A/N: I'm alive!

Sorry for the extended break between updates. To be entirely honest, I was kinda losing interest in continuing this series. Not having new content to get excited about has made it a lot harder to stay inspired. Plus, I'd been writing a chapter every week (or at least attempting to do so) since December. I was simply exhausted of Gotham, and as I read over my previous five chapters or so, I realized that almost every one of them started with me apologizing for delays. So, I decided to give myself some time away from the series and then come back when I felt ready to continue. And I'm so glad I did because now I feel refreshed and excited for what comes next, and I can't wait to show it to you. Thank you for your patience. I hope to repay it with what's to come in this series.

So this chapter is the third retelling of the events of Chapter 34/36 and it's from Jack's perspective. With that out of the way, here's Chapter 39 of Roles Reversed. Hope you enjoy!

Mister J

As the Flea closed up for the night, Jack Napier fingered through his black pocketbook. Earlier that day, Selina Wayne had come by demanding any information he had on the whereabouts of Bruce Kyle. She had tried to play it off as if Bruce going missing wasn't a big deal, but her eyes told a different story. She was worried.

Granted, she should be. Jack of all people knew that for certain. It was good he'd stuffed away his small, black notebook when he did. Had she seen the contents of it, two whole weeks of work and months of scheming would've been all for naught and his long-term plans would've been brought to a complete halt.

Luckily, she'd seemed too distracted to notice him stash the book away in his jacket.

He told her that he'd pass on the message that she was looking for Bruce. He could've let her go after that, but he saw an chance to get under her skin. He was not one to let such an opportunity pass, so he asked her if Bruce had told her about his 'new job' yet. She asked if he meant working as a bounty hunter, and he smiled. He said that he'd meant the other one.

Her brow furrowed and she asked, "What other one?"

That was all he needed to know. Bruce, that rascal. Holding out on his girlfriend, was he? He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, dismissing the topic just a rumor, the jobs Bruce had done, the things he'd done. He told her that he wasn't one for spreading rumors, but some of the ones he'd heard were pretty damn convincing…

And that was all it took to make Selina Wayne snap.

It was almost impressive how fast she moved, jumping across his desk and landing on the other side with a knife to his throat, all in one fluid movement. She'd pressed the knife down into his jugular. She hissed at him to tell her what he knew.

He simply smiled. One day a scared little girl running away from assassins, seeking refuge in his street mall, the next she's threatening him for information. It almost brought a tear to his eye. They grew up so fast.

And she had grown up, in many ways… He figured he'd take the opportunity presented, since she'd gotten so close of her own accord, and he eyed her up and down. How could Bruce keep all of that for himself? The selfish bastard.

She pressed the knife down a little harder, but he wasn't scared. She didn't know it, but he had a knife, too, hovering just above her spinal cord. In one motion, he could knock her knife away and drive his own through her back. She'd be completely helpless…and with Bruce missing, who would be the wiser if he had a little fun?

It was truly tempting, but word would eventually get out that Selina Wayne had gone missing after a conversation with him. Bruce, being the intelligent lad he was, would put two and two together, and no matter how much fear Jack had put into Bruce over the years, he'd come looking for him, fueled by blind vengeance. A severely pissed off Bruce Kyle was a dangerous thing.

He rolled his eyes, saying that all he'd heard was that he was working for someone in the Underworld. Someone a hell of a lot worse than Penguin. She asked who and he replied that he'd never gotten a name.

Which, up until the night prior, would have been a perfectly true statement.

He diverted the subject, telling her that, if she didn't believe him, she should go ask Bruce himself. Didn't she trust him?

Her gaze went darker, more vicious than he would've thought possible. For a split second, he really believed she was going to split his neck open, right then and there. Half of him was tempted to let her do it, while the other half, the half that actually cared about living, screamed at him to stab her first.

But the glare died and she let go of his collar, sliding her knife back into her shirt sleeve. He set his own knife down on his leg, hiding it under his hand. He rubbed his neck as she stalked off. As she rounded the corner, he shouted that he couldn't wait for the next time they met.

He'd be seeing her again, very, very soon. He was certain of it.

When she was gone, he removed the black book from his jacket and flipped it open to the page he'd been reading for the fifteenth time. He'd learned so much in two weeks, and it was all thanks to one man.

Too bad he'd have to wait until the Flea closed for the night to get more information. After all, information was money. He knew something about everyone who was anyone, something horrible or embarrassing enough to bend even the most strong-willed of people to his every whim.

