Need Cape Nor Cowl

Part Eight: Tourniquet

It was a delicious kind of after feeling. Oh Arnold Wesker could still feel it. Settled down deep in his tummy, even as he put the last dish into the dishwasher and leaned back against it with a sigh. Last night.. Last night had been incredible. He’d never imagined he could be so happy. So free. So in love.

Yes, he was in love with that man. With Commissioner James Gordon. In love with a cop. Yet, that cop had helped him. He’d saved him from the Black Mask, he’d taken him into his home, into his arms, into his bed. Wesker was willing to go back to Arkham for this man, just as soon as it was safe.

He wiped at his brow and started for the living room. Hands tugging at the oversized T-shirt that was thrown over his Arkham pants. He should have put something else on, but he needed to do laundry anyway. He was going to need some new things to wear, maybe he could talk to James and have the other man slip in to speak to Jerry. They could call it evidence, and get his clothes from the Asylum.

Wesker entered the living room and went to gather the light mess from last night up when he heard the door clicking. The small man paused, and looked toward the door. Was James home already? It was far too early, still morning, maybe he’d forgotten-

the door busted open and six large goons piled through. They were wearing black hoods over their faces a glaring white insignia upon their forehead. Wesker gasped, no he screamed! The Black Mask Gang! How did they find him?

Wesker didn’t even have time to ponder it before one of the goons was at him. A hard fist swung out and bashed him across his temple. The small man yelped and his whole world went dizzy. Even before he’s knees hit the ground, he felt tears flooding down his face. Oh god.. what.. James..

He couldn’t think straight as his body instinctively curled into a ball. He could hear the men moving around the house. Muffled sounds, voices.

“ I think it’s in here. “
” Crack it open. “
“ Should we tear up the place? “
“Why not? Be a nice pay back for Mutts. “
“ Yah it’s in here. Damn ugly thing. “

Wesker tried to paw himself up off the ground. The whole world was spinning. He could hear footsteps all around him. Crashing and breaking. Someone kicked the TV. They were tearing up the house around him. Then a hard heavy hand was suddenly gripping his shoulder.

“ Thought you could hide from us, huh, Ventriloquist? Not a good idea to hide in a cops home, Old Coot musta gotten tired of your ass, phoned yah right in. Yer lucky we don’t Ice yah here, but the Boss wants a word with yah first. “

“ W-what.. nooo. “ Wesker gasped out. His heart suddenly felt like it was going to explode.

Something hard clanked to the ground before him. Wesker squinted behind his glasses, his blurry vision settling on the scared up face of the Dummy.

Scarface’s unblinking glass eyes stared back out at Wesker. Staring, cold. Unforgiving.

“ Told yah so, Dummy. “ His voice bit, so matter-of-factly.

And then everything went blank as one of the goons slammed the butt of a gun against the back of Wesker’s skull.

--

It was his own gasps for breath that awoke the Ventriloquist from a nightmarish coma. Not the throbbing pain in the back of his head, not the cool cement floor pressed to his cheek, not even the hurtful throb of his heart. It was the frail grasps for life that left his chest.

He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to be where he thought he might be. He wanted this all to be a nightmare, that maybe, if he rolled over, he would wake up in Gordon’s bed and the man would soothe him and tell him it’s all right.

So Wesker rolled and his glasses earpiece scraped against the cold cement. No.. please god no… The tiny man slowly opened his eyes.

The room he was in was completely empty, save for the bare bulb burning above his head. There wasn’t a window, just a heavy door that was no doubly locked. Cold cement floor, cold brick wall, and there propped up against the door, was Scarface.

“ No… “ Wesker felt the word leave him. This can’t be happening. What had happened? What had gone wrong. He couldn’t have… James.. he couldn’t have.. Please he couldn’t have…

“Yes.”

Wesker’s eyes shifted to Scarface. The Dummy was speaking.

“N-no.” He stifled out, sitting up and scooting till his back hit the wall. “ No-no.. please. He didn’t..”

“ Yes. He did. “

Wesker felt sobs jerking hard to come up out of his chest. The small man curled into his own knees and began to shake. “ You’re lying… “

“ Oh Please, Dummy. I told yah so. I TOLD YAH he was gonna do this, gut did yah listen to me? No. Don’t act so surprised. “

“ No.. NO.. NO! “ Wesker beat his hands against his own head. He couldn’t take this. No. He’d trusted that man. He’d trusted him. He’d loved him. HE’D LOVED HIM. “ no.. “

“ Get yah feel real good right now, don’t yah? I told yah all he wanted was a piece of yer ass. Pounded yah real good, and what happened? The next moment the Glackmask was gargin’ right in tah rock yer world. Hope yer proud of yerself. “

Oh the words hurt. They hurt so bad. Wesker yanked his face from his knees to stare at Scarface. Stare into those nasty cold glass eyes. Unblinking, Uncaring. It’s not true.. it couldn’t be true.. but look where he was… why else would he be here?

