100YoP Chapter Four "The value of being subtle an' shit." (Patreon)

"I'll just have a burger. Put some of them red onions and spicy sauce on  it, too." I said, handing over the cash. The food truck worker smiled  at me when I put a twenty on the tip jar, but it was less kindness to  the working class and making sure my food was good. Word was these  motherfucker spat on poor tippers.

I walked out of the line, standing against the building next to Billy. "So, how're things in my absense?"

"Pretty good, actually," he said, "People've been in high demand, upping security after what happened to Dent."

"That so?" I clicked my tongue, "Any big hires?"

"Not notably," Billy mused. "Riddler, maybe."

"Was sure you'd say Penguin."

"Nah, you know he don't like to work with us," Billy said. "Rich fuck hates unions, what can you do?"

"Hm," I said. "In any case, you hear about what happened to Day-Day?"

"The guy that's always swingin' that shiny-ass gun around?"

"Yeah," I said. "Fool shot some guy by the low-rises, got spotted by  five witnesses all talking about some dumb motherfucker wearing an  orange hoodie and waving a silver gun around. Cops ain't even done  questioning the witnesses on the spot that this fool comes out, wearing  the same orange fucking hoodie and showing one of his friends his gun as  they walk out."

"No fucking way," Billy laughed.

"Swear to god," I said. "Way Jane told it, when the cops told him he was  under arrest he looked them dead in the fuckin' eye and asked for  what."

Billy laughed, walking forward to grab our orders. Hotdog for him, mayo and fries. Like a fucking animal.

"Anyone lookin' out for him?" he asked me, handing over my burger. "His cousin's with the Blackgaters, right?"

"Yeah, but he just a soldier," I said. "Day-Day's ass is headed to the joint, no way 'round it."

"Maybe he'll toughen up," Billy said. "Work out, get used to using his fists, learn the value of being subtle an' shit."

I scoffed. "You really believe that?"

"Nah. But if he sucks enough dick maybe he'll join his cousin. Get a  corner of his own." Billy took a bite of his hotdog, contemplative.  "Gonna be a hard time, tho. Lotta big dick in there."

I gave him a look, but decided not to ask and just enjoy my burger.

After a while, he asked me, "You catch the game last night?"

"Nah," I said. "How'd we do?"

"Gotham Knight beat the Metropolis Meteors by six points," he told me.  "Heard some guys talk about how they were gonna drive out to Metropolis  to laugh at them."

"What kinda douchebag-?"

We were interrupted by the sound of a police siren, as a cop car stopped  with one wheel halfway up the sidewalk and two cops came out. One was  blonde, well-built, kinda viking-ish. The other was a brunette with long  curly hair that looked like he took good care of it.

They immediately took cover behind their car and aimed their guns at Billy and I.

"Samuel Reyes, you're under arrest!" the viking shouted at, "Put your hands up or we will use force!"

"You know these guys?" Billy asked me.

"Nah, haven't been down to the station for a while now," I replied with  my mouth full while I put the hand that wasn't holding my burger up.  "Look like newbies, tho."

"Put both your hands up!" Viking said.

"C'mon, man! I just got this!" I shouted back. "I ain't even halfway through!"

"Just put your hands up," Billy said. "You're gonna get shot."

"Nah, they ain't gonna risk it with your white ass on the line of fire,"  I said. "That's why I keep you around. This way they gotta come choke  me out, and I can just beat they ass."

"Oh, that's the only reason you keep me around?"

"No," I took another bite, "But it's what I think of when you do shit like say my cooking is too spicy."

"It is!"

I sighed.

"LET GO OF THE BURGER AND PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP!" The cop shouted again.

"So, you going with 'em?" Billy asked.

"Eh..." I sighed, and handed him my burger before putting up my hands, "Fuck it, might as well."

Seeing that I was burgerless and thus harmless, the cops put away their  guns and rushed over. One put my hands behind my back and handcuffed me,  while the other slapped my burger out of Billy's hands.

"Aw, man!" I complained as they dragged me over to the car. "I paid good money for that!"

"Shut the fuck up," Curly told me. "You're being brought in for questioning."

"And here I thought I was going to a surprise party," I rolled my eyes. "Ain't you two forgetting something?"

"Shut the hell up!" Curly said again as he started the car. "I don't  wanna hear another motherfucking word out of your mouth until we're at  the station."

I waited for a while, letting the car drive forward and get in traffic before I said, "So you'd say I have a 'right to remain silent'?"

Curls hit the brakes and turned around to scream at me. "One more  fucking word out of you, shitbird, and I'll stop this car to beat the  shit out of you!"

