"We're going off tonight
To kick out every light,
Take anything we want,
Drink everything in sight.
We're going till the world stops turning,
While we burn it to the ground tonight."
"Burn it Down" –Nickelback
Chapter Twenty:
"Give me a job."
Margot stood at the end of the long table, her fists resting on it as she stared at the man at the other end.
"A bit eager, are we?" Penguin noted with an amused smile.
She was eager. Eager to throw herself into the pit so that she could fight her way out. She'd do whatever it took. She just wanted it to be over. She wanted the debt hanging over her head to be gone so that she could forget that she'd ever made the mistake of sacrificing her good standing, her pride and honor, to help a woman who had abandoned her in the end, leaving her with nothing but debt and an empty apartment.
Because everybody left eventually.
That was the way of the world.
"Yes," she said, regarding the man hostilely, ignoring the other eyes that were on her—the guards in the doorway, Cat at the end of the table. "Just give me a job."
Penguin shrugged. "I'd be happy to, Margaret, but there's just nothing I can give you right now."
She slammed her hands on the table, startling everybody in the room. "Give me a fucking job!"
Penguin hardly blinked. "Butch—" He nodded to a man that stood by the fireplace.
The man inclined his head, stepping forward towards Margot.
"Don't you lay a fucking hand on me!" she warned Butch as he approached.
He ignored her, grabbing her by the collar of her jacket.
She pulled away abruptly, yanking him forward by the arm and thrusting him into the ground, twisting his arm behind his back. "I told you not to touch me," she snarled.
Something sharp suddenly burned into her neck, and she jerked as searing electricity coursed through her. She dropped to the ground limply, and the man who had tased her dragged her from the room, heaving her from the building and out onto the street.
Margot lay on her back, staring up at the dark sky, hearing vehicles and people pass by, giving her wide berth. To them, she was just another lowlife, probably high. And they were right. She was no better than scum.
Somebody approached after a few minutes, and Margot found herself staring into Cat's curious green eyes. "Get up," said the girl, offering her a hand.
"Go away," Margot responded coldly.
The girl frowned at her. "What's your problem?"
"I don't have a problem," she growled, slowly pulling herself into a sitting position.
"You have a problem," Cat asserted. "Nobody asks for jobs."
"What do you know?" she retorted.
The girl just glared, crouching on a nearby set of stairs. "You used to be cool. Now you're just a junkie looking for another fix."
And before Margot could reply snidely, the girl disappeared.
The job came eventually.
This time, when Penguin slid the photo across the table, Margot recognized the target. A man who'd recently been on the news. A hero, not a criminal.
She looked up with a frown. "I can't take this job."
"You will," said Penguin with surprising intensity. "You will kill him."
"Why?"
"You don't ask why!" spit the man, rising abruptly from his chair. "You do as I say!"
"He's not a criminal! I don't kill innocent people!"
Penguin looked sharply at her and suddenly began to laugh. "Margaret, my friend, he's no innocent." A thought seemed to cross his mind, and he continued, "Kill this man, and I promise, I'll let you out of your contract. Think of it as your last job. Then you're free."
She hesitated. "My last job?" she echoed.
"You'll never hear from me again."
Margot stared back down at the photo of the smiling man. She'd seen him on the news. He'd saved Bruce at the children's hospital gala. She would have done that once. Just weeks ago, if she'd been asked, she would have leapt in front of a train to save the boy. She still would, she supposed, but it wasn't her place. Honestly, it never had been. And here this stranger came along—
"Fine."
If it meant her freedom, there was no price too high.
Besides, everybody in Gotham had a dark secret. Surely this man was no different.
She scaled to the top of the building, realizing how familiar she was becoming with the rooftops of Gotham. From her position, she had a perfect view of the penthouse across the way. The curtains were closed over most of the windows, but there was an opening through which she had a glimpse of the elevator door.
When Theo Galavan passed through that door, he'd get a bullet in the head.
Margot waited, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders. It wasn't a particularly chilly night, but she was shivering anyway. This was it. Her last hit. Then she'd be done, and she could move on.
What would she do? She wasn't sure.
She couldn't go back to Wayne Manor. She'd quit. She'd been gone for weeks, picking up stray jobs here and there to scrape enough together to pay rent.
She could leave Gotham.
She'd thought about it before, wondered what it would be like. Of course, back then, she'd had things keeping her there. Her mother. Her schooling. Her job. Now she had none of that.
Below, a car pulled up to the front of the building. Margot trained her scope on the figure that exited the car. It was him. Her target.
She didn't have a clear shot from there, so she'd have to wait for him to take the elevator and enter the penthouse.
Her phone suddenly rang, startling her. She'd forgotten to put it on silent.
Cursing, she rifled through her pockets, pulling the phone out to turn it off, but she caught sight of the caller ID. Wayne Manor.
She glanced through her scope. Galavan was probably already in the elevator, on his way up. Who was calling her from Wayne Manor? Bruce? Alfred?
Margot wasn't sure why, but she found herself answering the call almost automatically.
"Hello?"
"Margot."
Alfred's voice jolted her like a shock of electricity.
