Chapter Nine: A Creature of Habit will Eventually Break,
Part One: When at the Edge

Not once had that cop paged her number, even as the device fell out of style she kept it charged and with her for the first couple of years. The next few lay in her desk drawers replaced by the flip phone then a smartphone; the internet in her hand. How marvelous. Holly recalled the days she thought a machine bigger than a toaster was a true wonder when it would smoothly run Macrohard to perform all the tasks you could ever dream of. When a woman closer to her age now had typed in her name ever so painfully slow that first day of college here in Gotham. Now that technology was in a device smaller than a piece of toast and had hundreds of times that potential.

The pager eventually lay buried under pens, paperclips, spare bullets and three pairs of outdated reading glasses. Now she just wore a corrective pair most of the time. Not just office supplies, everything of hers sat tucked away in the warehouse office she'd been doomed to. Including herself. August's home outside the city had been boarded up by her after she learned of his death the year before. The good memories she shared with the older man were too painful for her to wake up to every morning. While she could not in good mind demolish his home she could not care for it either, rather she entered it as one of Gotham's historical sites. The building itself was over two hundred years old and qualified with ease. Holly just lived in this warehouse now.

One of the Southside docks Carmine had recently lost. The warehouse was done in by a police raid led by Jim Gordon several weeks ago. A tip-off too big to ignore from an anonymous source that the chemicals they were exporting were in fact crates filled with illegal explosives. She was surprised, in truth, because as much as she wanted to rattle Carmine into having some sense about what kind of business he dealt in... it wasn't she who tipped off the police.

Holly had been summoned as an owner to a warehouse, along with several others around the city, investigated as a precautionary measure due to the detective that led the case being a thorough kind of man. Taking any leads that rolled in about the Falcone gang being spotted at them for the next few weeks. The cops that came were mostly on the payroll and the ones that weren't were new blood that she terrified by showing them she kept all their records in handwritten ledgers and they were more than welcome to read through the thousands of pages of numbers they were not going to understand. After that, Kingsley shortly put two and two together that James was Sergeant James Gordon, or Jim for short. She liked the name Jim better.

Of course, the raided building was not in Carmine's name, dear no, it was one of the many goons who had debts to pay who put their names on legal documentation that could ever go wrong such as property raids. Thus her boss had no real ties besides hearsay they could prove to the crimes going on there. As the warehouse was put up for auction to the highest bidder. Miss Kingsley purchased what remained of the building in James Russo's name using Falcone's funds. It was a never-ending cycle so long as they kept putting up the buildings for sale or auction and did not bother with background checks on who purchased them. Outwardly the police had saved the day, newspapers and tv media praised their efforts all while lying with fake smiles that the city was getting better. Maybe they believed their drivel at this point.

Holly fixed a yellow hardhat on her head as she looked at what remained of the inside of the raided building. Well. Fuck. She thought they could have used less ammunition and just gone peacefully. It was always a nightmare to work through all the legal charges of getting men out of jail when they shot at and likely killed police. Thankfully that had not been her job, someone far more versed in law was on the chopping block to perform those miracles for Carmine. She only had to deal with the task no one else wanted, the cleanup. Something they shot caused a massive explosion burning one part of the warehouse to ashes. Among the countless ruined parts of the building from fire damage, her eyes spied major damage to one of the supporting columns on the ground floor. It was likely not the only one.

Men with yellow vests and the same hardhats as her moved about the room cautiously picking up the rumble, examining the remains to see if they needed to be replaced or could be salvaged. A few were going about with clipboards jotting down the cost of repairs and getting ready to suggest expensive upgrades if the building was even in surviving condition.

"That's what happens when you give untrained men big guns to play with." She had heard someone walk up near her but assumed it was just the contractor about to ask her a question.

"Most criminals are idiots," Holly certainly counted herself among that very, very long list of people - she was only smart enough to not have been caught as of yet, but she believed her day would come, "they don't really think about the future too much nor the damage they cause in the moment." It was not the leading contractor that stood next to her. She'd never seen this man and he was out of place much like her, wearing a nice suit among the settled dust, "You're not an insurance agent here to price gouge me are you?" Holly kept her tone light-hearted but the joke was delivered otherwise dryly.

