A/N: I wasn't really satisfied with the last chapter…not the ending at least. But I hope you guys were. Anyways…here's chapter five of The Ugly Duckling.
The Ugly Duckling
By Sherabaroo
"Did you kill her?" The speaker showed no signs of emotions on the other line.
"Yeah, I killed the bitch and her precious brat too," Hogan replied on the phone. He was driving from the mansion which held the party he crashed and was now going to the other side of the city to another mansion, one belonging to Slade.
"No you didn't." Slade's voice was dangerously soft. "You only succeeded in killing the brat but not the bitch." He had seen the news on his television. The flat screen displayed people quickly running out from the residence of Roger Red while a news caster at the setting briefly explained what had happened. Then the site switched to record a car consumed in flames deep below a ditch. The reporter had stated the conditions of those who were hurt and Slade mouthed the name of the one who was still alive. Miss Red.
Hogan swore quietly. Damn, I thought I finished her. He paused before he could respond. "But Slade, I cut her. I even watched her fall." He was sure of it. He was there when she went over and, gone the second she hit the ground. She couldn't have made it, it was too high up. That fall should've killed her. Slade interrupted his thoughts.
"And you murdered the girl." Slade was speaking through clenched teeth. He gripped the phone tightly in his hands, afraid it might shatter through his fingers. Calm yourself Slade instructed Relax…but it wasn't that simple.
"I wanted the wife dead. Not the daughter. I wanted Roger to be punished, not barbecued. And I wanted it swiftly done at my rate, not yours. But it seems to me that you don't know what I want."
"Slade, I'm sorry, I-" Slade silenced him.
"I don't accept apologies. I want action. I'll see you tomorrow." And his boss hung up. More like slammed the phone into the receiver. The dial tone buzzed loudly in his ear. Hogan threw the cell-phone on the floor of the passenger seat, breaking the small device. "Fuck!" He cursed at the top of his lungs.
- - - - - - - - - -
Victor was not pleased. Not pleased at all. And it didn't take a smoke detector to help Richard realize that steam was emanating from him. "Is this your idea as a joke, Dick?" Why did everyone have to call him Dick? My name is Richard Grayson for god sake! Richard fumed, but he shoved it aside. He lifted two fingers at the agitated man.
"Two things: One, it's not Dick, it's Richard, or Grayson, or even Rick if the other names are a waste of your breath. And two, it's not a joke. The woman needs you. You're the best surgeon in town. Hell, maybe even the whole world."
"Flattery doesn't cut it, Dick" Victor punched the word with his tongue. They were walking alongside each other through the halls of Arkham Hospital and Richard was trying to keep up with the impatient doctor. The man looked at the clipboard he was holding before he added, "You know how I don't like getting involved with this sort of business. I've got my own messes to fix. I don't need this one to top them off."
"But you're the only one who could help her. The other surgeons aren't as good as you and she needs a good face. Christ, she doesn't even have a face at all."
Victor looked at Richard and frowned. "Where's your partner in all of this? I never see you without the other."
"Gar just had a kid last night." Richard answered, "Her name is Desiree. He's home taking care of her. I came here alone."
Victor smirked. "Obviously. One of you is enough. But send my regards to him and his daughter." Then he turned back to his clipboard and continued walking. This was ticking Richard off. The man wasn't listening to a word he was saying.
Exasperated, Richard said, "You're straying off topic Stone. The woman needs you." Richard repeated. He was trying not to sound like he was begging but persuading the doctor was harder than he thought. His voice was cracking with urgency, which Richard did not like hearing from his mouth. Victor abruptly halted his pace and faced the other man. His nose flared in frustration. Victor inhaled deeply, slowly drawing out his breath. He finally asked, "What's her condition?"
"Raven has a cut on her face but that wasn't the cause of the damage. She fell from a balcony and landed hard, face first on the rocks. It appeared as if every bone in the interior of her face was shattered." Richard shuddered, feeling sick to his stomach by the memory. "And apart from that, she has a broken fibula on her right leg. But that's probably the least of your worries."
"How deep is the cut?" inquired the doctor.
Richard closed his eyes for a second as the image of her grisly face came crashing in his mind. He paled. He opened his eyes and replied, "It's pretty deep, but through the mess, it didn't look too major. It was bleeding profusely but it wasn't like the knife went all the way through."
