See No Evil: The Right Decision (ch.5) (Patreon)

"I look like a kid wearing his dad's suit," I remarked, staring at myself in a full-length mirror. Penguin had a dress code -- a three-piece suit. It cost a couple hundred bucks, which naturally went to the utterly insane debt I found myself saddled with. My head swam at the mere thought of it, the number of zeros doing horrible things to my heart, but this nightmare refused to end.

"You'll grow into it, kid," Oswald Cobblepot remarked with a laugh as I tugged at the black-tie, loosening it enough so I could breathe. The suit itself wasn't flattering. It was form-fitting just enough to highlight just how scrawny I was. Compared to others, whose suits looked like they were tailor-made with bulging biceps in mind. Not noodle arms.

I knew better than to snark the boss. Who was a mobster.

Holy fuck, I just joined the mafia.

"So, kid, since things are a bit different with you, I'll personally give you the rundown," Pen… Mr. Cobblepot started, jabbing a half-smoked cigar at me. "There are three kinds of jobs. Low risk, medium risk, and high risk. High risk are the ones that pay the most, but you had better expect Batman to swoop in and kick your teeth in. Medium are a nice middle ground -- you probably won't see Batman, but you are more likely to run into the cops if neither have anything better to do. Low risk, as you can hopefully figure out, is…?"

"Low chance of Batman or the cops, but the pay is trash," I finished for him, feeling like a monkey performing tricks on command.

"Good boy. A lot like that job you did for me that turned out so spectacularly, you'll be left in the dark about what exactly you'll be dealing with. All you'll know is that it'll be high to low risk. And because I have a soft spot in my heart for wayward snot-nosed brats with more balls than brains, I'll let you choose the risk level of the job," Mr. Cobblepot said, a smug smile on his face like he expected a thank you.

"Thank you, Mr. Cobblepot," I said, fighting off a frown. What was with everyone calling me kid? First Jack, and now Cobblepot? I know eighteen was still considered 'young' but I was a legal adult. Well, I would be if I had a legal identity.

"What can I say, kid? My generosity knows no bounds," Mr. Cobblepot dismissed with a shrug of his shoulders. The action brought attention to his gut that strained against his suit. And for a short man, not even five feet tall, it stood out considerably already. "That could change depending on how you perform. You continuously screw up, and I'll have you working low risk only. And you'll be paying me off until your dying day. Likewise, you do well, go above and beyond to earn those golden stars, and you could be included in… decision making."

Meaning I could become a lieutenant. In a mob. In a city with Batman in it.

What the hell was my life?

"How much does a job count towards my debt?" I asked, fiddling with a cufflink as I turned around to look at Mr. Cobblepot directly.

"Fifty percent of what would be your cut goes to me. You can pay more towards it, of course, but that's the bottom line. For each job, ten percent is divided up between you and whoever you bring on a job with you," Mr. Cobblepot explained. And I saw what he was going for.

"So, if I want to make big money, then I take high risk and do them with as few people as possible," I thought aloud. "Which naturally insulates your mob because no one willingly shares that information." Low and high-risk jobs would be done with as few people as possible to make sure that the take wasn't divided into too many shares. And because of that, unless Batman or the cops stumbled into a job, they would be left blind.

The only person that had the complete picture was Mr. Cobblepot.

"Precisely," Mr. Cobblepot confirmed. "I know it doesn't sound like a whole lot, but some high-risk jobs, once I trust you to take them… the payout is in the millions. You could pay off your debt and end up with a nice modest nest egg. Or," he smiled, "you could keep working for me and make us both rich. But, that day is some ways away, so don't worry your head about it."

I nodded, coming to grips with the situation I got myself into. Saying that I wanted this outcome would be a vast exaggeration, but it was the one that I expected. It was just actually being here, dressed in a uniform, a part of an actual crime family so I could commit crimes… it was different in reality than it was in my head.

"Can I ask that I be omitted from any… human trafficking related jobs?" I asked, meeting Mr. Cobblepot's gaze evenly. He liked me enough to give me this chance because I stood my ground and knew when to bare my neck.