Take Penguin for example. He knew something about Cobblepot that very few others did. It wasn't too difficult to figure out if you watched him for long enough, and it wasn't anything too big of a deal, but it would still be half-decent blackmail if he ever needed it, especially now that he was mayor.

But there was a difference between little secrets, like the info he had on Cobblepot's…preferences, and the big secrets, the ones that could bring down entire corporations in a day, the ones that could cause a war capable of destroying cities, the ones that could result in massive loss of life. Those secrets were far rarer, and thereby far more precious to him. And if you found someone who knew secrets like that, well…you struck gold.


Finally, the guards ushered out the last few stragglers for the night. Most of his crew went on their separate ways, but a few climbed up the stairs to his balcony office. Among them were his top lieutenants: Ben Turner, Eric Needham, and, his most recent hires, the Abramovici Twins, Hammer and Sickle. They were these two massive guys from some place in Europe, he didn't care to ask, who'd been born attached at the shoulder, and thereby only had one arm each. He'd picked them up from some Russian mobster's crew after they'd gotten annihilated by Cobblepot, only a few short days before Oswald himself had gotten run out of town. Now lost and looking for a job, Hammer and Sickle fell in line and joined up with him. They'd been a perfect addition to his staff, along with Ben, who was basically Bruce with a larger collection of knives, and Eric, a former circus performer whose talent for theft was second to none. His little crew was coming together nicely. And that wasn't even mentioning his interrogator, Phillip Miles, aka The Dentist, who had been hard at work all day, every day for the past couple of weeks.

The Flea doors slammed shut and Jack let out a long sigh. "Any trouble today, boys?" he asked as he fished around in his desk for a set of keys.

Eric slumped into one of the chairs and kicked his feet up on the desk. He reported in a bored voice, "Caught a pair of shoplifters, stopped a fist-fight…eventually, there was a noise complaint from the old dude next door, again…"

"Nothing too out of the ordinary, then," Jack concluded, finally getting hold of his keys. "Did you take care of the shoplifters?"

Eric grinned and nodded. "We made 'em chop each other's fingers off, said they could only have ten between 'em when they were done. We didn't say how to split 'em up."

Jack chuckled. "How'd that go?"

"One was a lot bigger than the other," Ben growled, his brow furrowed with distain.

"And he really wanted to keep his fingers," Eric chimed in, tapping his own digits on his knees. "His poor partner never stood a chance."

"But there was something else, too," Ben stated. "There was a man here today, later in the afternoon."

"Oh, you mean the big guy in the suit?" Eric asked excitedly. He took over for Ben, chattering off, "Yeah, the dude was huge. I'm talking bigger than the Twins," he said, gesturing to the hulking figures behind him. "No offence, boys." They grunted, although he wasn't sure if it was a yes or no.

Ben butt in, "Anyways, this guy walked in, took a long look around the place, and then walked back out."

Jack cocked an eyebrow. "Did he say anything?" Ben shook his head. "Did you recognize him?" Jack asked. The Twins trudged over to the bookshelf on the wall and began pushing it aside.

Ben shook his head, again. "Never seen him before in my life. He was big and tan, Middle-Eastern, but otherwise he was kind of…bland."

"Boring is the word you're looking for," Eric corrected, taking out his knife and absentmindedly carving figure-eights on Jack's desk. "But Ben made me follow him anyways," he complained.

"Did you find anything?" Jack asked as the Twins finally shoved the bookshelf out of the way, revealing a hidden door.

"No," Ben answered, "Eric lost him in the city."

Jack set his keys down on the desk and the room went dead quiet. Ben paled, quickly realizing what he'd just done, and even the Twins shifted their weight between their feet nervously. Eric kept his gaze firmly on the ground. "Is that true, Eric?" Jack asked, his voice light and unassuming. Eric gave a small nod. Jack sighed heavily, like a disappointed parent. "Well, my friend, I must stress to you just how lucky you are that I've had an excellent day, and therefore I'm in a good mood. I'll let this one slide. Next time will be very different. Understand?" Eric gave an even smaller nod. "Good. Now, with that settled, let's go speak to our guest. Twins, if you wouldn't mind standing guard?" They grunted. "Excellent. Turner, Needham, you're with me," Jack ordered as he picked up his keys and unlocked the door.