"I am here on behalf of my employer who is currently working out the details with yours on the new use of this warehouse space."

"Ah, I see. Unfortunately, it may be deemed condemned. We should find out by the end of the day."

And by the end of the day, Holly was writing out a cheque to a demolition crew to take a wrecking ball to what was still standing of the warehouse.

The woman went back to her space at the end of the day, the dimly lit office filled with countless reminders that she was trapped in this life. Tied to the pen that wrote in the blood of others and Carmine had made it very clear to her where she stood among the ranks. Unlike the relationship August had with Vincent, she and Carmine were not friends. Holly tossed the hardhat to one side of the room where many random objects had started to collect up from her bad habit of never returning things. Then she tip-toed over the many boxes filled with files knowing the pathway to the buried desk and she flopped into the chair next to it. She just stared blankly at a closed ledger on the desk for a moment, her hand scratching the side of her head slowly. As her eyes wandered they found way to the drawer with the pager in it. Retrieving the device she set it next to the landline phone.

It's simple. 9-1-1. If you'd just done it all those years ago you wouldn't have been here now, would you? Idiot. Holly felt like she was hearing not her own but Stacey's voice whenever her inner voice was self-deprecating. Her hand hovered over the phone before gently laying it on the receiver. Are you scared? Her hand clenched. That's right, you don't deserve it anymore, you fucked up. Holly picked up the phone and put it to her ear, hearing the dial tone just ready for input. He'll put a bullet in you too... just like-

BANG!

Holly dropped the phone as the office door opened. It had smacked into one of the boxes on the floor causing something else to fall over. Her heart raced having thought it was a gunshot.

"Jumpy Kingsley?" It was Carmine and in tow three others waiting to try and file into the office, "Yesh... you really are a packrat huh?" He was looking around at all the disorganized mess - well not to her - about the office. He just shoved a whole stack of folders off the couch that sat alongside the wall and sat down.

Holly breathed in and plastered a smile to her face, "It's polite to knock, Carmine," her voice did not reflect how she felt, "I was almost finished dialing 911 to turn myself in you know." She had failed to even press the nine this time. At the looks between the men she gave an awkward laugh, "I'm disappointed, not even a chuckle; my your visit must be rather serious."

"Yeah, humor is not a talent of yours. Don't do it again," Carmine eyed her. It was not unusual for Holly to act strange occasionally but he knew something was off. The woman only nodded picking up the dropped receiver to hang back up. Carmine settled back into the couch, "I'd like you to meet Mister... uh Heng," said man stepping into the room careful of where he walked. The other two waited outside the door, muscle Holly concluded.

"I believe we met earlier today," Holly slid the pager back into the drawer before she stood up, "it's a pleasure to meet you more formally. Holly Kingsley." She had wound her way around the desk to outstretch a hand towards him. Fake smiles and faker pleasantries, customer service at its best. No matter how her heart beat in her chest, this skill of bullshitting her way through social interactions was used to cover it up.

"Lao Heng," he did not extend his hand back to her, "I've come to discuss the plans moving forward with our new arrangement." This was the same man had been observing the work crew at the ruined warehouse.

Holly lowered her hand and for a moment her fake smile failed to reach her eyes. They slid over to Carmine full of venomous ire, "I see, well. Let me find you a place to sit," She turned around and pulled her own chair from the desk, setting it down for him. Holly leaned against the desk instead, "Though could you enlighten me as to why you'd require the glorified bookie?"

Carmine assumed this is why she was off today, mad at him as usual that he was cutting her out of important decisions and then making her go along with them. Unlike his father, he did not trust those of his empire as much. Falcone rolled his eyes, "Cause you're the bookie that handles all the oversea imports. We're gonna need that building demoed quick, maybe use this warehouse for a couple weeks until it's cleared out." 'Like fucking hell you are,' Holly thought with inner bravado that would never extend beyond mere thoughts, "And it's got to be top this time for our new friend and his boss here; ain't having those fuck ups at the South docks doing it." He scratched his chin.

