A/N: This is Secty to all points! I could really use some air support! Since I don't own Batman. At all. (sadly, I don't own Justice League Unlimited either).
4S and TawniBravo, thank you for the reviews! :) 4S, glad you're rooting for Danielle! Hoping right along with you that she kicks butt! ;) TawniBravo, same here! I just want to skip straight ahead to the part where they meet again, lol. Thank you for the good health wishes. :) Thank you Person P and siobreese for Following/Favoriting!
Happy 2015, everyone! :D
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Redemption, Restitution, & Resurrection
-Chapter Twenty-Two: PERFUME-
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The lights were out as usual when she arrived home, soaking wet and exhausted.
She was still jumpy about entering her apartment. She'd cleaned up the glass, and the window had been repaired a week ago – wonderful thing about being attacked on a Friday night, she'd had all of last weekend to make arrangements – but her home felt so tainted now. Did traces of Scarecrow's fear toxin somehow still cling to the wallpaper? She felt so.
The sound of the rain from outside was soothing, though, like a lullaby.
In the dark, a red light blinked from her table. Her phone. A message.
Not bothering with the lights, Danielle hurried over to the answering machine and listened:
"My sweet Danielle." A chuckle. "You have not been doing a good job of paying attention, have you? I thought you said you weren't going to ignore me anymore. Tsk tsk. Well, I am sure you will get this soon enough. I would say call back and leave a message, but… you can't. I suppose I will just have to meet with you personally, then, won't I? Do not worry, I will find you. I'm looking forward to it." Click.
Eagerly, Danielle checked Caller ID. 555-7281. The number near her old hideout! "I knew he was stalking me back then!" Somehow all of this – his message to her, the location from which he had called – felt very nostalgic. Almost absently, her finger brushed the button, and Zsasz's raspy voice filled the apartment again.
As she listened to the message for a second time, Danielle frowned.
Zsasz's voice sounded flatter than usual. His words were as sing-songy as always, but they lacked the usual spark behind them.
"Bad night, maybe? Did a kill get away from him? Is he still pissed off about me rescuing my friends?" Thank goodness. "Or was it his ordeal with Rā's? Is he still angry with me for making him talk about it?"
She watched a raindrop drift lazily down her newly repaired window.
"…Whatever it is, there's something familiar about it…"
Saturday night. Bright lights.
The smell of perfume and cigarette smoke wafted through the air.
When Zsasz closed his eyes, he could almost pretend it was a casino. The same emptiness saturated this dingy place. Oh, back then, he was sure he'd felt differently. The casino had been a place of desperate hope. He was filled with something back then – the impossible wish that his parents could come back. Somehow. Or that somehow, the money they had left him could bring their presence to him, if only he spent it in the right way. The casinos hadn't been the right way. He knew this now. He might have even known it then.
"Did I see you so briefly when I died?" he wondered softly.
He couldn't remember. Whatever memories and things he had experienced while he was gone, had faded. Into the ether. He remembered the line to a poem, written by a long-dead poet: "Only those who stay dead / shall remember death."
He couldn't remember. He would never know if he'd found that peace he always searched for, that higher plane of existence. Had his great work placed him somewhere wonderful, amongst angels? He didn't know.
Someday I will ascend again, but I suppose that in the meantime, I am needed here. Until that day comes, I will see through my great mission and ferry more lost souls to the higher plane. I will obey my calling!
That must be why he was brought back. He was meant to continue his righteous work, to come to HERE of all places and liberate…
He felt hands on his shoulders. A woman's touch. He looked up into blue eyes muddied by drugs and despair, though he supposed she was trying to look seductive. A soft cloud of glitter seemed to emanate from her. The woman gave him a plastic smile and flipped her silky blonde hair. Zsasz managed a smirk of his own.
Her chest hovered above his face. She smelled like vanilla and sweat – to another man it might smell good, but for him, he wanted to taint that scent, make her smell of blood instead – careful, he was getting excited, and not in the way she wanted!
Thankfully the woman got off him, flouncing away when he failed to slip money into the band of her thin panties. He saw another man, cheeks ruddy, run a hand across her bottom and caress it.
He was in a disgusting strip club.
Not even a classy one, as he might have visited before he was saved. Oh no, this one was in the heart of the Bowery, the seediest one he could find. Here was where the people were emptiest. Every single soul in this building surely deserved to be liberated. Here it would be easy to find his next mark.