"Are you going to plug more of my guys if I don't?" Mr. Cobblepot asked with a dangerous edge in his tone. On this, I had to stand my ground.

"Yeah… I will," I confirmed with a slow nod of my head. I meant it too. Four people. In a day. I don’t know if it hadn’t sunk in yet, or if I was just in a low-key state of shock about everything that had happened, or if there was something wrong with me and there always had been. I didn’t know. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. What I did know was that I might be a murderer, but I still had lines that I wouldn’t cross. If I had to kill to stop myself from going over that line? Well, what was one more murder?

“Heh,” Penguin chuckled, taking in a deep drag of his cigar before he blew the smoke over my chest and face. Now I was going to reek of smoke. Then he tossed a burner phone at me, which I thankfully caught with no fumbling. “Use that to keep in touch. It has an address that you’ve been volunteered for. Be there and don’t be late.”

With that, Mr. Cobblepot turned around and started walking away as he casually twirled his signature umbrella, hooking an arm around one of his secretaries' waist. They walked out of the dressing room behind the stage, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I turned to look at myself in the mirror, taking in my appearance.

“What have I gotten myself into?” I asked myself, cracking open the phone to look at the address and time. Luckily it was for tomorrow. Giving me time to come to grips with the radical turn my life had taken in less than twenty-four hours. Had I made a mistake? Should I have tested my luck with Tifa and Batman? Should I have pushed with Mr. Cobblepot?

In the end, it was too late for regrets. I was now a low ranking mook in a crime family with a five million dollar debt hanging over my head.

I took in a deep breath, straightening out my hacked at hair, and let it out slowly. “It is what it is,” I told my reflection before I turned away and started walking towards the exit. I couldn’t do anything about it now. The only thing I could do was find a way to pay off my debt as fast as I could.

People glanced at me as I walked out of the club, some sending me looks of distaste, while others nodded at me. I would have to feel out how people felt about what I did once the story of what happened made the rounds, just to make sure that someone didn’t try to set me up. For now, I had another destination so I didn’t pay the looks any mind.

Reaching out to the door handle, I ignored the slight tremble in my hands to pull the door open. The last vestiges of adrenaline were still pumping through my system. Adrenaline that surged after I had committed cold-blooded murder. With one arm carrying my stuff, I stuffed the other in my pocket to hide the shaking. I had to fake it until I made it. At the very least, as I walked down the pier, I felt a little less out of place.

My feet carried me down what was steadily becoming a familiar path. The gun that was in a holster at my ribs felt like it weighed a billion pounds. My mind tried to relive that moment when I pulled the trigger, but I forced myself to think of other things. Important things. Like what was my next step?

How was I going to juggle taking care of Jack and the others on top of dealing with Mr. Cobblepot? I had my cards, which would help immeasurably. Refurbishing items was a decent stream of revenue, and if I pinched every penny then the quality of items I could refurbish would go up. Right now I was dealing with refrigerators, TVs, and game consoles, but I could move up to… cars, or something.

As for jobs for Mr. Cobblepot… I was going to stick with low risk. If only for now. If I got busted or Batman kicked my teeth in, then… Jack and the others would pay the price because I was out of commission. No matter how I looked at it, I had to be smart about how I did things. From making money to spending it, to doing jobs, to making sure that I didn’t get busted.

I had my cards. I had some spotty metaknowledge. I was willing to do just about anything it took to thrive. I had all that I needed to thrive. It was only a matter of leveraging those advantages correctly.

“Yo, Duck,” A somewhat familiar voice called out to me as I walked towards the clinic. Looking over, I saw it was the guy that I handed over the car to. Kinda regret that now, but it was probably for the best, all things considered. He wore a puffy red jacket and another hat. Two others walked behind him, wearing similar clothing with wide smiles on their faces. Looking at the glittering gold around their necks, I’m guessing they went with the smart option and pawned off the car to a chop shop.

He reached out a hand that clasped against mine before the grip flowed through various kinds of handshakes. I never really understood it, but guys had a natural feel for the flow of a handshake, no matter what ridiculous form it might take. “Good to see you still alive and it looks like we’re not the only ones rocking new threads. You still in deep shit?”