"How nice of you to think of me Carmine for such an important matter." Her eyes turned down to the desk. A scrap piece of paper and a pen came into her hands a moment later, "Mister Heng shall we then, there are some things I'll need to know to make certain all your imports stay out of the wrong hands. If you'll be so kind, who will you be shipping with and where from?"

Lao looked to Carmine to which the mob boss made himself a bit more comfortable, shifting folders by his feet around to make more room. Turning his attention back to Holly he said, "Capricorn Shipping, Bejing."

"Mh. Capricorn uses tight federal inspections, the captain that docks on the Eastside has proven difficult to bribe." She jotted down shorthand notes, no names only letters and numbers.

"That will not be a problem." The way he spoke Holly expected to see a new captain soon.

"How often will you be shipping?"

"Every twenty to thirty days."

She looked up at him, "You'll have a container on every manifest like that for however long this goes on."

"That will also, not be a problem."

"I see. For storage reasons so we do not have a repeat of the Southdocks, will you ever be shipping," she held up a hand extending her thumb to mark number one on the list, "Flammable substances, lithium batteries, firearms, living or dead animals or people, hand sanitizer," with all five fingers extended she folded her hand up on the sixth, "and or glue. A simple yes or no will suffice."

"No."

"How many shipments am I to be expecting?"

"Thirty to Thirty-Five."

Holly coughed, "An almost three-year deal?" It was simply strange as most guys were one and done with it.

"Will that be a problem?"

The woman looked to Carmine who had not changed positions he gave her a gesture to continue, "No," she marked down a poorly drawn snowman with on the paper, "Roughly how much volume of goods will be moved per container?"

"The first shipment will contain one forty-eight by twenty-four by twenty-four crate and one twelve by six by six crate. After there will be two to three twenty-four by twelve by twelve crates and one six by six crate. We will be sending more than just one type of item, other goods will be imported when we are not sending out... toys." A whole shipping container for what could fit into a delivery van. They were being highly cautious. The snowman got little box-shaped buttons added to it in various sizes. And there would be other kinds of goods? How mysterious. The snowman gained a black mask.

"Will there be a schedule for pick up of the imports?"

"We'll be moving it for em Kingsley," Carmine spoke up, "Drop points all over Gotham, local guys know it best." She gave the snowman a bumpy rectangle hat; in her mind a fedora.

"When will your first shipment be on its way; the demolitions crew should be finished up in the next couple of days and construction can begin shortly after."

"It will arrive in the next four days, good weather permitting."

Holly hovered the pen over the paper, "I'll make arrangements for the container to be moved to this warehouse's back lot as soon as tomorrow." Anger boiled in her chest, she set the paper and pen back down on the desk and clasped her hands together in front of her to stop them from shaking, "One final question Mister Heng before I answer any you may have. Does this boss of yours have a name? I enjoy knowing whose goods I handle."

He paused, "Ra's al Ghul."

Six hours later, at midnight.

Holly blew smoke from her lips, the wind instantly carrying it away towards the city she faced. It was still very much alive with glowing lights even at this hour, the cry of sirens ever-present. Her eyes went from the collage of skyscrapers to the nearly spent cigarette between her fingers. Her hand tipped and she flicked the smoldering butt into the air watching it fall. Fall down and down and down... three hundred feet down. Then she slid out from under the safety railing of the container crane, holding onto the slightly shaking in-the-wind railing with one hand. Holly leaned over and watched the cigarette until darkness consumed the ember. The blackness looked like an inviting ocean, at the edge of oblivion.

Her hand tightened on the railing then slowly began to release. Her heart raced. Just let go. It'll be quick. A fall from approximately three hundred feet at her roughly one hundred and sixty-plus pounds would take less than two seconds. Really? Math at a time like this? As a gust of ocean wind blew on her suddenly. Her knees buckled and she clamped down onto the railing, pulling herself in and putting both arms around it safely. Her whole body shook and she squeezed her eyes shut. The only feeling she had was numbing terror in that moment, it made her feel something other than deep dark sadness. And like she was going to vomit.

The woman climbed down then went to work instead.