His hands shook as he caressed the knife through his pants' pocket.
The blonde dancer gave him a look. She must have thought he was masturbating. Maybe he would use her assumption, lure her into a private suite with promises of money and then leave her posed… grant her salvation.
Another dancer had come up on the stage. Long brown hair almost down to her waist, olive skin, curvy, swaying to the music.
She looked a little like Danielle.
He straightened up, watching her with careful interest. She turned slowly, revealing full lips and smooth eyebrows. He watched her dance slowly, enticingly, and when her dance ended he kept his focus on her. Could it be her? If he killed someone who resembled Danielle, could he get his mojo back somehow? That message he had left her earlier that night just hadn't given him the same thrill it used to.
He was becoming soft. He hadn't killed her friends when he had the chance. And now here he was, making deals with her to spare their pathetic lives! And what did he have to show for it?! He hadn't seen that frustrating woman in almost a week!
Zsasz growled. The pretty brunette dancer looked over at him. Oh no.
With liquid grace in her hips, she practically floated over to him. Unlike the other dancer, she didn't throw herself at him; rather she stared down at him, a crimson smile painting her mouth blood red. He looked up at her eyes. Danielle's were a deep brown, almost earthy. This woman had light green eyes.
Talia!
He bolted out of his chair. The dancer started in alarm. "What's your problem?"
He hurried down the red carpet, nearly tripping over a waiter. The drinks he was holding wobbled dangerously. "Hey!"
Zsasz was out the door. A few paces from the entrance, he stopped, breathing heavily, trying to get the sudden intrusive image of Talia al Ghūl out of his mind.
.
Two years earlier...
.
.
Zsasz admired the dagger shining in the sunlight. Oh, it was a thing of beauty! Taken from the corpse of a thief he had executed, handle encrusted with rubies and emeralds…
He reclined on the soft cushions that lined his room in Rā's palace. Silk sheets covered the window, sparing him from the worst of the rays, but sunlight peaked through as the soft wind made the silk flutter.
Today was a rare day of rest. He had planned to idle today away. It had been a long time since he had thought about anything but training and missions. Ever since he had slaughtered the bandits of the small desert village six months ago, Rā's had been taking him along on his trips, on his quests. He had done great work so far. His Master's agricultural plan was underway. There was a new series of missions ahead. Now that the scientists were thoroughly testing the new species they'd created, allowing the villagers to harvest samples of the crops for them, Rā's and his legions had changed bases. They were now residing a couple of countries away in this massive desert palace, one of Rā's older hideouts, and they were soon to begin negotiations with the local branch of a certain huge agricultural company. So much work lay ahead of them still.
It was strange but nice to have a moment of peace.
Though now, in this quiet moment, he noticed something distinctively disquieting. Cautiously he raised an arm, examining it in the light that filtered in, angling it to see better.
"No, it cannot be!" he murmured to himself. "My eyes must be playing tricks…"
His marks were… FADING. But how?! Was it the desert sun making them disappear? Or could it possibly be-?
"The Honorable Rā's al Ghūl requests your presence. Make yourself presentable at once!"
Zsasz hastily slipped the knife away at the sound of the kunoichi's voice. Oh, he knew he wouldn't be chastised, per say, if they were to catch him using one – but he might well be mocked. As Rā's had told him, the knife was the tool of the common thief, the wretch, while the scimitar was the mark of the warrior.
"Of course," Zsasz replied stiffly to the kunoichi, and she immediately departed. Zsasz let his demeanor drop only the slightest once she was gone. He was now a master at hiding his true feelings behind a mask of respect. If Rā's had taught him anything, it was how to control his quick temper.
He had risen from the soft cushions and put on a robe when four members of the elite guard entered his room. They stood in the doorway, swords raised respectfully, and a woman entered in between them.
She was beautiful. High cheekbones, pouty lips, a curvaceous body. Long, dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, though the tips were a dirty blonde. Light green eyes, almost mint in color, took in her surroundings before focusing on him. In spite of the casual white sundress she was wearing, elegance and authority emanated from her. Zsasz's heartbeat stopped and he swallowed inaudibly.
He knew who this was. Who she must be.
Rā's al Ghūl's daughter, Talia.
