A/N: TRIGGER WARNING for violence/gore.
...
8. Homicide Squad
Garfield couldn't believe his good luck as he strolled into the Fourth Circle alone. He had only just returned from a job he'd been contracted for by none other than Tony Zucco ("As in the head of the Zucco family, Tony Zucco?" he'd asked upon introduction. "As in you're LOADED and willing to pay BIG TIME, Tony Zucco?"). The assignment, to torch a business acting as a front for a rival crime family, had gone off without a hitch, and Garfield was looking ever forward to reaping the reward.
He found Tony sitting in the very back corner of the club, his table shrouded by shadows, hidden from the piercing multicolored strobes. The man's eyes – one blue, one brown – were fixed on Garfield from the moment he entered. Garfield approached with a smirk. "I heard the fallout from whatcha did," Tony informed him. "Very nice."
Garfield pulled out a chair from the out-of-the-way table and had himself a seat. "I'd like to think I did a pretty good job of making it look like an accident."
"I'd say that deserves a special reward." Zucco placed a briefcase on the table. Garfield opened it, finding it filled with cash, and began to transfer his earnings into his duffle bag. "And since you did such a good job, I'm actually considering hiring you for another gig."
"Seriously?" Garfield tried not to look too elated at the prospect. He leaned casually across the table. "What'd you have in mind?"
"The thing is," Tony explained, "your specialty is arson. What I'm lookin' for is somethin' else."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"There's someone I want found," Tony answered.
Garfield nodded. "You want me to bump somebody off, huh? Well, it's definitely not what I usually do, but I'll give it a shot."
"No, no, no." Tony shook his head. "I want this one alive. I'm asking for a simple abduction. See, I want the honor of taking care of this one myself."
"Fair," Garfield replied. "So, who's the target?"
"Lemme tell ya a little story," Tony replied. "You don't mind hearin' a little story, do you?"
Garfield didn't want the nature of his next job to be put off any longer, but one didn't simply contradict Tony Zucco. He paid well, but he also punished well, and he had a wide view of what could be considered an infraction against him. "I'm all ears."
"See, the Zuccos weren't always criminal underground royalty," Tony explained. "We used to be circus folk. Our show toured them all: Gotham, Central City, Bludhaven. My brothers were a strongman, a lion tamer, and a juggler. And me? I was the knife thrower. My dad ran the whole show. 'The Miraculous Zuccos,' we were called. Ran that kind of life for decades. See, the thing about my dad is that he thought family was the most important thing. Our circus was a family operation, and I don't just mean our family. My dad had an old friend who he invited to help run the show. Now, this was back in the day when people weren't too politically correct for freak shows, and dear old Dad's friend was the ringleader of the freak show. He collected all sorts. Bearded ladies, conjoined twins…some of 'em were real, and some of 'em were products of stage makeup.
"But Dad's friend had this kid. And as time passed, it turned out the kid was…gifted. Freakishly gifted. His own dad put him on center stage as the primary attraction of the freak show, and he quickly became the most popular act. The best part is, what he did was one hundred percent real. No stage effects on that one. The people loved him. Ate his performances up. We gave him a cute little name, too. He was almost a bigger sell than the Miraculous Zuccos."
"Lemme guess where this story's going," Garfield interrupted. "The kid's the one you want taken down."
"Well, he ain't no kid no more," Tony clarified. "This was years and years ago, Lynns. But he ended up costing me big. See, my dad and I had our act scripted down to the letter. We'd pin him up to a board, and I'd throw the knives at him while he'd pray I didn't miss. We had this little routine worked out. I'd tell the audience, 'Don't try this at home! I'm a trained professional!' And Dad, he'd just groan and say, 'I knew we shoulda given you piano lessons!' Continued this until I was about thirty. Well, one day…" A sly smirk spread over Tony's face. "I missed. And the old man bought it."
Garfield didn't believe for a minute that Tony had actually missed, but that was the point, wasn't it?
"They shut down the entire circus after that," Tony went on. "The thing is, I wasn't too broken up about that. I'd been getting tired of the whole show anyway. I wanted somethin' a little more outta life, y'know? Of course, this meant dear old Dad had gone up to that great big top in the sky…but by the end, we didn't have the best relationship in the world. Let's just say I grieved in my own way.
"That is, until the cops showed up on my door accusing me of premeditated murder. They thought I killed the old man on purpose. Now, do I seem like the kinda guy who'd off his own father to you?"
"Um…no?" Garfield replied. Outright lies, but he knew it was what Tony wanted to hear.
"Family really is everything," Tony went on. "But the cops swore they had a firsthand witness who heard me planning out the murder. Now, here's the thing. Maybe…just maybe…there was a conversation that was had in the back of the tent about how the old man was startin' to drive me nuts. And just maybe, I said a few things I didn't think anyone but my brothers could hear. Now, my brothers, they wouldn't rat me out. They were actually indicted as accomplices, so I knew it couldn't have been one of them. But that day, in that room, there was a box."
"And you think the box ratted you out," Garfield commented.