“Eh, I can see the sun, so not as deep as before,” I admitted. “The car didn’t bring you any trouble?”

The guy shook his head, “Nah, none. Know a guy that took it off my hands for a really nice price,” He explained before he gave me a curious look. “But, I gotta ask, where exactly did you get that car? And is it related to how deep you were in the hole?”

“It’s a long story, but I got it from the Penguin -- but,” I quickly continued, seeing the panicked look that flashed over his face. “But it’s all good now. I work for him, so all has been forgiven. Honestly, I’m not even sure if he noticed the car was missing.”

The guy scratched at his cheek, looking at me with new eyes. “Damn. You were in some deep shit,” he remarked, and fair enough. I was. But I sorta, kinda, depending on how you look at it, got myself out of it. I more or less traded one bad situation for another, but now a tortuously slow and painful death wasn’t in the cards anymore. Probably. “Well, the names Jeremiah.”

“Vergil,” I introduced myself. The other two didn’t make a move to introduce themselves, and I didn’t ask.

“Vergil, you did me a solid, so if you ever need me to repay the favor, then I got your back. You know, provided it’s nothing crazy. Like stealing a car from the Penguin,” Jeremiah said, holding out a fist that I bumped.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said with a nod, wondering how I could turn this to my advantage. I put a pin in the thought until I knew more about what to do with a favor like the one he was offering. Jeremiah nodded before he started walking past me, the message delivered. I made eye contact with the goons that trailed behind him and I couldn’t help but wonder if they were friends or bodyguards.

Either way, it didn’t really matter. Stuffing my hand back into my pocket, I continued to walk towards the clinic. Despite how much had changed in the short hour I had been gone, the clinic looked the same. Glass doors, a decently sized building with several stories. A simple sign reading Park Row Clinic was placed above the door.

And, naturally, as I neared the doors Tifa stepped outside. For a brief moment, she didn’t recognize me, displaying the naked anger and worry on her face as she clutched a deck, some money, and a note in one hand hard enough that she probably ruined all three. She strode out of the clinic like a woman on a mission. She nearly walked right through me, and I stumbled a step back to get out of her way. Her eyes flickered over me before moving on.

She nearly kept walking, dismissing me as some passerby, but she stopped a split second later, her head whipping around to look up at me.

Then Tifa punched me in the shoulder. Hard.

“Ouch, fuck,” I cursed, rubbing the pain out of my shoulder. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her warm reddish-brown eyes overflowing with worry. "That hurt," I complained, feeling a fist-shaped bruise form on my shoulder. Tifa continued to look up at me, making me let out a small sigh. "And I deserved it."

"I thought you were going to die," Tifa told me, making my shoulders drop as I tried not to shuffle my feet. I was never any good with heart to heart conversations like this.

"Well, you just proved that I’m not a ghost," I added, trying to get a laugh out of her. But Tifa didn't seem to care for my attempt at humor. Which was fair. I wasn't very funny.

"What were you thinking? I thought that- I thought that we were in this together?" Tifa stated, her shoulders dropping as well. A few people that walked by us glanced in our direction but paid us little mind. Not counting the people checking out Tifa, of course. 

"I was thinking that I had to do something. Jack and the others, they lost everything. They won't make it through the winter if no one helps them. No one will, because this city is an absolute hellhole," I started, leaning against the wall by the door. "And the only way I could help them was if I settled up with Mr. Cobblepot, the Penguin, first. So… I did what he didn't expect and confronted him. It worked."

Some of the righteous anger faded from Tifa, but her gaze was still firm. "And now you're working for him," she stated, looking like she wanted to hit me again.

"I am," I confirmed with a small nod.

"Vergil, he… he sells people. He tried to sell me. He's probably the reason why I'm here in this… world in the first place! Do you really want-" Tifa started, her eyes narrowing into a glare.

"Want has nothing to do with it," I quickly interjected. "We got dealt a bad hand, so I made the best play that I could. And it worked. Mr. Cobblepot won't be ripping apart the city to get to us. We won't have to live looking over our shoulders. Tifa -- you're off the hook. He's not going to look for you."

"At the cost of you doing horrible things for that man," Tifa shot right back. "Do you really believe anything that he told you?"

