Chapter Six
I tried not to, I really did, but I practically inhaled the food I'd gotten from storage. It was so good not to eat something covered in sugar foam or imitation chocolate. And the jerky! I'd always eaten a primarily vegetarian diet, meat was just too heavy a food item, but I don't think I'd ever savored something so deeply before. I spent almost fifteen minutes just sucking on my last pieces of the teriyaki-flavored meat. Lying in bed, cocooned in sheets and licking sticky pineapple juice from my lips, I was almost asleep when my door buzzed and clunked open.
"C'mon Dollface, Black Mask wants to see ya," one of the goons called, hitting a pipe against the cell's bar. That nickname wasn't actually sticking was it? I groaned, forcing my way out of the sheets and following him to the offices. I didn't bother locking the door behind me; all I had worth stealing were two pairs of underwear and shit load of blankets.
I stood with my arms crossed and shoulders hunched, trying to make myself more invisible than I already was, at the back of the office. My efforts were being rendered invalid by the giant crocodile man standing a bit too close to my side. At a safer distance a few masked goons milled about the room, but no sign of the man in charge. I huffed, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. He had to be late to a meeting he'd called to keep up his dominant image. Men.
I'd been focusing all my brainpower trying to figure what Croc was attempting to hum, so I missed when Black Mask entered the room. I didn't miss when he shot the man to his right point blank in the face.
"Now if anyone would like a repeat, then please, continue," of course he was met with complete silence. I didn't realize I'd moved closer to Croc until I heard him snort.
"I'm moving a few guns from Penguin and you lot will be picking them up." I practically felt my brain cramp. Why, of everyone under his control, was I part of this? I threw my head back, taking a deep breath. Keep it under control; don't want to get mouthy and end up like that other guy.
"Most of you dumbasses know the only way to Penguin is through Joker's facility. You'll be meeting Penguin's people midway in a basement sublevel for the exchange," he slammed a stack of folders three inches thick onto the desk "this is his end, the guns are mine. Mess this up and don't come back." I gripped the cuffs of my coveralls. What could possibly be in those folders that were worth guns?
Barking at the group, the other four men were each given guns with one of them appointed 'leader'. He was the one who had to deal with the directions. Croc wasn't given a weapon; the man was lethal enough with his hands and accompanying us mainly for the intimidation factor. Lastly, Black Mask approached me and slapped the folders against my chest, leveling a baleful gaze at me.
"What do you think Dollface? Say the word and I'll let you out of this," his smooth as ash voice offered. I clenched the folders in my hands, glaring at the onyx mask. I wasn't going to fall for that.
"No thank you Sir," I grit back. There was a flash of humor in his eyes before he turned, snarling commands at the other men. I sighed, deflating. This was my life now, on par with a drug runner. Except incredibly worse and way more illegal. The group eventually formed out in the hall, the four men in front followed by Croc and I. The armed goons did a good job looking fearless, but Croc demonstrated he had a sense of humor and was also an asshole by randomly snarling, causing the men to practically jump out of their skins. Each time he did it, he'd cast me a sideways glance, grinning. At first I was able to turn up my nose, but by the third time I had to cover the stupid grin marring my face. Such a bastard.
Ignoring further shenanigans, I turned my attention to the folders. Deciding there was little more trouble I could get into I flipped through the tabs. These were the inmate files for prisoners in Black Mask's zone. I glanced over the details of one curiously. These had everything, a person's weight, eye color, ethnic background, and other obvious things as well as past and current criminal and incarceration history and any psych evaluations. Flipping through the folders I didn't find mine. So these weren't everyone's. Why would Penguin want this information, let alone it being incomplete? If Black Mask was sending me along then it wasn't out of the bounds of logic Penguin's men would remember me and notice I wasn't in the files, I had an obvious face. Was this information on Black Mask's men valuable enough on its own to warrant another exchange to get the rest? Penguin did have a pretty hefty corner of the black market in his pocket, maybe he was reselling inmate info to someone. I frowned, slapping the files back against my chest. I'd never make a good super criminal, none of this shit made any sense.
We rounded a corner and found a group of eight men loitering in the middle of the hall. I tensed, this was the first time I'd seen Penguin's men and damn it all if they weren't armed to the teeth. I knew about as much about cars as I did about guns, I could use one if I had to but I didn't have a license and couldn't name the make and model. But Penguin's men were sporting weapons that not only looked wicked deadly, but also not like something one would find in the Blackgate guards' armory. I suppose being the king of Gotham's weapons black market had its perks even through a police blockade and prison walls.
Coming to a halt about twenty feet from the group, a smiling man with a shaved head who appeared to be in his mid 30's stepped forward. He didn't have a visible weapon. Ballsy.
"Well, well, well, looks like Joker's security's gettin' slack," he snorted, grinning at us. Two of Black Mask's men visibly eased, one even resting his shotgun back against his shoulder with his other hand on his hip.
"I'll be damned, if it ain't Loose Lips! How the hell are ya man?" one of my group laughed, sounding as if he'd reunited with an old friend. The bald man's grin broadened, eyes twinkling.
"Doin' great, thanks for askin'! But I'll be doin' a hell of a lot better if I don't need to go pumpin' you kids full ah holes," my group scoffed at his remark "now, now, kiddies, you bring what ol' Mr. Cobblepott asked for?" he planted his hands on his hips. I really couldn't decide how to feel about this guy's casual behavior. This was an arms deal, right? Something meant to be taken seriously. I looked around and realizing everyone was eyeing me I quickly stepped forward.
"This is it," I affirmed, holding the files out. Loose Lips looked me over curiously. "And to whom do I owe my thanks?" he asked, grabbing but not taking the folders. I frowned. Shit. I didn't want to tell some random my name, but this deal didn't need to go sour because I was being private.
"Dollface," I mumbled, then blushed as he pulled the files and one of my hands forward, planting a kiss on the back of it. "My pleasure then, Dollface," he husked, smirking against my hand. The snarl Croc let loose had me flinching back as both groups snapped their guns at each other, shredding whatever fragile ease between the groups. Loose Lips didn't jump to his credit, but quickly dropped my hand in favor of retreating into his ranks.
"Alright, alright, I'll stop teasin' your girl Croc. I didn't know, don't worry about it," he snapped his fingers, waving a hand "here's your toys. Your man knows who to ask if ya need more." Three cases were passed to Black Mask's men before Loose Lips dipped a gracious bow and both sets of thugs warily backed away from each other until they were no longer in sight.
I heaved the case I'd been given, pulling it up into both arms to better manage the weight. Well that had gone immensely better than I'd hoped. However I avoided looking at Croc, whatever his outburst had been about left me a little worried. Turns out I wouldn't have time to confuse myself over the issue because as we rounded onto the main levels we came face to face with a mob of Joker's men.
/AN: Ricky "Loose Lips" Leblanc is the best, one of the only good things to come out of Arkham Origins/