Chapter Seven: A Visit With Victor

Author's Note: I treasure any moment when I can write Sylvia and Victor scenes.

In the three months that passed, Sylvia kept her word.

Neither she nor Jim met up that much in person, although they did keep in touch via telephone. Some of Strange's monsters had been caught, and while the psychiatrist was kept in an unfounded location, there were still plenty of his strays running a muck.

Despite that, Lean on Vee's was prospering under Delilah's watchful gaze, giving Sylvia more time to handle other lucrative business.

On the outskirts of Gotham, she met up with Victor Zsasz, who offered to go halfsies on the contracts he performed outside of Penguin's scope. For the moment, it was just a small vacation from Gotham's chaotic world, and gave her time to discuss the comings and goings of day-to-day stuff. A business commute, perhaps, but on the whole: Sylvia just missed her work-husband.

As mentioned before, while Victor was employed by Penguin, he still did contracts on the side, namely for retired Mobster, Don Falcone. Sylvia wasn't quite so surprised to find that out; after all, Victor held a certain admiration and respect for him; it was something Victor had that Sylvia neither condemned nor condoned.

"What does he have you do anymore?" Sylvia asked as she walked side-by-side with the professional hitman.

They strolled some blocks away from a beach house, a location where Falcone was currently living. It was some ways away from the retired Don; Sylvia didn't want to operate under his eye; it would be awkward doing so after all these years.

"Nothing much," Victor answered taciturnly, after which, he took a sip from his cherry slushy. Sylvia held her pineapple Italian ice in one hand; the other held Victor's arm as they strolled down the boardwalk connected to the beach.

Victor donned his leather black formal wear; Sylvia was dressed the same, wearing black slacks, a navy blue low-V-neck blouse, and her laced ebony boots, and wearing fingerless fishnet gloves that cut off at her elbows. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, the lock of midnight blue framing her face.

"I hope he still pays you well?"

"Liv, he doesn't have to pay me at all. I do the contracts for little to nothing."

"What contracts could you possibly be getting from someone who's no longer in the game anymore?"

"Doesn't really concern you."

Sylvia said pointedly, "So you respect him that much to do what he likes—whatever that is—for free?"

"Not 'free'," Victor chuckled. With a quirk of a hairless eyebrow, he added, "I said 'little to nothing'. I respect him. That's all."

"Respect doesn't pay the rent."

"Oh-ho!"

Sylvia looked at him: "What?"

"Don't 'what' me. You know what."

"I don't know 'what'. What the hell is 'oh-ho' about?"

Victor stopped walking so Sylvia matched him, turning around to see that smug expression on his usual expressionless face.

"You sound jealous." Victor said, smirking at her.

"Of Falcone? Please."

"I'm no longer at your beck and call, kiddo. I have other contracts, you know."

"I never asked you to be at my beck and call. You chose to be." Sylvia remarked smartly. She poked him hard in the chest, adding, "If you wanted to be entertained, Victor, you could have come to me. I have plenty other contracts you can complete without having to visit Falcone, you know. And you can still be gainfully employed."

He grabbed her hand that was poking him in the chest.

"All kidding aside, you've missed me, haven't you?"

"What of you is there to miss?" She questioned, pulling her hand out of his grasp. "You're a hitman. Nothing more."

"Oh, that hurts" He returned sarcastically. "I thought we had more than that. What about our work-wedding vows?"

"For richer or poorer…For mass slaughter or picking off people one by one…"

"All of that. Whichever makes this whole thing between you and me dirtier."

"Ha-ha." Sylvia smirked at him. "When you were still working for Penguin—"

"What do you mean 'were'? I still am."

"Well, it's just that I don't see you around nearly as much."

"Because I'm working," He reminded, gesturing to the boardwalk. "It takes a lot of time out of my schedule, Liv."

"Yeah, walking the beach. How stressful. How time consuming. Give me a break."

Sylvia continued walking; he followed her, like a shark slowly swaying behind an angelfish.

"While you spend your time here, Gotham is riddled with monsters." She said with a grudgeful tone as she peered out at the ocean.

"Gotham has always been 'riddled' with monsters. It's Gotham."

"They're Strange's monsters."

With an air of aloof, Victor said, "How dangerous can they be."

"Two of them nearly killed my brother."

"He's still alive, isn't he?"

"From what I can tell."

Victor sensed the off-putting sound of her tone, and he took her arm, catching up to her. He drank the last of his slushy, threw it in the garbage tin beside them, and said with a slight tone of concern, "What do you mean by that?"

Sylvia's lips curled into a smile.

"Do you really care?"

"I care enough to ask," Victor said with a half-shrug.

"Jim is fine."