"It was just your average box for storing spare costumes," Tony went on. "Pretty small box, though. And I happen to know the freak kid liked to use it to practice for his act. Didn't occur to me he might've been in that box, listening to me. The little rat sold me and my brothers out for reward money, and we ended up in the slammer. How's that for loyalty? We treated him like a cousin of sorts, and he threw us all under the bus."
"Ouch," Garfield said with a fake flinch for effect. "I see why you want him reined in." Something about Tony's story was starting to nag at his brain; some detail had sounded just a bit too familiar. But he didn't pay it any attention.
"Soon as my brothers and I got to freedom, we tracked him down," Tony continued. "Never found him, unfortunately. But we did find his dad. Our dad's old friend. Now, HE ended up having a little…accident with a kitchen knife. Thought maybe that would draw the kid out. He was just fifteen, after all. The opposite happened. He ran, and he disappeared. Thirty years, and we didn't hear a peep out of him. Thought maybe he'd just been wiped off the face of the earth. Oh, you better believe my brothers and I hunted for him for the first five years, but there wasn't a trace to be found. That is…until just this year. Would you believe we got wind that he'd become a criminal in his own right? A cowardly little thief. And the best part? He was usin' the stage name we gave him in the freak show as his 'supervillain' identity. We made him who he is, and he probably doesn't even think to give us a bit of the credit. We've been closin' in on him…but he's still slippery. Always has been. We've been able to pick up information here and there. Medical records. Police details. But we still can't FIND him.
"Now, this is where you come in. My brothers and I, we're a cornerstone of Gotham crime, but we don't do the whole 'costumed supervillain' bit. You, Lynns, on the other hand…that's your world. Maybe you know where he is. And if you don't, it'd probably be pretty easy for you to find him. Everyone of that type seems to know each other around here, even if it's just Joker, Riddler, and Freeze steppin' on each other's toes."
Garfield shrugged. "Maybe. What am I looking for?"
"Here." Tony withdrew a small picture from his pocket. "This oughta give you a starting point." He flicked the photograph across the table.
Garfield picked it up. It depicted a blond teenager in a red-spangled leotard, giving the camera a wide smile. At first, he didn't think much of it, but then he realized, shakingly, that he recognized that face. And just as he figured it out, Tony cleared it up:
"That's the kid. Peter Merkel. We're hopin' you can bring our little Ragdoll back to his toy box."
Garfield's blood ran cold. Tony Zucco wanted his best friend dead. There was absolutely no way in that world or any other that he would do what Tony was asking of him. But he knew it wouldn't stop at him. The Zuccos were known for being relentless, for chasing down what they wanted until they got it. If Firefly couldn't bring Peter to them, then they'd find somebody else who would and could. Garfield's heartbeat quickened, and he had to will himself not to be short of breath, to keep breathing at a normal rate, not to give himself away. At the very least, he could try and juice a little benefit out of this. "I've got ya covered," he stated coolly. "But for a job this out of the way, I'm gonna need an advance payment. At least half."
"I figured you would," Tony told him. "Count your cut from the last job again. You'll find I paid you more than enough. That's your advance. Finish the job, and you'll have enough to retire from the arson business permanently. Somethin' tells me I can count on you for this, Lynns."
"You know it," Garfield replied. "I'm not gonna get given the slip by some freak calling himself 'Ragdoll.'"
"Catchin' up to him's harder than you'd think," Tony reminded him.
"No promises," Garfield said as he rose from the table, "but I'll betcha I can have him here by this time tomorrow."
"Do that, and your reward doubles," Tony promised.
"Then you'll have your man." Garfield nodded, then turned to leave.
"Lynns."
Garfield halted long enough to see what more Tony wanted of him.
"We've discussed what happens if you get the job right."
"WHEN I get the job right," Garfield corrected from over his shoulder.
"But we didn't talk about if you failed. Don't screw this one up, Lynns. My brothers will know how to find you."
"I won't make myself hard to find," Garfield lied. "I'm not gonna screw it up."
"Good."
Garfield kept a steady pace as he walked out of the club and down the block. Then he broke into a panicked sprint. He was in deep trouble. The Zuccos would definitely come after him once they realized he was skirting the job.
But whatever happened to him wouldn't be half as bad as what would happen to Peter if they found him.
...
Harley and Peter were immersed in a game of Life, and Harley had just landed on her fifth child. "I'm runnin' outta names," she sighed, adding a pink peg to her car. "Maybe 'Julia.'"
"I've always been fond of 'Petra,'" Peter teased.
"No," Harley said sternly. "I take this name thing seriously, okay? And I'm not namin' her after you. Spin."
Peter landed on a space demanding he add a daughter of his own to his car. "You gonna name her 'Harley'?" Harley teased.
"I rather like 'Lynn.'"
"You're obsessed, y'know that?"
Garfield practically threw the door open, and both Peter and Harley could see that he was panicked. "Gar?" Harley greeted nervously. "You look like you just – "
"We have to get out," Garfield stated, storming into the apartment and looking around. "What do we need to take?"