“ Did you really think he was gonna keep yah around? Ge his Fuckin’ little housewife? Look at yerself Dummy, you’re a no good, pathetic, worthless, faggoty little wimp, no one will have you. No one gut me. He got what he wanted from yah, then the no good cop sold yah to the GlackMask. “

“ SHUTUP! “ Wesker screeched. He clambered to his feet and clawed at the wall. He clawed at it till his fingers started bleeding. He couldn’t handle this.

I loved you. I loved you. I loved you so much. Why did you do this to me James? Why did you lie to me? Why.. oh god.. I want to die.. I want to die.. I can’t do this…

YOU PROMISED TO SAVE ME!

“ No.. No… He promised… “

“ He lied. “

Wesker banged his head against the wall and then staggered back. He wanted a gun, a knife. Anything he could stick or blow a hole through his heart. Because he felt it was going to pop right there it hurt so much. “ I want to dieee.. “ The tiny man finally collapsed into a ball on the ground and began to sob loudly. He sobbed and sobbed. Curled so tightly into himself. Staining that oversized T-shirt till it was soaked with his tears.

Scarface let him cry. Staring at him with unblinking, uncaring eyes. Stared and Stared till the tiny man finally laid motionless on the floor, broken, staring just as lifeless back at the Puppet.

“ You over with it? “ Scarface bit coldly. “ Whatcha fuckin’ cryin’ over him anyway? He never loved you, there’s no point wasting your tears on him. You still got me. “

Wesker swallowed against the cold floor. “ I .. loved him. “

“ Love’s a waste, Dummy. The only person yah need to concern yourself with is me. So the guy getrayed yah. You getrayed me. Tried tah push me away. Gut look at yerself now. GlackMask has yah, that no git dirty copper isn’t here, he sold yah out. Gut I’m still here. “

“ Mr.. Scarface.. “

“ You sold me out Judus. You Getrayed me. Gut I’m yer Jesus, And I’ll forgive yah for it. Pick me up. “

Wesker dragged in long breaths. “ Mr. Scarface… I.. “

“ You and me, we’re a team. We’ll ge together forever.. Pick me Up, Wesker. “

Arnold let out a moan as he slowly picked himself up off the ground. He could feel fresh new tears streaming down his face as he stumbled toward the door where the puppet ways. His right hand slow and shaky as he started to reach for it.

“ Pick me up, Arnold and we’ll be together forever. “

“ Mr. Scarface.. I .. I.. yes… “ The tiny man dropped to his knees before the Dummy, those calloused right fingers slipped into the compartment and everything he’d worked for over the last months, his life, his love, his freedom disappeared with a clanking of wooden jaws.

“ Good, Wesker. This is how it should ge. Now wipe up those tears, Dummy. ‘Cause there’s nothin’ tah fear, While you were out I struck up a deal with the Glack Mask. Knock on the door five times and stand gack. “

Wesker got to his feet slowly and let out a final sob. He swallowed hard. “ yes.. Yes sir, Yes Mr. Scarface… “

He reached up with his other hand and rapped five times against the door and then stood back.

After a moment the sound of the lock clanged and the door creaked open. There in the frame stood Roman Sionis, His burnt skull like face pulled into a grin and he offered a hand to Wesker.

“ Mr. Ventriloquist, Mr. Scarface. Glad to see you’ve patched things up. Now if you’ll follow me, We’re going to get you into something more decent and talk about my next big move, follow me. “

“ Lets get going, Dummy. Gon’t wanna keep the GlackMask waitin’. Heh. Here we go, gack to the top. Gotham isn’t gonna know wha hit it. “

Wesker stood for a moment, his face in a stone expression. His eyes completely obscured by those thick reflective lenses.

I loved you so much..

“ Yes Sir, Mr. Scarface, you’re the Boss. “

And he followed after the Black Mask.