"Mm-hmm. 'From what you can tell'."

"I've not seen him in a few weeks."

"Why is that?"

Sylvia sighed, "Jim and I agreed that he shouldn't hang around me until the monsters are caught."

"Why is that?"

"The monsters are dangerous. Jim's a bounty hunter these days, you know. He doesn't want me to get hurt; Oswald doesn't want me hanging around Jim, since he attracts trouble."

Victor said mischievously, "And how has that been treating him?"

"As well as being a cop did."

"So little to no damage, huh?"

"Very little."

"It'll be good for him. He's a pretty good cop when he wants to be. People get burned out; maybe this will be like a vacation."

"You're underestimating how dangerous these monsters are."

"Yes. So dangerous that they seem to be keeping you at bay."

Sylvia frowned. But Victor appeared impish; he knew what that kind of challenge would do to her, but she didn't take his bait, although it appeared as though she was more than willing to do it.

"You know how much I want to go after them."

Victor leaned against the railing of the boardwalk. One boot on the bottom rail, while his arms were crossed. The weapons holstered in his vest seemed to gleam in the sunshine, along with his bald head.

He asked, "Why don't you?"

"Why don't I what?"

"Go after the monsters."

"I promised Oswald that I would back off."

"That's one hell of a promise. Coming from you. I guess if I wanted to get a few bucks from the GCPD, I could roll over a few monsters myself."

"Now you're just rubbing it in," Sylvia muttered, rolling her eyes dramatically to the sky.

She continued to walk while Victor strolled right behind her. She took a drink from her Italian ice.

"Neither bullets nor fire will keep you from war, but a promise will." Victor chuckled from behind. "That's something I didn't know about you."

"There's plenty more, I assure you."

"If you weren't married, I'd say that was innuendo."

Sylvia peered over her shoulder, saying slyly, "Are you making a pass at me?"

Victor shrugged carelessly and walked right by her. She kept up with him in stride. He hopped down the ten steps with a pep and then turned, holding out his hand. Humbly, she took it and he 'helped' her down the stairs. Now their feet stood on sand.

"Let's say I chose to be solely employed by you and Penguin. What kind of contracts are we talking about?" Victor asked, wrapping an arm around Sylvia's shoulders as she threw her slushy into the nearest garbage can.

"Simple ones."

"Good ones?"

"As good as you can get."

"I'd want first dibs."

"That's what Falcone did for you," Sylvia recalled. "You're asking for the same respect?"

"If they're good contracts."

"A contract is a contract."

"I want good ones."

"They will be good ones."

"Such as?"

"I can't think of any right now." She admitted. "People have been too scared to rebel."

"The monsters, huh?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Once Jimbo catches all of those monsters, I wonder what else you'll use to keep your people idle." Victor mused aloud, smirking at her when Sylvia flashed him a look that read 'don't challenge me'. "I'm kidding."

A few children played in the water; many adults lounged on the beach, sun tanning, making castles. Victor and Sylvia acknowledged their presence while the other adults watched them with uneasy glances. After all, she and Victor had reputations known even on the outside of Gotham.

"How's your manservant?"

"Mr. Bell, you mean?" Sylvia asked.

"Whatever."

"He's doing better."

"Last I heard, he had the flu."

"I'm pretty sure it would have been pneumonia if he'd not gone to the doctor earlier." Sylvia commented. "He's better now…"

"But?"

Sylvia said quietly, "He was rekindling the fire and when he stood, he looked like he was in pain."

"Well, the guy's, what, sixty years old? Probably Don Falcone's age."

"He's fifty."

Victor acknowledged this with a nod.

"So you think there's more to the butler than what he's telling you?" He suspected.

"I think so. I think there's something wrong with his back."

"Just his back?"

"I don't know. We were brawling—you know, training—and he tried to grapple me from behind. I flipped him over my head and he broke the coffee table." Sylvia said, wincing at the memory. "I couldn't tell if the noise came from his back or the table. Scared me a little, to be honest."

"Is he in the hospital?"

"No. He said he didn't need to go."

"Stubborn fool."

"No stubborn than a mule."

"Less stubborn than you."

"I think there's more people more stubborn than me."

"Liv, there is no one more stubborn than you."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Victor." Sylvia reprimanded, smiling though.

A woman passed them. Long, brunette hair, full lips, dark amber brown eyes. She smiled dutifully at Victor and he made a slight bow to her. Sylvia didn't give any indication that she'd seen her. After the woman had gone, She sent him a cool glance.

"What?" He said defensively.

"Who was she?"

"No one you need to know," Victor returned protectively.

Sylvia's eyebrows quirked upward. She took Victor's arm and put it next to his own body, away from her own shoulders.

