It had been three hours since she'd left the old, dank garage and she hadn't stopped walking since. Her shoulders ached from the odd angle of the heavy bag on her shoulders and the thin blanket did little to cut the cold air rushing through the night and whipping loose strands of brown hair around her cheeks. Every now and again a sharp twinge of pain ran down her back, but aside from that, she felt nothing. Her toes and fingers had long since gone numb from the constant chill and her heavy boots dragged the ground, kicking up dust and rocks as she walked along the roadside.
The moon, hanging high and full in the sky offering the only source of illumination along the flat lands and allowed her to make her way with a decent amount of light casting a pink glow throughout the sky. Far in the distance, at least 5 more miles she figured, she could see the sharp, jagged buildings of Gotham rising out of the ground, it's dark shadows in sharp contrast to the peaceful surroundings so far outside of it.
For a long time, she'd considered just leaving Gotham and building a life somewhere else with the money she had. But the fantasy didn't last long. She told herself it was because the cops everywhere would be looking for her, and Gotham was home. There, she could figure out how to navigate the seedy underbelly to remain off of the rader…or at least out of reach of the police. She knew that they didn't dare venture too far into the narrows, and up until the last few months, neither did she. But it's funny how quickly one is able to adapt when adaptation is a matter of life or death.
Entering the lobby of the hotel a couple of hours later, she took a moment to stop in the doorway, shivering off the cold. The wind finally stopped as the door closed with a whoosh behind her. It wasn't necessarily warm in the open area, but it also wasn't freezing and that change was rapidly starting to make her realize how cold she really was.
Glancing around, she could see that the inside of the hotel wasn't much better than the outside. Outdated décor littered the small area. Mustard yellow couches with badly patched holes lined the walls, and she could tell from nearly 20 feet away, that the rusting lamps had been in dire need of a dust for at least a decade. A carpet that seemed to have been orange at some point browned beneath her feet and just glancing around, she could see the corners of tired wallpaper protesting against old glue. It was clear that the place hadn't redecorated since it was built in the thirties, and the last good cleaning not long after. It was all well and good, no one actually needed a hotel in the narrows. No one that was up to anything legal at least. They were simply catering to their clientele.
It was relatively empty in the lobby. The check in clerk, a husky man around 40 or so with dark curly hair, sat behind a bullet proof glass, reading a tabloid magazine, and a 'couple' walked past her towards the stairs, not giving her a second glance as their eyes and lips remained on each other. Otherwise, there was nothing.
Pursing her lips, she strolled to the counter with large steps, anxious to get out of her cold clothes. The clerk however, didn't even bother to look up as he flipped the magazine to the next page, his forearm leaning on the counter as he hunched over lazily, humming an unheard song. She could see from here the mustard stain on his pale blue tee shirt from a late dinner and a watch that was much too tight for his wrist ticked away as if mocking her as she stood there quietly for what seemed like forever.
Finally, with a roll of the eye, she spoke.
"I need a room." She grumbled, trying to complete the interaction in as few words as possible, her head aching from the long walk here and her body trying it's best to warm up from the harsh cold she'd been subjected to.
The man took a moment to finish reading the page he was on before glancing up, giving her a quick once over under bushy brown eyebrows before turning back to his magazine. "No." He said finally, flipping the page.
She narrowed her eyes in confusion, looking up at him. That hadn't been the response she was expecting. "What?"
"I don't rent to working girls…sorry." He said lazily, not bothering to look up again.
As if on cue, a tall girl clad in a tight leather printed skirt and frizzy blond hair that was clearly a wig strolled by the desk, ignoring both of them as she headed to the door wrapped up in a matted, faux leather coat. The both watched her leave before Arella pursed her lips and looked at the man indignation.
He turned back around as well before giving a careless shrug. "She's just visiting."
"I'm not a prostitute." She growled angrily, annoyed at both his insinuation and the blatant lie.
"Don't rent to druggies neither." He muttered
"I've never even smoked." She continued, her lips pursing tightly as she could feel her anger moving from zero to dangerous almost immediately.