"Well, while I would admit some fresh air would be nice," Peter commented, "I have to ask exactly what you're talking about."
"OUT," Garfield reiterated. "Out of this apartment. Out of GOTHAM."
"Might I ask why?"
Garfield walked over to the table and slammed his hands down on it, upsetting all the plastic cars on the board as he stared Peter down. "Because you never told me the ZUCCOS were after you."
"Now, that's a name I haven't heard in a long time," Peter replied.
"You ratted TONY ZUCCO out for killing his dad so you could get the reward money?"
"In my defense, I didn't know he would become an infamous crime boss at the time," Peter stated. "Not in my defense, I'd do it all over again. The police department paid me very handsomely for that information. And I wasn't wrong, you know."
"I…can't…believe you," Garfield sighed. "Tony Zucco contracted me tonight to BRING you to him. He's willing to pay top dollar for me to drop you into his hands so he can KILL you."
"That man can hold a grudge," Peter said casually.
"HOW ARE YOU STILL CALM ABOUT THIS?" Garfield screamed.
"Gar…" Harley broke in. "Stayin' calm is probably our best move right now." If only she could take her own advice, she thought. She knew the Zuccos were relentless pursuers, and her stomach was beginning to turn at the thought of them being after her friends.
"When I'm gone for too long," Garfield explained, "they're going to know I bailed on the job. Then they'll come looking for both of us. No, make that all three of us, if Harley keeps hanging around. They will FIND us. And then all three of us are going to go – " He made a slicing motion across his neck with his arm.
"Not necessarily – " Peter mimicked the same movement. "After all, these are the Zuccos. They'll probably torture us first."
"PETER!"
"Let's just focus on our plan, okay?" Harley said shakily. "We gotta figure out how to hide you two."
"And you?" Garfield asked her.
"Me?" Harley replied. "It sounds like they don't know I'm involved with either of ya. And Mr. J will protect – "
"NO. HE. WILL. NOT," Garfield growled. "I know we've been through this. I know we agreed to disagree. But if Peter and I bail, which we're DOING, we're taking you with us."
"You're not gonna kidnap me," Harley insisted. "And I ain't leavin' him. But…I can go as far with you two as to get you settled down."
"So we have until then to change your mind and get you to stay with us," Peter concluded. "So, Garfield, where exactly are we going?"
"I have no idea," Garfield admitted. "Just…away from Gotham. We take what we need, and that's it."
"You know, there are only four Zuccos," Peter reminded him. "We could probably take them in a fight."
"Four Zuccos with a way better rep than we have," Garfield reminded him. "They eat people like us for afternoon snacks, Peter. I've heard horror stories about the kind of people that went up against them and lost."
Peter decided to test the waters; "There is another option, of course. You could turn me in and let me take my chances with them." He grinned, as per usual. "I think I've got a pretty good chance."
"NO, YOU DON'T!" Garfield snapped immediately. "I am NOT giving you up, okay? That is NOT happening. Don't even THINK about it."
That was exactly what Peter had been hoping to hear, and he had to admit to himself his heart was warmed.
"You go down," Garfield went on, "I go down. That's how it works."
"What about me?" Harley asked.
"I wouldn't trust Joker as far as I could throw him when it comes to protecting you," Peter stated, "but if you really CAN get away from this safely, then, by all means, do."
Harley stood up. "I'll help you guys pack."
Garfield stared Peter in the eye. "How come you never told me?"
"Told you what?"
"About any of this," Garfield answered. "About the Zuccos. About the circus. About your dad making you into a freak show. About Tony Zucco KILLING your family."
Peter shrugged. "It didn't seem pertinent."
"Didn't seem pertinent."
"I didn't want your pity."
Garfield stared Peter down a moment longer, noting that he was still smiling. "You're really not afraid of them, are you?"
"Not one bit," Peter replied smugly.
A few moments later, Garfield, Peter, and Harley were busy stuffing clothes into suitcases. "So how'd you go from ratting out Tony Zucco to becoming a semi-high-profile thief?" Garfield asked.
"After the Zuccos killed my father, I didn't have anything left to my name," Peter explained. "I was alone. I knew I had to take to the streets if I didn't want the Zuccos to find me. And of course, with the circus shut down, I didn't have a job. At least they paid me there. I still don't want your pity, by the way."
It was getting rather hard not to pity him after all these revelations, Garfield thought, but he was willing to keep it to himself.
"But as I told Harley, I always had felt a sort of kinship with the villains of fiction I'd known as a child," Peter went on. "It then occurred to me that I could use my talents to commit crimes. I could break into anywhere I wanted and take whatever valuables caught my eye. I know you're about to roll your eyes at me using this word again, but it was absolute destiny. After my first robbery, I knew there was no going back."
"So even without all that," Garfield realized, "you probably still would have become Ragdoll."
"Well, they did give me the name," Peter clarified.
Harley clicked a suitcase closed. "I think we got everything."