I shrugged and leaned back, looking out the window, and the car moved forward in silence except for the scanner.

About ten minutes later, Viking caught it first. "Fuck! We forgot to read him his rights!"

I chuckled while they struggled to remember anything past 'you have the right to remain silent'. Definitely rookies.

{[X]}​

An old acquaintance met me in the interrogation room.

"Harvey!" I said, "It's been a while, man. How've you been?"

"Not too bad," Detective Harvey Bullock said, sitting on the other side of the table from me. "Keeping out of trouble, Sam?"

"I plead the fifth," I said, before turning to look at the latina that  came in with him and putting a hand as forward as I could. "Hey, you  must be his new partner. I'm Sam."

"I... heard," she said, hesitantly shaking my hand. "Detective Renee Montoya."

"Pleasure to meet you," I said. "I dread to ask, but has our Harvey been  behaving himself around you? Acting gentlemanly and shit?"

Montoya gave me a look, one at Harvey, and once she saw that he didn't  seem to mind me teasing him said, "As much as can be expected of him."

"Eesh," I made a face. "I'm guessing all your shit stinks of cigar smoke and cheap coffee?"

She smiled a little, "Not to mention the donuts crumbs. Stake outs are a horror show."

I nodded sagely, "The fat motherfucker does seem to collect stereotypes."

"Aw, isn't this nice?" Harvey said. "The kids all getting along and  coming together to bust my balls. But if maybe we could focus for a bit  and stop riding my ass like a mechanical bull, that'd be swell."

"A'ight, we can do that," I said. "But you know I ain't saying jack about shit 'till I get my lawyer."

"I know, but Gordon's got some questions for him and I'm supposed to  take a go at it 'till he gets out of his meeting and can come down  here," he said, pulling out a cigar. "Before we get started, anything  you want?"

"Well, the geniuses you sent after me interrupted my lunch, so if  someone could go down to Batburger that'd be nice," I said. "And if  you're smoking here you might as well hand me one of mine."

"I can go get the food," Montoya offered, looking between her partner  and I. "I'm thinking I probably don't want to interrupt this...  'interrogation'."

"Appreciated, Detective," I said. "You can take the money out my wallet,  if you can get it back from those two chucklefucks that brought me in."

Montoya frowned and rushed out, barely remembering to poke her head back in, "Uh, what-?"

"Twelve-piece BatNuggets, Robin soda and extra Joker sauce, right?"  Harvey said, and I nodded Montoya left while Harvey shook his head at  me. "Simple bitch, three years I don't see you and you still order the  same meal."

"'Cause it's the best meal."

He rolled his eyes. "So, just to say I'm doing my job, you hear anything 'bout what happened to Two Face?"

I awkwardly reached into my chest pocket and pulled out my box of  cigarettes, tapping it against the table as I thought, "Some new guy  came in and took his shit, right? Guy I know told me most of it just got  flat-out burnt."

As I put one on my mouth, Harvey lit it up for me and I nodded my thanks at him.

"Pretty girls shouldn't light their own smokes," he told me, ignoring my  flipping him the bird. "Anyway, word is this guy's a new player.  Looking for his own piece of Gotham."

"Hrm," I said. "And why the fuck am I being asked about him?"

He shrugged. "Just following Jim's word. Told me to talk to you, see if I can get anything before he gets here."

I nodded. "Hm. Well, I want my lawyer."

"So you know something?"

"I know my rights," I said, "Despite Viking and Curls not reading them to me. And I know I get one."

"C'mon, man, throw me a bone here," he said. "Pretend it's like with Deegan."

"You must be confused, Detective Bullock," I blew smoke in his face. "I ain't say shit then and I ain't saying shit now."

I actually didn't say shit to him. But if during my questioning I said that I wasn't like someone I knew that definitely would crack under pressure because I thought that Michael Deegan was a  blood-crazed sack of shit that deserved to go to the slammer before he  killed any more random-ass civilians for looking at him wrong, that's  its own thing.

And if that lead to one of the biggest hitmen of the Blackgaters being taken in, that ain't on me.

Harvey nodded. "Alright then. You can sit here until the Comissioner gets here."

"Or until my lawyer gets here," I said. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I  rolled my eyes, "I know they ain't getting let in here first, I'm just  pretending the world work like it should."

He chuckled, "In any case, it's been a while. How're things?"

"Not too different," I said. "Still hangin' with Billy, still working at  Butcher's House. Finally managed to send my mom to Metropolis, tho. She  seems happy. Workin' as a teacher in MU."

"Good for her," Harvey said. "She still single?"

"God fucking dammit," I whispered.