The doctor waved the image off. "Please, no details," Victor grimaced, "But how do you know it was a knife that did her? What if it was something else?"
"Believe me, the weapon was definitely a knife. Its owner has a thing for sharp steel." Richard said as he remembered from reading the profile about Hogan.
"Owner?" Victor lifted his eyebrows. "Never mind, don't tell me. I'd rather not think about my death."
"He won't come after you Stone. Hogan will be too busy focusing on getting Raven." Richard said curtly.
"What, so you want me to step aside and let him kill her? The hell I will."
"I thought you didn't want to get into this mess." Richard smirked.
Victor lowered his eyes at him, as if bored. "I thought that's what you came in here for, trying to get me to play clean up."
Richard couldn't help grinning stupidly. "So, does that mean you'll do it?"
Victor didn't answer. Instead, he picked up his feet, and moved away from his spot in the middle of the corridor. Richard quickly followed after him. Victor ignored him, moving towards the administration desk down the hall. Once he reached it, he tapped the surface of the desk lightly with his knuckles. "Nancy."
A pretty young woman stopped her typing and looked up from her computer screen. She had dark brown hair pulled back in a messy bun and sparkling green eyes. Cute girl Richard thought. When Nancy saw who called her, she beamed. "Hello there Dr. Stone, how can I help you today?"
"Which room did paramedics put Mrs. Raven Red in?" Victor asked.
Nancy went back to her computer, typing a few keys. She pulled up a window and looked back at Victor. "Was she the one who was rushed in last night?" Victor nodded. "Her room is on the second floor, number 216 doctor."
Victor shortly inclined his head, "Thanks Nancy." He turned back to Richard, whose attention was on Nancy. Richard flashed her a smile, in which Nancy's cheeks flushed. Victor folded his arms impatiently. Dumb ladies man he observed. "Dick"Victor said. The other man slowly looked up, ignoring the insulting name. He smirked. "Sorry. Anyways, what do you say pal? Will you do it?"
"What I'm going to do is check on her. That doesn't mean anything." Victor said. He turned around and headed towards a different direction. He tossed back over his shoulder and said, "In the meantime, go to my office. I'll see you after I've examined her."
"Thanks a ton Stone." Richard called out, glad that he finally got through to the doctor, despite a definite agreement.
"Yeah, yeah," Victor said without looking back.
- - - - - - - - - -
"You messed up Mammoth." Slade was strangely calm as he sipped his wine from a glass. "I don't like messes." He poured another drink and leaned back in his chair.
"I didn't expect her to be so difficult. I thought the fall would kill her." Hogan scowled.
"It shouldn't have been difficult. One stroke was all it took and the fall wouldn't have been necessary." Slade said gently, facing the window. He didn't feel like looking at the mistake standing before him, it hurt his eyes too much. He gazed down below, watching his daughters play in their vast backyard that stretched far out in the horizon. They were playing tag, chasing and running from each other throughout the lawn. He chuckled at the sight but suddenly remembered the dead child from the news.
Slade seethed but he still fixated his attention outside. "And you killed the child. Children are never, ever to be involved or be the target of murder and you know that. I specifically wanted the other female, not the younger one Mammoth."
"The brat was in the way. She wouldn't stop hitting me."
"And I suppose you had to defend yourself against a four-year old," his boss said dryly.
"But the kid kept making the dumb dyke move around too much."
"Then, may I ask, did you decide to do to that dumb dyke, hmm?"
"I cut her fucking face, that's what I did. Then I pushed her off." Hogan growled, trying to convince his boss the effort it took to get the job done. Unfortunately it wasn't good enough. Slade wouldn't even look at him.
However, it struck a nerve. Slade felt his blood begin to boil as he turned from the window, and narrowed his eyes at the brute behind his mask. "Damnit Mammoth! Why did you decide to go for her face and not anywhere else? How many times must I remind you? You must never ruin the face! It is the most important feature of the human body, granting access to a person's soul. Without it, they are nothing."
Hogan inwardly snorted. What the hell is he talking about? He thought as he studied his boss's face. Slade wore a metal mask that covered half his face, exposing only his tightly pursed lips, his strong square jaw, and butting chin. And the metal mask was separated down the middle by two different colors: silver on the right side and a lustrous copper on the left, with which it contained a small opening for Slade's charcoal eye. Hogan made a face.