"Next, we figure out how to run," Garfield stated. "That'll be on me. We probably can't pass airport security, but we might be able to catch a boat or a train."
"But not right away," Harley pointed out. "Whatever Gar gets, we'll have to wait for. We need somewhere to wait. Mr. J hops old warehouses so often, he's left a ton behind he ain't gonna use again. I can make sure no one else's usin' it."
"Split?" Garfield asked.
"Split," Harley said with a nod. She turned to Peter. "What about you?"
"Holding down the fort and protecting what we've packed, I suppose," Peter volunteered. "If they haven't found me after thirty years, they're not going to find me after two hours."
"We meet back here," Garfield decided.
"Let's go!" Harley said enthusiastically, much more enthusiastically than she actually felt about the whole endeavor.
...
It only did take a couple of hours for Garfield to secure transportation out of Gotham and Harley to scope out an abandoned warehouse. The pair arrived on the ground floor of Peter's apartment building at the same time and immediately hustled into the same elevator.
"You got a way out?" Harley asked.
"Three tickets to a 5 p.m. train to the suburbs tomorrow," Garfield answered. "You got a place we can wait it out until then?"
"Old toy factory," Harley replied. "Nobody's gonna touch the place."
"Good." Garfield nodded. "We just might make it out of this alive." He sighed. "Y'know, I thought when I was going to leave Gotham, it would be with enough money to actually live the sweet life."
"Whaddaya mean by the sweet life?"
"Seeing the world. Living in the lap of luxury. Making one big vacation out of life. Going somewhere they'll actually get my name right."
Harley nodded. "I feel ya. Won't you miss being one of Gotham's most famous criminals?"
"Maybe a little," Garfield admitted. "There is a certain rush to the job. But doing nothing all day beats it every time."
"What about Peter?"
"What ABOUT him?"
"Wouldn't you miss him if you went off on your sweet life?" Harley asked.
"Not necessarily," Garfield replied. "Probably not if I bring him with long enough to convince him how much better it is than trying to figure out what absurdly impossible entry point to use on every museum in the city."
"So you plan on taking him to see the world," Harley reiterated, trying not to squeal at the concept. "Lettin' him in on your dream life."
"If he wants," Garfield answered, not sure why it was that big of a deal. "I know you probably want to stay around here with Joker, but if you ever change your mind, and you know Peter and I both REALLY want you to change your mind, you can come with us."
"You know I can't leave Mr. J," Harley reiterated for what she felt must have been the thousandth time. "But…your version of the sweet life does sound pretty good. Maybe I could visit you guys."
The elevator stopped at the proper floor, and Garfield and Harley disembarked, heading for the apartment. Garfield began to search his pockets. "Crud," he muttered. "I was so focused on getting down to the train station and booking us a ride, I forgot to take a key. You got the spare we gave you?"
"I was in too much of a hurry to think of that myself," Harley admitted as the pair reached the door.
Garfield sighed, raising a fist to bang on the door. "Hey, PETER! Let – "
As soon as he touched the door, it swung inward. It hadn't been closed, let alone locked. Garfield and Harley both felt their stomachs drop.
"One of us forgot to close it on our way out," Harley said, unsure of herself.
"That's probably what…" Garfield stepped into the apartment. "…hap…pened…uh…Harley?"
"What?" Harley edged around Garfield into the apartment. At the sight, she immediately gasped in horror.
The kitchen table had been knocked over, and broken glass littered the floor. One of the chairs as well as the couch in the living area had been upended, and the television screen was cracked. It appeared an apartment-wide brawl had taken place while Harley and Garfield were away.
"Oh, no." Garfield rushed toward Peter's bedroom, throwing the door open. The suitcases they'd packed were still there, waiting in a neat line to be taken away, but there was no sign of life. "No, no, no, no, no." He made the rounds of the apartment in a frenzy, slamming open every door. Peter was nowhere to be found. Almost shaking with panic, Garfield returned to where Harley was frozen with fear. "Okay. It's okay," he muttered. "This is probably his idea of a stupid joke, and he's probably hiding in one of the cupboards or something." He then yelled, "PETER! IF THIS IS YOUR IDEA OF A JOKE, IT ISN'T FUNNY!"
"I don't think this is a joke, Gar," Harley said, her voice strained.
"But how would they have found him?" Garfield asked. "He said himself they weren't able to find him for thirty years! They shouldn't have been able to find him the short time they were gone!"
"Gar…" Harley was now shaking. "I…I think I figured somethin' out…"
"WHAT?"
"Don't most people in Gotham know you and Peter were workin' together on crimes?" Harley pointed out. "It would've been pretty easy for Tony Zucco to ask. And once he found you, he…he didn't have to actually make you bring Peter back. He just had to wait for you to go warn him. Then his guys woulda followed you in the shadows and remembered which way you went…"
All of the things Tony had said ran through Garfield's mind when Harley proposed her theory, and suddenly, they took on a sinister double meaning:
"Maybe you know where he is. And if you don't, it'd probably be pretty easy for you to find him."