"What? Take it as a compliment, I'd move to fucking Metropolis for her,"  he said, chuckling at the hateful look I was sending him.

"No you wouldn't," I said.

"Nah, I wouldn't," he said. "Can't stand all the shiny fucking buildings."

"The people are worse," I told him. "Every fucking time I visit I gotta  hear about how it's weird that I live in a city with a killer clown and a  humanoid crocodile."

"Pussies," Bullock scoffed, "Plus, their teams suck. You catch the game last night?"

"They lost by six points, right?"

"Yeah," Harvey chuckled, "I was talking with some of the guys about driving down to laugh at them later."

"... you have fun with that, Harvey," I said. "So I take it nothing's changed for you?"

"Eh," he shrugged. "Partners change, bosses change, but I remain calm."

"Motherfucker, don't act all zen when your ass just lacks personal growth."

Harvey laughed, "Ah, fair. You heard that Landsman died?"

"Ain't that your old sarge? What happened?"

"Some asshole tried to rob him, and when Landsman flashed his badge and gun he caught two to the chest."

"Damn. You ever catch the guy?"

"Yeah, he's serving life down at Blackgate right as we speak."

We kept catching up for a minute or two, before someone that liked me a lot less than Harvey entered the room.

"Detective Pornstache, good seeing you," I said. "Oh, sorry. It's Comissioner now, right?"

"Reyes," he said. He turned to Bullock with a resigned expression,  "Harvey, why is the underaged boy smoking in my interrogation room?"

"Because it felt rude to smoke alone?" Harvey tried. "And also I thought he was an adult? How old are you, man?"

"Eighteen," I said.

"Ah, that's basically legal," Harvey waved me off, looking to Gordon and  ignoring the "I hope that's not how you pick girlfriends" I threw in  the background.

Gordon glared at him.

Harvey turned to me and made a gesture across his throat. I took a last drag and put my smoke out on the table.

"Right, you can go now, Detective," Gordon said, replacing him on the chair in front of me, "Now, Mister-"

I interrupted him by blowing smoke on his face.

He glared at me.

I said, "Couldn't resist. Sorry."

He took a deep breath and tried again, "Now, Mister Reyes, I'd like to ask about one criminal calling himself 'Spider'."

"First off, I ain't see or hear shit," I said. "Second, I don't know why the fuck you're asking me of all people about some new fool. And third, I want. My damn. Lawyer."

Gordon presses on, removing a few pictures from inside his old school  trenchcoat. They were pictures from what used to be Two Face's place, as  he'd probably moved house already. Broken walls, torn out doors, and  the bottom of some stairs that had a hole roughly the size of a young  knife-wielding woman. And most notable of all, a spot on the lobby with a  big burn and a bunch of wasted crates, files and who-knows-what-else  torched to shit.

Extremely high quality pictures, too. And considering that I know for a  fact that the GCPD's CSI division is severly underfunded, I was guessing  they weren't taken by just anyone.

"Do these look familiar?" he asked.

I gestured at them, and after recieving a nod I picked them up one by  one and made a show of thinking hard about it. "In a vague, 'I've seen abandoned buildings and burnt-down shit before' type of way? Yeah. Other than that, I've never seen this place before in my life."

"Hrm," Jim said, "The night after the events that caused the mess here  depicted, someone turned on the BatSignal without authorization, and an  object was found there, stuck to the signal with webs. Cameras showed a  costumed individual wearing red and black leaving it there. Then it  showed that same individual looking at the camera, striking a few poses,  showing the camera his ass, and then turning on the signal and leaving  by jumping off the roof."

Hehehehehe.

"Well, wouldn't you have found him splattered on the street, if he jumped off?" I asked, totally blank-faced.

"If the world still made sense, sure," he said. "Look... Sam, when was the first time we saw each other?"

I thought about it. "I wanna say... nine years ago, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "I was still a detective, Batman was just starting to  make his rounds and while I was dealing with that, I get dragged out  because someone found a dead body in an alley. I investigate, I look  around, I ask some witnesses and what do I find? A nine year old boy,  small as can be, that looks me in the eye and calls me Detective  Moustache."

"I was a cute lil' fucker, wasn't I?"

"Not in the slightest." "Dick." "I went to take you away for  questioning, your mom starts screaming at me and trying to hit me, and  you stopped her." He pointed at me, "You stopped her. You looked at her  and said 'mom, don't worry, I'm not going anywhere, I just got to answer some questions'. A nine year old boy."

I shrugged, "I try to tell my mom the truth. And it was true, wasn't it?"