I did. Because the alternative was that he lied and this house of cards would come tumbling down.

"He doesn't gain anything by lying. If he wanted me dead, then I would be dead. And given that both of us are standing out in the open without a drive-by happening, then he didn't use me as bait to lure you and the cards out." I explained, making Tifa's expression tighten as her gaze darted to the few that passed by and the cars. She didn’t need to. I made sure that I wasn’t followed. "So… yeah, I believe him. If only because I know he won't do anything until he's squeezed every cent I can produce from me."

I ran a hand through my hair, carelessly messing up the somewhat respectable style that I had it set in. "Tifa… you're out. I know it's not how either of us would want it, but you're free-"

"If you say something like 'it’s best for us to go our separate ways' then I'm… I'm going to punch you in the face really hard," Tifa warned. "I'm not a damsel in distress that needs rescuing."

"Well… yeah. Tifa, there's no questions about that. You'd kick the crap out of me any day of the week," I told her. But that didn't seem to mollify her in the slightest.

"Then why are you trying to protect me? You just left without saying anything. If that plan of yours didn't 'work', then you would be dead," Tifa questioned sharply.

An image of a slumped over corpse in a chair appeared in my mind while the sound of Mr. Cobblepot's laughter rang in my ears. "Because I'm a shitty person and you're not. Tifa… Mr. Cobblepot… I…" I trailed off, struggling to find the words. To admit what I had done. To push her away.

Tifa's eyes hardened, becoming sharp as a knife that cut right through me. She reached out, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the wall. Wordlessly, Tifa pulled me inside the clinic and dragged me through the halls and up the stairs. I followed her without complaint, my mind stuck in those few seconds like a loop. She brought me to the roof, and then she rounded on me.

"What did he make you do?" Tifa asked, a quiet anger in her voice.

"The guy that I knocked out back on the boat? Mr. Cobblepot had me kill him," I said, taking a small step forward towards the edge of the building. Turning around, I sat down on the high ledge, facing Tifa with my back aimed at Crime Alley. "He was tied to a chair and he looked like he was pretty roughed up. Mr. Cobblepot wanted something to blackmail me with to keep me in line, so… he told me to kill him." I told Tifa, meeting her gaze evenly.

There should be revulsion or horror. Instead, there was just sympathy.

"And… I don't regret doing it. If I hadn't then I would have died. It was him or me, and I don't regret picking me," I told her honestly. That's what bothered me the most about what happened. The stunning clarity that I was the type of person to sacrifice others to save my own skin. How I barely hesitated before committing a murder because it meant that I would live.

That wasn’t who I thought I was. Whenever I daydreamed when I was supposed to be doing something else, I always pictured myself making a third option. Saving the day. Being the badass hero that only did things his way. I pictured myself being a good person. Because that’s who I thought I was -- a good person. Maybe not the best, but good.

But I wasn’t.

"I think you do," Tifa argued. "Otherwise you wouldn't be trying so hard to push me away."

"I'm pushing you away because you don't have to be a part of it," I responded, deciding not to argue the point. "I'm a murderer, Tifa. And I'll probably be a lot worse before Mr. Cobblepot cuts me loose. This isn’t me trying to protect you -- this is me telling you that you're going to be dragged into a lot of messy shit if you stick around, and you're better off cutting your losses now. It's the smart decision. You're not beholden to me or indebted, or anything."

Tifa stared at me for a moment before she pointedly walked over and sat next to me. She was silent as I let out a sigh, realizing that I might as well be arguing with a brick wall.

"What deal did you make with Mr. Cobblepot?" Tifa asked, making me look to the heavens for strength because I sure as hell didn't want to answer that question.

"Five million dollars. A million for our lives, the cards, and the two guys that I killed." I answered with some reluctance. Well, more than some. A whole lot of reluctance because I knew exactly where this was heading.

"That would be… something like five hundred million Gil," Tifa informed. "That's… I don't think I'm worth that much."

"Well… wasn't in a position to argue the price," I said, everything that happened over the course of the day slowly settling in. From the job to the Jokers, to the unwelcomed change in direction my life took.

