, boss. He bribed the cook."
All three employees of Roman Sionis exected the boss to explode or faint, but he merely laughed instead. Roman's father stole Chef Ferdinand from him. It's bad enough that Richard Sionis had cut Roman off financially, but he had the audacity to steal his own son's employee, which he hired fair and square.
"Great, just fuckin great. Why couldn't the old man just fuckin die and rot in a shitty hole already?!"
"Just say the word, boss," Victor offered with a golden-tooth grin, "and I'll be happy to fuckin' dig it for him."
Roman's eyes softened, and his mouth twitched, clearly tempted by the idea of burying Sionis Senior alive. However, the hungry spark in his eye deflated when Roman realized that Mia was still here. He cleared his throat, straightening his posture as if he's trying to act like a professional.
"My chef left me, and you all served my club his food from a fucking freezer - served me, God knows what, from who knows where? You think this isn't something that required my permission?"
Victor's face slackened, "I tried to track the bull down."
"Tried and failed," Roman added hatefully.
"You always talked about how Ferdinand's food is the best, and with his dishes selling out in the market, we all figured its the next best thing."
'Or you just don't want to break your boyfriend's heart,' Mia thought.
"I stopped eating because of the next best thing!"
"Boss, it wasn't-"
"Don't!" Roman's bark silenced the man. "I don't have time or the stomach to talk about this. I need to get rid of this fuckin headache and hear myself think for once! You! Meena!"
If Mia looked at herself in the mirror, right now, her face would've matched a deer in headlights; Victor too.
"You mentioned a plan? You were leaving to get some ingredients from a market, remember that?" Mia nodded in response. "Do it, baby! Get whatever you need, and take Happy with you."
Victor took a step back, utterly exasperated by Roman's declaration,
"Yes, sir," Mia was relieved to cross the invisible line, away from the sadists and near Matt's taller, muscle frame.
"Boss," Victor stretched an arm towards Mia to stop her, but she jumped from his reach. She didn't want Victor near her for a good reason.
"And you!" The boss's aim was uncoordinated when pointing the finger at his sidekick. "Call Daniel. Tell him to get his fuckin' car over here."
"What for?"
"A ride for the girl, of course. You expect me to have her walk to the store and back? I might die by then."
Victor felt like he got slapped in the face, "You trust her to get you food?"
"More than I trust you to serve me food at the moment," Roman pushed himself on his feet but stumbled just as quickly. Victor reached out to help, but Roman stretched his arm out, declining the offer immediately. Roman was a handsome, intelligent, courageous boss. The Maya girl told him as much. He's capable of walking to his room and change his clothes himself. Who cares about his current condition? Every disease has a cure, and very soon, the paranoid patient shall be nursed back to health in no time.
...
Tupeng was shocked when he heard from one of the guards that Mia was cooking brunch for Roman Sionis. What part of 'don't draw attention' didn't she understand? At first, he thought it to be a joke until Roman Sionis came downstairs looking clean and sharp. The Beast that Tupeng saw this past week almost vanished. Roman looked like his usual self but how he acted was a different story. Maybe it would all change once Roman eats.
Tupeng, Victor, and three guards watched Mia prepping Roman the classic breakfast meal - sunny-side-up eggs, pancakes, grilled sausage, and low-fat yogurt with berries on top. Mia had a plan in place - she's going to cook for Roman as he was sitting and watching across the counter. Whenever there's an ingredient that's questionable to Roman, he would demand the identity of the component and have her taste it, which he did almost every time. She had to cut a piece of the grilled meat and ate it to ease Roman's fear of poison. Mia couldn't still pry the specs of flour between her teeth. She was fortunate not to crack a raw egg inside her mouth.
The experience was nerve-wracking when more eyes continued to watch her every move. Up until now, she should get used to this undivided attention. This wasn't what she signed up for, but it was necessary to keep Roman alive. She did it to remind Roman who's in charge of the Black Mask Club, and it worked. All she could to keep herself from going insane was to pretend to be at the bodega. She could almost hear Sal coaching her in the background.
