Chapter Sixteen: Boss's Fancy

Strawberry: No Fana, mostly cronies, and a little Joker. Maybe boring? But DEFINITELY necessary, and I think you'll understand where it's leading :P

In the upstairs ammunition room, Joseph Marley sat thoughtfully between the rows of gas drums. When the Joker had first conned him into working for him, Joseph had been walking on the eggshells each time he entered the icehouse. It made him uncomfortable to know that a mad murderer dressed as a clown was walking around in a building with ready-to-use weapons. What if the guy just went off one day and decided to blow the place with all of them in it? It would have been something he would most definitely do, given the way he conveyed his plans to them. Joseph recalled his confrontation with the mob; they had been waiting outside in the car while he went in, jacket loaded with explosives. The man was willing to blow himself up just to punish them. He didn't like to live very much. He didn't particularly like to die, either, Joseph thought. The Big Boss didn't like much of anything. He didn't need to.

"Hey, Joe," called his buddy from across the room. Andy pulled on a loose chain unreasonably hung from the ceiling, his gaze fixed curiously on the wall opposite him. Joseph had known that Andy hadn't gotten half so comfortable with the idea of all the ammunition in their quarters. "Boss say anything to you about today?" Andy asked. "'Bout plans?"

"Nah," Joseph answered, sprawling out on the ground and shoving his hands lazily behind his head. "You ask me, he's pissed over what happened yesterday." Andy looked puzzled for a moment, then his mouth turned to a small "O" of understanding.

"You mean with the mayor," he supposed.

"That's the one."

"Huh." Andy's eyes were still darting indefinitely between the rows of drums. "Saw him go out this morning, though." Joseph's ears perked.

"Yeah?" he said questioningly. "Wonder what he didn't tell us for…"

"Probably 'cause of that girl," Andy responded. Joseph sat up at this point, narrowing his eyes.

"What girl?"

"You know, the carrot top." Andy scratched his head as if trying to remember something. Then he snapped his fingers and said, "Fana Williams. That's her name. Remember that party of ol' Harvey Dent's? Back when we were supposed to be doing him in. Well, he took Fana hostage, 'cause he wanted to bait in our buddy, the D.A. That sure didn't work." Joseph nodded, reminiscing how that night had been for him. He wanted more than anything for Harvey to get it, but for no particular reason. Other than the fact that he should've gotten the mob's money. And with the mob in trouble, how were they gonna locate it? Boss will think of something, he thought to himself, knowing that the Joker was insane, but he knew how to get what he wanted.

"The carrot top…" Joseph mused absent-mindedly. "She's cute." Andy's jaw dropped.

"You're kidding!" he exclaimed as his right leg thudded against one of the drums. He jumped slightly before continuing. "She's a big mess. Her hair is all…" He whirled his hands around his head chaotically. "Everywhere. She looks all…unsettled, and such." Joseph scowled, hardly concerned, but on the verge of defense. Andy just wasn't thinking.

"She's been in an icehouse for, what, five days? Six?" Joseph proposed. "She was pretty when she got here," he added in muffled tones.

"I don't know, man," Andy prodded. "She looks kinda like a…a clown; that's what I think. Hair's all wild and orange like that." He gave a short laugh, quite obviously amusing himself. Joseph rolled his eyes and fooled with the clown mask beside him, admiring the way he knew it to fit over his bearded face so well. "Isn't that ironic, right?" Andy continued. "You got a thing for clowns." Joseph sighed at Andy's immense stupidity. "I'd make some crack about you and the boss, but I already know how he rolls." At that point, Joseph's attention was sparked.

"What are you talkin' about?" he snapped in his curiosity. Andy knelt down in front of him, checking the door as if afraid that the Joker himself was standing right in the hallway. He might have been; unless Joseph's suspicions about what Andy would say next were rational.

"I saw him kissin' up on her," he whispered, still throwing looks over Joseph's shoulder. "That hostage girl."

"No kidding!" Joseph said in disbelief, but purely aware that it could have easily happened at some point. It was just that the Big Boss was so…eccentric. Could he have been wrong about the boss not liking anything at all? Maybe there was an exception, and maybe that exception was Fana Williams. More likely still, he didn't like her at all, but a man had his needs. "Guess we can't be too surprised over that," Joseph said pensively. "He may be a little off his rocker, but he's still got the same needs any other man was built with, eh?" He massaged his forehead as if the information had given him a headache. "Well, don't leave me hangin'. That's somethin' worth listening to. When'd you see 'em?"

"Just yesterday," Andy replied, his excitement visible in his blotchy face. "He wasn't wearin' no makeup still; guessing that was because we'd just got back from the commissioner's funeral. And I figure, he was probably waiting 'til that day came around, 'cause he would wanna kiss Fana without being all made up." Joseph cringed at the thought. "They was in the food court. Remember I came inside after you guys? I guess they were somewhere else when you all went upstairs when we got in."