The man didn't notice though, or if he did, her anger didn't faze him. Rolling his eyes, he looked up again. "Well then you're obviously lost. Why don't you go back uptown? This isn't a place for a girl by herself." He said mockingly.
"I don't need your opinion, I need a room."
"And I need a model girlfriend and a mansion, but yet, here we both are."
She took a deep breath, trying hard to remain as calm as possible. "Rent me a room." She said slowly, pulling out a wad of bills from her pocket and slamming it on the counter. "Or I'm taking my money elsewhere."
He looked at the stack of money, his eyes widening slightly before flicking the toothpick in his mouth and looking up at her with a disgusting smile. "Well why didn't you just say so?" He slid the money off of the counter before turning and grabbing a log book off of the shelf and a barely sharpened pencil. "What's your name?"
"Ar…anastasia." She said, her nose twitching as the name rolled off of her lips. She'd always liked it, but it was strange that it was the first one that came to mind.
He looked up with a skeptical brow. "Does Anastasia have a last name?"
"Pick one."
"Anonymity is extra."
"Don't push it." She said stubbornly, glaring at him.
He chuckled, standing slowly off of the creaky chair and pulling a key off of a hook and tossing it into the tray, pushing it towards her. "You're in room 615." He said casually, sitting back onto the stool and leaning closer "And uh…if you need any medicine or anything, let me know. I gotta guy."
She tilted her head, looking at him in complete disbelief after the completely unnecessary exchange she'd started with. But he didn't seem phased at all. Snatching the key of the counter, she flashed him an annoyed glare before she simply started off, anxious to get out of the cold clothes. Taking a few steps, she paused, turning around with a slightly interested brow.
"What else can your friend get me?" She questioned hesitantly.
"Just about anything. For a price."
She nodded, turning again and trudging up the once grand staircase. Her body ached more now than it had for the entire walk here. Maybe because she was finally so close to rest and her body realized that as well. She was also steps away from collapsing from complete exhaustion. She just hoped she'd make it to the room first.
It was a busy night at the hotel. Prostitutes moved up and down the hallway quickly on their way to their next johns. Men of all types hung out near the doors, eyes unabashedly glued to her as she moved down the hallway to her door. But she kept her eyes glued to the ground, not wanting to bother with a single one of them tonight. She couldn't handle anything else right now and simply wanted to sleep.
Finally, after what seemed like a trek, she hurried into her room, slamming the door behind her and shoving a weathered chair against the doorknob for good measure. As if the heavy bag on her back had been stemming any other possible negative feelings, as she dropped the dead weight she immediately felt all of the anger and sadness bubble back up to the surface. Taking a despondent look around, she let out a shaky sigh, trying to hold back the tears to no avail. Falling onto the dusty bed, she curled into a ball, crying for what seemed like the 10th time in a couple of days. She hated that she felt so lost right now much like a child who had suddenly been left so very much alone. And even though her body was screaming from exhaustion, it took hours before she finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Halfway across the globe, the Joker paced back and forth outside of the 4 story apartment building in the middle of a very busy..very dirty street. Right where he was at home. For days he'd been skipping around the city looking for a place to call home for the time that they were here. And this place, right in the middle of everything was perfect. It was barely standing and had few of the modern conveniences of home, but his men didn't seem to care. They spent most of their time mixing with the locals and away from him. It was for the best. He had been irritable nearly the entire time that they'd been here and was in no mood to be bothered. An irritability that was compounded by the painfully slow process of acquiring a proper hideout. But this place…
Holding his arms out to his sides as if presenting the place to the non-existent crowd, he finally let out a happy sigh.
"Now this." He wagged a finger at the building before turning to the uniformed officer beside him and throwing a tight arm around his shoulder. "This is what I call a house." He said excitedly, squeezing the man's shoulder before bouncing off to one of the ground level windows and bending over slightly to squint into one of the windows, picturing all of the traps and bombs that he could set up in the doorway. Not that he would need it. Crime occurred freely here and the police had their hand in the pot just like everyone else. No one would stop him in the short time that he was planning on staying here. A year at most before he had everything that he needed. He hadn't been excited about coming here in the first place, but it was refreshing.
