"Alright, babe. Take this sack down to the docks and give it to Sam Neilson, okay? He'll pay you three grand. You keep eight hundred and bring the rest back to me. Take two hundred to Big Brian over on Tenth Street, and four hundred to Vito Shakes in the Narrows. While you're there, take the small bag to Al Johnson over at Arkham. All right? You got all that? Remember to keep two hundred for yourself."
"Yeah. You want me to check in?"
"Nah. I trust you enough. At least, I'm sure you're not stupid enough to skip off with my dust or cash."
Liam Gunn laughed as his runner walked off, stuffing the bag of dope into a black backpack. Damned if that dame wasn't a piece of work. Shows up a few months ago and asks for work, and of course he gave it to her. He always needed another pair of hands. The Batman kept taking out his men, after all. It was getting harder and harder to run a smuggling business in Gotham.
He turned back to his other guys and had them unload large crates off the boat. It was gonna be a long night.
The huge, frightening façade of Arkham Asylum loomed over the densely populated Narrows like a monster. People scurried about under it, skittish and armed. While the police had caught most of the escapees over the years, several had disappeared into the shadows of the island, never to be found. No one was trusted. Anyone could be a madman.
The woman stepped off the train and found the feel of the hard metal gun in her pocket was comforting in this whirlwind of darkness and dampness. She had no idea of the colors of her surroundings, but the layout was cramped and creepy, and she hated this part of town. Not enough going on at once.
She made her way down alleys and streets that were steeped in the scent of cigarette smoke, sickness and rodents. Screams and shouts deafened her ears as she got closer and closer to Arkham to deliver her package to Johnson. Suddenly someone reached out and grabbed her shoulder.
With a screech, she whipped around, grabbed their wrist and twisted it around, cleanly snapping it and breaking it. The person screamed in pain and retreated.
"Dammit to hell, Gunn! Why the hell would you do that?" the man hissed.
She realized by the scruffy voice that it was Al. "Don't ever take me by surprise, Johnson. Especially in this pit you call your home."
"You better hope to God that heals right. Now let's get inside; it's gonna rain."
"I'm just here to deliver the stuff."
"And I wanna make sure it's pure, okay? You're not getting my cash until I test it. Jesus, Becks, your father's not gonna kill you if you're fifteen minutes late."
She raised her head at her name and growled. "Don't you ever call me that."
"So it's just your surname, is it? What do I care? Just get inside, or you get nothing from me."
She followed him in and heard him clank the huge doors of Arkham closed against the now steadily falling rain. Uneasily, she fell into step behind him as they made their way into his office, which was upstairs on the second floor.
As he fell into his deep chair, she lingered near the door. She hated this place more than anything. The screams and ranting of the inmates spooked her beyond anything else, because she couldn't see what kind of creatures could speak such horrible words.
"You know, after Crane was done running this place and went psycho, it was really hard to get pharmaceutical drugs in here. In fact, it was damn near impossible. Now that the cops have eased up, I can get them discount from your dad and they don't really care," Johnson explained.
"And you know, your dad needs me. Without me buying from him, the cops would realize he deals dangerous stuff, too."
"Just test it and let me go."
"Alright, alright. Sheesh, don't get so antsy. Don't like it here?" he laughed, pulling out a test tube, a jar of liquid and a syringe.
She listened to him dump a bit of the powder into the tube and add some of the liquid. He made little whispering comments about it turning the right color, except just a hue off.
"Becca, I'm gonna have to ask you a favor," he mentioned after a few moments. She raised her head in acknowledgement.
"What?"
"Well," he began as she stood up and paced the room. "I'm in a predicament. You see, I need to come up with a new way to calm the patients. Seems the after-effects of the hallucinogen that was released a few years back has messed a few of them up." He moved closer. "Know what I mean?"
"No." She was uncomfortable with his being so close. Slightly, she moved closer to the wall.
"Well, let me explain," he continued, resuming his pacing of the room. She breathed a bit easier. "You see, some of them were so delicate that the aerosol drug deepened their mental instability. Made them crazier. And me, running this joint, I'm responsible for keeping them under control. So I arranged to try out a new pacifying serum on some of them. It employs the essence of a flower that only grows in the Amazon. This flower has amazing calming effects, but unfortunately it only works if the person eats it.
"Now, the concentration of sedative is so great that the person can easily be controlled within a half-hour of its consumption. But the drawback is that it is so concentrated that it destroys their digestive tract, the body goes into arrest and they die soon afterwards. So it's been hard trying to find humans to test on. Liberals and Human-Rights Activists have been up my ass for months."
"What does this have to do with me?" she demanded. "I can't help you there. And neither can my father. You want to buy human lives, talk to some of the guys who hang around the old Industrial zone."
"Ah, well, you see, I can't be seen down there, and frankly, the people they deal with are unhealthy and weak. I need a subject that can take the new mixture I've come up with. See, I mix the powder with a stimulant, and while the stimulant is ultimately harmless, it is rather taxing on the body, particularly the ocular responses. I need someone who's…capable of taking these hits without extensive damage. Someone who's already damaged enough where it won't make a difference."
Before she knew it, Becca Gunn felt something sharp jab into her arm. She cried out in pain as something cold spread out under her skin, and she moved away.
"Relax, Becca. It's all you can do," Al soothed.
But she was far from relaxed. Wild, she spun on her heels and threw open the door. In a frenzy she descended the stairs and crashed through the front doors into the wet night, breathing heavily and clutching her arm.
But what was that shade she saw? Some wisp of unknown consciousness…and all of a sudden she realized she could see color! Swirls of pink and white danced in her head; it must have been the drug he'd given her. But the mix was so pretty!
She felt herself collapse in one of the innumerable alleys and her breathing evened. Her limbs stopped working and her brain became unnaturally clear. She was aware of everything around her, including the water that now seeped into her clothing, under the brown greatcoat and through the layers of thin skirts and single pair of pants. She shivered in it, but couldn't move out of apathy.
She only hoped that the person who was now kindheartedly dragging her inside and out of the rain wouldn't kill her.