There had been a time when Gordon had wondered if his days in front of angry mayors had been numbered. It took him some time, but the last one to have truly been angry, whether it was around or at him, had been Krol. Grange was one of those "I don't care what you do, just get it done" types. For the most part, Hady had been neither of those, more content to do politicking and behind-the-scenes manipulations.
Right now, Hady was an angry mayor.
"How does something like this happen?!" the politician demanded. It looked like the man was at his wit's end after the past few weeks. Gordon couldn't really blame him; a man who campaigned as tough on crime was presiding over one of the worst crime waves in recent memory.
Yet, that did not stop Gordon from saying, "Eyewitness reports claim there was an explosion around two o'clock in the morning and that the tower collapsed on itself soon after."
"I don't need to know what happened, Gordon. I want to know who is responsible!" Hady retorted. "Wonder Tower was one of this city's landmarks! Part of the skyline! It's one of our major tourist destinations!"
Not really. It was an attraction that was second tier at best. In almost every brochure inviting people to come sight-see in this city, Wonder Tower wasn't even in the top ten and rarely in the top twenty. If tourism was the reason for being angry, it wasn't a strong reason. More likely, Hady was taking every little thing that happened as a personal insult.
Unfortunately, the department was spread too thin. They were still handling the event at the art museum. The Commissioner's thoughts turned dark as he recalled how the perpetrator was dressed as his MIA ally. It was a slap in the face to see that this was what that man's legacy would be. Some lunatic with delusions of grandeur was not the kind of person he would want to succeed himself. The only silver lining here was that at least they were able to retrieve an Arkham fugitive, and Hugo Strange at that.
They had the bastard at Gotham Mercy, put into a medical coma until the stuff he had put into himself had filtered out while he recovered from a very near-fatal heart attack. According to the doctors, the cause of the heart attack had been too much adrenaline in his heart, most likely a side effect of whatever drug he had been doping on.
Whatever it was, it was similar enough to what they found in Mario Falcone, though a second, unidentified substance had also been found in Strange. Tests were still being run to find out what it was.
Pulling himself back into the present moment, Gordon said, "It's going to take some time until we can properly investigate what happened at Wonder Tower. Right now, I don't have enough manpower to look into it. There's still the regular responsibilities we have to handle on top of trying to apprehend Bane and the psychos he brought with him."
"Why haven't you already arrested that bastard?! Why is he still on the loose in my city?" Hady demanded.
"Something you need to learn, Mr. Mayor, is that the kind of criminal that Bane is is really smart. Like all the other celebrity super-criminals we've been having to deal with all these years, getting lucky is not enough to stop them. Unfortunately, they're smart enough to resist or outright—"
"I'm just hearing excuses, Gordon," Hady interrupted. "I want some real solutions, I want them all caught, both Bane and whoever demolished Wonder Tower, and don't give me any excuse that you don't have enough men."
"We've been taking hits too," Gordon snapped back. "We're still recovering from when Bane attacked the precinct. Every operation we engage in to take him down results in more officers either being injured or killed and we don't have any reserves left, or anyone else coming in to pick up the slack. We're on the last dregs, if those haven't already been exhausted. We're doing the best we can under the circumstances and you losing your temper over it is not going to change anything."
"What do you expect me to do, Gordon? Sit on my ass with my thumb jammed up it?" Hady snarked. Hmm, that was new. Most mayors he met with never dropped their professionalism, even when they were tearing him a new one.
Thinking about the museum once more and what it foreshadowed, it led the Commissioner to say, "The only thing we have left to consider at this time is martial law."
Hady blinked and pulled back, taken aback by the suggestion even though Gordon had spoken in a calm tone of voice. "Martial law? Are you serious?" the man asked incredulously.
Gordon could hear Petit's voice in his head even as he pressed on. "Like I told you, we need more manpower. We also need to keep the people safe while we continue to fight Bane. The people will be convinced of how bad things have become if they're made aware that martial law is on the table. At the same time, we can arrange to bring in the National Guard to shore up our ranks."
He had been thinking about this long and hard, and the longer he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that there was no other way to win this. They were already at the brink and it was either mean it when it was said to pull out all the stops, or to give in and let Bane have his way.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
"You're serious," Hady stated.
"I've been giving it a lot of thought. We can't keep playing with one arm tied behind our backs." Why was this so easy for him to say? Never in his dreams would he have ever recommended something like martial law; yet, here he was doing just that.