"Who was she, Victor?"

Seeing that she wasn't going to let it go, he answered coolly: "Sofia Falcone."

"I didn't know Falcone had a daughter."

"He has a son too."

"Are you protective of him as well?"

"Between you and me, I can't stand the son-of-a-bitch." Victor admitted callously.

"So much animosity towards the son of a man you admire so much."

"Don Falcone is a man I respect. Mario Falcone is a putz. I never liked him."

"Glad to hear it."

She and Victor continued to walk down the beach.

"How's Delilah?" Victor asked, side-glancing her. "I hear she's been taking control of your club."

"She's becoming something of a protege."

"Does she dance too?"

"Not so well. She has two left feet."

"I guess your dance numbers will happen less and less these days."

"Half my dance team were slaughtered by the GCPD when Oswald and company went after Galavan," Sylvia reminded unhappily. "I've not had the heart to put the team back together after that."

"That's a shame." Victor lamented sincerely. "I enjoyed watching your practice rehearsals."

"I'm so sure you did." Sylvia responded, smirking at him. Seriously, she added, "I have to find more people if I want to start my choreography again. I've thought about extending my services elsewhere."

Victor looked at her inquisitively.

"Schools." Sylvia answered his silent question.

"Children?"

"You sound so surprised."

"You want to teach children how to dance?"

"Why not?" She questioned defensively. "The amount of energy these children have and they have nowhere to put it. I could guarantee that if my father let me dance in school, I wouldn't have had nearly many detention hours."

"I thought you were on the dance team."

"I wanted to be. I even tried out behind his back."

"I'm guessing you didn't qualify?"

"I more than qualified, believe me," Sylvia responded coldly. "It was the dance teacher...Mrs. Bunapart. I was a juvenile delinquent. When my brother and me were younger, Jimmy pushed Barney Truffles off a slide, and I took the blame. I spent detention after school every day of that week. And Jim and I skipped math class in the sixth grade, and guess who found us ditching?"

"Mrs. Bunapart."

"Yep. I was grounded for two weeks after that." She said resentfully. "So, naturally, when I tried out for the dance team, I blew my tryouts out of the water. Kids were cheering…but because Mrs. Bunapart knew I was a trouble maker, she wouldn't allow me to join the team. She said it would 'ruin the morale' or whatever. Fucking cunt."

"So, it sounds like you're still angry about that?"

"It's a fact, yes. I'm thirty-two years old, and I'm still pissed off about what happened in high school. Who isn't? Who knows how many kids who were in my position were unable to do anything because of people like her."

"I'm sure that's changed."

"You bet? She's still there."

Victor's eyebrows went all the way up: "Are you kidding me?"

"No. That old bag is still there." She said calmly, "I'd like to help the kids out...those other juvenile delinquents. Honestly, I'd say I turned a pretty penny when I turned to a life of crime, but not everyone gets that lucky."

"I'd say it's because you're smart."

"I could take credit, but honestly, I give most of it to Oswald. He knew what he was doing at least. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. Riding the rails, I guess. Who knows, you know. I was just trying to come up with a plan."

"A dance team…I don't think kids share your passion, Liv."

"You'd be surprised." Sylvia simpered. "People don't give kids nearly enough credit. Look at what Selina Kyle can do, for instance."

"Who?"

"'Cat'."

"Oh."

"Not to mention Ivy Pepper."

"Mario Pepper's kid?"

"Yeah. She's on the streets now."

"You know, I'll give you this much credit." Victor sighed. "You may be Fish Mooney's counterpart, but there's something you have that she never did."

"What exactly is that?"

"A soft spot for children. Fish framed Pepper, and she never considered the consequences of her actions where the kid was concerned."

"Oh my goodness, Victor. I never knew you had such sentimentality." Sylvia teased, smirking at him.

"Fuck off, Liv."

"Fuck yourself, baby."

"Even if you somehow got through the school—"

"What do you mean 'somehow'?"

"You can strong-hand your way into a school all you like, but you're not going to become part of the staff." Victor explained amusedly. "People know you; teachers know who you are. I doubt any self-respecting principal would allow someone like you to walk right in and apply for a staff position."

"I'll be assembling a dance team for kids." She said stubbornly. "The principal, and cunts like Mrs. Bunapart be damned."

"I have no doubt you'll succeed."

Sylvia and Victor continued on their walk.

"I hear Fish is still on the loose," He said conversationally.

"You heard right."

"Any sightings?"

"None what so ever."

"Doesn't that irk you?"

"It's bothersome, but it doesn't keep me up at night."

"What about Penguin?"

"Now he's bothered by it." Sylvia agreed. "After all, he's the one that killed her the first time. Who knows what she's planning now?"