It opened to a service ladder, which they took down into the basement. It was dark and filthy. A steady stream of cockroaches and rats and other creepy crawlies made their way in and out of the small room. The place looked as if it hadn't been touched since Gotham was first built.

In the center of it was a metal chair on a raised platform. There was a man strapped to it. At the moment, he seemed to be passed out, although it was unclear whether it was from pain or fatigue. Either way, the room was silent except for their footsteps and another man writing notes down on a clipboard. He was leaning up against a desk covered in drills and screwdrivers and a bunch of other dentistry equipment. The majority of it was stained red, just like the captive's mouth.

Jack nodded for Eric and Ben to wait by the door, and he approached the two men. The one with the clipboard, Mr. Miles or The Dentist, gave a small bow. "Mr. Napier," he greeted.

"Philip," Jack replied, walking straight up to his captive. He opened the man's mouth and peered inside, giving a low whistle. "You've done some work."

"With sufficient results," Miles said, handing Jack the clipboard.

As he read over the notes, his smile grew wider and wider. He looked at the weary old man strapped to the chair and shook his head. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he lamented. He shrugged it off, his grin returning as quickly as it went. "Oh well. How did you find all of this? You said there was a molar with–"

"An owl engraved on it," Miles finished, nodding excitedly and fishing a plastic bag out of his pocket. Jack took it and examined the tooth inside. "I happened across it while interrogating him. He fought hard, but when you start ripping molars out…"

"Is this all he said?" Jack asked, scanning over the notes again. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Everything," Miles confirmed. "Names, dates, addresses, plans, everything. We broke him, sir."

Jack gave a short chuckle. "Yes, yes we did. Well done, Phillip. Do you mind if I take this?" he asked, shaking the tooth bag around.

Phillip nodded. "By all means, sir. If the patient wakes up, should I continue interrogations?"

Jack shook his head. "No, no, this is all I need," he said, staring at the goldmine of information in his hands. Actually, scratch that. These secrets were far more valuable than gold.

"Very well, Mr. Napier, sir. I hope you find my results to be satisfac–"

BANG!

Philip slumped to the floor, a black dot on his forehead. Jack slid the revolver back in his pocket and walked towards the ladder, still intently reading over Philip's notes. The blood had drained from Eric's face. Ben stood up much straighter than usual. Jack's sudden acts of violence weren't out of character for him, not by any means, but still…Philip had been a loyal soldier. Jack hadn't even looked at him as he shot him; his eyes had never left that paper.

After a minute or two of eerie silence, Jack folded the paper in half and started towards the ladder. He wasn't smiling, but he had this look in his eye, like a predator who'd just cornered its prey.

Jack climbed up the ladder, calling over his shoulder, "Needham, get rid of the body, then stay here with our guest until I get back. Turner, you're with me."

Ben blinked a few times, looking back at Philip's body. A pair of rats had started curiously nibbling on the chunks of brain that were now scattered across the floor.

He hurried after Jack, throwing an almost sympathetic glance at Eric. As much as he disliked that kid, Jack was an entirely different animal, unpredictably violent and dangerous. Luckily, they were both on his side.

Yet, so was Philip. Tomorrow morning, he'd be rat shit.

Ben quickened his pace, starting up the ladder just as Eric had started to drag Philip's body away from the vermin. He stayed silent as he climbed up to Jack's office, trying to remain as far off his boss's radar as humanly possible. Who knew what he'd be willing to do right now? There was no doubt in Ben's mind that, if he ever crossed Jack, he'd end up just like Philip, just like the dozens of other people who'd gotten in his way.

He finally pulled himself up over the top of the ladder and into Jack's office. Jack was over at the wardrobe in the other corner, pulling on his fanciest suit. He slid a fully loaded revolver into his jacket pocket.

Ben stood silently next to the Twins, who were both completely unfazed, as Jack went about his business. He started humming something under his breath as he worked. The tune was something he'd heard before, a children's song? Yet, the way Jack hummed it, it was chilling, foreboding even. It was so familiar, but he couldn't recall the name.

He walked over to the wardrobe in the corner and switched out his white, long-sleeve button up shirt and khakis for the fanciest suit he owned. He went back and forth from Philip's notes to his own black book, rapidly scratching down whatever he deemed important enough. He put the pencil away and slid Philip's notepad into the plastic bag with the tooth, then slid the plastic bag into a satchel.