"Alright-"

"No, no alright," I cut Tifa off. "I… if something happens to me, then who's going to help out Jack and the others?" I pointed out, cutting off her offer to help with my jobs and debt before she could say it.

"That's a dirty blow," Tifa remarked, sounding like she was both annoyed and had expected it.

"I think we've already established that I'm an asshole," I said, leaning back and savoring a breeze that caressed my face. "But I'm not wrong."

"You aren't," Tifa agreed.

"Wrong or an asshole?"

"Neither. Both." Tifa looked at me, catching my gaze. "But… I have conditions. Non-negotiable conditions," she added when I opened my mouth to argue. "I'll find my own way to help you with the debt, and I'll help out with Jack and the others -- you aren't allowed to complain about how I do either." This was off to a very worrying start. "And… since you don't want me working with you… then we have to make sure that you can take care of yourself."

I turned to look at Tifa fully, considering the non-negotiable demands, recognizing it as the olive branch that it was. While I harbored some very severe doubts that this would be the end of this particular conversation, and she was waiting for this to blow up in my face to renegotiate her non-negotiable demands. But, at the same time, she was willing to meet me halfway. To give this a shot because the alternative was that we went our separate ways.

“Just don’t be too rough with me. I have to work in the morning,” I said, pushing myself off the edge and earning a beaming smile from Tifa. And despite her sweet expression, I knew that smile promised pain.

She settled into a boxing stance at the center of the roof. I took off my jacket and dress shirt and mimicked her stance.

Needless to say, I got my butt handed to me.

…

“Is this the place?” Tifa asked as we walked down a metro tunnel. It would be pitch black if it weren’t for safety lights marking a path, but they just made the shadows seem that much darker. Thankfully, we had two flashlights that helped combat the darkness.

Despite being a metro tunnel, it looked thoroughly abandoned. Cobwebs gathered over the tracks, trash was littered about, telling me that we weren’t the first to come this way, and just how dark it was really sealed the deal. My flashlight was aimed straight ahead, leaving the fringes to Tifa as we continued to walk down the subway tunnel.

“It should be,” I responded, my flashlight illuminating something that I didn’t expect to see. An old metro car. Dust and grim covered its metallic surface and clouded its windows, and more alarming, I saw chunks of rubble laying around it, forming piles. My flashlight flicked upward and found nothing but smooth construction above. “It fits the details.”

“...How much do you trust… Waylon?” Tifa questioned, beating back the shadows with her flashlight with little success. She did reveal a small platform -- complete with grime covered tiles, directories, and posters advertising what I’m guessing were old movies. “I asked Dr. Leslie about him when one of your and Jack’s friends came in and passed the message to you. She said that he… well…”

“Eats people?” I finished for her, looking over to send her a smirk. My face felt a little sore and tender, but Tifa had pulled her punches. I was hardly a martial arts master, but it was a good testing lesson to see what I knew and what I needed to learn. The answer was nothing and everything.

Tifa sent me a Look, prompting me to continue. “Trust is probably a strong word since I’ve only met him a couple of times, but Jack and the others trusted him. And that’s enough for me. As for the eating people thing -- I haven’t seen it myself, but he does. Though, only people that give him a reason to.”

“Vergil, I was hoping for a hard no,” Tifa informed.

“Just because you’re a bad guy doesn’t mean you’re a bad guy,” I quoted, making Tifa let out a not so quiet sigh in the silent tunnel. I jumped onto the platform, shining my flashlight into the clouded up windows of the metro car. Some of them were busted from whatever had happened here. “Waylon hasn’t done anything to make me not trust him, so if he says that he has a place that we can move to then I’m going to check it out, at least.”

My flashlight swept over the platform, looking it over. At the very least, it didn’t smell like shit, so that was a major plus in my book. The only real issue with the place was that it was fairly out of the way, and a paint to get in and out to, but that was also a plus all things considered. “Wonder what happened here? Looks like the ceiling caved, they patched over it, but abandoned everything below for some reason.”