'Be patient, chica. The meat is not going anywhere. Don't forget the pepper for those eggs. Don't touch the stove!'
"Okay, here you go," Mia flipped the second pancake onto a plate. "Would you like some syrup for your pancakes, Mr. Sionis?"
"Yes," Roman replied, had yet touched the other food components on the plate. Even when he watched her cook and taste everything, Roman was still reluctant.
Just when Mia was about to pour maple syrup on the pancakes, Victor cleared his throat on purpose. Mia didn't have to look at him to know what he wanted. The bottle was sealed shut with a wrapper around the cap. How could she possibly have poisoned it? Nonetheless, with a heavy sigh, she drizzled the sticky liquid on her taste spoon before cleaning it with her mouth. Tupeng and Matt cringed at sight.
"Where has my world come to? First, a bird tries to kill me, and now my own private chef has left me for this," Roman couldn't look away from the horrific box label in his hand - Ferdinand's exotic meals. What was going through his dad's or Ferdinand's mind when they added a chef minotaur mascot on the box? It's appalling.
"Don't pay mind to him, Boss," Victor pried the box from Roman's hands. "You're better off without him. He's a jackass, literally," he tossed the box into a garbage can.
"That's not a mule, Victor," Roman corrected. "It's a bull."
"Then he's bull-shit. Who gives a fuck? You're only letting him win by sulking about it. And you can't starve yourself, or else Penguin wins. You're so much better than them."
"I know, I am," Roman sipped his coffee. "Now that I know Ferdinand is gone, I have to find a new chef and come up with a new menu. I can't use the one we have, or else, Dad might come after me with a lawsuit!" He reluctantly stuffed a mouthful of eggs into his mouth, chewing slowly to taste the soft yoke. He waited to feel any deadly side effects in his body. When he didn't, Roman took another bite, couldn't help but closed his eyes and moaned in delight, how he missed this human comfort.
"Mm..." He dabbed his lips with a napkin, "Maya."
"Mia," the girl spoke without thinking. No doubt, Tupeng was facepalming right about now.
"What?" Roman asked.
Mia sighed as she quietly corrected him, "Mia, my name is Mia." If she was going to die, Mia expected him to say her name right.
Victor narrowed his gaze at her, "Excuse me? Are you talking back at Roman?" Mia didn't respond, only froze in fear.
"That's her name, Mr. Zsasz," Tupeng jumped to her defense.
"Yeah, bro, it's an honest mistake," Matt agreed. "Chill."
Victor snickered wickedly, "Oh, don't worry. I will chill..." he tilted his head back at the girl's direction, "when I teach the fuckin' hoe to mind her manners." Before the employees could take action, Roman Sionis grabbed Victor's sleeve, coming to the girl's rescue.
"Enough, Victor. It's fine, really. My apologies, Mia..." Roman paused before nodding to himself, "You know, I like that name. It's short and easy to remember."
Mia blinked, not exactly agreeing with his words due to the past miscalls.
"So, Mia, you can cook and clean? Are you sure you're not Cinderella in disguise?" Roman teased, smiling at the bashful look on her face.
Tupeng spoke up, "No, she doesn't cook much..." he trailed off when receiving a warning glare from Roman. A look that said, 'I wasn't talking to you.'
"Um, honestly," Mia poured more coffee in the man's mug. "I'm not a master chef or anything. My uh-my former boss, Sal, he taught me his recipes... so I can cook for him," Mia tried not to cringe as she spoke the lie. "It's all part of repaying a family debt, something I don't mind at all. Sal was good to me."
"I can see why he was so hesitant to gamble you, and it's not because you're pretty," Roman stirred the fruit inside the yogurt. "This is exquisite."
Mia forced a smile, accepting the compliment, "My pleasure, Mr. Sionis. Anything to make you happy." Her heart continued to race at Roman's handsome smile. Despite the tantrum upstairs, his face reminded Mia that he was human, just like every other mob boss in town. If she's wrong, Roman was a tiger in sheep's clothing, while Victor was a laughing hyena.
