Yes. I know it is a very short chapter. There are reasons for that - need to finnish the next thought line, want to try to keep people from killing me, and also want to make people stay a bit interested.
"You really can't do much other than run can you?" a cold voice asked easily, like a snake.
That voice was very much hated by the man who'd come back to the frothing city of crime and stupidity. The man hadn't been back to the city in years; not since his contact had been put in a cell and had had difficulty to get parole let alone bail. No one wanted to get this person out. The man especially wanted him to stay in the cell and rot in it but it didn't matter.
He was this horrid person's lawyer.
"You can fight back," the man said through the glass. His briefcase sat on the counter before him, his fingers tightening and loosening on it. "Fight or flight and all that jazz you know?"
Great, he was getting nervous. That wasn't good. If he was too scared to even speak to his client he couldn't possibly keep this man out of jail this time. It truth, he was a last ditch effort to get this person out and he knew it. The lawyer who really could work on this case had become spooked from something – someone – and apparently, it was bad.
His boss was hard to scare.
"True," the prisoner stated with a strange ease. He seemed far too calm for some of this. "I can always fight but then my hands get dirty. Plus being here makes things difficult."
The lawyer suddenly found himself feeling very glad he'd managed to get a private meeting with this person. His words alone were dangerous. This guy was insane to begin with. He'd murdered people who refused to pay for protection. He'd made the mistake of doing it to a family that didn't all die when the wires snapped. He'd been seen by a boy, one who should have died but didn't. They were lucky that the uncle had been injured to the point of being unable to take care of the boy but a billionaire had taken the boy in – made him family.
That boy never missed a hearing.
"I guess that's what I'm for," the lawyer stated. "The boy is a problem. He can't make it to the hearing this year and be allowed to give his usual speech of why you should stay inside."
"I agree," the man said. He leaned forward, a sick smile stretching across his face. "What do you plan to do?"
"It's simple," the lawyer said, his voice amazingly stable. "We must make sure he doesn't make it there without tying it to you and yours."
"I like it so far," the man stated happily. "I do have one condition."
"What would that be?"
"No one harms him more than to keep him quiet. He's my problem."
The young lawyer didn't like the sound of the man's tone, the quirk in his lips, or the sneaking suspicion that he had had the same sick look on his face when he'd even suggested what he thought he'd suggested. He could barely believe he'd suggested taking a kid off the streets.
It happened all the time in Gotham; kids going missing that is. They disappeared in broad daylight all the time. It was normal for children of rich men to disappear in Gotham to never be found again. Naturally however, there was still the fact that this boy had to disappear without ties being made to the man before him. The people who handled this kind of thing had to be brought in special and would have to be told specifically to not talk about where the money came from. The money of course was the real problem.
Where the hell would they get it?
"You look a bit worried," the man said. "There's nothing to worry about. Do your job and nothing will have to be worried about."
"O-of course sir," the lawyer whispered. "Of course, Boss Zucco."
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