"Is there no other way?" The million dollar question was asked.
"If you know of some other way, I'm all ears, Hady," Gordon said. "Do we have any other choice?"
This was definitely new, a mayor who went from being furious to being quiet and cowed. Hady was chewing on his bottom lip, a typical sign of someone thinking about anything that made them uncomfortable. What he decided next was going to affect Gotham for years to come and both of them knew it.
"Alright," Hady sighed as he slumped in his seat. "I'll fill out the declaration. We'll be instituting martial law effective immediately."
It wasn't often that mayors gave Gordon what he wanted, but this time, there had been a part of him that had hoped for that old runaround. That he would be refused and told to do his job better.
A stronger part wanted this, however. He was on his own now, and the only allies he had were in the department. He could not depend on idealistic district attorneys, or dark vigilantes anymore. Both of them had shown that even they had their limits and he was the one that was still standing.
And he refused to let all they had sacrificed be in vain.
Not since he had been trapped in Peña Duro had Bane felt this frustrated. For weeks he had been dominant and so close to taking Gotham. It was in the palm of his hand; all he had to do was close his fingers over it and make it his.
Ra's al Ghul. The Joker. Both of those men were now his greatest challenges. The former was dismantling his operation piece by piece, killing his men in numbers that he was hard-pressed to replace. The latter was a wild card that had caught him off-guard no matter how long he had anticipated on some kind of interference. That it had happened while he was confronting the former frustrated him even more.
Still, they had scored some kind of victory over Ra's al Ghul. The force of men that his opponent had brought with him had been decimated. They were both weakened now. The next move was obvious: to capitalize on it and regain any territory once lost.
Currently, he had retreated to the Espina de Rosa, the ship that he had arrived in. The helicopter was in the middle of maintenance to make sure that it was ready for its next use. Already, it had served during the attack on Blackgate and now for striking against the Demon's Fang.
He would need to be careful with using it, though. Over-usage would allow his enemies the chance to bring it down and that could not be afforded. Surgical precision would be needed to maximize its effectiveness.
The aircraft was not the only thing that was receiving maintenance. He was having medical attention given to him. By now, the immediate effects of his Venom were wearing off and he could no longer ignore the state of his body. So many cuts had to be stitched, bullets removed, and the rest checked over for other unidentified injuries. He was shirtless, his body covered randomly with bandages and tape.
One could only hope that the collapse of that warehouse had been enough to kill his enemies, but with one who held the Batman in high esteem and other synonymous with being the Batman's opposite, there was a healthy amount of skepticism for that optimistic view. Until proven otherwise, it would have to be assumed that both were alive.
Footsteps alerted the masked man to the approach of his lieutenant. Bird looked pleased with himself as he came to a stop before the Santa Priscan, resembling the cat in a certain metaphor. Even with the events of the previous night still weighing on them, to see such a look foreshadowed good news.
For Bird's sake, it ought to be.
"Bane, I have some new recruits to show you, the ones we talked about," the blond American announced, three men at his sides, one to the left, one to the right, and one bringing up the rear. "Locals as we discussed, and probably the best ones for our needs."
"Bold claims require fitting proof," Bane stated. "Who have you found?"
"This guy to my right," the native Gothamite gestured to a thin, bald man who only wore a tattered coat, a wretched-looking individual if there ever was one, "is Victor Zsasz." He paused for a moment before addressing this Zsasz, "Did I say that right?" He then looked away before he received an affirmation. "Anyway, he's one of the big names that came out during my absence in Gotham, and let me tell you, he had racked up a higher body count than any hitman I've ever met."
"My earlier statement remains," Bane retorted, not impressed with his lieutenant's find.
This Victor Zsasz saw fit to answer for himself. Opening the coat, the bald man revealed a body covered in tally marks. At first, Bane had thought he was seeing tattoos, but in the blink of an eye he recognized them as scars. In fact, on the upper left arm were three fresh cuts. Was this man a person who found pleasure in pain?
"Every mark on my body is a zombie that I have liberated," Zsasz stated. "One life, one mark."
Suddenly, the boast about a high body count seemed plausible, though the giant of a man continued to nurse his doubts. Judging by the number of scars, if the claim was true, then this man was responsible for more deaths than himself.