“Pretty much what happened,” A low growling voice answered in the darkness, making my heart jump as my flashlight jerked towards the source. I saw Waylon approach from the opposite end of the tunnel, explaining why we hadn’t seen him, but a guy his size had no right being that quiet. “Ivy busted the road up top, collapsed a few buildings, and the city took one look at the price tag to repair everything before deciding it wasn’t worth it.”

He pointed to both sides of the tunnels, after jumping onto the platform with me. I heard Tifa suck in a sharp breath when she saw him and heard the sound of crinkling leather as she curled her hands into fists. “They sealed off both sides of this tunnel and just connected to another tunnel since it would be cheaper than updating and repairing everything,” Waylon explained.

I nodded, looking over at the stairways that were supposed to go to the street above. “I’m guessing that the entrances were paved over too?”

“Yup. Only way to get here is to walk through the tunnels. It’s a bit of a labyrinth, and the trains are a bit dangerous, but they shouldn’t be any trouble,” Waylon said with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “And it’s been sealed off for about… five years, so most people have forgotten that this place exists.”

I looked around the place with new eyes, “That sounds perfect… Do you think we would be able to get the electricity up and running? Or the water?” I asked, shining my flashlight over the lights that were meant to illuminate the place and the bathroom. If we could get them up and running, then this place would be set.

“Maybe. I don’t know how to do it, though,” Waylon said.

“If the city builders are anything like Shinra, then all we need to do is find a few switches nearby that cut off the supply of water and electricity. If we find a circuit breaker, then we could get the electricity on fairly easily,” Tifa said, her flashlight finally moving on from Waylon in search of where a circuit breaker box would be.

Waylon looked over at me, his eyes reflecting a low light from the flashlight. “How’d things go with Penguin?” He asked as we started to search for the circuit box.

“Better than what I feared but not as well as I hoped,” I admitted, my flashlight roaming the walls while Tifa took the other direction. Given how much ass she could kick, I was more worried for me in the darkness than I was worried for her. “I’m working for him now, but between the jobs and my side gigs, I should make enough to help Jack and the others get through the winter.”

“Hm. You smell like blood,” He remarked.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “The Jokers?” I questioned, wanting to move the subject from the murder that I had committed. There was going to be a time when I could decompress but now wasn’t it.

“Gone. Cleaned out the theme park, but couldn’t find the Joker. Not too surprising, though. He’s been real slippery ever since the Injustice League,” Waylon said, jumping down from the platform to check the tunnel. I’m guessing that he didn’t need a flashlight. I blinked at the name, it sounded familiar.

“Injustice League?” I questioned, latching onto the topic. The Injustice League was hardly a new idea, but it was something used rather infrequently. It could be a clue on what universe I was in.

“Yeah. Some alliances between Ivy, Black Adam, Joker, and… I forget who else. They used Ivy’s plants to attack pretty much every city on the planet and demanded a ransom of-”

“Ten billion dollars,” I finished for him, realization slamming into me harder than one of Tifa’s fists. I recognized that. A clip that I had watched in a thread about how much the Young Justice Joker sucked. It could just be a coincidence, but when Waylon nodded, it didn’t feel like a coincidence. It felt like I had finally gotten the last piece of the puzzle.

Only one issue.

I never watched Young Justice. I heard great things about it, but by the time I had heard about it, it had already been discontinued. I hadn’t wanted to fall in love with the series but never get any more of it. I suffered through that with Firefly. So, I decided that I wouldn’t watch it until one of the rumors about the show being picked up by one network or another actually materialized with a third season.

Meaning other than what I had picked up through osmosis, I had absolutely no idea what happened in the series. What I did know was that I wasn’t dealing with a planet pusher Superman. Everything was toned down… which was actually really reassuring. I was still on a Deathworld, but it wasn’t as bad as it could be. Coincidentally -- that saying was rapidly becoming my life motto.

“Found it!” Tifa called out before a loud clank echoed through the tunnels. The lights above flashed to life, illuminating the forgotten metro stop for a brief second, revealing Tifa aiming a broad smile at us.

Then the light bulbs popped like bubble wrap and the metro was plunged back into darkness.

“Well… at least the electricity still works.”

I could work with that. I could work with this.

Because, as much as life sucked at the moment, it only meant that I could go up from here.