Ben flinched when Jack handed the bag to him. "Wait for half an hour after I leave and then take the bag to this address…" he instructed, scribbling down a few more words on a slip of paper. "Only stop if I call you. Do you understand?" Ben nodded quickly. "Good. Twins, stay here. We don't want our visitor from earlier to return after hours, now do we?" The Twins grunted. "Excellent. Now…" He took a deep breath, looking out over the Flea with distain. "Let's start a war."


He walked in the front door.

The receptionist, a young woman, glanced up from her paperwork, and then glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Um… I'm sorry, sir, but we're closed until morning. If you wouldn't mind–"

"I want to speak with your boss," Jack stated, ignoring her.

The lady furrowed her brow and slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, you really can't be in here right now."

He rolled his eyes and calmly removed his revolver from his coat, placing it on the lady's desk. The color drained from her face. "I want to speak with your boss," he repeated. "Kathryn, isn't it?"

The woman's shocked expression slowly faded. Even with the gun trained on her head, she sighed boredly. "Very well. Talon, if you'd escort Mr. Napier upstairs?" It took him a moment to realize she was talking to someone else, someone standing behind him. A bag was pulled over his head, and a hard grip squeezed down on the back of his neck. Jack didn't fight back, he didn't need to. The man named Talon did as the attendant asked and took him into an elevator. As a test, Jack fidgeted slightly and the man's grip on the scruff of his neck tightened significantly. The man was strong, although not so much that he could single-handedly keep Jack from slipping out of his grasp and going for his gun. Even though that wouldn't be necessary, it was nice to know that he could escape if he needed to.

The elevator, which had previously been taking them up, stopped, and the man led him out onto wooden floors. Jack went along quietly, trying to map out the maze of hallways in his head. He'd always been suspicious of this building, ever since Don Maroni, God rest his soul, had sent ten men inside to scope it out and none returned.

Had he suspected the tower to be the base of a secret society that ran Gotham? Not exactly. Although, with the way Gotham was falling deeper and deeper into madness with every passing day, it wasn't entirely shocking.

Finally, they reached a pair of double doors, which either opened on their own or were opened by another two people (which made 4 bodyguards: one holding his neck, one trailing near silently behind him, and the two at the doors), and he was led into a room slightly warmer than the hallways. The man brought him forwards and removed a chair, positioning him at a table and then shoving the chair back underneath him. He sat down and the mask was ripped off of his face. The room was dark, only lit by the giant chandelier hovering over the long, wooden table, and the fireplace positioned behind the head of the table where a woman was sitting.

She was tall and lanky, her long, bony hands folded on her lap. She had piercing blue eyes, the only part of her face not hidden by her white owl mask, and short, neatly combed white hair. She was clearly ancient, given her frail structure, yet she carried herself with an air of power. Her eyes and posture made it clear she viewed herself as the most dangerous person in the room. Oddly enough, her guards had left the room. From what he'd learned about this lady over the past two weeks, she was far too cautious to lock herself alone in a room with someone she didn't know. There had to be a physical threat somewhere…

They sat in silence for a few moments, obviously sizing each other up.

She broke the silence. Almost pleasantly, she said, "Mister Napier, we meet at last." A small, warm smile was forming on her face.

Jack grinned. "Miss Monroe, isn't it? Kathryn Monroe?" Her fake smile retreated. She seemed startled.

She sat up a little straighter, regaining her air of calm confidence. "We've been expecting you."

He nodded, quipping, "Sorry for not calling first, sweetheart. I take it you don't have a landline?" She gave him a small, insincere chuckle. "Speaking of which…" he started as he reached into his coat pocket. He did a quick scan around the room.

If someone in his line of work reached into their inner coat pocket, everyone would freak out, assuming the person was reaching for a weapon. Yet, all was still…

He removed his flip-phone from his jacket and opened it, checking his watch and then typing a word into it before closing it again. Kathryn stared silently the whole time, obviously curious of what he was doing but not wanting to give it away. Jack set the phone down on the table and continued, "Well, since you were waiting for me, I'll cut right to the chase. You got sloppy."

She grimaced, clearly trying her hardest to keep the small smile on her lips, if only to portray confidence. She didn't like being insulted, that much was clear. "How so?" she asked, even though he knew she knew what he was talking about.

"You're down a man," he stated, his mischievous smile growing more and more by the second. "It's funny, really, how an 'all powerful evil secret society' like yourselves can be taken down so easily."

She sighed and nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid that is true. As large an organization as ourselves, well, it produces a multitude of chinks in our armor, so to speak."