"You think can share me a recipe or two? Just to make me happy?" Roman asked. Victor squinted his eyes in disbelief. Didn't Roman forget? Sally makes food with expired products.
As for Mia, there was no way she was going to share any of Sal's secrets to benefit Roman. Instead of saying the two-lettered word or offering false promises, she simply replied, "It depends on your vision."
"My vision?" he asked.
"Well..." Mia paused, debating whether to speak her mind or not. Nick always told her that she was an intelligent, logical woman. One of the reasons she's wearing his grandmother's ring. The sight of the gem gave her a boost of that confidence, pushing aside Sal and Tupeng's warnings, "Mr. Sionis, before Ferdinand, what type of cuisine did you have in mind when creating this place?"
Roman pinched his brows in concentration, stirring the yogurt in his bowl. He had never thought of it. He put all his trust in Ferdinand to create the menu when he hired him. Now that Ferdinand had disappeared, there's no chef or concept, all the pressure returned on Sionis's shoulders.
"It's hard to say," Roman uttered honestly.
"Okay..." Mia drawled, leaning across from him while resting her elbows on the counter, "Let's try another way. Maybe you can answer this, who is Roman Sionis?"
"Rich," Matt offered.
"Charming," Tupeng added.
"Handsome," Victor stated, earning stares from the guards. Roman Sionis didn't pay mind to the compliment. He knew he's handsome.
"So is Bruce Wayne," Mia spoke. Tupeng offered her a warning glare, slicing a hand across his throat. Don't compare Roman to Bruce.
"What are you saying?" Victor snapped. "You think Bruce is better?"
"No," Mia argued quietly. No way was she going to let this man twist her words around, and make Roman think the worst in her. "Not even close. This isn't about Bruce but-but Roman. We're talking about his personality - his likes and dislikes. What makes Roman Sionis special? How is the Black Mask different from the other clubs in Gotham? That's what the party people want to know when going out with their friends after-after work."
"What makes Sionis a badass?" a guard asked. Roman smiled at that question.
"Yes, exactly," Mia declared. All waited for Roman Sionis to answer those questions.
"That's easy," Roman leaned back against his seat, oblivious to Zsasz rubbing his shoulders. "As you know, I'm a man of culture. I traveled the world. I own a collection."
Mia nodded, "Right. You have an impressive background. You're educated. I honestly can learn more from you than my history teacher." Again, she had to make another kiss ass comment. When did she become another Kylie? Victor was rolling his eyes in annoyance, while Tupeng was shaking his head in disappointment. As for Roman, a snicker escaped his lips. He found her amusing, adorable even.
"When I decided to open a night club," he continued, "I wanted to bring something different to the table, something new and fresh and... me! Falcone already has his Italian pizza joint. Penguin with his super-duper expensive French desserts. Luther and his smelly American burgers. Mexican joints and Japenese steak houses are everywhere! Ferdinand was supposed to bring me Latin American cuisine, but he abandoned me to sell my vision worldwide - that son of a bitch."
"What about Ethiopian food?" Mia offered, earning confused looks form all the guys.
"Ethiopian?" Tupeng asked.
"Yeah, Ethiopian. Gotham has everything around the world except for an African restaurant. You can potentially give the people a one-of-a-kind menu that's healthy, unique, affordable, and delicious - all at once. I've never tried the food myself, but I'm curious to know how they taste."
Roman shook his head, "Nothing unique about it. They serve only fruits, vegetables, sourdough flatbreads, and they make some bland-looking, meat stew - ew," Roman cringed at the last bit, even though he hadn't tried it.
"Right. How about Indian food?" Mia suggested. "They're all about culture and spices, and-and from what I learned about the Aver-Ayurvedic principle is that every dish should contain at least six key elements of taste: sweet, sour, salty, bitter, pungent, and astringent. All those flavors combined into a powerful dish like you, Mr. Sionis."
Roman squinted his eyes at the metaphor.
"The boss isn't bitter!" Victor argued.