--

It had started at work. James Gordon hadn’t been quite able to pinpoint what it was, but he kept rubbing the back of his neck. His forehead beaded up with cold sweat and his vision blurred as he tried to make out the latest sighting report. The night before these symptoms came with the most exquisite feeling that James Gordon had had since his youth, but today they came with something else entirely.

He kept reaching up and wiping his forehead on the back of sleeve. God, his stomach was so unsettled. Could it be Arnold’s cooking? Nah, it didn’t feel quite like that. It felt like the sick feeling that was always there before he walked in and saw a body face down, and knew when he rolled it over it’s face would have an eerie grin fixed onto it, or when he would see the shadow of a hanging form and was sure what would be around the corner when it came into view. Cop’s intuition? Maybe. There was apparently nothing else that would set this sort of feeling off in him.

Occasionally the passing lieutenant would come in to swing some information by him on pickpockets or random violence. Things mostly the Batman had dealt nicely with, and didn’t concern Jim so much. Mostly he told them to get right on it or which precinct to send it to.

Why isn’t this feeling going away?

He put down his files and got up from his desk. He ran his hands through his hair. It wasn’t uneasy anymore, it was bordering on nauseous. “What the fuck is the matter?” he mumbled to himself, wiping away a sheen of salty water gathered on his neck. Feet scraped along the carpet as he walked around to the front of his file fort and started to pace.

“You don’t look good,” said a gruff voice from his door. He turned to see Bullock in the door. He didn’t bother to knock so much as he invited himself in. The grizzled heavy-set man pulled his hat brim low as he came into the office. He snagged a chair by the door, meant for important visitors, roughly by the back and slid it close to sit in.
Gordon watched him, crossing one arm around his stomach, trying to settle it, and pinching his lower lip with the other. “Any reason for being here, Bullock?”

“Nah.” He pulled out a bottle of tums from one of his trench coat pockets. He probably had to eat twelve of the antacids a day just to be able to keep up his voracious appetite. He held them out toward the commissioner easily. “Here, take one of these before you mess up your pretty carpet and piss off the janitors.”

For a bit the gray haired man just looked at him, then he moved forward and took the bottle, braving the fat detective‘s lingering odor. Using his thumb he popped the cap and tapped a large disk out into his palm, and popped it into his mouth. The foul false citrus flavor of the thing at least distracted temporarily from the rumbling in his stomach. “Fuck. This shit tastes like chalk, Bullock.”

Bullock nodded and thick fingers reached into his other pocket, pulling out a silver flask. He held it out toward Gordon and shook it, making a sloshing sound as he shook it. “Here,” he said bluntly. “Wash it down.”

“You’re not supposed to have this in the building, it’s against policy,” Gordon scolded, but it didn’t keep him from taking the flask and unscrewing the cap. He just wanted to make it through the day and go home and check on Arnold. He just couldn’t shake this feeling that something wasn’t right.

“So you and your chicky having difficulties?” he asked, reaching to receive the alcohol as his gray haired superior handed it back. The question made Gordon cough and shake his head quickly.

Bullock sat back, watching him wipe his mouth. “Yeah, I know what that’s like. Women just don’t get it sometimes. You gotta be your own man. You’ll bounce back-”

For a moment Gordon tried to respond, but he couldn’t stop coughing. Instead he settled for wiping his mouth.

“See, when it comes to women, James, you gotta let ‘em know who’s on top. Women like that, you know. Being pushed around a little bit-”

“I’m leavin’,” Gordon said, reaching to grab his coat off the coat rack. The sudden movement made Bullock stand up.

“Hey! This advice is gold! Where are you going?!”

“See you tomorrow, Bullock. I’m cutting out early,” Gordon said, sliding on the coat and then fixing the collar stiffly as he walked out the door.

“Home?! The day’s only half over! Don’t you still have a bunch of shit to do?” the irritated voice asked behind him, Harvey turning to look at the pile of paperwork that still awaited James’s attention.

“Good night, Bullock! Close the door behind you!”

~*~*~

The drive home was long, and the antacids did nothing to curb that feeling. Though he sort of wish he had the liquor. The closer he got, the worse it got, like magma boiling up from the pit of his stomach. He thought he was going slower the closer he got. It seemed to take so long, but in truth his accelerator was finding itself more and more near the floorboards.

When he reached the end of his block, he could vaguely make out a dark space where the door on his house should have been closed.

Your door is open. Something’s wrong. Something’s happened to him.

He hit the accelerator so hard that he left tire streaks in the basement. He spun the wheel and careened into his own driveway. He didn’t even bother to turn off the engine or close the door. He couldn’t even hear it. He could just hear the sound of thudding in his own ears.
Where are you, Arnold?