Standing up straight, an unseen grimace crossed his face as a shot of pain interrupted the movement. But he wasn't about to show weakness in front of his new friend.
"This is a dump." The police officer said in slow English, not bothering to remove the cigar from his mouth.
"I know." He giggled, looking at the man as if he had just told a joke that no one was getting. Giving an exasperated smack of the lips, he rolled his eyes. "You people, never know what you have right in front of you."
Changing the subject, he threw his arm back around the man's shoulder. "Now remember our deal. You keep your boys in blue away from my humble abode, and I'll keep the money flowing. Hmm? I'd hate for my business to be…ah…interrupted." He waved a wad of hundreds in the man's face.
"Deal." The man took the money. "But there are other men in this town. Dangerous men."
The Joker let out a shrieking giggle, not worried at all about whatever dangerous men present. "Well they all work for me." He finally removed his arm from the man's shoulder. "Even if they don't know it yet."
Giving a quick grin, he straightened the lapels on his heavy purple coat-that was probably a bad idea in the heat-and walked towards the door ignoring the man's nervous glance that was probably meant to be hidden.
"Go buy yourself something nice." He waved the man away over his shoulder as he pushed open the door. "You and your friends are gonna be doing a lot of overtime soon." And with that, he ducked into the building, kicking aside a mess of old newspaper and dust before slamming the door behind him so that he was once again alone. The noise outside fading to a muffle. For a second, he considered not telling Dougie and his men about the new place and simply enjoying it for himself. But that would be extremely counterproductive if he ever planned on getting back to Gotham.
Lifting the side of his coat, he peered at his left side with a frown, making sure that none of the stiches had popped before lowering it again. It had only been a few days since he'd been shot, and though he was excited to get back to work, if he didn't take it slow than healing would take a heck of a lot longer and he hated being wounded. It just got in the way.
Taking another glance around the room, he wrestled a cell phone loose from his pocket, quick dialing a number and putting it to his hear.
"Heya Dougie. Why don't you come get a load of the new digs?" He grinned
A chilly breath left her lips as she stood in the middle of the all too familiar street. Pajamas that were much too small caused the cold air to rush across her bare ankles and the tight pigtails made her head ache. That part was new. But aside from that, everything looked painfully the same. The old yellow car parked as if it had never been moved, the heavy wooden doors that lead to safety beckoned her, but her feet remained planted. Mentally she screamed at them to move, but there was nothing. Her body was betraying her once again.
"Hey! Little girl, I said Let's go." The voice came close to her. And before she could turn around she felt the tug on her braid causing her to cringe.
Turning on her heels, she looked up to see the man beside her, tugging her hair as if it was a leash to pull her back towards the club.
She shook her head, pulling her hair away from him. "I don't want to go in there." She protested, her voice coming much softer than she cared.
"Yea well you don't have much of a choice." The man gave a large grin, grabbing her hair again and pulling her back towards the club to little protest. Inside her mind was screaming at her to run away, to stab the man like she would any other, but she just followed. Like a good little girl.
'This isn't how it's supposed to go.' She thought to herself, looking around the street in desperation. This wasn't how it happened.
Finally her eyes landed on him, leaning against that same wall and staring at her with blue eyes full of humor and strangely, a face full of makeup.
"Walt…"Her voice trailed away in relief as she looked towards him. Waiting for him to say his line. To finish this reoccurring memory the way she was used to.
"Heya Cupcake." He grinned, "Looks like there's a party in there." He thumbed to the club entrance before crossing his arms again, not even bothering to give the other man a wayward glance.
"No." She shook her head, even as her feet continued to follow the other man closer to the funhouse door where the prostitutes stood waiting in garish makeup and furs. Why couldn't she stop moving? Why wouldn't she run away from the man? It was angering her but her anger did little to change the fact that she kept following.
"Don't want you to miss it." He held his arms out before letting out a round of cackling laughter. A laughter that was echoed by the men and women at the door.