"I'm surprised Jim hasn't found her."

"Jim works for money. Once there's a price on her head, he'll be more inclined to help."

"He doesn't think Fish might go after you?"

"Why would she go after me?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

Sylvia looked at him pointedly: "Oswald killed her. Not me. The worst I've done to her is bite her leg."

"You killed her mother."

"Did I?" She said incredulously. "When did I do that?"

"You shot an old woman on a stage."

"That was her mother?"

"Yes!"

"I didn't know that!"

"How could you not know! Isn't that why you shot her?"

"I honestly didn't know that old woman was Fish's mother! And no! I didn't shoot her for that reason, obviously."

"Then why did you shoot her?"

"Fish stabbed my husband in the hand with a fucking broach pen," Sylvia responded defensively. "If she hadn't hurt Oswald, I wouldn't have done anything. I would have hurt Fish but I promised Oswald I wouldn't hurt her. And I couldn't let it go, now, could I?"

"Fish Mooney's mother was on that stage." Victor stated, glancing at her, since he was perplexed and amused that Sylvia hadn't any idea. "You shot her in the leg; the woman bled out before the cops or medics could get there in time."

"Well, this certainly has given me more perspective." She mumbled remorsefully.

"You never fail to amuse me, Liv."

"Well, I'm glad you find this funny!"

"It's not funny but in some ways, it is."

"I can tell—you're still laughing! Why are you laughing!"

"Because it's funny!"

"I really had no idea that she was Fish's mother."

"Would that have changed the outcome?"

"Probably!" Sylvia responded strongly. "Oh my god, I can't even believe—god, no wonder why she reacted the way she did! Fuck!"

"So, now you think she's after you."

"Well, yes, now I do! What the hell—I thought I was just shooting an innocent bystander. I didn't think I was shooting Fish's mother! Oh my god!"

"I didn't think you'd have this big of a reaction, to be honest."

"Of course, I'm reacting! Do you have any idea how bad I feel?" She retorted, pushing him. "That poor woman! Fuck, had I known…I'm the worst person in the world! Fish is going to come after me, oh my god, what the hell have I done! This is terrible, Victor! This is fucking horrible! I have to know what she's thinking—what she's planning, she's going to come after me in the middle of the fucking night, and I won't see her coming! No, I won't!"

Victor sensed that she was freaking out. It wasn't hard to see. He took three strides to the nearest water fountain, cupped his hand under the faucet and then strode two paces back, splashing her in the face.

Sylvia glared at him: "What the hell was that for!"

"You needed to calm down."

"So, you splash me with water?"

"Well, you wouldn't have responded to me if I said 'Liv, you need to calm down'. Right?"

Sylvia sighed, and muttered, "I guess you're right."

Victor took her shoulders; she looked at him carefully.

"It doesn't matter what she's planning," He said reassuringly, his eyes boring into hers, making certain that she wasn't about to freak out again. "You have Gotham by the reigns, and every hoodlum, thug, and hitman at your disposal, including me. Even if you didn't have any of that, you're still the Lark, so—"

"What the fuck, Victor. I'm not a fucking lark."

"Well, that's what people have been calling you."

"Why?" She snapped, pushing him away from her. "I never inspired that nickname—never said it once! Who came up with that name, huh? Who!"

"So, you don't like the name?"

"It's not that I don't like the name. I just want to know where it came from and why!"

"It's a good name."

"It's arbitrary. That's like if someone started calling you 'Polar Bear' or a 'Raccoon'. Is it insulting? Not necessarily, but at the same time, wouldn't you be wondering 'why'?"

"I wouldn't mind being called a raccoon, to be honest." Victor admitted jokingly. "They're pretty tidy."

"Fuck you, Victor. I'm trying to have a decent conversation—"

"That's a lot better than you freaking out about how Fish might kill you in your sleep."

"Fuck you! I don't fucking need this right now. I'm leaving." Sylvia said strongly, and she started on her heel to put some distance between them.

He held out an arm in front of her and somehow this became a barrier. It stopped her from taking any more steps, and she gave him a look. Victor smiled knowingly.

"You know better than to leave angry."

"I'll leave how I wanna leave."

"Has that ever worked before?"

Sylvia rolled her eyes and she reluctantly returned to him. He grinned from ear-to-ear when she hugged him. He hugged her back.

"How much longer are you going to be here?" Sylvia asked unhappily as she cast a judgmental look on all of the people who were currently sprawled out on the beach, tanning, worry-free.

"A few more days. Then I'll be back in the city."

"Don't take too long."

"See, I knew you missed me."

"Fuck you."

"You first." Victor said, winking at her.

Sylvia rolled her eyes and she walked back to her car.