He ran toward the kitchen. Pots and pans scattered. New dishes broken that hadn’t had a chance to be washed yet. He turned on his heels and sped back into the living room. How could someone not have heard the cathode ray on the TV bursting? They should have called the cops. That’s always loud.

He looked toward the lights on his home alarm system. Not set off. They must have cut the power or the circuitry.
He couldn’t even hear how loud he was breathing. And it was loud. Panicked and spastic and on the verge of hyperventilating. He ran past the bathroom into his room. Please god, Arnold. Be alright. The bedroom was trashed. Pillows torn, window busted. He turned toward his gun safe. Empty. Completely empty. Scarface was gone. No wait, not empty. There was a piece of paper in there, with scratchy handwriting.

“Arnold, what have you done,” he muttered, the sound of his own voice barely louder than the thud in his ears. He kneeled and picked it up.
It read:

“Hey there, Copper.


We would of left you a bigger mess, but I wanted you to sit and stew with that fact that Dummy's run out on you. That's right, you fucking 'hero', nice work trying to push me out of the picture. What you don't understand is that I've always been in charge, even when you kept me locked up in your dusty old gun kook. Dummy's MINE. I own him. He does what I TELL him to do, just 'cause you humped him a little doesn't make you the Bat. If that was the case, you'd have triple the count Donnagon to deal with. But you see how I take care of shitheads like him. Go back to paperwork, old man. I'm the only one running this wimp around. Hope you enjoyed the ass while you had it, because its out of here. Dummy doesn't love you, he just needed a place to crash till I could figure out a way to best get myself back on top. Don't get your panties in too much of a wad over it tho, I'm sure we'll cross paths again.

Only then, I think I'll put a slug between your eyes.

HaHa. ~S~”

There’s a switch that happens, when that feeling of dread is eaten by confirmation. He’d been used. All his work to save someone, to undo the horrible things that had happened to him. He’d began to feel accomplished. He’d even begun to feel like he could be with someone again. The paper crinkled in his fingers, but that didn’t make it go away. It was still in his hand, like a poison or a cancer. It was there, in his hand. STILL THERE! Reminding him of what a damn fool he was.

He said he wouldn’t hurt you. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you.

The thud in his ears finally got quiet enough so that he could hear himself. Was it a sob? Was it cries of rage? It didn‘t matter.
It was a nightmare.

He hit his knees, but that wasn’t steady enough. He lowered himself to the ground and rolled onto his back. Tears streaked from the corners of his eyes down toward the floor as he cried to the ceiling. To the heavens. To Sarah. To Barbara, wherever she was. How could he let it get this far? How could he let his emotions take over his common sense like that.

You should have guessed from the beginning. He never needed you. He just used you. He was like every other common criminal in Gotham City.

“No no NOO!” he screamed, arguing with himself. Fuck it hurt. It hurt down to his very core and no matter how much of the pain seeped out his eyes, he couldn’t keep it from growing in him.

He needed to call the department. He needed to get officers down there. He needed to collect evidence and think up an explanation as to why the Black Mask would have broke into his house.

You need to find him.

His fingers relaxed and he opened his eyes. Even through the fog on his glasses, he never had seen the world so clearly. There wouldn’t be a bat-signal. No, not for this one. It was up to him to fulfill his revenge.

~*~*~

“I think you need to change your locks, sir,” Montoya said, looking at the lock on his door. She swung it to and fro on the hinges as officers swarmed around filling evidence bags with bit out of Gordon’s apartment.

Gordon himself just stood in the middle of his living room, staring toward the back wall with his hands in his pockets. His jaw was set. He didn’t have anything to say to this. Nothing he could say. He just let them swarm like bees around him, picking at bits of paper in the floor and hairs in the kitchen.

Bullock came out from the bedroom area, carrying a shred of cloth in one hand and had the other wrapped in toilet paper, seeping red into the thin plies. “This looks like the Black Mask’s work, boss. One of his goons. Must have been looking for some of your files on where some of the criminals might have got off to.” He reached to rub his hand. “Fuck, cut my hand on the damned window glass getting it.”

Montoya left the door and walked over to Bullock with a plastic bag. “Give it here, Harvey. You’re going to contaminate the evidence.” She sighed with the annoyance of a plagued mother as she put the bit of cloth in the bag. “You better go get that bandaged up, it looks like it could be bad.”