"This guy faced the Batman and escaped him. There's videos online that prove it," Bird continued. "Outside of the Joker, no one has killed more people than him. He knows his way around a knife and if nothing else he can keep the cops off our backs while they try to hunt him down."
A distraction for the police? An interesting proposal, and one that held promise due to the GCPD's aggressive approach in opposing him. As it stood, law enforcement was united in their fight against him and continued to grow bolder with every day that passed. They would need to be taught another lesson on why antagonizing him was not a smart decision.
On top of that, this serial killer would inspire fear and panic in the city, the kind only a faceless murder machine could. The public's fascination with these kinds of animals was another weapon that could be used while he fought to solidify his grip over the city.
"Very well," Bane said. "How much is a life to you?"
"Worthless," Zsasz answered immediately.
"Let me say it differently: how much money is a life to you?"
Zsasz frowned, showing confusion. "Money?"
"For every life you take, whether it is a cop, a hero, a criminal, or an innocent, I will pay you for every mark you carve into your skin. How much would you accept for each mark?" the masked man explained patiently.
"I don't know. How much are you willing to pay?" Zsasz seemed slow to accept such a deal and in the process had given all bargaining power to him. It seemed the man was more interested in his kill than actually profiting from them. A pity, but one that worked in Bane's favor.
"A thousand for each mark," Bane declared. "Return to Bird every day and he will pay you what is owed. Now go and begin your hunt. No one is off limits."
Zsasz nodded slowly, then closed up his coat, turning to leave and do as he was bid. This would be a work in progress, but he did not foresee having to put much effort into it. Zsasz was like a dog on a leash; release the leash and he will do what is pleasurable to him.
With that "recruit" out of the way, he turned back to Bird and waited for the second one.
"Right, well, this guy here," and this one was a short man who wore a long coat with an oversized bow tie. In his hands he held what looked like a top hat, which the man fiddled with the brim out of anxiety, "is one of the crazies that the city has come to be known for. His name's Jervis Tetch. I don't know too much, but what I did find out was that he invented some kind of mind control technology. Thought you would be interested in that."
Jervis Tetch? Bane was familiar with the name, but even then details escaped him. The part about mind control caught his attention and verification was needed immediately.
"Is this true?" he demanded of the short man who jumped at the sound of his voice.
"W-why indubitably, my good sir!" Tetch responded. "I have mastered the skills needed to, uh, bring any and all under the control of a sole person, though as of late I have not had the ability to, uh, shall we say, continue any sort of, um, innovations to my work?" A very talkative type once he started, was he not?
"Explain your previous work and its limitation."
Tetch squirmed under his scrutiny. "I was able to place, um, a number of people under my personal control. This control lasted quite some time, several weeks if I don't say so myself. There were no disruptions at all...until the Batman intruded upon my Wonderland and stole my precious Alice from me!"
"Enough," Bane commanded, already recognizing a rant in its initial stages. From what he had heard, this small man was confident in his claims. However, it seemed he lacked something, ambition perhaps.
Himself, on the other hand, had that in spades.
"Are you able to replicate it?" Bane asked. "Your mind control technology."
"The plans have never left my braincase, good sir. I could do it right now with some spare parts if you would like." It seemed when speaking on the man's expertise, his confidence made up for the lack of ambition.
"I am thinking bigger than a small group of people," he stated. "What would you need for an area the size of a city?"
"A-a city?" Tetch stammered.
"A city," the hulk of a man confirmed.
"That would...I have never done...it would take so much…"
"Figure it out," Bane ordered as he stood up to his full height, towering over everyone in the vicinity easily. "Present to me plans that will be of use to me. Please me, and I will allow you to build it. I will provide all that is necessary. In return, you will work for me, and me alone. You will not undermine my endeavors in any way, shape, or form. Do so, and I will do to you what I do to all who cross me. Do you understand?"
"O-o-o-of c-c-course!" Tetch was shrinking in on himself, and it was not helped out when Bird slapped a companionable hand on his thin shoulders.
Giving a nod, Bane looked over Bird and at a third man. Like Zsasz, he was bald, but unlike the first two "recruits," this one was better built and wore a suit and tie, much like the member of organized crime would wear. "And who is he?"
Like Zsasz, this bald man spoke for himself. "I represent a special interest in the city that would like to arrange a meet with you."