"Alfred," she replied.
"Terribly sorry to bother you," he said, though the tone of his voice was crisp and perfunctory, as if he didn't really care at all. "Master Bruce has expressed to me that he wishes to invite you for tea tomorrow."
"Tea?" she inquired in surprise, pressing her eye to the scope again. Still in the elevator.
She hadn't spoken to Bruce since before she'd quit. She'd just disappeared quietly from his life, hoping that he'd accept that. Apparently not.
"I'd say it's the least you could do," replied Alfred coolly, "considering the horticultural bind you've left us in."
There it was, the light above the elevator. The door opened and Galavan stepped out, pausing in front of it to check his phone. It was her shot.
"Margot?"
Alfred's voice tugged at her just as her finger touched the trigger. She hesitated.
Some unseen person said something, and Galavan looked up, pocketed his phone, and stepped out of sight.
Margot released her grip on the rifle with a soft sigh.
"All right," she agreed wearily. "I'll come."
"Teatime then."
The call ended with a click, and Margot leaned against the ledge of the building, closing her eyes and letting her head roll back in exhaustion. Tea then, at Wayne Manor. And then she'd take care of Galavan. Little did he know that Alfred Pennyworth had just prolonged his life.
She arrived early at the manor, her heart in her throat, her stomach in knots. She didn't feel ready to see Bruce, to face the questions he surely had. And Alfred, well he'd made it clear over the phone that he wouldn't be happy to see her.
She hoped to go unnoticed for a bit, so that she could wander through the gardens, just to reminisce. She'd been happy there, she realized. It seemed so distant now.
Alfred was at the door as she got off of her bike and pulled her helmet from her head.
He watched her from the doorway, noting, "You're early."
"I know," she replied. When he didn't say anything, she tentatively inquired, "You don't mind if I have a walk through the gardens, do you? For old times' sake?"
"I'll accompany you," he said with a curt nod.
Margot was silent as they walked side by side over the grounds. She tried to focus on the plants, but she found herself casting furtive glances at the man beside her, while he simply stared stonily ahead.
Finally, the silence was too much to bear. "Your new gardener has a heavy hand when it comes to shrubbery," she observed.
"He's only filling the position temporarily," said Alfred without glancing her way. Something about the way he answered made her suspect that he was the temporary gardener. Had they really not filled the position yet?
Maybe they didn't want to.
"You and Bruce didn't invite me here to convince me to take back my old job, did you?" she inquired suspiciously.
"No."
There was almost something heavy and accusing in that "no".
They walked for a bit longer, before it began to drizzle, and Alfred suggested that they go inside.
Margot agreed.
In the study, Alfred offered her a chair, which she took. He stood by the window, watching as the drizzle slowly turned into a steady downpour. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.
"Is Bruce coming?" she asked after a while.
"Why did you quit, Margot?" Alfred inquired, turning to face her.
She saw the lines on his face, the exhaustion that seemed to bear down on him like a great weight.
"I decided it was time to move on to something else."
"Move on to what? What exactly have you been up to?"
Margot was startled and a little shocked by the sharp tone in the man's voice.
Alfred approached, reaching into his pocket and setting something down forcefully on the table in front of her. It rolled and came to a stop, a shell casing for a .300 Win Mag slug. The caliber of bullet that she used. The casing she hadn't noticed fall out of her pocket the night her mother had died.
"Where did you get that?" she asked hoarsely, looking up at him in horror.
"I expect that you didn't intend to leave it behind, then," he responded icily. "Why are you carrying around empty casings, Margot? And what exactly are you doing with sniper rounds?"
She stared up at him quietly, searching for anything to say, anything but the truth. But it was the truth that reluctantly spilled from her lips as she sighed heavily and dropped her head into her hands.
"I didn't have the money to pay my mom's hospital bills," she confessed tentatively, feeling almost relieved to finally say it aloud. "I borrowed it from Fish Mooney. It was stupid," she admitted. "It was fucking stupid, but I didn't know where else to turn." She looked up and added, "I thought it would be fine, but she made me work to pay off the debt, and when she disappeared, somebody else took over. That's when I realized I wasn't getting out. I didn't want you and Bruce to get involved, so I quit."
Alfred was silent for a long time, and when he spoke his voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of fury that made Margot flinch.
"Why the hell would you do something so foolish?" he hissed. "If you were in trouble, why didn't you come to us?"
"What would you have done?" she retorted. "I didn't think I had a choice!"
"There's always a choice!"
Margot got to her feet. "I have to go."
Alfred stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Are you still involved in this?"
She didn't answer, avoiding his accusing stare.
"What do they have you doing?"
"I've got it taken care of," she told him, glaring up at him.
"How? I know fellas like these, Margot. If you don't pay them cash, they'll hang the debt over your head indefinitely. You'll be a wind-up toy that they send to do their bidding."
"I can handle myself."
She wrenched her arm from his grasp and hastily left the room. She paused in the corridor to gather herself before she left, climbing onto her bike and speeding away.
Alfred hadn't followed her. Of course he hadn't. Why would he? He was there to protect Bruce from people like her.