“Nah, not too bad. I musta hit a vein. No big deal.” He held it, watching Montoya bag the evidence and looked up at Gordon. “He’s quiet.”

“Yeah, he is,” she said. She glanced at the commissioner’s back. He seemed like a statue, just standing there, alone with his thoughts. “I think he’s had a rough week, though.”

“I saw him earlier and he looked like he was about to toss cookies-”

“Work, don’t gossip,” Gordon said bluntly without turning. Amusement was far gone from his voice. Finally he turned toward them. “On the night of the Arkham breakout, did Rhino get away?”

Bullock scratched his oily hair under his hat, unnerved by the commissioners behavior. “Nah, seeing as how he’s not criminally insane he’s still in the slammer, not that crazy petting zoo they have for the psychos.”

Light glinted from Gordon’s frames, hiding eyes that were already shadowed by his heavy brow. “Watch him. Put him in maximum security. I want him interrogated tomorrow. I’m sure the Ventriloquist has gotten in contact with him somehow and is planning his escape.”

Bullock said it was the Black Mask. If it was the Black Mask, everything… even the hospital. It may have all led up to this. A slow gradual process to get inside my head. Was Wesker really that capable of betrayal? Or was there no Wesker? Was there only Scarface?

“How do you figure on that, sir?-” Montoya started, but was quickly cut off by Bullock.

“I thought it was the Black Mask who broke into this place! Where are you goin’ with this, Commish?”

“He’s not the only one responsible,” Gordon said, keeping his tone firm and professional. He hid the betrayal and pain well, burying it under his strong exterior. When it cam down to it, that’s all he really had, just the good ol’ fashioned GCPD.

Montoya swallowed, looking at the commissioner’s eerily stern face. “Yes sir. We’ll get on it right away.”

--

Bullock: It was odd. When they renovated the department, they made all new state of the art interrogation rooms. Nothing like these, from the days when the GCPD was more corrupt. The tiles were starting to flake. There were no cameras. The two-way mirror in this particular one had a lengthy crack up the mirrored side. In fact this antique was about to be redone into a new evidence room within the month.

That would be the room that Gordon requested the interrogation of Rhino to occur in.

Not that it bugged Bullock too much. He gladly went down into the nether regions of the department. He rather liked the idea of this seedy behavior that Gordon was promoting.

That morning the penitentiary delivered Rhino with an armed escort to the station. He was taken down to the room in irons and left in there alone for a couple of hours. No food. No water. Just some cops to watch him through that chipped glass to make sure he didn't cause any trouble.

Rhino: It was rather obvious why this man was so called 'Rhino' and it wasn't just the inked animal upon his upper right arm either. He had a thick head, thick brow, almost Cro-Magnon in style. His parchment? Ramming right into things with it! Unfortunately, that was about the only thing Rhino used his head for.

The goon was indefinitely stupid. But he was still Scarface's number two. But even he wasn't sure why he'd been pulled out of Black-Gate to come down to the station. Stubble chin moved as the large goon smacked his lips together. It was hot in this room, he was uncomfortable and sticky. The chair he'd been forced to sit in wasn't built for his frame either. It squeezed at his hips and creaked each time he shuffled what he could. The large goon had taken to popping his own lips in an attempt to entertain himself.

He wondered briefly if this had something to do with all the gossip he'd been getting along the bricks. Sucks if that's the case. The chains clanged a bit as the goon scooted again in his chair and let out a huff. What the hell was up?

Bullock: A couple of sets of mammoth skin tunics and it would have been a caveman convention. Bullock's own stocky heavyset frame entered the room, and he had a heavy seat on the other end of the long table in the center of the room.

"So, big guy. The Commish wants to know what your boss is up too being so buddy buddy with the Black Mask."

The cops on the other side of the two-way glanced up as the door on their side opened. The gray haired figure, backlit from the hallway, motioned for them to leave. The glanced at each other, raising eyebrows curiously. But they weren't about to argue with a superior. They walked out by him with a salute.

Gordon then took their places by the glass and shoved his hands in his pockets, fondling the items he placed in them.

Rhino: A final pop from those big greasy lips and Rhino shifted his eyes to the fat cop as he entered. He immediately scowled. Rhino hated cops, for more reasons then one. He'd run into this one before, hell just about everyone in the Underground knew Bullock. Fatass with a chip on his shoulder.