"A special interest?" Bane questioned flatly, his doubt audible for all. "What special interests are left in this city that believe they have any clout to negotiate with me."
"My boss has managed to keep himself out of all of this. He ignored that call from that Falcone wannabe, figuring you'd crush him before he got started. He's noticed that things seem to be turning against you and he believes that if anyone is going to rule this city, it's going to be you, so either he tries to find a place under you, or you put him out of business," the bald man explained. "He's willing to meet you on your terms, wherever you want. There will be no traps, no ambushes, nothing. Everyone else whose tried has failed and if you haven't fallen to any of that, why would you fall for his?"
"Explain to me how this boss of yours has managed to keep himself hidden from me for so long." Out of all the claims that were made so far, this one was the one he believed the least.
"Because he wasn't able to do much of anything until he got sprung from the pen a few months ago—and thanks to you knocking off the Bat, he's been able to build up his own 'business,' and its gotten to the point where he needs a partner. Someone like you. He's very eager to get something set up, and he even knows a few things about this city, especially how its been changing."
Though his mask showed nothing, Bane's eyes were narrowed. Again with a proposition that seemed too good to be true. What would he choose to do? The answer was obvious.
"I would like speak with your boss personally and not in a predetermined meet. Not yet," he stated.
The bald man pulled out an iPhone. "I can call him and you can speak with him right now."
Bird shot a look at him. Bane stared this messenger down.
Then he held out his hand.
"Citizens of of Gotham, I know that the last several weeks have been nothing short of a nightmare. The crime rate keeps increasing, criminals have taken our streets and livelihoods away from us, and now they are destroying everything we have worked so hard to build. In light of the senseless destruction of Wonder Tower, I am instituting martial law across Gotham until this situation has been has been resolved. A curfew…"
By this point, the members of the Network had begun to tune out the Mayor's press conference. There was nothing else that needed to be listened to after the words "martial law" had been said. This was not good.
"I never thought Hady would have the balls," Manhunter muttered, glaring down at the table.
"I don't know who your local politicians are, but I'm not really surprised. The thing that does is that he waited so long to do it," Green Arrow remarked. Looking at the brunette vigilante, he added, "You don't sound like you're this guy's biggest fan."
Manhunter shrugged her shoulders as she looked up at the Star City hero. "I voted for the other guy."
"The big thing here is that the police just got a lot of authority in a short amount of time. When they do enact martial law, it's usually zero tolerance for any kind of criminal activity, including vigilantism," Oracle cut in. "Things are going to be more dangerous out there. There's not only Bane and the Demon's Fang, but now the cops are going to be a bigger threat to us."
"So what do we do? What's our next move?" Nightwing asked the group. "The odds are stacked against us more so than ever."
Predictably, it was Red Hood who spoke first. "We need to stop being pussies about this. We've gotta take Bane down and do it now. No more going after small fries, or little stuff. We have to go after the big man himself."
"Kid, I know you mean well, but we are not ready for him. When we have trouble taking down Hugo Strange and whatever he cooks up in whatever laboratory he uses when he's not turning D.A.s into violent monsters, we're not ready for him."
"And we haven't seen any signs of the Demon's Fang since they first showed up, but if what we're hearing is right, they've been doing a better job of taking on Bane than we have," Manhunter added.
"We're not just going to let these guys take your city from you," Green Arrow piped up before a trembling Red Hood could.
"For now the best we can do is let them fight it out and take them both down when they're both weak," Nightwing said, though you could hear the frustration in his voice. It was clear that he didn't like such an idea, and the body language of the rest of the gathering shared the same feeling.
"Um, what about that Phantasm guy? I think we stood up to him better than the rest," Spoiler suggested.
"That's easier said than done. We don't know where to find that guy and he has a knack for staying hidden," Huntress told them all. "Back when that guy was killing mob bosses, Black Canary, Katana, and myself only met him once. Who knows how many times Batman managed to find him. The only way we're going to find him is by accident."
"Oh." Spoiler's shoulders slumped as her idea was shot down.
"Hold on a minute," Green Arrow said, holding up a hand. "Everything I've heard about this guy is that he goes after bad guys. You've mentioned mobsters before, and last night he was targeting Strange. Maybe we can use that and bait him into a trap."
"How? Put up a sign that says 'I'm a mob boss, please kill me, Phantasm'?" Huntress snarked.