Mia now wanted to crawl inside the oven and die. Why did she say that? No doubt, Roman would be offended.
"We've all been bitter in our lifetime, Mr. Zsasz," Tupeng retorted for Mia before she could stammer her defense. "It's what either kills us or makes us stronger, and Roman Sionis is indeed strong despite the target on his back. Of course, Mr. Sionis doesn't need us to remind him."
"Don't forget your place, Toucan," the scarred man spat at Tupeng who ducked his head in a submissive fashion. Victor leaned in to whisper Roman's ear, "Let's go back upstairs, boss. You don't need to hear the girl's delusional-"
"Mr. Sionis," Mia regained the silent boss's attention. "Whether or not we go with your idea of food is your decision." All the men were dumbstruck by her words. His idea?
Roman blinked in confusion, pointing at himself, "My idea?"
"Of course. You - You wanted something new and you on a plate, and serving cultural cuisine is the most unique idea we have ever heard so far."
Roman narrowed his eyes as he tilted his head and stared into space, debating whether or not he had said the words out loud. Victor stared down at Mia with his dark eyes, completely not amused as expected.
"I'm all in as long as we dump the bull's shit out," Matt declared, pointing at the freezer with his thumb; his buddies nodded in agreement.
"Nice try," Victor announced. "But Roman doesn't want to hear this shit. The Black Mask Club is his place, his decision. He's the boss."
"You damn right, I am, Victor," Roman could finally stand on his feet without requiring assistance. "And as a club owner, I'm going to serve my idea to the people."
His male employees resumed their bewildered expressions, while Mia didn't look bothered as she casually double-checked to make sure the stove was off.
"Your idea?" Victor questioned, his eyes darkened with rage. Did his ears deceive him? Mia had put the words out there, not Roman. How did the cheater's cashier trick Roman into believing her lie?
"Of course, my idea. I said, I wanted something unique and me on a plate, didn't I?" Roman grinned at Mia's direction, "Did I say that, baby?"
Mia tried to not shudder from the inappropriate nickname and agreed with Roman in haste, "Right."
"See?" Roman turned back to Victor who opened his mouth to argue.
"But you didn't-"
"So with that being said, we're serving Indian food."
"Hurray!" the other four, male employees cheered on cue. This was about to be the start of something better.
"Tupeng," Roman began ordering people around like a happy boss much to everyone's delight.
"Yes, Mr. Sionis?"
"Arrange a staff meeting, tell them all about the change of menu. Find me a new head chef who is qualified, loyal, and knows the cuisine."
"Yes, Mr. Sionis."
"Boys," Roman addressed Matt and the guards as he pointed at the fridge, "Take Ferdinand's shit out of the freezer and dump 'em outside - burn those boxes if you must. I don't want to see that cow's ugly ass face again."
Matt rubbed his together and grinned wickedly, clearly ecstatic to start the task, "Yes, sir! Is it okay if we invite Mike and Devon over? They're just as sick as we were when eating that shit for they had to cook it."
Zsasz rolled his eyes at the dramatics and lack of Roman's attention. He was close to banging his head against the stove, waiting for the sentiment to be over.
"Go for it," Roman permitted, delighting the boys to make that phone call to the chefs.
"Zsasz," The club owner turned to his right-hand man who perked and regained a professional demeanor in time.
"Is Daniel still out there?" Roman asked.
"Yes," the scar devil replied with unease, not sure what going through the boss's mind, right now.
"Excellent, you come with me."
"Where are we going?" Victor wondered.
"Mr. Zsasz," Roman wrapped an arm around his henchman's shoulder as he spoke deeply, "we're going for a drive." That quote indeed brought a golden-tooth smile across the scar man's face; they exchanged a quiet but sadistic laugh as they left the kitchen together, leaving the rest to chat amongst themselves.
One guard scoffed, "Unbelievable. He clearly took credit from what that chick said."
"No," Tupeng disagreed. "No, he didn't."