He narrowed his eyes. She seemed so confident… He checked his watch again and opened his phone, typing in a quick word or two before closing it. He continued on as if nothing had happened. "Well that I can understand. In fact, my 'guest' has told me all about your empire. It's truly marvelous that you've managed to remain in the shadows, especially in today's day and age. It would be a shame if someone were to ruin that, leak your secrets to the masses…" he paused, cocking an eyebrow in a challenge, "or, even worse, to the League of Assassins…"

Kathryn narrowed her eyes. "Is that a threat, Mr. Napier?"

He laughed heartily. "What? No! No, of course that's not a threat! Would you honestly think that lowly of me? I'm appalled! No, no, no…" he reached into his other coat pocket and removed a small black book, sliding it across the table to her. "This is a threat."

She took it off the table and opened it, fingering through a few pages. She snapped the book shut and nodded.

But she wasn't looking at him…

The next moment, there was a knife inside his cheek, held by a Talon.

Jack grinned. "About time," he lulled, trying to talk around the blade in his mouth. "Where was he hiding?"

Kathryn ignored him. "Mr. Napier, from what I've heard, you are not one to make such foolish decisions. I take it you have leverage?" she asked, brandishing the pocket book.

"Miss Mon– I'm sorry, can I just call you Kathryn?" he asked, ignoring her question. "It'd make this conversation so much more efficient." She glared at him, which he took as a yes. "Well, Kathryn, you've done your research. I'm a bit of a genius, if I don't say so myself," he added with a chuckle. "How is that, you ask? Well, I'd love to tell you. Have you ever heard of a dead-man's switch?" he asked in the tone of someone talking to a child.

She looked about ready to snap his neck right then and there. Still, she coolly responded, "The phone?"

Jack nodded, well, as much as he could nod with a knife at his throat. "The phone," he agreed. "You see, if I was doing this alone and you kill me, your secrets would die along with me. You'd probably burn the book, get rid of my body, and be done with it, right? Well, I can't have that. You see, Kathryn, I have big plans, and if I die it'll be hard to complete them. So…I have my best man standing just across the street from the mosque on 72nd and 14th with a copy of those exact notes." Her calm demeanor slipped up for the first time. She almost looked scared. "I take it you know why?" She nodded. "And I take it you don't want him to walk across the street, knock on the door, and hand deliver all of that information right to the League of Assassins?"

"What do you want, Mr. Napier?" she snarled, the calm, collected front from before melting away to reveal a cornered animal.

"Oh, it's not about what I want. It's about what you want, Kathryn," he stated. "Although, I would like you to tell handsy over here to take this damn knife out of my mouth." She nodded to the Talon behind him and the Talon removed the blade. What was it with people threatening him with knives today? "Like I was saying…I'm here to help you. You see, I don't come with threats, but with glad tidings, a world rid of your enemies, a world rid of Ra's al Ghul."

She laughed. It was bitter and strained, but the sudden change of demeanor caught him off guard. "Oh, child, you understand little. We haven't fought outright with the League for generations."

He laughed in her face. "Of course you have!" he stated joyously. "Does a hospital ring any bells? A pair of newborns? A blood sample taken from the boy?"

Kathryn paled. "You broke him," she said, referring to his 'guest'.

Jack nodded. "I broke him. Wasn't his fault, really. Two weeks of torture will do that to anyone."

"So, you know about Bruce Wayne," Kathryn stated, sounding almost defeated. "Why come to us? Why not simply go to our enemies? Wipe us out?"

He shrugged. "Well, Kathryn, I did say that I'm a genius, right? Well, I'm especially good at picking the right side in fights. Maroni, Penguin, Gilzean, Penguin… I'm pretty good at this. You see, if I go to the League with the information I have right now, they'd just take it and kill me. But with you, I have a safety net. I don't want to fight. In fact, I want to form a partnership. I'm willing to call my guy right now and tell him to come home, but, in exchange, I need you to do me a favor."

She nodded slowly. "What would you like us to do?"

"Fight the League outright," he stated, a wicked glint in his eyes, "face-to-face. Chaos, rivers of blood in the streets, innocents and soldiers alike dying left and right, all of that. I want you to drive the city mad."

Her brow furrowed heavily. "Why?" she asked simply.

He grinned, his eyes shining with ambition and cunning and pride. "There's a power vacuum in Gotham right now. Penguin's the mayor, Don Maroni is dead, Gilzean is a joke, and Falcone? Well, we both know his fate. Someone has to run the underworld, and it might as well be me."