She whimpered in fear, lifting her hands to cover her ears and block out the laughter, but it wouldn't stop. Looking up at the man who had a firm grip on her pony tail, her mouth dropped to see that he too had on that makeup that she'd become so accustomed to. Scanning over the crowd, they all did. And all of them, every single last one of them were laughing at her as if she were the butt of a joke.
Turning back to look at the wooden doors that led to life as she knew it, a sob left her throat as they finally came to the door.
A loud bang forced her awake in terror. Letting out a short scream, she bolted up in bed, looking around her room for any indication of something out of place. Her hand reached over to the nightstand to fumble around for the gun there even as her eyes darted back in forth. But there was nothing aside from the raucous laughter and constant shuffling of people in the hallway outside her door. Another bang told her that it was simply the sound of people entering and exiting their own rooms.
She gave a relieved sigh, setting the gun back down as her shoulders slumped again. Brushing her sweat soaked hair away from where it matted to her forehead her eyes drifted over to the clock that flashed 2:37 in a low red glow. The television provided the only source of real light to the room as news reels flashed across the screen in silence. There was nothing unusual. Gotham had been painfully normal since she'd gotten to the narrows. But she still watched the news religiously because she wanted to know the moment there were reports of where he'd disappeared to. In the back of her mind, she knew that the news would be the last source to know, but it couldn't hurt.
Throwing the blanket from her legs and standing, she gave a tired yawn, hating how tired she was even as her body refused to let her sleep through a single night. Laying back down had been her first course of action for the first few nights. But by now she realized that nothing cured the insomnia except for a brisk walk in the cold night air. A walk that would buy her all of three or so more hours of sleep. She pulled on a heavy coat-the first and only things she'd purchased so far aside from a few other pieces of clothing-and tucked her weapons into the pockets before leaving the hotel room without another thought.
Even at 2:30 in the morning, Gotham was wide awake as people moved up and down the streets. On previous walks, she found herself wondering what on earth people could be doing this time of night, but it was probably best that she didn't know. Pulling the hood of her coat over her head, she stuffed her hands in her pocket as she kept her head towards the ground, not wanting to be bothered.
For the most part, if she kept the bulky coat covering most of her features, people left her alone. Every now and again, some brave soul would try to talk to her, but they quickly gave up as she dashed off. It was surprising how scared she used to be of the area. Maybe it wasn't nearly as bad as people used to say. Or maybe, having been subjected to much, much worse rendered this a cake walk.
She wasn't sure how long she walked in silence, her mind racing through so many of the decisions before her. She couldn't stay at the hotel forever. It was disgusting and demoralizing at best and horrifyingly unsafe at worst. She needed to find someone with information. Someone who knew where he'd gone. As much as she hated to admit it, all she wanted was to go back to the hospital, the garage, anywhere really. Anywhere was home as long as he was there.
Maybe this was all simply a test. A test to see if she would actually come back like many of the ones before. As if any of that was necessary at this point. She would always go back. Because he was hers, she was his, and though they couldn't stand each other for the most part, she wasn't going to stand for being separated. Not unless it was her own choice at least. The feel of a rough hand on her harm broke her from her musings with a start. Her body stiffened immediately as a reactive scream was muffled by a second hand on her mouth. Thick hairs poking from the skin tickled her face and made her want to vomit.
"Don't worry cutie, I'm not gonna hurt ya." Came the foreign voice in her ear, a promise that fell on deaf ears as she struggled to free herself from the tight grip even as he dragged her towards the wall.
Her eyes darted around the street in a panic for anyone that could help, but she suddenly realized that, in her daze, she had turned down a dark alley where the only things to witness the affair were the rats scurrying about.
The smell of old alcohol filled her nose as she twisted in his grip, her hand reaching for the knife that she had buried deep in her pocket. She wanted the gun, but she knew that at the unfortunate angle that she was being held, it would be near impossible to get a shot off. More so, she didn't want to draw any more attention than necessary.
"Come on." The man tried to coax her to calm down even as his tight grip told her that he didn't expect her to have a choice. "Sure you've done this before. If you're nice I might even throw a few bucks your way."