"Honorable Lady, we present to you the Master's protege, Victor Zsasz!"
"Dismissed," the woman replied, and the elite guard filed out. Zsasz felt distinctively put on the spot, though she smiled at him pleasantly enough.
"Miss al Ghūl, a pleasure to meet you." He genuflected.
"Likewise," Talia replied.
As Zsasz stood up from his bow, he watched Talia carefully. She had wandered aimlessly over to peer out the window, and the incoming breeze fanned her perfume across the room. "How are you enjoying your stay so far, Mr. Zsasz?"
"It is very comfortable here, thank you."
She turned in mild surprise. "Comfortable? Do you think the life of a warrior is comfortable?"
"No," Zsasz spluttered over his words. "I merely meant-"
"Relax," Talia laughed. "I understand what you meant. You meant to compliment my father's hospitality." She inspected the room, while Zsasz kept his gaze on her. "Such fanciful surroundings for a mere lieutenant, don't you think?"
"The Master has been very generous to me. He rewards his followers."
"Clearly, he has rewarded you. Do you find your work satisfying, Mr. Zsasz?"
"I do my Master's work proudly. My full loyalties lie with him."
"Really?"
Her eyes were calculating now; she was sizing him up. Automatically, he began to do the same. Muscles began to stand out to him, on display and yet hidden by the delicate dress she wore, her overall seductive manner. He had practically forgotten she was a warrior in their short encounter! Her femininity was a trap, a way of getting her enemies to underestimate her …and it had worked on him. But no more. Even without an obvious weapon, he guessed she was likely deadlier than any of her elite guard. Why wouldn't she be? She was the daughter of the Great Rā's al Ghūl. He would have perfected her.
He became aware that she was smiling at him again. His gaze had lingered for too long.
"Like what you see?" she asked.
Zsasz looked away in a display of humility. "It is always a pleasure to receive the daughter of my Master."
"My father says you have been of great use to him. Those old hangars from your former business have been most useful to his operations."
"We're only lucky Bruce Wayne did not appropriate them when he bought my failed company all those years ago. The properties were untouched."
"What a stroke of genius on your part to offer them for the League's use."
"The genius was never mine," Zsasz replied, though it had in fact been his own idea. "It was always your father's."
"You would do well to remember that respect," Talia said, and she smiled again, almost-pleasantly. "Make no mistake, I will not submit to you!"
"What?" For a moment Zsasz was so taken aback by her sudden razor tone that he forgot to appear respectful. "What are you talking about …Miss al Ghūl?"
"Surely Father told you." She threw up her hands and laughed mirthlessly. "Father believes that we could be married! You know, he is looking for an heir to his operations." She looked over at him, and now he caught something unpleasant in her eyes. It might have been resentment. "Surely you knew that this was why he was training you?"
"I-" Zsasz paused, then decided that she expected an answer. "I did not know this, Miss. Does this trouble you?"
"I do not question my father's decisions. He merely wanted to know if I myself found you a suitable prospect."
"And…?" Zsasz's heartbeat was finally catching up with him, as well as his thoughts. Marriage?! Rā's al Ghūl expected him to marry his daughter? But-
And for the first time in what seemed like months, he guiltily let his thoughts drift back to Gotham. If he were honest with himself, he hadn't thought about Danielle all that much. She was someone he took for granted. Assuming she hadn't managed to commit suicide – and if she had, he promised himself, he would find her grave, exhume her, and saturate her in a Lazarus Pit (or rather, a "Zsaszarus Pit" as he secretly called them) until she returned to life – she would be waiting for him to take her again, once he made it back home. This was something that was unquestionable.
Bile spewed in him at Rā's audacity, but he kept silent. His master did not know about the girl back home. He would never know.
Show no weakness.
Meanwhile, Talia was looking him up and down. "Your physique isn't bad… Though I must admit, I expected someone… taller."
"Taller?"
"6', perhaps 6'2"."
"I am your height."
"The height of a beta male. I need someone more dominant than you. Someone who is prepared to lead."
Where were all these judgments coming from, Zsasz wondered, considering that she had known him less than five minutes?
"And what does my height have anything to do with my leadership abilities?" he asked in the calmest voice he could manage.
"It doesn't. That dagger hidden in your right pocket, however, is a dead giveaway. Didn't my father teach you that the scimitar is the mark of a true warrior? Your preference for daggers suggests to me that you might be… compensating for something."