"Somethin' tells me I can count on you for this, Lynns."
"My brothers will know how to find you."
"…I've been set up," Garfield realized. "This whole time. He knew. He KNEW I'd lead him right to Peter. That's why he gave me the advance, too. It was worth it because he knew I'd bring him RIGHT HERE. I'm an IDIOT."
"What do we do now, Gar?" Harley asked worriedly.
"What do we do?" Garfield repeated. His anxiety suddenly hardened into determination. "I don't know what you're gonna do. But I'm gonna go find Tony Zucco and make him give me my friend back." He flung his own bedroom door open again; in their haste to take their prisoner, the Zuccos had obviously not bothered to mess with Garfield's armor or equipment.
"I'm comin' with you," Harley called out from the spare room where she'd left her own costume. "But I thought you said we couldn't take the Zuccos."
"If you don't think we can take the Zuccos," Garfield called out, "then why are you coming?"
"Because I ain't gonna just sit back and let 'em kill my friend if I can help it."
"I don't know if we can take them," Garfield admitted. "But now I have a very good reason to try."
...
The Fourth Circle was Gotham's premier hangout for disorganized crime. More organized crime tended to revolve around the Ice Pick Club: a much rougher joint frequented by strongmen who were good with guns. At that hour of the morning, the club was all but deserted, only a few thugs gathered around a table to play cards while the night bartender washed out the shot glasses.
Firefly burst into the facility all aglow, hovering menacingly near the ceiling; "Tony Zucco's hideout. Now! Or I burn this place to the ground."
One of the mobsters rose, cracking his knuckles. "You just try it, bug-boy," he growled.
Harley zipped around from behind Firefly, her baseball bat colliding directly with the thug's face. "YOU HEARD HIM!" she screamed. "ZUCCO! NOW!"
The next man that tried to rush Harley took a baseball bat to the private parts and collapsed; Firefly set the card table ablaze, and the bartender rushed to grab a fire extinguisher before the flames could spread.
"Geez, calm down, Sparky!" one of the remaining men at the table said with his hands up.
"Don't call me that," Firefly growled. "I have no idea why, but of all the wrong names I've ever been called, that one rubs me the wrong way the MOST."
"Zucco doesn't have a permanent hideout," the man explained.
"Well, then, tell me where he'd take somebody he wanted to kill," Firefly demanded, aiming his gauntlet into the man's face as the bartender finally put out the flames on the card table. The bartender then raised the extinguisher behind Firefly's head, aiming to take him out from behind, but he forgot to account for Harley, who slammed her bat directly into his gut and caused him to drop the extinguisher on his foot.
"He usually goes back to the circus for the irony," the thug stated, sweating a little as he stared down the business end of Firefly's gauntlet. "But there isn't one in town right now, so he's probably in Robinson Park. That's where his old show used to set up."
"And how do I know you're not lying?" Firefly growled.
"Ga – Firefly, we're runnin' out of time," Harley reminded him.
"If I go to Robinson and Zucco isn't there," Firefly threatened, "I'm coming back for you. Got it?"
The thug nodded nervously. At the same time, he discreetly reached for a hidden gun at a holster on his hip.
"Good," Firefly concluded before turning to leave.
The thug brought up his gun to fire; Firefly was faster, spinning back around to blast it right out of his hand. "YOU DO NOT WANT TO MESS WITH ME RIGHT NOW," he warned. He then grasped Harley around the waist and blasted off through the door with her, into the night.
...
A soft breeze blew against Peter's face, slowly waking him. As he moved slowly from unconsciousness to consciousness, he tried to recall what had happened. It slowly came back to him: how he had just begun to slip into boredom while waiting alone at the apartment when suddenly, all four Zuccos had forced the door, rushing him. Peter hadn't gone down without a lengthy fight, and he'd managed to hold his own for probably longer than anyone could have expected against the four brothers. But in the end, three of them had held him down while Tony beat him over the head with a crowbar, and the next thing Peter knew…
He was tied to a tree. His arms and legs had been bent back around the trunk and his wrists and ankles had been chained to each other. Of course Tony would have taken advantage of his flexibility, he thought. At least it was more awkward than uncomfortable.
As Peter pried his eyes open, his vision shuddered a bit before becoming clear. Tony Zucco stood before him, tossing a knife into the air again and again and catching it, first the flat of the blade between his fingertip and thumb, then the handle in his fist, then repeating the process. His three brothers stood watch behind him. "Rise and shine," Tony greeted. "I wasn't gonna wait for you to wake up, but you just looked so peaceful sleeping. Like a little angel. Nobody would ever suspect what you were really like, lookin' at you sleeping. Besides, I needed you awake for this. I wanted to see the look on your face."
"Tony Zucco," Peter said drowsily. His mouth twisted up into its usual grin: "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"And there's the proof that we got the right guy," Tony stated, catching the knife by its handle and approaching Peter; Peter held stock-still as Tony lightly touched the tip of the blade to each corner of his mouth. "That idiot smile."
