Chapter 61
The GCPD is buzzing as usual upon my arrival, and I find that right by the door is Ed with a bouquet of colorful flowers and a small card.
He spots me and smiles, presenting the flowers and card, "A customary gesture of greeting to one who has returned from an absence. Welcome back, Natalie."
Grinning, I open up the card, its lettering composed of pieces of paper cut out from magazines and newspapers.
"I serve many, confined by how healthy those I serve are. Yet after they're successful they forget about me. It's true, sometimes I hit them and they're often bloody, but they don't mind," I read aloud, much to Ed's satisfaction.
"Stumped?" he asks, bouncing up slightly as he holds both hands in front of him.
It's a little obtuse at the end, but…
"A doctor?" I guess.
He nods, "Admittedly, I envisioned myself delivering this to you in the hospital where the rest of the recovering victims are. But you don't need recovery time, do you Natalie? Up and working the very next day."
I chuckle, looking over the flowers, "Any special meaning in these flowers, Ed?"
A guilty expression comes across his face, "Well...the florist wouldn't accept my request for a personalized bouquet, apparently most flower stalls don't carry gladiolus, jasmine, or stargazer. So it's just a general bouquet. But, the yellow roses symbolize friendship! And, and the hydrangea stands for perseverance! So in a sense...it does match…"
"Friendship...great…" I look down, my voice trailing off.
His smile fades, "You're not still upset abou-"
I run up and hug him, "Ed...I'm just happy to see you again."
Looking up, Ed's blank expression behind his horn-rimmed glasses reveals almost nothing, except maybe a hint of confusion. Dream Ed would've understood...but this isn't dream Ed, is it? Despite everything that may seem wrong about it, I miss dream Ed. For someone who will never exist in real life, is it even possible to miss him? Or am I just wishing that the real Ed would be more like him?
Against my best judgement, I reach up, my lips just reaching the sharp angle of Ed's cheekbone...and he pulls away. I shrink back down, my head facing the ground.
"I...I'm sorry; let's find a vase for these flowers, shall we?"
Ed's grin returning, he walks along with me as we walk through the precinct, "You know, most flowers won't absorb water without soil, especially after their roots have been cut. They're going to die anyway."
I roll my eyes, leave it to Ed to kill the mood, "I know. It's just that I don't want petals all over my paperwork."
We both laugh, although my laugh airs on the more embarrassed side than his. What was I thinking? Of course he wouldn't let me kiss him. My own irrational hopes were all that drove me to that stupid decision.
I've filled a vase full of water and set the flowers inside when two large men enter the precinct. I turn around, and realize that one of them is Butch, and the other is another one of the bouncers at Fish Mooney's. What do they want?
Butch's eye immediately finds me, and snaps his finger in my direction. Oh crap.
Do I run? Do I fight? Should I even try to resist? These are dangerous men after all, men that wouldn't be afraid of harming others to get to their goal. After all, it's common knowledge that Falcone owns the police. Most of the officers wouldn't dare step in to assist should I retaliate.
"Don't make this difficult kid," the henchman instructs as the precinct falls silent, everyone pausing to watch the sideshow.
He grabs my head and pushes me forward toward a calm Butch, his hands in his pockets, "No worries Trixie. Fish just wants a little chat is all."
"So you have been working for Falcone," Gordon's accusatory tone pushes through.
I give an amused grunt, "Yeah...but who isn't?"
Glancing around, a wave of guilt is visible on the faces of the officers and detectives, especially Harvey Bullock, who lingers just behind Gordon.
"Excuse me sirs, but...what exactly are you doing?" Ed appears from among the crowd, clipboard in hand.
I shake my head, no Ed, not this time. He shouldn't get involved, I can't have him getting hurt.
"You better stay out of this, little man," Butch warns, stepping forward to Ed.
Ed brings his clipboard in front of him to keep a distance between him and Butch, "Well, actually, our height differences only seem to be slight."
The henchman marches up to him, getting up in his face, "You need to learn some respect, boy."
"...well, seeing as I'm over eighteen years of age...that makes me no longer a boy."
The henchman swings at Ed, Ed jumping back to dodge, tripping against the desk behind him. I spring in, grabbing the henchman by the neck and begin to choke him out. Butch pulls him out of my grasp and punches me in the face, his brute force sending me to the ground.