"Maybe we don't have to do that," Katana spoke quietly. "Perhaps there is another way."
"And what way is that?" Huntress asked with a lot less snark in his voice.
"The Phantasm always kills his mark, does he not?" Katana pointed out.
"I'm guessing that's true," Manhunter said, voicing what those who were not following were thinking. Logically, if you killed bad guys, you made sure you killed them, right?
"Not all of his marks are dead," Katana stated. "Hugo Strange still lives."
"And he'll come after Strange to finish the job," Nightwing said, realization hitting him. "Oracle, what's the status of Strange?"
Barely a minute passed before the computer hacker responded. "He's currently being held at Gotham Mercy in a medical coma. He's recovering from a massive heart attack brought on by having a huge amount of adrenaline in his system. I'm guessing the fear toxin he breathed in pushed him over the edge for that. The GCPD have guards stationed at his room while he recovers and detoxes from that Monster Man serum he was bragging about."
"The cops won't stop the Phantasm, not if that guy's determined," Huntress said, sharing a look with them all. "I guess we have a place where that guy's going to show up."
"And we'll be there when he does," Green Arrow added.
"Oh come on! Why are you guys talking about going after some punk who dresses like a ghost?" Red Hood exclaimed. "Bane's the guy we should be going after! What are we going to do about him?"
"Haven't you been listening, or you know, watching?" Bluebird spoke up. "We're still warming up from that guy, getting experience and all until we're strong enough to take him. We still gotta find where he's hiding all that Venom, you know? And didn't that Strange guy use Venom to make that stuff of his? How'd he find it?"
"And another reason to keep that guy alive, so we can find that out," Huntress muttered.
"The Phantasm's more on our level. I wasn't watching, but judging by how no one stopped me from shocking Strange alive, we are good enough to hold him off, if not beat him. This is one more problem we will have to deal with at some point and if not now, when? We can't let a known killer stay out on the streets, especially when we know we can do something about it."
"So long as the cops don't get to us first," Huntress drawled. "I think we're all...mostly in agreement of what we're doing next. Oracle, can you keep an eye on Strange while we try to find where Bane keeps his Venom? We might as well try to kill two birds with one stone. And to make sure, lets have someone close to Gotham Mercy in case the Phantasm makes a move early."
The spineless mayor may have declared martial law, but Bane was not intimidated by such a paltry show of power. He would walk the streets whenever he saw fit and that was where he was. As the sun descended over the horizon, he waited outside of the Gotham City Port Authority for this would-be partner that was desperately trying to meet him.
The phone call had been peculiar. A heavily-accented voice had been most insistent on a meet-up, you could almost hear the desperation as the man on the other end agreed to all conditions and any locations.
Since he had found greater success with ambushes, Bane had ensured that he would be the one ready to unleash one if necessary.
The appointed hour arrived and so did this would-be business partner. Arriving in a car that parked across the street, the masked man watched as two individuals exited the vehicle. One was a woman who had the air of a secretary about her, nothing that really made her stand out to him. The much shorter male, however, was the one that had his attention. It had been a male who had spoken to him over the phone so this had to be him.
Squat would be one way to describe him, though the fur-lined coat he wore attempted to make him appear bigger. It achieved that for width, but not height. Dark, groomed hair lined the side of a head that was starting to bald prematurely, framing a face that possessed a prominent nose. The only thing of note that Bane could spot was that this man carried an umbrella with him, and so he left his vantage point to go down and meet with this contact.
"Evenin', Mr. Bane," the man greeted as the Santa Prisca native appeared before him. To his credit, the umbrella carrying man showed no signs of intimidation in his eyes, even with the monocle worn over the left one. "I'm glad you was able ta make the time ta meet with me."
The accent confirmed that this was the caller. "You wish to do business with me. Tell me of your proposal," Bane ordered, arms crossed over his chest.
Instead of inanely commenting about being the time to be straight to business, the squat man nodded his head. "The name's Oswald Cobblepot, and I'm a man with a talent for business. Any bloke with a head on his shoulders has to know this, and so I want in. Figured that if you're takin' power, you're goin' ta need ways to keep yourself there."
"What are you offering that I do not have myself?" Cobblepot was taking too long in his opinion to get to the point.
