Paranoia is in bloom

The PR transmissions will resume

They'll try to push drugs that keep us all dumbed down

And hope that we will never see the truth around

Uprising / Muse

Bruce was horrified and scared on behalf of his old friend. He was learning still, not to call her that, but even with all the destruction she had caused by the clown's side, he couldn't help but blame him. She had been entirely nonviolent, outside of a few bar brawls he had found out about subsequently. None of this fit her MO.

The three women, hung high over the courthouse steps, along with the video turned over to the media made it very clear that she was in trouble. A lot of trouble. It seemed that Joker was looking for her, and when he found her… god help her.

When the video had come onto the screen, he couldn't react appropriately, his new…. Ward had been present. It felt odd to think of the near-man as anything connected to him. At sixteen years old he was strongly built from his time training with his family.

Remembering the death- the death he had witnessed… it ached in his chest, like a different memory, a much older one. How could he not give the boy a place to live? A future worth having? Without his family, without a purpose, he would have been doomed. Bruce had known the anger in his eyes, knew the pain of loss, and the anger of that pain.

He was finding his footing well in Gotham, integrating immediately into the High School, and finding friends quickly. Alfred already loved the boy like a son, and Bruce wasn't far behind him, though the arguments the two shared would lead you to believe otherwise. Something Bruce couldn't face yet was that the reason for those arguments was the same thing that brought him to bring the boy home. They were simply too much alike.

The figure was getting good at sticking to the shadows. It was hard at first, disappearing into alleyways and under sewer grates within a moment, but as he memorized the placement of each in the unfamiliar part of the city, he became a natural. He had to. Keeping an eye on her was paramount. He couldn't lose her. Not for a moment. It had taken him nearly five months to find her the last time.

She looked fantastic, he couldn't deny, even now, toned down, and disguised with her hair bound at the base of her neck. She wore long black pants that looked like they were made of silk, and a knit top in that shade of red she seemed to have fallen in love with, at the same time as she fell for… him. The beast. The monster that had corrupted her. That had broken him and her all in the course of his desperately perfected manipulation. A nameless beast that he hated, that he wanted dead, eventually. But he had more important things to do, now.

The figure didn't have a name anymore, either, now that he thought about it. Maybe she could give him one. He couldn't stop the dopey nearly hysterical love from filling his eyes when he considered the idea. She will. If I have to make her.

The walk to the Tar Pit was uncomfortable. Despite my dressed-down look, I felt eyes on me. I often had since joining the criminal element, and I cursed myself for my paranoia every time my eyes swept the sidestreets. I skipped the line at the club, only lowering my sunglasses to raise an eyebrow at the bouncer. He swallowed heavily before allowing me entrance. I could have gone through the side entrance J and I often used when we were on Roman's good side, but I wanted to set up from the jump that this was a different kind of interaction. This was a business meeting.

I stepped through the club with the confidence of an aristocrat, nose in the air, ignoring the stares from passersby when they realized who I was. I found a Bar girl quickly, asking as politely as I could, yet keeping my tone carefully neutral, for a meeting with Sionis.

She abandoned me in the sprawling nightclub, under the fearful eye of many party-goers. I couldn't deny their fear made my chest feel warm. They may not respect me, really. But what was fear but a loveless respect?

Soon she returned, leading me to the now familiar VIP room where Roman seemed to spend most of his nights. It was as gaudy and ridiculous as ever. Heavy black velvet curtains that block out a portion of the thumping bass, as he drank on his leather couch in a fine Italian suit. I nearly rolled my eyes at what a fucking stereotype the fucker was. God, I cannot believe I'm doing this. This is humiliating.

"Dr. Quinzel! Always a pleasure. Please, have a seat. I hope I haven't done anything to offend you, or your Beau?"

"Ex," I said smiling flatly, sitting on the couch in the empty seat he had gestured to. "Which is part of why I'm here. Being in a relationship with your boss makes it rather awkward to continue the financial relationship after the more… intimate one is over."

He nodded, seeming to consider, before gesturing for the women leaning on either shoulder to leave the room, which they did, moving robotically. I wondered silently if Roman had been dosing them with his supply.

All of his guards but one left the room, leaving the lockjawed sentinel alone in his place by the door. I recognized him as the same guard Roman kept around constantly. I wondered distantly if this was his Johnny.