The guard blinked in confusion, pointing at the girl who was dumping the dishes in the sink and rolling up her sleeves to start cleaning. "But she said 'Ethiopian'. She said-"
Tupeng cut him off, "My friend, it's clear that you're new here, so let me offer you a piece of advice - stay out of the sunlight or you might get burned. It's better to leave it to a man who wants the light more than we do. Okay?"
Matt offered Mia to help with clean up, which she accepted. However, his idea of cleaning mostly involved finishing Roman's plate.
Unfortunately, Roman returned to grab his plate from Matt, "Almost forgot this. Can't be a boss without it." All agreed.
"Oh, Mia, I almost forgot."
'Oh no,' the girl ceased her work to slowly face her boss as he approached her. "Yes, Mr. Sionis?" His face tensed up at her soaking wet hands and sweaty forehead. Now Roman remembered why he didn't want to go into the kitchen. So much for a handshake. He noticed her engagement ring had been removed from her finger. Mia set the ring on the counter to prevent it from getting wet. In Roman's eyes, it's asking for a ride down the drain. What kind of man would give his lady a cheap diamond ring?
"Mr. Sionis?" Mia pressed, snapping Sionis's attention back on her instead of the cubic zirconia.
"Once you're finished with... that," he motioned the dishes in disgust, "take the rest of the day off."
Mia's lips parted in disbelief, "Really?" Didn't he know that she was his waitress and not his cleaning lady? The place would be packed before midnight, it required extra hands to serve a hundred people.
"Of course, you've earned it," Roman stabbed a piece of sliced sausage with his fork and chewed it slowly. "Mm-mm," he moaned with appreciation.
He's right. Mia did earn time off for she wasn't supposed to be here cleaning in the first place. She wanted to help, but she didn't want to stick around in this hellhouse and wear the provocative outfit for another minute. She needed to get back in the pool, check on her loved ones, and embrace the sunset as much as possible. If her friends were given an opportunity to take the rest of the day off; they would take it in a heartbeat. What's stopping her from doing the same?
"Thank you. Thank you so much," she said gleefully.
"You're welcome."
"Um... Do you want some coffee before you go?" Mia offered.
"Yes, please."
Mia dried her hands as Roman scanned the area for his coffee mug. By the time they found it, both of them reached for the mug only for their hands to touch, once again. Mia quickly stepped back as if his touch shocked her. She retrieved the coffee pot and kept her down as she poured his cup in silence. She could feel his heated gaze against her cheek that lasted for a minute before he finally disappeared without saying a word, didn't bother to say 'thank you'. Mia was allowed to finally breathe and clean in peace.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the case for Tupeng approached her with a stern expression.
"Mia, what the hell was that?"
Mia sighed. It seemed like no good deed goes unpunished.
~000~000~000~
Bryan the bartender was tied to a chair, held hostage inside a fish warehouse. He was soaked in sweat, blood, and piss. He was surrounded by smelly, dead fish that were either lying on racks or hanging upside down by ropes. He knew that there wasn't going to be a rescue mission. Penguin wasn't a man who offers second chances or gives a shit about anybody but himself. Bryan failed his task to kill Roman, now he must pay a price. He waited for death to come but it never came for eight days. Was Sionis trying to torture Bryan? Make him think about his actions until he begs for mercy? If that's the case, it worked. Bryan was tired of the waiting game. He wanted the verdict now.
As if God had answered his prayers, the doors opened. Bryan expected Victor for the occasional feed and bathroom break, but to his surprise, Roman Sionis - alive and fierce - had joined the party with two more boys behind him. Finally.
Bryan thought for while that he had killed Roman and that the poison effect time wasn't as dramatic as Lark described it; that would've explained his absence. Then again, Penguin would've awarded him with a rescue if that's the case. It's possible that Roman didn't come here because he was busy killing Penguin first.
"Bryan. Bryan. Bryan," Roman cooed as he put on his fancy gloves, shaking his head in dismay. "That is your name, right? Bryan?"
Victor stepped behind the bartender to rip the duct tape from his lips. The bartended yelped at the burning, red sensation across his prickly beard.
"What took you so long?" Bryan grumbled. "I thought you've forgotten about me."