She let out another muffled scream in protest as she could feel her anger rising. Anger at the presumptuous man and anger that she hadn't put the knife somewhere much more accessible. The pockets were much deeper than she had thought. Her feet kicked against the ground as she tried to force herself to calm down.
Thoughts were coming so sporadically and all her mind could think about was breaking free of his grasp but she wasn't near strong enough. Not on her own. The only consolation was that her constant struggling was distracting. He didn't even notice her reaching for the knife. Didn't notice her body still as her hand finally wrapped around the hilt. Didn't notice much at all, not until she was finaly able to twist the knife around her back and plunge it deep into his stomach.
She'd never forget the sound that emitted from his mouth. It was what she imagined it might sound like to hear a man drown. But it only lasted a second before she finally wrestled free from his grip and stabbed him again. These interactions were starting to get old.
Silently, her eyes remained glued on him as she pushed the knife in further, taking in the face of the man that had followed her. He couldn't be more than thirty, and she could tell from his scent that he had probably just stumbled out of one of the nearby strips clubs. The smell of alcohol and fake strawberries clung to his jacket even in the cold night air.
His eyes widened as he stare at her with a mixture of disbelief and excruciating pain. But she only stare, her eyes reflecting every ounce of cold anger that she'd been holding in for days. Anger that had been compounded by her latest interaction. Finally, his knees began to tremble and his gaze flattened, sliding against the wall to the ground.
Arella pulled her knife out of his wound, staring at the man for a long time as she thought, feeling a welcome release from the depression she'd been feeling for so long. Maybe this is why he disappeared so often after their arguments. Even still, She was sick of these interactions. And even more sick of being viewed as a piece of meat no matter where she went in Gotham's seedy underbelly. It was as if she was reliving that same scene over and over again just with new characters. But that would end. As she stood in the cold alley, she promised herself that she was gonna command respect one way or another and maybe even help a few others out in the process. Just like she'd always wanted to. Just like the unjaded, unscathed Arella would have done before life had changed her direction. And in the meantime, she'd keep looking for him.
Starting to turn, a glimpse of something bronze peeking out of the man's coat caught her eyes. She tilted her head, trying to make out the object before bending down and pulling it free. Holding it up in the light, she could finally tell that it was a pocket watch. One that had been weathered by time, but was working none the less.
She looked at it oddly, wondering what kind of person in the narrows would bother carrying around such an object. But if she was honest, she kind of liked it. Tossing the watch in the air slightly to test its weight, she smiled slightly before shoving it and the knife and her pocket, leaving the dark alley to finally go back to her hotel.
Walking into the dim lobby, the clerk gave a lazy rise of the head before perking up. "Hey. Anastasia." He moved his legs from the counter to sit up straight. "Tell me, do they have a lot of brown people in mother Russia? Or did someone in your family just have a taste for the local flavor?" He joked, making an obscene gesture with his hands. She could tell that he'd been thinking of the joke for days waiting for her to walk by.
She hesitated in the doorway with pursed lips, thinking, before moving to the desk with determined steps. Leaning close to the security bars to avoid prying eyes, she pulled a few hundred dollars from her pocket and slid it towards the man.
"I need you to get your guy here, now." She said lowly.
The man hesitated, pulling the money closer and giving it a hungry glance. Spreading it out on the counter slightly, he finally leaned on his forearm and looked back up at her with a smirk.
"Yea. I'd love to. But my guy doesn't work nights." He gave a small shrug.
"He does now." She said with a frown. After their first interaction, she wasn't sure she could ever believe a word this man said.
The man raised a brow but gave another smirk. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you." She said simply before leaning even closer so that her voice didn't carry. After that last thirty minutes that she'd had, she was high on power and wasn't in any mood to stop now "And if you ever talk to me like that again, these bars aren't going to save you." She threatened, not waiting to see the confused, trepidations look from the man before storming off to her room.
She had thought that the clerk would take his time calling the contact if he did at all. She'd even gone so far as to think of what sort of consequences she'd have to dole out if he didn't. But after taking a long shower and turning on the news as she had become accustomed to doing anytime she was within ear shot of the television, it was only a few minutes before she heard a heavy knock on the door.