I spit some blood out as more falls from my nostrils. Butch pulls me up by my hair, lifting me as to be seen by everyone at the precinct.
"This is what happens when you mess with Fish Mooney," he declares, yanking at my hair.
Butch shoves me forward, throwing me onto a nearby desk, my head slamming onto the front, my blood staining a piece of paper.
"This all could have gone so...peacefully," Butch comments, as he takes me by the hair and begins dragging me out of the precinct.
My first line of vision contains nothing but a stream of warm, red light. I'm sitting down, the seat is leather, I think. I lift my head up, and my vision focuses on the woman sitting across the table from me. Fish.
"You look well," her stone-cold expression doesn't conceal the twinkle in her eye that suggests she's not telling the truth.
"Thank you," I grumble, sitting up.
I glance over to the side to see one of the waiters sweeping up a pile of broken glass. What happened there?
"So...your boyfriend's alive," Fish cuts to the chase, swishing the contents of a large shot glass in her hand.
"I'd hardly call him a boyfriend," I counter.
She throws her hands in the air, as if to roll her eyes, "Of course, but that's not the matter we've come to discuss, is it?"
I shrug. If anyone knows what I was brought here to discuss, it's her.
"Has he contacted you?" Fish asks, setting the glass down.
Should I tell the truth? Or should I lie? Does Fish already know the answer, or is she looking to get answers off of me?
"No," I mumble, trying to play as innocent as possible.
Fish looks down, the fake, painted nails on her right hand dancing around each other, "Hmph, but, do you expect him to contact you?"
I glance around, time to balance out my answers, "Yes."
She smiles, leaning back in her chair, "Of course. Lover or not, that boy adores you, and I intend to use that to my advantage."
Here's the catch, her bravado and overture over, now she's ready to grab what she's been seeking.
"I want you to get back into contact with Oswald, as soon as possible. You will seduce him, if you haven't already, and then-"
"You want me to 'keep an eye on him'?" I second-guess her, folding my hands together on the table.
Fish twirls a finger around, "Now you're getting me."
I dare not ask what would happen should I fail or simply not want to complete her task. Fish does not tolerate betrayal, just look at Oswald.
"One more thing…" she flicks a finger up, "...I didn't know you're a cop."
"And? A girl's gotta make a living," I shrug once more.
Picking up her glass against, Fish takes a long, drawn-out sip, "Sure, I get that. Just...watch your back. These are strange times we're living in."
"Strange indeed."
Fish Mooney's is already bustling with life when I arrive for work later that night. Ann and two other of the girls are performing onstage, dressed in ridiculous bikini outfits with pink feathers. I head backstage where Jack is teaching Timothy how to juggle.
"It's all about maintaining focus," Jack explains, "keep your eyes on each of the objects. Always be aware of where they are in space and time."
With two tennis balls in hand, Timothy starts juggling the both of them, following Jack's instructions. He actually does a decent job keeping them in the air, who knew either of them could juggle?
"Hey guys," I greet from the end of the hallway.
Timothy's head turns toward me, his hands stop moving and the tennis balls fall onto his head, "Ouch!"
I can't help but giggle at his misfortune, and a laugh escapes Jack as well.
"Evening Trixie. You ready for the visit from that crazy guy tonight?" Jack asks, picking up the tennis balls from the floor.
Am I ever. Finally, the elusive Victor Zsasz makes an appearance. Hopefully he's easy to impress, and if not...I have my ways.
I shrug, "Yeah. It's no biggie, he's just another customer, right?"
Jack raises an eyebrow, "You didn't hear? Zsasz wants two dancers to become his henchwomen. You've never seen his henchwomen?"
I shake my head, confused.
"His henchwomen are these emotionless all-female gunmen who he trains personally."
Wow, this guy is more serious than I'd thought. No wonder Amanda sees him as the best possible candidate for the Suicide Squad.
Ann comes out from backstage, "Ugh, Sydney tripped me during the kick-turn. I think I have a bruise on my ankle."
"You could cover it up with some makeup," I suggest.
She chuckles, "Yeah, thanks Captain Obvious."
Footsteps from a pair of dress shoes sound against the wooden floors as a bald man in a navy blue suit steps into the hallway. He has a blank, bottomless stare that gave him the guise of both intelligence and cruelty.