"WHAT?!" Had she really just insinuated-
"I have read your file, Victor Zsasz…" she continued snootily. "You are a known coward. You cower in the face of Batman."
Zsasz gritted his teeth. Composure, he reminded himself. It would do no good to allow her to goad him about his failure to kill Batman – something he still intended to rectify someday. For now, self-control was his friend.
"So I am not your… type," he said airily. "That doesn't distress me. You are a far cry from my type as well."
"Really? You think you could do better than me? Or would you settle for lesser, knowing your place and what is reasonable to expect?"
Danielle is ten times the woman you are!
"I prefer them slightly livelier than you," Zsasz replied coolly. "How many times have you bathed in the Lazarus Pit? How old are you, really? For all I know, you are a walking zombie who merely has prolonged your loop."
Talia's eyes flashed. "How dare you insult the Great Rā's al Ghūl… or me!"
Suddenly a sword was in her hands. She pointed it at Zsasz. It was then he realized that for all her "aimless wandering", she had never once given him her back. She'd had that sword on her the whole time!
"Make no mistake, Victor Zsasz," she vowed. "You might have my father's favor, but you will never have mine. And you will never inherit my father's legacy!" With that, she turned on her heel and strode from the room.
Zsasz stared after her, his heart pounding with exhilaration and hatred. "No loss there," he murmured.
Needless to say, Talia's word held much more sway than Zsasz's privileged position with Rā's. Within a day, he had been moved to a much less luxurious room, one like those of the other assassins. Zsasz did not complain. He would not willingly give "the Brat of the Great Rā's al Ghūl" the satisfaction.
However, things were about to get much worse. Zsasz would have something very important to complain about, very soon.
.
.
Presently...
.
Chilling rain pounded on his bald head, bringing him back to the present.
Zsasz took a deep breath. When he exhaled, he forcibly banished his thoughts of Talia al Ghūl. But the hatred remained. I need to cure her of life. She is long, long overdue for my knife.
He hated remembering. The memories were not pleasant by any means. Recalling the beginning of his time with Rā's made him cringe now, no matter how good it had been, considering how foolish and gullible he was. He had given them so much power-
Zsasz clamped his teeth, drawing blood from the tip of his tongue. Without wasting another moment, he hurried back to the strip club.
The very same dancer as before swept in front of him, working the floor. He thrust his hand into his pocket, offering her crumpled bills. She didn't seem to remember his outburst earlier and accepted the money. There was enough there to entice her to lead him into a back room, where privacy could be theirs.
He watched her as she dipped her hips, beginning her dance of emptiness. Watched as she discarded her silky ruby red underwear and brassiere on the dirty carpet. The shimmer of her brown hair, the glimmer of her light green eyes, her glistening bronzed skin… All an act. A pitiful act.
He could feel the heat from her skin, smell her heavy perfume as she twisted her body expertly over his. He watched her toss her head back, exposing her soft neck. He waited until she was dancing above his lap, her back to him.
The blade slipped softly across her throat, painting her neck the same red shade as her underwear.
Insides, out.
He left her posed on the sleazy leather, her illusion shattered. When he slipped out, no one noticed, and no one rushed to check on her. But then, no one had noticed her in life either. They had only noticed her body, only sought to covet an intangible promise, to use her only for their own needs. The perfume must have deceived her too, to let herself be so used… But no matter. She was free now.
And yet the peace didn't come, nor did the elation he usually felt after a kill. He still felt…off.
How was he going to get back on his game?
As he passed one corner where three particularly rough-looking men were drinking, he caught sight of an advertisement on the wall: "Enjoy arctic dining at the Iceberg Lounge." A gentleman smiled out jauntily from the ad, top hat and cigar smugly perched. Zsasz's eyes narrowed.
Penguin!
A familiar surge of white-hot rage flooded him at seeing the Penguin's ad. Oh, he would never forget that night he lost everything to him, in that very establishment! And then to be imprisoned again, humiliated by him. True, it was for a much shorter duration than he'd been with Rā's al Ghūl, but still...
Oh, if he wouldn't love to march right in there and give that disgusting midget a piece of his mind-
And then, Zsasz smiled. Maybe he knew a way to get his game back after all.
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