Chapter Two
I sat on the floor in the corner of Black Mask's main 'office', fiddling with the heavy leather cuffs on my orange coveralls. This was bizarre, this whole situation. Well, more honestly my whole life had turned odd. I'd been in Blackgate before, a few times even. Due to a chain of painful events I now worked as a jail breaker. It was exactly as it sounded, I was hired to spring people from prisons, penitentiaries, psych wards, whatever. The simplest way to get targets out meant getting myself incarcerated. Under normal circumstances the target and I would've been out of Blackgate within days of my arrival, but I'd been placed in solitary for the first few weeks this time around. When I was back with the rest of the population I barely had time to breath before the riots started. Now with my target killed in the riots, the takeover, and 24-hour police blockade, I had little chance of a clean getaway. So here I was, stuck in an overcrowded prison with murderers, psychopaths, rapists, and super criminals.
Black Mask's higher ups were gathered in the room, each sporting gimpy masks to imitate their boss. Occasionally they shot me curious looks, but mostly kept to themselves with their boss around. Black Mask stood leaning over a desk, glaring down at what looked like blue prints. I blew my bangs out of my eyes. I'd been woken up by the buzzing of my cell door clunking open, one of Black Mask's men outside waiting to escort me up to the office. That was hours ago. Initially I'd been shivering, terrified, but had settled down to a constant worry.
"Boss? Who's the kid?" one of the thugs asked. I glanced up and snapped my attention back to my cuffs when I realized who they were talking about. Black Mask wasn't wearing his suit jacket, his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and gun holsters fully exposed.
"Who? Ah, she's a nobody. Now get out, I need to talk to a nobody." The thugs immediately filed out of the room, leaving me as the sole recipient of his attention.
"Forgot you were here. So quiet," he came around the desk, pulling a chair behind him as he approached. Turning the chair backwards, he straddled it and popped open a switchblade. I eyed the knife, gulping.
"Did you need something?" I croaked, failing to hide the quiver in my voice. The edge of the blade caught my chin, forcing me to tilt my head up to face him. There was a smile in his dark eyes.
"Look at that, such a sweet doll face under all those scars. Makes me jealous someone got to you first," he murmured, trailing the tip of the blade across the many raised red scars knotting over my face. My jaw tensed, this was a line of thought I'd rather avoid with this particular man.
He remained quiet, studying the shiny red slashes crawling down the side of my neck. He flipped the knife, eliciting a gasp from me then pressed the blade against the plump of my bottom limp.
"Did you know the files for every inmate in this section have backups in this office?" he asked softly, leaning forwards to study my lips. I tried to shift backwards, but a gloved hand shot forward and gripped the back of my head, forcing me back to the knife.
"I know about you, why you're here, how your pretty little face got so ugly," he hissed against my cheek, nicking my lips with the blade. A whimper bubbled out before I could stop it. He chuckled next to my ear.
"Please don't," I whispered past the knife.
"Hmm?" Black Mask slide the blade further into my mouth, drawing the edge against my tongue.
"Plea – please don't Sir," I begged, blood trickling past my lips as I spoke. His grip on my hair strengthened, an appreciative rumble emanated from his chest. His mirthful eyes met my teary ones.
"Good girl. I wish I could spend more time exploring you, but there's a reason you're here," he pulled the blade slowly from my mouth, dragging the edge against my tongue. I winced at the long shallow cut.
"There's someone I'm interested in bringing to my ranks. Such an interesting line of work you have, by the way. His cell's not under my jurisdiction otherwise I would've taken care this myself," he said, dropping my head and leaning back to rest his arms across the back of his chair. The blade snapped shut and disappeared into a pocket somewhere. I pressed my bleeding tongue against the roof of my mouth. He stood, moving back to his desk and motioning for me to join him. I clambered to my feet, quickly wiping away any tears, then made my way to his desk. He traced his hands over the blueprints, fingers running from our current location to the edge of his territory.
"He'll be underground, in one of the larger basement solitary cells between buildings here," he turned sharply to face me "got it?"
"Isn't that Joker's space?" I asked tentatively. His hand clenched into a fist.
"Why do you think I can't get him out myself?" he hissed. I stood up straight, leaning away from him.
"Right, sorry. I'll get him, let me look these over first," I apologized quickly. I didn't have time to react when he gripped my arms and spun me around. Metal bit into my stomach, tearing the fabric of my uniform as he pinned me against the desk. I floundered at his closeness, desperately wanting to shove him away, but knowing it would only make him more likely to rip me open. I settled for gripping the edge of the desk.
"If you can't, well then hurry back so we can have fun together," he sighed in my ear. A drop of blood trickled down my stomach. I nodded quickly, eyes screwing shut as I leaned away from him.
"Yes Sir."
"Good Girl."