Hot air snorted out of Rhino's nose as he sat back in that too-tiny chair and gritted his teeth in the usual you're-the-cop, I'm-the-goon, and-I-anit-tellin-yah-shit manner. Thick sausage fingers flexed together and crackling knuckles without even have to press together in the cuffs. He didn't see Gordon on the other side of the two-way mirror.

" Like I know... " Rhino growled out. Showing teeth like an animal would. " I've been in fuckin' Black-Gate since dah Boss got sent tah Arkham, I haven't 'eard a thing from anybody. Yer wastin' yer time, Fatass. "

Bullock: "Hey, I know you gotta know! If the Ventriloquist is into anything, you'd be the first he'd let in on it, jail or no. Yeah, I bet you jerk off thinkin' of that puppet at night, don't you."

Fortunately Rhino probably didn't hear the sound of Gordon's forehead as it thunked against the glass. Bullock's wording was so articulate sometimes.

Bullock leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "Bet you even wish you were the puppet master, huh? I bet you wish you were the one holding the puppet. How do you feel about that weak guy Wesker holding onto him. Think he'll be able to keep him from becoming termite food? I bet your just itchin' to have your chance to get out of the slammer."


Rhino: Veins popped out on that mammoths goons neck as the little chubby shithead's words rained in on him. Chains clicked and Rhino had to fight every urge in his body, chains or not, to not leap across the table and ram into the fatass. Sweat slithered down his face as he growled.

" SHUD the FUCK UP, PIG. I dun havetah tell yah anythin'! Yah don't know shit! Yah think even if I did know somethin' I'd tell yer fatass? I wouldn't rat out dah Boss. Scarface eat me alive. "

This was true to say the least. Rhino was big, he was stupid, but he was undoubtedly loyal to the little man and his puppet. He was so thick headed he didn't even realize that Scarface was just another part of Wesker, in his eyes, The Dummy was ever bit real as Wesker seemed to think he was.

Rhino clanged in the chair. " So hows about yah get the fuck out of here and go masturbate into a carton of donuts or somethin', I's gots nothin' for yah, Fatass. "

Bullock: "So somethin' is gonna happen and your just not tellin'! You're too scared to talk!" Bullock snapped, then chuckled heartily. "Yeah, you just wait 'til you get a gift box of glazed Jolly Pirates when we throw your ass back in Black Gate."

Bullock leaned forward again and slammed his fist on the table. "So did you know he was plotting without you?! He's been in on this whole Black Mask thing from the beginning, hasn't he? Think he's gonna give a damn about you when he's got a whole army of goons at his command. Hell, if he did you'd have been out a month ago. Sorry to break it to you, sweet cheeks. Your little wooden doll-baby has forgotten all about you."

Really Harvey wasn't sure of what the Ventriloquist had been up to, but Gordon seemed fixed on the idea that even the incident in the hospital where he'd nearly taken a needle to the neck was part of some great plot hatched by Scarface. Bullock really doubted that the little weasely puppeteer was that great a maniacal genius, and his every encounter with him he'd skipped the scene like a chicken shit, but he'd ask the questions if that's what the commissioner wanted.

It was kinda odd that he hadn't put Montoya up to it, he usually trusted her judgment more.

Rhino: The chair clattered to the floor as Rhino stood up. His face had gone beet red and there was thick goblets of sweat tricking down his neck. At full stance the guy neared seven feet. He was a thick goon, all muscle. Even Batman had trouble when fighting hand to hand with him.

" Why you! " But Rhino stood there, snorting air. He was dumb, but he knew better then to attack a cop in a police station. He knew there were other's behind that glass. " You think yer so tough fatass, you and me out back for ten minutes and I'll show yah whose got sweet-cheeks. "

There was no panic to Bullock's words that Scarface had forgotten him. Because Rhino knew this was not true. He knew his Boss was going to bust him out soon, because not only the grapevine, but because the Dummy always said he was the only Goon worth being a Goon. Dumb but Loyal. And even if Scarface did forgot, Wesker would always remind him to pick up Rhino.

" Shows how much you know. Scarface never forget about me, I know he's gonna come get me out soon, and when I do, the first thing Imma come do is go to yer house and bash in your ugly head. "

Rhino knew he shouldn't have blurted that right out. But atlas he's dumb. It even took him a full minute to catch himself. " When he does come for me, I mean. I dun know nothing, Call my lawyer, I dun have tah talk tah you anymore. "

Bullock/Gordon: "That's enough, Bullock," Gordon's stern voice spoke up behind Bullock, causing the fat man to turn in his place. "I'd like to talk to him, now."