Turning towards the door with a start, she frowned before turning off the television with a sigh. Unfortunately, even after the high that she'd been feeling earlier, much of that adrenaline had waned and she was no longer felt strong enough or in the mood to deal with whatever visitor she'd summoned.
"Who is it?" She called, pulling her wet hair into a pony tail.
"It's Ronnie." Came a husky voice through the thin door.
She rolled her eyes at the lack of explanation, opening the door slightly so that the chain on the door remained, peeking her head out of the small opening, she immediately came in contact with a broad chest. Looking up, she could see that the chest belonged to a mammoth of a man. His height only matched by the muscles peeking out of a not quite loose enough gray tee shirt and an easy pair of jeans. She could tell that she had probably roused him from a slumber as his freshly washed hair still hung wet against his shoulders and the smell of soap drifted towards her nose. Her eyes widened as she took him in before quickly settling back into a bored expression.
He raised a brow, waiting patiently as her eyes took in the sheer size of him. He seemed to be used to the reaction judging by the content look in his eyes. Rocking back and forth on his heels as if waiting, he finally spoke.
"So," He questioned finally, tilting his head to look at her under raised brows. "Are you going to let me in or what?"
She hesitated, craning her neck to glance around the hallway where many of the johns were looking at the man interested, wondering who it was that was finally going into her room. "I don't know a Ronnie." She said simply.
He let out a short noise that landed somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. "Are you serious?" He rubbed his short brown beard that made him look a little like Jesus if she thought about it.
"You're Anastacia, right?" He continued, gesturing at her. "Front desk Pauly said that there was a girl in room 315 that needed to make a purchase-at four in the morning." Tilting his head to double check the room number, he continued. "Well…that says 315, and you look like a nice girl. If I'm in the wrong place just say so. I've gota better things to do tonight then stand in this hallway." He gave a careless shrug.
"Are you armed?" She questioned, her voice both soft and stern, her nervous demeanor in sharp contrast to the remarkable level of energy her seemed to have at four in the morning.
He stepped away from her slightly, crossing his much too large arms as he studied her suspiciously. The subtle flexing answering her question. "Do I need to be?"
He was right, he could probably break her in half with a simple flick of the wrist.
She was quiet for another long moment, staring at him as she tried to figure out if this was a good idea, but her options were severely limited. And the one weapon she'd taken from the garage wasn't going to do much since she'd been out of ammo for weeks now.
"Hopefully not." She said with a purse of the lips, shutting the door momentarily to remove the chain and opening the door slowly, standing out of the way to allow him entry. "If you make a single wrong move, I will shoot you." She threated, though her voice shook slightly. She did mean it, at least she thought she did. Either way, it didn't mean she wasn't nervous. She knew that pulling the trigger in the middle of the thin walled hotel would bring hordes of unwanted attention. Hopefully he wouldn't see it that way.
"Hey, this isn't my first rodeo." He said lightly as he held up his hands, walking past her into the room and flopping down into one of the only chairs in the room, making himself comfortable. "But apparently that makes one of us. What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
"Did you come here to talk business or just to talk?" After shutting the door, she moved to stand clear across the room, as far away from him as she could possibly be in the small space. As annoyed as it was that he was making himself at home, it relaxed her a little that he was sitting putting them at nearly the same height.
"I'm flexible." He drummed his hands on his thighs, taking a quick glance around the room before continuing. "So what's your poison? You look too classy for meth which is the drug of choice around here. Maybe…heroin?"
"I don't want drugs." She snapped.
"Alright, alright." He held his hands up defensively, taken aback by her tone. "That's just a first. What is it, then?"
She swallowed, feeling guilty for her tone. Lowering her voice, she continued. "I need weapons. Guns mainly. But a few knives too."
"Really?" He looked at her with furrowed brows, his hands coming to rest on his thighs again.
"Yes." She looked at him uncertainly. "Can you do that?"
"I can get just about anything. What do you need them for? Are you trying to do some damage, or personal protection?"
She wasn't sure.
"That's none of your business." She muttered, not wanting to sound uncertain. "How much?"