"You want a job?" He asked, tone entirely different, colder, yet remaining polite, a veneer of professionalism covering him. I nearly sighed in relief.

I nodded, and though the words tasted sour in my mouth, I said them anyway. "Yes, Sir."

"Oh, please, Dr. Quinzel, we've known each other since grade school. Call me Roman."

"Only if you call me Harley," I put on my friendly smile. I knew I would have to deal with his slimy personality on the regular if I was going to be working for him. It was a fair trade. All worth it to bulk up the resume. I flashed back to my time in college, doing volunteer hours in animal shelters and soup kitchens. Same difference. Just better pay.

"Harley," His smile was warmer now. "So, what kind of skills can you bring to the business?"

"Oh, come on, Roman. You know me." I smiled, shrugging. "I'm a skilled assassin, I can get whatever information you need out of a person, often without touching them. Most guys are begging to squeal when they realize who has them."

"I have men for that."

"None as good as me." I offered apologetically. "No offense. I'm sure they're very good."

"But not as good as you?"

"No."

"You seem sure."

"I learned from the best. And I have my own tricks. Lots of things I've been itching to try." I winked, grinning. The man by the door shifted uncomfortably, but Roman seemed intrigued.

"I'm sure you do," His expression at this made my stomach turn, but it wasn't until he spoke again that my temper spiked. "So, would I expect the same benefits from your employment that your previous employer enjoyed?"

I worked to keep my face neutral, and friendly, though he had ended the job interview without realizing it. Okay, we'll do it the other way. Didn't want to do this so soon, but fine. The only question now was whether he would be leaving the room unscathed. I hoped privately that he wouldn't. "Come on, Roman. You've got girls dripping off you like honey. What do you need the clown's leftovers for?"

"You're a lot more than that." He shook his head, looking to flatter. "Come on. Not many women could make that look work."

I chuckled, looking towards the guard, he would be my main problem leaving the room if he was as loyal as Johnny. I would have to bet on him valuing his life. The pounding bass and the heavy noise-reducing curtains would buy me time with the rest. There was a staff exit down the back hall around the corner from the office, and so long as not-Johnny would either be reasonable, or dead, I should have no trouble. I was going to enjoy this.

I tilted my head, lowering my eyes, going for pathetic. "Trust me, it isn't worth it."

"Well, why don't you let me be the judge of that." He said, gesturing to his lap. I could hear the smugness in his voice.

Perfect. Thank you for being so goddamn predictable. I nodded, standing sheepishly, and making my way towards him. His hand came up to stroke down my arm, and my stomach churned, as I settled into the man's lap, straddling him. It was only then, that I raised my eye to his own, as oil slick and preening with pleasure at his supposed success. I couldn't help but notice how dilated his pupils were and wondered exactly how quickly they would shrink back down when I was done.

His face tilted down, angling that proud Grecian nose down towards me, as his lips descended like a hawk after a mouse.

It took him a moment to register the pain when my teeth clamped down on that nose, jerking my head first to the left- and then the right, and back with a sharp jerk. I felt a large amount of flesh in between the teeth but I didn't have time- he was already screaming. I took his gun- turning to level it at the guard standing in shell-shocked silence as his boss gripped his face and writhed on the ground in pain.

I ground my teeth into the hard cartilage- feeling it squelch and crunch between my teeth in a way that made me consider veganism- before I spit it in front of the man between me and the exit.

His boss's screams had subsided now- and glancing over my shoulder, he was slumped in the floor- unconscious. Pussy.

I smiled at him, hoping the blood and viscera I still felt stuck in my teeth would have the desired effect. "You have a choice to make. And not long to make it. Save yourself, and your boss, or die on the floor beside him? Tell me, kid. You got any family at home?"

The man mutely stepped aside, lowering his eyes, and I sprinted past him- towards the exit.

God help me if anyone fucking caught me now. I made it outside, skidding and falling onto my side on the pavement- but I had no time. Without inspecting what I knew would be road burn beneath my torn shirt I continued sprinting. I had just disfigured the King of the Narrows, and everyone was gonna want me dead.

I couldn't go to Pam's apartment, not now, not in torn clothes right after- they would be looking for me. I needed to get off street level and fast- despite my time with J, I could only run so far before I collapsed.