"It's only a matter o' time till you start runnin' out o' resources, at least the ones you've brought with ya. Aye, I know 'bout the kind o' hardware you've runnin' 'round with. Some good stuff, that. What I'm offerin' is gettin' ya more o' it. See, I've been able ta make some contacts recently, get some supply lines established. 'Stead o' waitin' for you ta come after me an' take them for yourself, I'm wantin' ta give them to ya in exchange for remainin' the middle man, so to speak." Cobblepot gave a crooked smile once he had finished speaking.
This man had a talent for thinking highly of himself and yet able to show himself as lesser. First bragging of his contacts then supplicating himself by giving them to him. This man was playing a game, and Bane was tired of games.
"Why do I need you when I can take these contacts of yours for myself?" he questioned.
Cobblepot pulled out a thin cigarette holder, and placed a cigarette in one of the ends. Lighting it up, he took in a deep breath before exhaling a cloud of tobacco. "'Cause I offer more than a simple weapons contract. I've been in this city for quite some time, watchin' it change, keepin' an eye on it with an ear to the ground. This ain't your father's Gotham anymore. If you mean ta not just take it, but keep it, you'll need information, the kind that can only come from one who's been in the crosshairs. Someone who's been 'ere the whole time as e'erythin' changed."
"I have my connections and information sources. You offer me nothing I do not already have," Bane retorted.
"Aye, in his heyday, Birdy Colosimo was well connected," Cobblepot agreed, speaking around that cigarette holder. "Howe'er, he's been out o' the country for a long time, and many o' his ol' contacts are out o' business, so to speak. Some o' them left town, others have been killed thanks ta all the violence, all no longer have the clout they once had."
That Cobblepot knew of Bird was surprising. The man was well-informed, or was able to find out information. A man with such a talent like that tended to chafe under the rule of another, desiring their own power. With Bird, he had unwavering loyalty, but not so with this man.
After the offers of working with others turning out to be ruses, he was not about to rush in on another. There was always some kind of catch in this city as he had been learning.
What was Cobblepot's angle, he wondered. While his appearance was nothing attractive, his accent distracting, it beggared belief that this short man could deliver on his big words. He had yet to prove himself either.
Bird he could trust, that was why he had allowed those recruits to work for him. Loyalty like that, in Gotham, was priceless.
"Be grateful that I do not kill you for wasting my time. I do not believe your claims hold any merit," he stated.
"Now, now, I am not stupid enough ta come 'ere with only a bluff," Cobblepot was quick to caution. "Unlike some people, I always make sure that I can back myself up."
"Yet all you offer are words and nothing else," Bane retorted. "I want proof that you are able to follow through, because words mean nothing to me."
"Let no one say you ain't a smart man, Bane, because you are," Cobblepot praised, empty though it was. "I'll be back 'ere in a few hours to show you my wares. Let me prove that I am indeed worth my salt. After that, you can judge me. How does that sound?"
"You should already be showing me your 'wares,' yet you come here with nothing. I am not impressed. Now go." Not waiting to hear out anymore, Bane turned to leave. He had heard what was pitched and he was not biting. While killing Cobblepot would show that he was not willing to waste his time, there was very little else he could get from it. To have another man's blood on his hands that did not advance his agenda would be a true waste. Every life purchased something and worthless lives purchased nothing unless you gave them meaning.
The only lives that held any meaning to Bane were those of his enemies because each victory over them made him stronger. Each triumph granted him more power over the masses. Each death was worth more than its weight in gold. The deaths of Ra's al Ghul and the Joker were ones that he craved to add to his legend.
That was all the difference.
Oswald exhaled a large cloud of smoke. Now that could have gone better.
"It seems he is not taking you serious, Mr. Cobblepot," Ms. Lark remarked to him.
"'Haps I came on a bit weak there. No matter." Shrugging his shoulders, he turned around and began heading to the car. His assistant, a very trustworthy Lark who, while having luscious dark hair, was nothing like Candice, followed after him. "I can still use this. For a moment, I had 'em. Now, I need ta give 'em a reason to want me."
Opening a door for him, Lark asked, "How do you plan to do so?"
"Simple really. I 'ave a supply, but no demand. So I need ta create a demand." Taking a seat in the back, he took another drag of his cigarette. "There's nothin' a little anonymous tip can't help with. I'm thinkin' the dump over on Clinton will shake things up. Desperate times makes for desperate bedfellows and all."
To gary: He does have a unique way of looking at life lol