Chapter Ten: When you Rule a City of Oblivion, you forget to check if there's a bottom to the dark depths.

What is the worst feeling you've ever had? Was it physical or emotional? Both? Can you remember the worst of it now that it's over and done with? Imagine something simple; stubbing your toe. It hurts, you cannot deny that it hurts even if just a little bit. Now hold onto that feeling. As you look down to inspect your toe, you see blood. Does the pain get worse or do you grow numb? You may cry, you may scream, you may be calm as a monk… Worry creeps in regardless the longer you do nothing about it. Why is it bleeding? Have you broken it, is the cut deep, what if it can't be fixed? That building panic. The unknown is frightening. Isn't it. Of course, a stubbed toe is something simple to care for.

Do you recall what the worst feeling you've ever had is now? Did it ever heal.

Holly closed the journal, wrapping a brown shoestring around it tightly and held it in her hands. Her eyes gazed down at the cover blankly for a long while until her phone started to beep. Tony's number on display, "Kingsley." Her mouth felt dry.

"You sound like shit, you just wake up? Come on meter's runnin'."

"I'll be down in five." She hung up the phone before he replied and tossed the journal onto her dresser. The woman had, at the bequest of Carmine, gotten an actual living space. An apartment in the middle of the city where if she looked down from her window she could see coffee shops bustling, bagel places selling out as soon as they opened, and a dozen mini boutiques lining the street. Every business lining the road was stacked with more apartments or offices on top of them. It was strange to not be living in the warehouse for nearly three years, to be honest, the docks had been far more peaceful than the apartment. Holly was up most nights listening to the wailing of sirens and her neighbor occasionally screaming in ecstasy rather than sleeping on a couch lulled by the ocean waves. Though, she doubted she would sleep much no matter where she laid her head to rest. The woman still woke silently sobbing most nights and it drained her for the day to come. It left her making more impassive decisions as the effort to care was too energy-consuming, most that knew her assumed she'd just become a cold-hearted bitch and Holly played into it just to be left alone.

Her head ducked into Tony's cab, her eyes flicked to the meter. It was not running. The woman set a small briefcase down on the floor next to where her feet would be. Her ankles crossed and she leaned against the door once it shut. Her eyes were staring out the window even as Tony rounded back to the driver's seat and clicked in.

The silence was thick. Tony frowned before licking his lips and trying to crack a smile, "Where ya going today?" Every day for nearly the last year Tony had been picking Holly up to go someplace in town. It did not matter where he took her to a coffee shop, a clothing store, the docks. He was simply trying to be a good friend to her after finding out about what had happened at the butcher shop on 7th. The now old man had a weird friendship with August Haas yet had never really been close with Holly. Of course, he drove her whenever she called after Haas passed, out of professional respect he let her waste his time. Even so, they'd never been friends he supposed. He let out a sigh when she did not reply. Tony turned on his blinker and pulled into the street heading towards… someplace.

"Falcone's bar." She spoke up after a while of doing nothing but staring out the window.

Tony nearly missed the turn to head in that direction by the time she'd said it. He cut off another car and dove towards the left lane to turn, "I'd have liked to know that sooner ya know…" he had raised his voice but muttered the next part, "fuckin hate Gotham traffic. Bunch of shitheads that can't drive."

"… Can we, get coffee first?" Her voice was on the verge of timid and full of tiredness.

Tony held the urge to slam his face into the steering wheel. His eyes looked in the review mirror, she was looking at him through it too. She looked like the dead. Even with makeup on he could see the dark circles under her eyes, "Yeah. We can get coffee first." He spoke softly before changing the turn signal to go back into the flow of traffic.

Tony pulled around the back of a Sunbucks into the queue for the drive through and the back of the cab got bumped. For the next twelve minutes, Holly got to witness the anger of a Gothamite thug turned cabbie tear into some young-looking office jockey out to get his boss sixteen cups of an expanded menu. Apparently, the people who worked at Wayne Tower could 'get a cabbie fired in seconds' and 'this cabbie could teach a little bitch how to suck his own dick after being bent into a pretzel.' More people added fuel to the fire by honking once the line stopped moving. Holly rolled down the window and laid her arms on it with her head laying on them to watch. A sullen smile crept onto her face.

Tony had looked back to his cab for a moment right before stepping up to the youngster about to deck him when he did a double take. Holly was smiling. He'd done it. He felt so proud to have been a good friend for the day and he turned back to the man, "You're fucking lucky kid, boss is enjoying the show and she don't like hurtin' kids. Get back in your fuckin' piece-o-shit Brius and I won't knock your teeth out." He put on his best thug face only to be yelled at by a woman stuck in the line because of the antics.

"Get the fuck outta the way grandpa! You senile or somethin'?"

The young man laughed and waved off the threat, "Yeah, grandpa get out of—" Tony' fist slammed into the man's gut knocking the wind out of him. He left the man to drop to the ground and got back into the cab then pulled up to the ordering box.

"Shouldn't be mean to the kiddies; grandpa." Holly teased him before ordering something that would hospitalize anyone with heart problems.