He shook his head. "No, I don't talk money until I deliver. It's kind of like a good faith offering." He said, standing finally as if the chair was boring him.
Hesitating at the desk, she stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out what she was doing. Things were much harder without him here. She wished he would sit back down though. "I want to talk about it now. How much?"
He pursed his lips with a sigh, thinking. "It depends on the guns, based on what I can get for you on such short notice. But I charge a 2,000 discretion fee. That's in addition to the job fee and what you pay for the guns."
"2,000?" Her mouth dropped as her arms slowly uncrossed. "For what?"
"For keeping my mouth shut."
"Isn't that standard procedure in doing business?" She said, her hand pausing over the drawer where she had stashed some of the money.
"Normally, sure. But I don't know you. No one does." He crossed his arms again as he sat on the dresser against the wall which creaked in protest. "I always take the time to read up on who I'm meeting before I get here. So as far as I know, I'm taking a big risk bringing this to you and the bigger the risk, the bigger the discretion needed. If it's any consolation, it's a one-time fee." He said with a careless shrug. "Take it or leave it."
She paused for a long moment, debating on if she wanted to trust the man in front of her. But her options were limited, and without the Joker backing her play, she was quickly beginning to understand what a dangerous world it was that she was in. Her one saving grace was that she had reached the point where operating outside of the law was simply a way of life. Her gender may make her vulnerable, but her complete willingness to kill made life that much easier.
"Fine." She said finally, not wanting to admit her defeat. "But if I find out that you're screwing me over-"
"You're going to shoot me." He laughed with a slight mocking tone, running both hands through his long hair and shaking it out as if her threats did little to phase him. "Sure, I get it."
She ignored his self-righteous tone, moving just close enough to hand him the money before backing up against the desk again, crossing her arms in front of herself. "When can I expect them?"
He didn't reply for a moment, taking the time to count the money in hand before finally looking up. "Tomorrow. Meet me at the docks at six on the dot and we'll have some options for you to try."
"We?" She repeated, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"You don't think I have guns just lying around do you? I'm a runner. I have guys too. And you'll pay him for the guns directly."
"Why don't I just go to him directly and just save myself 2,000 dollars?" She muttered
"Go to who?" He said with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes hating that he was right.
"Look." The guy started with a sigh, scratching the back of his head carelessly and looking at her under bushy brows as if he regretted his previous smugness. "I don't usually do this, but you seem like a nice girl who's seen some shit-"
"Unless you're rethinking your fee, you have nothing to say to me." She said through clinched teeth, too tired to deal with anything else then what she needed tonight.
He paused, questioning whether he felt like continuing. "What are you going to do with all those guns once you get them? Do you even know?" He said accusingly
"You can leave now." She said through the same clenched teeth, turning away from him dismissively to face the desk where she'd stashed the gun…just in case.
"You're going to get yourself killed." He said in a warning tone.
Arella pursed her lips together, annoyed with the transaction already. The few bleeding hearts in the narrows and she'd managed to call one. Turning around, she lifted the gun in her hand, pointing it towards him.
"I said go." She said softly. She wasn't going to shot him, even if she'd threatened it. He was one of the few decent people she'd come across and she needed him to make the phone call to whoever his guy was. Even lifting the gun made her feel terrible, but he had to know that she was serious. She had to be taken seriously.
"Whoa!" Ronnie sidestepped the gun, reaching forward with a speed that surprised them both to wrench the gun from her hands before she could think about pulling the trigger.
A sound of pain left her throat as she quickly drew her empty hand back, cradling it before looking at him with a mixture of fear and apprehension.
"What the hell? Were you really going to shoot me?" He looked at her, more surprised than angry as he held the gun loosely at his side.
She didn't say anything, looking up at him wide-eyed as she backed up to the desk. There was no exit her and she was unarmed. There was a knife not far away from the bed if it came to that. But she had no desire to fight tonight.
"I'm sorry." She said quickly, shrinking away from him as she mentally panicked, trying to figure out what the man wanted and how she was going to make it out of here with her dignity intact.