Roman chuckled at the cheeky remark, "Forget you? Oh, Bryan, how could I forget about the man who tried to kill me?" The bartender cast his eyes on the ground on cue. "Props to your boss for being so damn clever. Unfortunately, he fell short."
Bryan jolted at the familiar click beside him. Victor whipped out a blade, hovering it in Bryan's view. All Zsasz needed was a cue from Roman to start the peel.
"I was good to you, Bryan. I gave you a job - I paid you well, and this thanks I get? Why? Why would you do this to a man who treats you well? Help me out, Bryan. Why?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Sionis," Bryan started as he felt the teasing graze around his face. Victor cupped his jaw from behind to keep him from moving. "I truly am! I didn't want to poison you, Roman, sir! I swear! It's Penguin; he's a man you don't wanna fuckin' mess with! He's fuckin' cruel, but not you."
Roman's mouth twitched at that statement.
"If you let me go, you have my loyalty. I'll be your double agent! I'll tell you about his deals and where he keeps the goods! I'll be your slave for life - I promise! I'll wash my hands every day - whatever it takes! Please, don't kill me."
Roman titled his head and paused for a moment, almost as if he was considering his proposal.
"Where does he keep the goods?" he asked.
"They're stored all over in Gotham - Bludhaven, too. All I know is that he makes us steal the weapons from Amertek and sell them for a higher price."
So the rumor was true? Roman couldn't help but laugh.
"North Refrigeration. Go to North Refrigeration, that's one of the locations."
"Hmm..." Roman grinned. "Thank you, Bryan. Thank you for your honesty."
"There's more. I can tell you more... if you let me go, please," Bryan's eyes twinkled with hope, but it quickly diminished when Roman twirled his finger at Zsasz. Bryan screamed and writhed against his restraints as he felt Zsasz painfully carve his skin.
"You see, I have a problem with that, Bryan," Roman continued as if they were having a normal conversation. "See you're willing to throw Penguin under the bus, tell me all there is to know about him. What's stopping you from doing the same to me the second time? No. I am worse than Penguin, worse than those other wealthy phonies in this city, and I'm going to prove it. And FYI, a little birdie told me Penguin's stolen guns are cheap and useless. I'll be sure to make an appointment with AmerTek when I'm done."
Blood was dripping from the bartender's face, his beggings slowly quietened down once Zsasz circled the blade around his forehead.
"Fear not, Bryan," Roman assured him, not caring if Bryan was alive to hear him at this point. "After Penguin receives your face in the mail - I can assure you - you won't be forgotten."
Finally, Victor ripped Bryan's face, presenting it to the boss. Roman looked at the bloody, eyeless face with delight. He thought Mia's food was somewhat appetizing, but this hit the spot for the time being. How he missed going outside to watch his favorite show that could never be presented on TV, and there were more episodes to come.
Penguin thought he had won. Sionis Senior thought he was superior. Little did everyone know that Roman Sionis was back with a vengeance. All thanks to the little girl who had saved his life.
A/N: Phew! Another chapter is complete! Thank you all for your patience. I wanted to post this sooner, but I wanted to give you guys a full chapter that didn't include a dramatic cliffhanger for once. 11,000 words, that's the longest chapter I have written in this book so far.
Anyway, what did you think of the interaction between Roman and Mia so far? Do you think the choice of food fits well with the business? How do you feel about the twist involving the Ramirez family? Is Marco really a wolf in sheep's clothing? Could Renee be right about her theory? Who were the alleged rape victims? Who made the calls? What did you think of Munroe's backstory and slight character development? I wanted to give the sidekicks including the nasty ones some vulnerability and feelings, too. Do you think Renee and Tim's partnership will turn out to be a good or end up in disaster? Let me know in the comments.
Also, I wanted to apologize for misspelling Tim's last name wrong. I typed 'Monroe' instead of Munroe. Oops. I'll be sure to not make that mistake again in future chapters.
I want to thank the readers for taking the time to read, review, and/or add this story to their list. You guys rock!