Caffeine coursing through her veins, Holly felt alive again, for the time being. Tony had dropped her off at the bar under the tracks and refused to take her money for the fare. Buying him coffee had been enough. She had stopped trying to shove the bills on him when he rolled up the window like a child and slowly drove away with a grin from ear to ear. The rest of her day was spent bookkeeping, in this case making a lot of illegal funds look a lot more legal than they were. As she was handing Steve his ledger back after reading it over he spoke, "Carmine wants to see you too."

"Sure." Holly simply pushed away from the desk, "Your ledger looks clean by the way." She lied just to watch him smirk at the false achievement. It hardly mattered, Gotham was rotten to the core and the woman knew Steve was pining after a better position in the family. Rumors about him wanting hers floated around from time to time – would he think he's on her level now? Would it hurt him to know she lied just to see if he'd fail?

Holly left the manager's office, allowing the man who ran the actual restaurant part of the bar to return to work. He looked like he could have used the coffee she'd had that morning, the dinner rush was no joke these days. Everyone looking to cozy up to Falcone or at least his wallet and other perks. She now understood a bit why he refused to trust people too easily. Those in the shadow of his might that had tasted power were the ones most likely with daggers behind their backs just waiting. She'd not stop a single one of them either.

Right as he spied her his arms opened wide, "Holly," Carmine greeted her warmly and that only meant he wanted something, "I got somethin' for ya." He held out a thin folder.

Both of her brows raised to express her curiosity as she took it from him. As her fingers lifted open the folder she spoke out dully, "Did you bribe Gotham University?" She held up the diploma with her name on it.

"No. I made a business investment." He smiled, "It was a lot of work to surprise you ya know."

She laid the diploma down and picked up the next object contained within the folder. It was a fancy card that read: Happy Birthday. Which was three months early and she was certain he had no idea when the date of her birth was, "You know I hate surprises, especially when it involves major purchases." The card read 'My dear niece,' the word Niece had been scratched out and replaced with 'Kingsley. Happy birthday to you. Let all your wishes come true.'

"Yeah, I know you get this stick right up your ass bout it. Listen I know you ain't been too happy an I wanted to do something nice. If ya don't want it, burn it or give it to Steve. We all know he needs a pick me up too." His hand waved in the air dismissively and he sat back in the round couch, "There's something else we need to discuss anyway."

The woman sighed, "… Thank you, Carmine, for the thought. It's just been a long day," she was not sure if that was a lie or not, "I'll frame it when I get home tonight." she set the folder on the small mahogany table before shuffling into the seat. She did not ask what else he had to say, rather Holly stared at him expectingly.

"Thursday." He had looked back at her yet her continued silence at the single word prompted him to add, "This Thursday is the last shipment from our Bejing friends."

"Ah, yes it is. How time flies." She sounded bored, "What about it?" Her involvement in that deal had been little since the first shipment, occasionally she'd play nice with the captain or watch goons load the crates out of the container.

"It needs to go smooth. Smoothest any shipments have been thus far."

"Carmine, you're not seriously asking me to run a shipment delivery in person again, are you? You know I'll refuse."

"No. I ain't, in fact, the opposite. I'm gonna supervise this last one. Bring on some cops from the payroll to make sure it goes great. I want you to go nowhere near it," perhaps it was because he had to talk down to thugs often but Carmine had a stern dad voice at times, "You get to stay here Thursday night and play nice with our guests while I'm out. Entertain them with jokes or something."

'I'd rather get stabbed in the foot.' "Sure you want me tellin' jokes?" Her hand came up to scratch her eyebrow, she could feel the blood pressure and wanted a cigarette. She was trying to quit with all these new laws about smoking and the reports of what it did to one's body being put on billboards.

"Yeah why not, you're jokes are killer I'm certain we won't lose business over them…" he thought better of the idea giving her sarcasm, "just entertain them." Holly enjoyed the little moments she could get under his skin without repercussions.

It was around this time that the bar closed to count money, the doors were not locked but the employees had been escorting patrons out and not accepting new ones in. She could hear someone a bit away set up a counting machine on the table then clack a stack of bills getting them ready to run through it. It reminded her, "Which cops so I know whom to pay?"

"Well… That one." His gaze went across the room and Holly turned her head over her shoulder, "He'll pay the others."

"Seriously?" Her voice was deadpan and she watched as he came over.

"Whose the broad and why is she glaring at me?"

Holly scrunched her nose. He smelled like the worst part cigarettes, falafel, oil, and iron rolled into one human mass. It was not overly pungent, a working man that ate a lot of onions or garlic may smell the same. Holly simply disliked it, it smelled what she imagined Gotham's underbelly personified as a human may smell like.

"The broad that writes your cheque." Carmine had spoken, "Don't mind her. Have a seat."