This man's a joke. He hides his face behind a stupid mask and here he's talking about souls. What does he know about souls anyways? He doesn't have one. But Hogan did not show his amusement, putting on a stoic expression. If his boss knew what he was thinking, he was afraid his own face would also hide from the rest of the world. Hogan shuddered at the thought.
Slade breathed slowly, taming his beating heart. After composing himself, he poured more wine in his glass and took another sip. The rich liquid flowed down his throat, working to ease away the tension and soothing his body. He let out a slight ahhh in satisfaction. Adjusting more comfortably in his chair, Slade crossed his legs and stared indifferently at the man in front of him. "Now, what do you suppose we do Hogan?"
Hogan straightened, relieved that his boss did not punish him. "We go kill that bitch."
Slade shook his head, "I have a better idea." Hogan furrowed his brows at this. What's better than killing her? He wondered. Slade continued with his idea, "We will not kill her."
"What-" Hogan began but Slade held up a finger to silence him. The man quickly shut up, swallowing his protest. Slade swirled his wineglass with his hand, watching intently the movement of the crimson liquid of which it encased. He carefully thought the right words to say in his mind, to better explain his idea. "We will…let her suffer," he said slowly, "Let her endure the pain we've inflicted and…when the time comes…help the suffering go away." He finished with a sip of his wine, savoring its texture.
Hogan was about to disagree but Slade gripped the stem of his wineglass so tightly, it shattered, releasing the fluid and staining Slade's hand. Hogan bit back his disapproval of the order, and nodded quickly in understanding. He should not question Slade's motives. He had angered him enough. When Slade did not speak, Hogan took it as a sign to quietly dismiss himself.
Although he was furious that Slade would intentionally stall before killing the woman, Hogan did not think it was too horrible of an idea. He found the concept of torturing your victim before completely killing them very appealing. As he played back to what his boss said, his lips took a devilish grin when he recalled the last part of Slade's order. Help the suffering go away…Oh yes, he will surely help the suffering go away. Swift and painless. And when that time comes to make it go away, he'll make sure to cut deeper. He'll make sure to watch the bitch fall to her death.
- - - - - - - - - -
Richard's gaze moved slowly around the office, reading each diploma and certificate carefully. He blew out a low whistle. Wow, I think the only thing he doesn't specialize in is veterinary surgery Richard thought aloud.
"You don't have to if you know your stuff well enough." Victor strode into his office and went behind his desk. He had heard Richard's comment from outside and added, "Animals are practically the same as humans. They eat, breathe, shit, and reproduce. They're not too hard to operate on if you know what you're doing." Victor said.
"So, how is she?" Richard asked.
"You were right. The cut on her face wasn't too deep but she'd still need stitches to patch it up. And her entire face will have to be reconstructed. I can perform the surgery in one operation since it's just the bones that need to be fixed, but that's not what's bothering me. It's the many check-ups and the therapy she's gonna need that's a pain in the ass. You don't understand Dick, I don't have the time for them."
"It's not Dick, it's Richard Grayson." Richard stretched out his name.
"You're not listening. I'm a busy man, more busy than you, and you can't expect to just drop her in my hands and take care of everything, while you run off doing nothing at all."
"I think you have great hands. They're prefect for the job."
"Damnit Grayson, you're not listening to me!" Victor shouted at the snickering man.
"I was listening. You called me by my real name." When Victor's eyes turned into slits, Richard held up his hands upto feign surrender. "Ok, ok. I'm sorry," Richard chuckled. Once his laughter had died down, he replaced his smile with a serious look.
"But she needs you Stone."
"I don't need the guilt you're piling up on me."
"How about if I told you her husband and daughter were killed at that party."
"Christ." Victor said under his breath.
"And she will forever be physically as well as emotionally damaged from the day she lost them."
"I could erase the physical part but not the emotional."
"And you will. Now, if you're done telling me what I want to hear, I think I'll be on my way." Just when Victor was about to argue for what he felt the hundredth time of the day, Richard was already out the door, finalizing the end of their conversation. Victor loudly sighed. The worn out doctor sunk deeply in his chair, muttering "Damn you Grayson."
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