"Mhm, yeah, I saw 'em sitting on the couch when I came in," Joseph added. "They weren't talking or anything. Or…looking at each other. Well, she was looking at him. But I didn't pay too much attention. Wanted to get to the buffet he promised us, you know?" He laughed dryly and Andy followed suit.

"Well, like I was saying," he said. "I don't know if I would say that Fana's just his plaything. Looks like she doesn't mind all too much, but there could easily be some kinda plan brewin' in her head. But still…" He leaned in closer, lowering his voice even more. "Well, here's the gist: she was up against the wall and such and he looked like he was gonna straight up take a bite outta her. She was holding some…food or something, but otherwise her hands were free and she could've easily gotten out of that one. But like I said, she might just be planning something, even though I can't see how she could be. I wasn't gonna stick around and watch, but the way it was going, she was having herself a fine time."

"So…sounds like he might—"

"Well, hello there."

Both of his men turned, quite obviously in surprise as if terribly startled, and immediately scrambled to their feet upon seeing him. The one on the right, plump and red-faced—Andy, he believed—was letting off a bout of reckoning words before he had even said anything. Staring at him as he blatantly ranted on, he felt compelled to reach to the desk beside him where a glinting silver gun was rested. Taking it in his hands and observing it momentarily, he cocked it and pointed it directly at Andy, who jumped in upset. "Sssimmer down, boys," he said unconcernedly as Andy whimpered like a wounded dog. He adjusted his suit with carefree intentions to raise the tension circulating in the room; it was quite liberating. "Now." He waggled the gun slightly and pointed it towards himself, examining its makeup and formation. Then, he returned it to Andy. "You know I'm not big on guns," he reminded them with ease. Joseph was mounted firmly on the ground. "So, when I say guns are too quick…" Giving Andy one last glare, he tossed the gun on the ground behind him. "…You'll know that I won't use one on you."

The men were still petrified, as if the mere sight of the gun had deeply shaken them, which should not have been the case, given the tasks they'd previously completed for him. In the back of his mind, he considered picking it up again just for kicks, but he didn't want to use the same trick twice. "So," he said pleasantly, flicking open one of his knives and twisting it around in his hand. Andy watched him nervously, but Joseph did not look phased. "How are you gentlemen doing on this fine day? Hm?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he began pacing between the rows of drums. "Huh. Let's wind the clocks back to, say…yesterday morning. We're all standing outside, waiting for the chaos to ensue." He nodded. "And I was thin-king… Someone's missing…aren't they?" His eyebrows raised, the creases in his forehead prominent and accusatory.

Andy remained frozen where he stood, but Joseph straightened posture and lowered his head grimly. "We lost Schiff."

He cocked his head to the side. "Yes, Joey boy," he said sarcastically. "I know that. I mean…" He licked his lips in a smacking sound, following it with a look of severity. "He's not back-kuh. And he should be."

"Sir, it's only been—"

"Wasn't it you…who I told not to call me that?" he said scathingly.

"Boss," Joseph corrected himself. "I gotta say, it's only been a day. He'll probably turn up."

He stretched his neck forward disbelievingly. He looked down at a rickety wooden table beside the drums and slammed his hand down on the surface, his knife chinking and sending a metallic sound through the room. "You gotta say, huh?" he repeated, near boiling point from sheer annoyance. "Let's clarify a…couple of things. One: I'm not concerned with anyone's welfare, much less a discardable clown…mheh…and two: if I say he should be back by now…that's something you accept. And Thomas Schiff ought to be here. But if he's not…" He gestured to each of the men in turn. "That's no concern of mine." Neither Joseph nor Andy moved the slightest bit, making him squint at them, internally willing them to have enough sense to understand. When they remained stationary, he sighed and waved his hand. "We're finished here," he told them commandingly, grinning suggestively at the knife he had left on the table. At his recognition of it, Andy switched his gaze back and forth between him and the knife. "Have a wonderful afternoon, gentlemen," he said smartly. "I'll be seeing you…" And with that, he headed light-heartedly to the door, tracing the melody in his head with his index finger in the air.

"So, uh…how's the, uh…how's the hostage?"

He stopped in his tracks, halfway out of the room. The scratchy carpet was all he could see at the angle his head hung. As his fists shifted, the leather of his gloves made a low sound that seemed to carry throughout the room. Without shifting his overall position, he craned his neck to look at the doorframe over his shoulder. They were not in his view, but he didn't need or want them to be. He wondered what had made Joseph ask at all. Instantly, he came to the conclusion that they had been thinking, and regardless of what they had been thinking about, trying to use their brains at all was a bad idea.

He looked around at them, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Fan-tastic," he said through bared teeth. He turned again and rounded down the hallway, leaving the men to their questions; he knew they had them.