"Where's Fish?" Zsasz asks, needing no introduction.
"I'll take you to her," Timothy offers humbly, taking a slight bow before leading him to her office on the other side of the hallway.
"Why would Zsasz hire two dancers? Wouldn't he want to hire outside help?" I inquire to the others.
"Falcone likes to keep it in the family," Ann explains, "and besides, Zsasz likes training his girls from the ground up. He won't take girls with previous experience."
That seems...odd. Wouldn't it be easier to work with someone who already knows what they're doing? Or maybe Zsasz's methods are just that unorthodox.
Ann and I walk into the dressing room while Jack waits outside. The dressing room is much quieter than usual, the girls anticipating who will be chosen. It's clear that this isn't the first time Zsasz has taken one of Fish's girls, and from thee expressions on the others' faces, they certainly don't want to be next.
Fish and Zsasz enter the dressing room shortly, Fish openly her arms, "Ladies, you know how this goes. If you're picked, you're not to make a fuss, don't complain, and everything will be fine. Victor here will take good care of you, and hey, he pays well."
This is perfect, all I need to do is get picked as one of his henchwomen, and I'll be in a perfect position to mark him for tracking.
Zsasz straightens out his suit, "All of you get into a line."
We comply, the fifteen or so of us getting into a single file line. He walks down the line, examining each of us. What sort of criteria is he judging us on? Physique? Beauty? There's not much he can tell about our ability to fight by just looking at us.
As he strolls down the row of girls before him, he slows down as he approaches me. We make eye contact, and I flinch, not sure whether or not to look away or silently challenge him.
"I want...you," Zsasz points to Ann, who looks up from having been staring down at the floor.
With an elongated finger, Fish beckons her forward, and Ann steps to the front of the line. Good, at least the other girl is someone I know. Now there's only one spot left.
Zsasz twirls his finger in the air, "And...you." he points to Sydney, who immediately steps forward and
holds her head up.
"These two will do," he tells Fish, who nods in approval.
"Alright. Ladies, congratulations."
"Thank you Ms. Mooney," Ann and Sydney thank her simultaneously.
Zsasz leads the two of them out of the dressing room, and the other girls breathe a sigh of relief. But I stare at the dressing room exit until they're completely out of sight. Shoot, how am I suppose to get to Zsasz now?
Fish approaches me and places a hand on my shoulder, "I'm sorry baby. I know you and Ann were friends."
I turn to her and smile, "Thank you, Ms. Mooney."
"Speaking of friends, I notice that you and Timothy have been getting along quite nicely," she comments, giving a knowing grin, "do I sense a relationship brewing?"
I chuckle, "We're friends, yes. But I feel it would be inappropriate to date two of your assistants in a row."
Fish raises her eyebrows, "...you do remember our little deal, don't you? Oswald is to be your goal right now, you can chase after other umbrella boys once he's dead and gone."
I hold back my surprise as well as embarrassment, "Oh, no...that's not what I meant-"
"Haha! I know, I'm just pulling your leg girl."
"Oh, yes, of course," I conclude, laughing nervously.
Fish walks out, her high-heels clacking against the floor. But as I turn away and return to my dressing
room mirror, in the mirror's reflection I see her looking back at me, staring intently. Is she catching on?
My question goes unanswered as she turns away and leaves with the flip of her head. Now, to find a way to get to Zsasz. I look around the dressing room, watching the girls primping and prepping. Looking down at my own dressing station, I see a clutter of makeup and costume props. I hold up a purple mask I'd worn the other night, I should probably return this to the prop room...wait, a mask, that's it!
Author's Note:
Erik-is-my-angel1234: Haha, it would be kind of hard for them to have a direct rivalry (remember, canon dictates that they don't officially meet until Episode 15, we're on Episode 7), but, I have my ways ;)
Fuchsia Grasshopper: I agree, Oswald's veil of charm and vulnerability is used to get allies on his side, and to disarm others. And while we're still way off from when they officially meet, the chapters leading up to their meeting will make his disdain toward Ed (as well as Ed's knowledge of Oswald) make a lot more sense. That's kind of my general goal when writing BOAF, it's to fill in certains blanks concerning characters (another example is Barbara's motives)
Thanks! :)