Holly moved to the middle of the crescent moon seating now stuck between the boss she'd love nothing better than to watch choke on his own drugs and the dirtiest cop on their payroll. The woman snatched up the folder when she spotted Flass going to touch it. She set it upon her lap, self-conscious about the choice of wearing a pencil skirt. She stayed silent when Carmine held up his hand at the bartender that was just trying to clean up from the full bar of drunks that were finally gone. Three whiskeys on the rocks were brought over and set upon little paper cozies. Holly slid hers to the edge of the table close to herself as if trying to make sure she had maximum distance from them both. Flass on the other hand had spread out, putting both of his arms over the back of the seat looking like he'd just got done running the first mile in his life without the sweat.

Carmine leaned from the seating to push one glass at Flass, "I need ya at the docks, Thursday." Holly would be silent throughout this whole exchange. She knew the drill on how Carmine liked to do business with the payroll. She'd only speak after or if spoken to.

Flass looked down at the drink, "Problems?"

"I don't want any trouble with the last shipment." It was the same conversation he'd just had with Holly.

"Sure." Flass sighed as if he was a child being asked to clean up after the family dog by a parent. However, he changed the subject, apparently having something else weighing on his mind, "Word on the street is you got a beef with somebody in the DA's office." Whatever Rachel Dawes had done, this little assistant district attorney, had been put on the list with a higher priority than she'd seen in a while.

As Flass asked, Holly watched Carmine's expression change from business to intrigue, "Is that right?"

"And that there's a fat prize waitin' for anybody willing to do anything about it."

"So what's your point Mister Flass?" And from intrigue to amusement.

"Have you seen the girl? She's this cute little assistant DA... don't you think that's a little bit too much heat to bring down, maybe, even for this town?"

"Never underestimate Gotham City, people get mugged comin' home from work every day of the week. Sometimes," Carmine smiled as if it were a humorous joke and tried to fight a chuckle, "sometimes things just go bad."

Knight to E8

Carmine watched from the comfort of his car as the boys loaded boxes and crates into a truck. They had to go through a hall of shipping containers, grab the right box, bring it back open it up, sort through it, then place everything back into different crates or boxes then pack it all into the truck. He did not envy anyone that oversaw this task normally. Rather than scrutinize them at every point his mind was elsewhere, forming ideas and plans for Gotham. How to get on the good side of Ra's once he came to town was key to that he felt. His hands rubbed the rabbit toy they held and he looked down at it in deep thought.

The door to the car opened up and he felt the man get in beside him, lowering the car before the suspension bounced it back up. He knew it was Flass. Late, of course, and as the door shut he looked over.

"Looks fine out there." Flass turned his head towards the front while Carmine did the same with a nod, "The bears they go straight to the dealers."

"Yeah," he looked back down at the rabbit, "and the rabbits go to the man in the narrows."

"What's the difference?"

"Ignorance is bliss my friend," Carmine took a side look at Flass who had looked down to the rabbit in his hands, "don't burden yourself with these secrets of scary people." Maybe he was telling himself that too. He made it a point to look at Flass fully though to drive the notion across that the cop, dirty or not, shouldn't ask more questions.

The yell from outside was muffled by the car, but they both heard it. One of them better not have fallen or gotten crushed by cargo. Yet in the next few moments, gunfire rang out as bullets hit shipping containers. He had a feeling this last shipment was going to be a pain and he had for once hoped that feeling was wrong.

"Better check it." Flass sounded like he wanted nothing to do with it but got out of the car anyways.

Carmine squinted to try and look further down the way, there would have been a lot more gunfire if it was Maroni's boys. His mind started turning like a well-oiled machine at the possibilities of what could be happening to involve screaming and bullets. Even so, none of it was adding up quite right.

The door opened again, "There's a problem out here, you better bail." Flass seemed spooked. Only staying long enough to pop his head, speak then close the door. He had his gun out but was not going to check on the boys, he was bailing himself.

Hard to find good help these days... the echo of gunfire continued, he thought he heard one man scream a taunt into the wind before just screaming. As the saying went, curiosity killed the cat, Carmine got out of the car. Slowly making his way through the maze of shipping containers soon the muffled sounds of fighting guided him. And what he saw, confused him. One person, in a cape no less, beating the shit out of what men remained. The confusion did not last long, it was replaced by logic. Time to leave. He turned quickly to let the boys have their bones broken instead of his and went back to the car. He was not even in the vehicle all the way before he told the driver to, "Get goin." Even he could tell his accent was suddenly very thick and as his eyes looked to why there was no motion from the driver, "Oh-shit." Came whispered out.

The driver was already collapsed on the wheel. There had to be more than one guy right? Immediately Carmine searched under the seat for the short double barrel. His hands were trembling, it had been a long time since he had to actually shoot a gun himself. Checking to see if it was loaded. It was. He could hear, something... sounds that were not normal on a quiet dock. It was not the ocean waves, not his heart pounding, it sounded like the wind itself. Fuck, maybe it wasn't a man? His thumb pressed the shells to make sure they were really there about to snap the gun back into place ready to fire, "What the hell are you..."

The rhetorical question was met with the sudden shattering of his sunroof and being hauled up out of the car like a child by some loony in a bat costume, "I'm Batman." Then nothing but sudden pain and darkness.