"Do you see what I mean?" He gave a frustrated frown. "You're going to get yourself killed." He repeated, slower this time as if she simply hadn't heard him the first time.
Swallowing slowly, she looked away from him, angry that she'd put herself in this situation. Maybe if she could keep him talking. "Why do you care?"
"Because I know fear when I see it." He said after another sigh, clicking the magazine out of the gun and tossing it aside. Double checking the barrel, he eyed the empty weapon for a moment before holding it out to her. "Here."
She hesitated, looking at him in complete bewilderment for a long moment before reaching out to snatch the weapon, holding it closely to her as if it would do anything to still the heavy beating in her chest. Taking a deep breath, she tried to relax, but it only got quicker as she was suddenly realizing how little control she had over things right now. Maybe the man was right. Maybe she did need help. She was no closer to finding the Joker today than she was when she got here. And even if she did, she had no idea how she was going to make him suffer the way she had.
Sniffling, she could feel the anxiousness try to push tears from her eyes, but she held them back. There'd been enough crying. Glancing up at her guest, she could tell that her sniffling had unnerved him, he looked ready to bolt from the room at the first sign of a tear. If she'd known that she would have given that a shot instead of grabbing the gun. The thought made her chuckle mentally.
"How did you do that?" She asked finally, her voice thick with unreleased tears as she began to relax.
This seemed to set him at ease again.
"What? The whole…"He mimed the action, seemingly back in good spirits already. "That thing?"
She nodded.
"Maybe I'll show you one day. If you don't accidently shoot me first." He shrugged, turning towards the door, abandoning his previous line of thought in favor of leaving the room. Having a gun pulled on him was way too much excitement in one night as far as he cared.
Placing his hand on the handle, he looked over his shoulder. "And it's more than 2000 dollars now. But we'll discuss that tomorrow."
She pursed her lips, about to argue with the presumption, but thought better of it as a thought came to mind.
"Hey." She called after him as his hand rested on the handle. "Show me now."
He gave an inquisitive look over his shoulder, grinding his teeth together as he studied her for a moment as she stood in the middle of the room, her hands hanging heavily at her sides as she looked up at him under long lashes.
"Why should I?" He asked finally, trying his best to look annoyed with the situation.
She gave a slow lick of the lips. "Because." She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to be so open with the man so quickly. "I am scared."
He snapped his mouth shut again, looking away from her for a moment to eyes the handle as he thought. It would probably be best to leave right now, but he was a business man after all.
"If you teach me…that and a few other things. I'll pay you whatever you want." She offered.
Letting out a sigh, he turned around. "Fine. Tomorrow after we pick up the goods. And you'd better not be kidding about whatever I want." He said before quickly opening the door.
She opened her mouth to protest, but before anything came out, the door slammed behind him. Sighing, she ran a hand through her still wet hair and setting the empty weapon back onto the table. She wanted to kick herself for being so stupid. Of course she wasn't going to be able to strike fear into the heart of Gotham's criminals with a simple attitude change. She was going to need to be smarter, stronger, and much more capable. Flopping back down on the bed feeling suddenly exhausted and regretting her last interaction. Clearly she did need help, and maybe Ronnie could be just the one to help her get where she needed to be. He had the connections that she could use to her advantage and know how that could make her unstoppable. The thought made her smile through her exhausted haze. Though her plans didn't extend much further than tomorrow at 6, it felt good to have some direction after all this time. She just hoped that tomorrow would go smoothly.
The pocket watch on her nightstand ticked away slowly and was the sound that eventually helped her drift to sleep.
*****Poor Arella. I hate writing her like this. But she's slowly getting her strength back which will lead to some fun stuff later on. ;)
Not a whole lot of Joker in this chapter. But no worries. It'll only be about another chapter before he shows up. I'm so excited. I hope you guys like this one as much as the first. Sequels are always soooo much pressure. And trying to put this story on paper and out of my head has been a torturous six months worth of writer's block, deleted files, and rewrites. But we're moving again! (Mentally), I love the ending already and I'm sure you guys will too! As always, feedback is GREATLY appreciated.*************