Peter had several things he wanted to say, but he wasn't about to talk while there was a sharp surface that close to his mouth.
"You can thank your little friend Garfield Lynns for cluing me in on where you were, by the way," Tony taunted, stepping back and removing the knife. "Wouldn't have caught you for another ten years if it weren't for him."
Peter flinched. Had Garfield lied after all? Had he come to Peter pretending to warn him about Tony, only to have turned behind his back and delivered his location for money? It was a distinct possibility. All in all, though, it didn't sound like Garfield, and Tony Zucco would say anything to get under Peter's skin.
"So…little Peter Merkel." Tony went back to tossing the knife. "How does it feel? You almost ruined my life when you snitched on me."
"Actually, to this day, it still feels pretty good," Peter confessed.
Tony caught the knife by its handle again. "Part of me just wants to cut your throat," he confessed. "End it all at once. Shut you up. But you and I both know that ain't gonna be enough. I wanna make it hurt first. I wanna make you beg me to kill you. I wanna hear you scream for mercy. And I wanna take that smile right off your face." He held up the knife. "Normally, I'd start by hitting you where it hurts a man most." He let the knife fly; it thudded into the tree trunk between Peter's spread thighs. "But I managed to get access to your medical records, and it looks like you already took care of that for me, didn't you?"
Peter swallowed hard. "If…I may have a request?"
Tony withdrew another knife from a sheath at his belt; as he turned, Peter could see he had about five more at the ready. "Sure, go ahead," Tony encouraged. "Maybe I'll wanna humor you."
"Cut off my left fingers first," Peter stated, sweating, still smiling. "Then my left hand. Then my whole left arm. Next, cut off my left toes. My left foot. My entire left leg."
"Interesting request," Tony told him. "Is there any reason for that?"
"So that I…" An awkward laugh. "I can tell people…" A slightly more confident laugh. "I'm ALL RIGHT now."
Caught off guard, even Tony found himself laughing, as did his brothers. "Same old Peter," Tony chuckled. "Y'know, I might actually miss your stupid mug."
"Enough not to kill me?" Peter asked in vain hope.
"Not that much," Tony replied, approaching him with the next knife.
Suddenly, a loud, enraged cry of "ZUCCO!" sounded from across the park. All heads turned to see Firefly zooming across the park at top speed, clutching Harley tightly. "YOU…ARE…DEAD!" Firefly punctuated.
A wave of relief washed over Peter. Though, he realized, somewhere deep down, he had expected this to happen. He wouldn't have let Garfield succumb to such a terrible fate, so why would Garfield do that to him?
"Boys," Tony commanded his brothers, "squash the bug and crush the clown." He hurled his knife at the speeding pair of intruders.
Firefly dropped Harley on the ground, where she rolled with the momentum before springing to a standing position. In the process, Firefly zipped out of the path of the knife, letting it zoom right past him.
The lion tamer cracked his whip at Harley, only for her to raise her bat to catch it, wrapping the whip cord up around it. She swung the bat hard; the whip's wielder lost his grip on the weapon. Harley then ran to swing the bat full tilt at the man's head; he rushed to swing his fist at her at the same time. She sidestepped the punch, whacking the Zucco brother in the head. As she did so, the strongman rushed her from behind, grabbing her arm and wrenching it behind her back.
Firefly blasted the strongman, who cried out as he let go of Harley, badly burned. The whip wielder was barely getting his bearings when Firefly landed in front of him, dealing a direct punch to his face. Meanwhile, Tony himself lobbed another knife at Firefly, only for Harley to catch it with her bat, swinging so that the blade thudded into the wood.
"Did you do that on purpose?" Firefly asked in awe.
"N – um, can we say yeah?" Harley replied.
The last Zucco brother tossed several heavy clubs into the air, juggling them momentarily before letting them fly at Harley and Firefly. All they had to do was duck; the clubs slammed into the whip wielder and the strongman. Harley pried Tony's knife out of her bat, jammed it into the grassy ground, and charged for the juggler, who was reaching for more clubs.
Tony gripped his fourth knife, the longest and sharpest he had, rushing Harley straight on with it rather than throwing it. Harley sidestepped it, then, in a feat of dexterity that even surprised her, she avoided it thrice more before dealing Tony a kick to the stomach that sent him reeling. Firefly took her place attacking the juggler, aiming not at him but at the clubs; the man recoiled in shock when the wooden clubs came down into his hands aflame and burned his palms. He stomped the fire out as soon as the clubs hit the ground.
Tony realized Firefly and Harley had only come to retrieve Peter. He knew it wouldn't stop them…but he could certainly slow them down by removing their reason for coming to the park in the first place. He distanced himself from Harley and turned back to Peter, holding the flat of his knife between his fingertips.
Peter knew exactly what Tony intended to do, and he was immediately stricken by terror. His first instinct was to call out to his hope of salvation: "GARFIELD!"
Firefly whipped about to see Tony readying the knife. "NO!" He zipped toward the tree where Peter was tied, hoping to tackle Tony from the front before he could do anything with the knife.