"You heard him, you want me to go put a call into his lawyer? Not that'll do much good to keep him out of solitary after a threat like that," he added with a smirk.

"No, Bullock. I want you to go into the next room and let me talk to him."

"Commish- ... Alright then," Bullock said with a resigned shake of his head. He wasn't used to Gordon acting so out of the ordinary.

Love makes you do crazy things, Harvey. Broken hearts make you do crazier.

Gordon walked over and nudged the back of the chair until Bullock rose from it. His wrinkled overcoat shifted as he glanced over his shoulder at James taking the seat, then walked out. He grumbled all the way around to the other room, and into it. Then he nearly stumbled as he came in. No cops. Just a large semi-auto laying on the table, evidence tag reading simply, "Just in case."

"So this is why Renee's not in on this," Bullock said. He put a toothpick in his mouth and took his place by the window to watch... Then he realized something. He couldn't hear anything. He walked over to the speaker and tapped on it. No sound was coming from the other room. His eyes began to follow the cord.

Meanwhile, James pulled out an apple, a ripe red one without a flaw one on it's skin, and a straight-razor from the other pocket. "Not the most polite guy, is he?"

Rhino: The sound of knuckles cracking followed Bullock out of the room. The big goon growled till the fat cop was completely gone and then turned his attention to the older man that now sat at the opposite end of the table. What the hell was up with this? Since when do they need to question him anymore? He'd already asked for his lawyer.

Rhino bend down and shuffled the chair back as best as he could and plopped down into it. He stared across the table at the Commissioner. Eyeballin' the apple and the razor for a moment. Old coot. Old. Bet it wouldn't take much work to get that razor away from him. It was just too bad he was in the middle of a police station.

" I'd like tah knock his block off. " Rhino scuffed and his lip twitched with his dying anger. " Look I already said tah call my lawyer, I already talk to the fatass, Nothin’ I got tah say to you is gonna make a lick of difference, I don't know shit, so why don't yah quite wasting time and just take me back to Black Gate already. "

Rhino didn't like all this attention on him. It made his head hurt. What had the Ventriloquist and Scarface done that they needed to seriously drag him outta the joint?

" Sides, if the Boss n Wesker is runnin' around, sooner or later the Bats is gonna pick them up, Why duncah drag him in here if yer so desperate tah catch em. "

Gordon/Bullock: "I don't want to take you back to Black Gate yet," Gordon said, watching the apple more than Rhino as he turned it slowly in his hand. The peel came off in a small circle. Even. Like a red confetti streamer and caused the smell of fresh apple to waft up and fill the room.

"Tell me, has Wesker ever been in control of Scarface, or has he just been another one of Scarface's loyal henchmen like yourself?" He slid the thin blade through a bit of the apple, making the thinnest sliver capable of melting in his mouth, and lifted it to his lips. Light glinted off the blade as he sucked a bit of the juice off of his thumb.

"It's not like you'd be giving away anything we might not already know. This is just something I personally need to know. Off the record. No lawyer needed. Not admissible in court. Just your personal opinion on who's in charge. Could Wesker ever think independently of Scarface?" he guessed what Rhino might say, but he didn't want to believe that every moment he and Wesker had been together that it had all been a farce.

How could you let yourself be used like that?

On the other side of the mirror Bullock hissed as his fingers found frayed wires, jerking them back. They were still hot from the power that went through them just a couple of minutes earlier, and his foot nudged a pair of wire cutters in the darkness. "...What the hell? Gordon what were you doing in here?" He hunched down with a grunt to pick the things up.

Rhino: Rhino licked his lips as he watched the other man peel the apple slowly. It reminded him that he hadn't had water in hours. But the thirsty feeling was overrun almost oddly by one of an ominous panic. Just a slow trickle. There was something about the Commissioner, right there, they way he was acting that sent a little shiver down Rhino's spine.

It was like the vibes he use to get when Scarface would go silent for a moment, right before he'd gun down a useless goon for opening his mouth the wrong why.

The question posed to Rhino, confused the big goon. His brows kneaded. " What? " He reached up with cuffed hands to rub at his nose, there was a line of sweat going down the middle of his face. " Ventriloquist? Wesker? " What a weird question. Rhino rather lifted his broad shoulders with a thunk.