"I see," Kathryn drawled. "This is all an elaborate power play, isn't it?"

He nodded. "And if you do that, if you wipe out your enemies, which I will help you do, I'll leave you alone. It's a win-win. The League dies, you get Bruce Wayne, and I get to run Hell."

She narrowed her eyes, studying him thoughtfully. Finally, she gave a small nod. "I will speak to the Court on the matter. We will contact you with our answer."

He smiled and stood up from the table. "It was a pleasure doing business with you," he stated, almost kindly. "I look forward to working with you more in the future." He started towards the doors, but paused. He called over his shoulder, "And say hi to Selina Kyle for me, will you?"

"Goodbye, Mister Napier," Kathryn stated coldly.

He snorted and walked out of the room, leaving Kathryn Monroe alone with a crackling fire and a book with all of her greatest secrets.


Ben headed home for the night after returning the satchel to the Flea. Jack had the Twins move the bookcase out of the way, and he descended to the basement. He breathed in the rotten stench of death that filled the damp, dark room. He flicked on the lights, which only lit the room up enough to see a few feet in front of you, and walked over to where his guest was strapped to his platform, forced to stand upright for two weeks. Jack kicked away a couple of giant rats which had been gnawing on his guest's exposed feet and ankles.

Jack looked at him almost pitifully. Oh how the mighty had fallen.

He took a knife off of Philip's workbench (now ownerless), and sawed off his guest's restraints. He collapsed to the concrete floor in a heap. He coughed raggedly, gasping for air through several broken ribs. Jack squatted down next to him and patted him on the back.

"Hello, Carmine," he said cheerfully.

Falcone coughed some more, but managed to wheeze out, "You son of a bitch…"

Jack shrugged. "Probably, yeah. Never met her. Anyways, I have so much to tell you," he started as he walked over to Philip's workbench, placing down the knife and scanning the selection of toys for his next weapon. He called over his shoulder, "That lady you were telling me about, Kathryn? Yeah, I found her. Not gonna lie, she was kind of a bitch, but I don't blame her. She was pissed at you when I told her I'd broken you, though. Well, I think it was her own fault for not putting a Talon on you from the second you came back to Gotham, but whatever. Anyways, my plans are finally working out, and it's all thanks to you…" He selected a crowbar from the table and swung it around a little bit. He hoisted it onto his shoulder and walked over to where Carmine was laying in a heap, struggling to breathe. "I'm truly thankful for everything you've done for me over the past two weeks. You've been like the father I never had, guiding and encouraging me as I fulfill my destiny. The information you provided has been crucial to my success." He squatted down next to Carmine's head and continued in a dreamy voice, "There'll be a war unlike any other. Gotham will burn, and I will rise."

Carmine coughed out something that sounded like a laugh. "You're insane. Someone like you could never run Gotham."

Jack shook his head. "Not your Gotham, maybe. But you've been gone a long time, old man. This city has changed. Would your Gotham have accepted me? Probably not. But my Gotham will worship me." He took Carmine by the throat and forced him up onto his knees. He stood back and, imitating his favorite Gotham Rogues baseball player, lined up his swing a few times, straight to Carmine's jaw. "Too bad you'll never get to see it…"

He brought the crowbar back, and then swung it at Falcone's head as hard as he could. There was a sickening CRACK, and Falcone slumped to the floor. Jack raised the crowbar up over his head and then plunged it down again. And again. And again. He didn't stop until all that was left of Falcone's head was a pile of mush and shards of bone.

He sighed in contentment and walked over to Philip's workbench, cleaning off the crowbar and replacing it. He'd have someone come by and put Carmine's body on ice. He could still prove useful.

After all, there were still Falcone's running about.

A/N: I hope I clarified in this chapter just how much of a sociopath Jack is (and not-so-subtly referenced who he will become one day). Mad City is coming, and it's gonna be one hell of a show. Don't worry, though. Next chapter will be right back to our bat and cat. (Also there is some foreshadowing in that last line but it's for an event a ways away from now so don't worry about it)

Like I said before, sorry this took so long to get out, but I was simply burnt out on Gotham so I needed a break. Thank you for all the love and support that you guys kept sending, even after two months of silence. You guys are amazing, and I'm so glad to be back.

So if you enjoyed or have any comments/critiques/concerns about the chapter, please make sure to Review! Thanks for reading and ciao for now!