Tony let the blade fly.
A scream of pain rang out across the park.
Harley immediately looked to the source of the scream. Firefly had taken the brunt of the stab, lying on the ground and groping at where the long, sharp blade had pierced his armor through the shoulder, burying itself deep within his skin, dangerously close to his lung. And while he was down, Tony was reaching for yet another knife.
Harley made a direct course for Tony, sprinting with bat in hand. The other three Zucco brothers charged after her, lining up perfectly straight.
From where he lay in pain, Firefly looked up to see Harley running at Tony. The three Zuccos were gaining on her fast. She passed a heavy, leaning tree, and Firefly suddenly saw his opportunity. He turned the gauntlet of his non-injured side at the base of the tree, searing it completely so that the trunk severed from its base. His timing was perfect, and the tree fell upon the Zucco brothers, crushing them all with a sickening "crunch" sound.
Tony had barely gotten his next blade into his hand, ready to finally embed it in Peter's throat once and for all, when he suffered a strong WHACK from behind, dealt by Harley's bat. His vision swam; Harley swung again with another WHACK. The knife slipped from his fingers. WHACK. He toppled and hit the ground, intending to get up. WHACK. He was no longer sure he could get up. WHACK. The world went dark.
"LEAVE!" Harley screamed as she thudded the bat against Tony's head over and over. "PETER! ALONE!"
Even after Tony Zucco was definitely dead, she didn't stop. Her rage and her fear over almost having lost both of her friends to Tony's blades in one night propelled her weapon, and now sprays of red were flying up with every whack, staining her clothing and painting her face. She poured all her anxiety into the rhythm of the bat going up and down, up and down, colliding again and again –
"I think he's dead now, Harley. I actually think they're all dead."
Harley ceased her rhythm, looking up to see Peter, still tied to the tree, giving her a slightly weaker smile than usual. She then looked down at her blood-soaked weapon, and further down still, almost vomiting when she saw what she'd done to Tony Zucco's head.
Firefly's groan caught her attention; she rushed to his side, kneeling over him. "Gar! GAR! Are you – "
"I'm fine," Firefly grunted, gently waving Harley away as he stood up. "It's not that bad." It hurt like he couldn't believe, and he knew the knife had dug in deep; he could feel warm blood pouring over his skin beneath his armor. "Let's just…get outta here before the cops show up."
He staggered over to the tree where Peter was bound. "Hold still," he commanded, going behind the tree to find the chains that held Peter in place. With extreme care, he was able to cut through them using his gauntlet; Peter gingerly tipped forward into a somersault and rolled away from the tree.
Firefly clenched his teeth to try and distract himself from the pain in his shoulder as he dragged himself out from behind the tree.
"Okay, you are NOT fine," Harley insisted.
"I will be," Firefly insisted. "Just…gotta get back to the…" He wasn't sure exactly how he got from his feet down to his knees, but it had happened.
Peter quickly walked toward the downed Firefly, gently setting a hand on his unwounded shoulder. "Can you get that off?"
"Get what off?"
"The upper half of your suit. Can you get rid of it?"
"Yeah…" Firefly reached up to remove his helmet first, revealing the beads of sweat that were pooling on his brow. Peter removed his hand, letting Firefly struggle out of his upper armor. Peter, in the meantime, stripped off his shirt.
"What are you doin'?" Harley asked.
"Being resourceful," Peter answered, which didn't really clear up Harley's confusion. He knelt on the ground, picking up the knife Harley had shaken from her bat and using it to tear his shirt into strips.
Firefly, by that time, was baring his wound openly, raw and crimson. Peter quickly bound Firefly's chest with the strips of fabric he'd sliced, halting the blood flow as best he could.
"Come to think of it," Peter muttered, "Harley, THIS is the first advice I should have given you when you were starting out in villainy. Never go out without knowing how to bandage a stab wound."
"Thanks…" Garfield muttered breathlessly.
"We gotta get him to a hospital," Harley said softly.
"No!" Garfield snapped. "No hospitals. Do you WANT them to lock all three of us up?"
"But, Gar…"
"NO. HOSPITALS."
"But how do we – "
"I concur," Peter stated to break the tie. "We're better off staying out of the public eye. We have, after all, recently killed four men. Or, rather, you two did without letting me have any of the fun. We can treat Garfield's injury back at the apartment. It should be safe to remain there. After all…there are no Zuccos left."
"We can't just look up how to treat a stab wound on the Internet!" Harley protested.
"Not with that attitude," Peter retorted.
"But what if it gets infected? What if he loses too much blood?"
"You can stop talking about me like I'm not here," Garfield grunted.
"We're just not going to let either of those things happen," Peter resolved. "Garfield, can you walk?"
"Yeah…" Garfield stood shakily. Peter was immediately at his non-wounded side to prop him up, wrapping an arm about him; Garfield lay his corresponding arm on Peter's shoulder. Harley thought about going to Garfield's other side, but realized that messing with his arm would probably only make him bleed harder, and instead picked up his helmet and the other bits of armor he'd had to discard, carrying them along with her bloody bat. The trio started out on the walk back to the apartment.