" No, Scarface's the Boss. Wesker's just a toady. Not ever as high up in the Family as I am. The lil guy isn't even as Loyal as I am. " For a moment the big guy sniffed. Maybe Bullock had hit a
nerve earlier. " Doesn't even like icin' people, always covers his fuckin' eyes. Scarface always gots tah slap him around a bit. No Scarface. " Rhino actually grinned proudly. " he's the brains. "

Then the goon frowned, his nose wrinkled. " What the fuck did you wanna know that for anyway? Everyone knows that. Common I know you've booked em before. "

Gordon: "Yeah, I booked him good." Another slow, thin sliver was cut from the apple and placed in the Commissioner's mouth. He licked a little residue from his lips and wiped them with the back of his hand, lifting his eyes to look up at Rhino through his thin wire frames. "I don't think I want to send you back to Black Gate."

He looked down at the apple, resting on his fingers like a pedestal. A trickle of juice was even starting to run down one finger as he turned it, looking down from Rhino to the stripped fruit. "I think we should go upstairs and sign release papers." The commissioner knew it sounded like he'd lost his mind, but he knew exactly what he was saying.

Rhino may have been dumb, but he'd been a goon long enough about the release-and-follow tactic. That was the furthest thing from Gordon's plan, though...

Rhino: The big goons brow flurried again. He was just sitting there for a moment, starting at Gordon with his apple. Watching the juice run down over his hand and onto the table. But the sight of it was starting to make him sick to his stomach. Again he reached up with cuffed hands and wiped at his face. What the fuck is this old man up too?

Rhino chewed on his lip for a moment and finally jerked his gaze away from the Commissioner. " Sure, lets go upstairs, I'd like to get outta here, But don't think I'm that stupid that I'm gonna lead you tah dah Boss or somethin', 'cause I told yah, I don't know shit, I don't know where he is or anythin'. "

Rhino stood up in his chair and rolled his shoulders. He really wanted to get out of here. Being in this old nasty room with this other man, peeling an apple with a straight razor had unnerved him. A big ol Goon like Rhino. If he got released, he'd have to find another way to get in contact with his Boss.

Because Scarface wouldn't be pleased if Rhino led the fuckin' pigs right too him.

Gordon: "Didn't want you to. You wouldn't make it a mile from the station," Gordon cut yet another sliver, keeping his seat. "Tell me, did you ever meet a man named Flass in the joint? I bet he had a good story. You know, about the time a dozen thugs beat him senseless, left him naked in the snow with his hands tied behind his back?..

"It wasn't a dozen men," he explained. "But you know, it couldn't have been one little ol' coot, could it? That would have been an insult to his pride. No way could he handle something like that." He sat the apple down between himself and Rhino. "Tell me what you know and I send you back to Black Gate with no record of this conversation."

He tapped the table with the thick side of the razor. "Don't tell me and I have the boys in blue escort you into the bare naked freedom of the outside world, and I cut out early again. Apple?"

Rhino: Rhino suddenly felt his heart in his ears. The Thunk thunk of the razor against the table was deafeningly loud. Could it really be that this old man, in his calm and eerier way was actually completely unnerving this behemoth of a goon? Rhino swallowed and started to sweat profusely. He shook his head a hard 'no' to the offering of the apple and finally tore his gaze away from the commissioner and his razor and stared at the table.

" I d-don't know a lot. I just know that in a couple days Black Mask's gonna hit Black Gate and get all the boys out and we's gonna get together, both gangs. Somethin' about getting the burd into office or somethin'. All I know there's g-gonna be alotta heists to follow and then M Man him self’s gonna be top dog. But I anit heard from the Boss at all, I don't know where he is. I dunno what's up with the Boss, it anit like him to work undah NOBODY. "

Rhino fidgeted in his chair. " Lemme go back tah the joint now, that's all I know.. "

Gordon/Bullock: Gordon nodded and stood up. "You've been very cooperative." He grabbed the apple and his string of peel, and walked back out the door. He knocked on the door to the two-way with his foot.

Bullock looked out in confusion, holding up the end of the frayed wire. "What the hell is this?!"

"He didn't have anything. I'm gonna tell the guards to take him back. Go on back upstairs and work on the case."

The look on Harvey's face couldn't possibly be more confused, but he slowly moved by the Commissioner. "Y-yeah, sure James. Maybe you should check into that vacation soon. Job's startin' to get to you."

"It's Gordon." The commissioner narrowed his eyes behind his frames and stepped out to motion to the guards that had retired to the water cooler. "Not even as loyal as I am" is what he'd said. That means, maybe a little, he'd really cared.

Then again, you're full of all sorts of wishful thinking lately, aren't you, commissioner?