And then I saw it. A long-closed hotel, a forgotten monument to a time when visiting this part of the city wasn't a death sentence for tourists. Moss and ivy covering decrepit windows, I was sure I would find many vagrants inside. Perfect.

I slipped through the ragged fence, glad to see there was no one on my heels yet- perhaps still distracted with their Bosses condition- or perhaps assuming I went to J, in the other direction. Regardless I was thrilled to have no tail- yet.

The doors had previously been locked- chained shut, even, but the chain laid useless nearby. I decided to change that, lifting it, and slinging it over my shoulders. Even with the gun, I preferred to have a blunt force tool. It was my preferred weapon, and bullets only went so far. God knows how many people would be inside.

I took a breath, opened the door, and even prepared for the smell it nearly knocked me on my ass. Feces, and urine, and vomit, and blood. It was disgusting, and it took every ounce of medical training I had to force down the initial gag that wanted to surface, and step inside, closing the door behind me. This wasn't just a homeless encampment, it was a shooting gallery, proven not even two steps in when I saw a woman, in the throes of her own high, needle still hanging out of her arm. I grimaced at the sight, but continued through the once beautiful, now rotting corridor, ready for anything. In the welcome area of the hotel, there were dozens of them, laid out in slung-together cots on the floor, smoking in the huddled dark on long-abandoned bolted-down furniture, and a group of more consciously appearing men drinking from a shared bottle in the corner.

My entrance did not go unnoticed. Recognizing me, more than one fled the room immediately, while most only froze- perhaps having nowhere else to go. When I did not advance on them, or initiate any kind of violence, they began to relax.

I took down my hair, fluffing and repostioning it around my ears, before walking towards the group with the bottle. I assessed quickly, deciding that the man holding the bottle, with a grey streak through his dark hair was my best bet.

"Hey, can I have a swig?"

The dark-haired man's hand trembled as he held out the vodka, which I swished first, spitting what was left of the violent attack into the floor before taking another deeper drink, winking in thanks. When I finished I offered it back with a smile.

"I like you. What's your name?"

"Sam."

"Sam. Thank you for the drink. I will return the favor, I never forget."

He shrugged, looking as if he would very much like if I forgot everything about him. "No problem, Miss Quinn. Happy to give it."

"Really? What a sweetheart. May I ask what you do for work, Sam?"

"I… I don't really have a job, Miss Quinn."

I hummed under my breath. "Don't be embarrassed. I don't either." I smiled at him, genuinely. "But you have liquor. And not too bad of a brand, if I may say. That tells me you're resourceful."

He shrugged, still not looking up.

"Would you like a job, Sam?"

This seemed to shock him out of his fear, raising disbelieving eyes to meet mine. "A job?"

"Nothing too scary," I promised, laughing. "I'm gonna be stuck in here overnight at least. I'd rather not do that without a few creature comforts."

He still appeared confused.

"I'm offering to pay you to do a little shopping for me since I can't leave right now without being spotted."

He looked unsure, and I shrugged. "You don't have to, of course. I'll find someone else if you insist, but it'll be the easiest thousand dollars you'll ever make."

"A thousand bucks for a shopping trip?" He sounded unsure. "What do you need me to buy?"

"A carton of cigarettes, a couple of bottles of that white liquor you have, a couple of first aid kits, flashlights, blankets, and a hot meal… actually a hot meal for everyone here. We can call some pizza places, these people look like shit."

He jumped up, looking thrilled at the proposition. "Anything else Miss Quinn?"

"Yeah, go ahead and get yourself a burner. Just in case I have anything else for you in the future." I dug into my purse, handing him a handful of cash that his eyes widened at the sight of. "Sam?" I asked, bringing his attention back to me, sternly. "I know this is a lot of money. But if you steal from me, I will take it back, tenfold ." I threatened. "I want to know that you aren't going to try to screw me, here?"

"I value my life more than that, Miss Quinn." He chuckled. "I wouldn't do something so stupid."

"I like that answer. Go. Take people if you need to, I'll pay them too. One thing I'm not short on is cash."

He left without another word, taking two men from his group with him, one of which rattled car keys in his pocket that I was glad to hear. I wouldn't want them to have to carry all of that back here on their backs. Back pain was a killer, and I wanted to get these men whipped into shape.

I needed an army if I was going to turn the tides of the Narrows in my favor before Sionis got out of plastic surgery.

And where better to build that army, than the people he's screwed the hardest. His own.