"You'll be fine," Peter said confidently. Then, teasingly, he added, "My hero."
"Harley was the one who killed the guy," Garfield reminded Peter. "She's your hero." He turned to smile at Harley. "Good going."
"Thanks," Harley replied, trying her best to appear optimistic.
"Well, Harley didn't take a blade for me," Peter stated. "That was all you."
"I was trying to stop him from throwing it in the first place," Garfield grunted. "I wanted to actively AVOID anyone getting hit by a knife."
"Well, that ship sailed," Peter remarked, somehow not betraying his elation that Garfield had come to rescue him after all, that he was now able to be so close to him. "You know, Tony Zucco tried to actually convince me that you'd betrayed me to him."
"I might as well have," Garfield admitted. "They were tracking me from the minute I left. They KNEW I'd lead them to you, and I didn't figure that out until it was way too late."
"But if you hadn't let them take me," Peter pointed out, "we wouldn't have wiped them off the map permanently. And now we never have to worry about them again!"
"Yeah!" Harley added.
"Good," Garfield replied. "We've had enough worrying about them for a lifetime." He protectively tightened his grip on Peter, which didn't go unnoticed by the latter, who was absolutely thrilled at the gesture.
...
It was a long walk back, but eventually, the trio found themselves back at Peter's safehouse, trudging through the mess that had been left in the scuffle.
"Wow," Garfield remarked, looking over it all again. "When someone tries to kidnap you, you DON'T go lightly."
"Really, Garfield, you flatter me," Peter replied. "Now, it's off to bed with you."
"But, Mom, I'm not even tired."
"No arguments, Garfield."
While Peter helped Garfield into the spare bedroom, Harley set down all of her cargo and laboriously flipped the couch to an upright position. She then curled up on said couch, hugging her knees, letting the shakes overtake her as her stomach boiled. She was all too sure that she and Peter wouldn't be able to tend to Garfield's wound, and all they would do was make him worse.
Peter assisted Garfield in lying down on top of the bed he usually claimed as his own. "Comfortable?"
"Outside of the huge stab wound in my shoulder, yeah," Garfield grunted. "Hey, mind throwing me a pair of pants so I can get out of this suit for real?"
Peter rifled through Garfield's dresser, located a pair of sweatpants, and literally threw them at Garfield's face.
"Do you ever stop being a jerk?" Garfield asked, muffled beneath the fabric as he pulled the pants away with his good arm. "I just took a KNIFE for you. You could at least hand me things like a normal person."
Peter made a show of dramatically picking up the remote control for the television in that bedroom and very slowly handing it over to Garfield…behind his back and around the other side. Garfield swiped the remote.
"I'm giving you ten minutes," Peter informed him. "Then I come back with actual bandages. You'd better have pants on if you want pants on."
"Yeah, yeah."
Peter left Garfield to find the television channel of his choosing, pulling the door almost shut behind him. He then crossed to the kitchen, being careful to avoid any broken glass, dancing around shards and tiptoeing over the clean bits of floor until he found the cabinet where he kept most of his first-aid materials. "I hope you're paying attention, Harley," he stated. "You're also going to want to keep most of these things on hand if villainy is your career of choice. Sooner or later, you're going to get hurt."
He got a whimper in reply. He was somewhat surprised to see the position Harley had taken up on the couch, and so he set down the bandages and antibiotics he'd been gathering and approached her. "Now, tell me, Harley," he commanded, "what's wrong?"
"I'm scared we're gonna lose him," Harley replied softly without looking up.
She suddenly became aware of a pair of wiry arms slipping around her midsection from behind, holding her tightly with an aura that was downright cheerful. "He'll be fine," Peter said right in her ear. "We'll all be fine. You'll see."
They remained in that position just long enough for Harley to begin to believe him. Then, as suddenly as he'd embraced her, Peter was gone, returning to minister to Garfield's injury.
Garfield half considered telling Peter to put another shirt on before deciding it really wasn't all that awkward. "Listen," he said as Peter began dabbing at his wound with a wet washcloth. "I know you said – OW. I know you said you didn't want any pity over the whole thing with the freak show and your dad. But it just…it still sucks, all right? Also, OW."
Peter paused to shrug. "I'm over it."
"You would be," Garfield muttered.
"Garfield?"
"Yeah?"
"…Thank you."
"Hey, it's no problem," Garfield joked. "What are roommates for if not leaping in front of knives for each other?"
It would have been so easy to just lean over a few inches and kiss him somewhere on his face, Peter thought. Perhaps the forehead, or the cheek. Instead, he replied, "What indeed?"
Once he had Garfield's wound cleaned, disinfected, and bound, the pair invited Harley in to sit on the bed with them as they browsed channels for anything relatively entertaining, with Peter curling up into the small far corner of the bed. A sense of calm finally settled over all three, and by the onset of day, they were all fast asleep.