"Hm. Eventually, your mom lets us go, I put you in this very room, and  you just look me dead in the eye and tell me, over and over again, that  you don't know who that was or what happened to him. But you said you  recognized him, so I asked you from where and you just shrugged and said  you'd seen him around the street a few times, picking fights and acting  bad. You said he was always arguing with Ronaldo from around the  corner. I asked about Ronaldo from around the corner, and you told me I  could probably find him if I went to the corner of so and so at around a  certain hour.

"So after your lawyer got here, I went and found Ronaldo from around the  corner. Found him standing over the bodies of a few rival gang members,  because even in hell people get lucky sometimes, and I brought him in.  But something nagged at me. So I showed him the picture of the dead  body, and while he recognized him, he didn't know he hadn't been  killed."

"He could have lied," I pointed out. "Lots of people lie."

"Funny you should mention that."

I frowned at him. "Where's this going, Comissioner?"

"I asked Ronaldo a little later about you," he said, and this was news  to me. "He told me you were a promising young soldier, but that you were  a little big for your shoes so sometimes he had to smack you around.  Nine years old, and you played me to get rid of someone you didn't like.  Because he hit you."

"Now see, that's where you're wrong," I said, pointing at him. "Because  for one, I didn't play you at all. I told the truth as I knew it, same  as I always do." (Gordon rolled his eyes) "And if I had played you, it would have probably been related to how he was a known rapist, and how he kept looking at my mom."

Gordon stared at me for a moment, before scoffing again, "That's always  been your justification, right? Just looking out for your mom, or  Daniels, or your buddy the convict."

"Don't fucking bring Billy into this, old man," I spat, pointing a  warning finger at him. "He was taken advantage of and you fucking know  it as well as I do."

"There it is, always so willing to jump at the call," he said. "Like  good intentions justify everything. Like any law can be broken, because  you were 'looking out for your people'."

"Law never figured into it, man. I just wanna care for me and mine, like  you, like the Bat, like anyone else you can think of." I leaned back,  "But putting your bullshit aside for a minute, I still don't know what  the fuck you told me the story for."

"The moral of the story is that I've known for a long time you weren't  normal, Sam," he said. "So someone tells me that you were in Metropolis  at the same time as there was an auction for powers, and now this  happens, I'm not having a hard time putting two and two together."

"I was visiting my mom," I replied. "Trust me, I don't step foot in Metropolis if I can help it."

Despite himself, the corner of his moustache pulled upwards, "Well, yeah, who does?"

We shared a chuckle at that one. Seriously, fuck Metropolis.

But now I was sure I had the upper hand. The people that knew from me  how I spent one Sunday a month every month were Butcher, Billy and  Crystal. The first two were obviously out, and despite recent events I  didn't think Crystal had done it. So it must've been the Batfam that  told him where I was.

Wayne's intervention meant that the cops were building the case  backwards. I had time to cover my tracks extra-good, so at least there  would only be circumstantial evidence tying my identities together.

I leaned back on my chair, grabbed the butt of my cigarette and flicked  it at him. "I'm innocent, Gordon, and we both know you can't prove  otherwise because it's the truth. So do kindly fuck off."

He scowled at me and got up to leave. Just as he opened the door, I called out, "Hey, Comissioner!"

He turned, "What?"

"I noticed the pack of nicotine gum sticking outta your pocket," I nodded. "You quit smokin'?"

He looked a little surprised, but nodded, "Uh, yeah, my daughter forced me to."

"'s good that she did," I said, completely sincere. "If you don't got  your health you ain't got shit, and we need cops like you around."

"Oh, well, uh," he looked deeply confused, "Thank you?"

"For sure," I said. "Have fun explaining to your daughter why you smell like smoke."

He blinked, remembered the first thing I did when he sat down, glared at  me and slammed the door on his way out. I heard him grumble all the way  away.

I sat there chuckling for a while, and then waited five minutes alone  until finally the door opened and one of Butcher's lawyer friends came  to pick me out.

When the elevator doors opened to take us down, Montoya was standing there, holding a Batburger bag and looking exhausted.

I gave her a sympathetic look. "Long line?"

{[X]}​

"So basically the situation is fucked," Butcher said.

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that," I said as I rooted around his  fridge and pulled two cans of beer. "Mostly because it makes it sound  really bad."

"The Bats know you're Spider, I'd say you're pretty fucked. And if you are, then we all are, and thus, the situation is fucked."

"Yeah," I handed him one of the cans. "But I expected this to happen anyways. This is just confirmation."

"So how are you going to play it?" he asked, opening his.

"Well, Luthor probably has some hard proof of you being there, buying  the power. Ain't no way 'round it," I said. "But he probably will keep  it to himself, so unless we fuck with 'im or get something he wants,  he'll just keep it and do nothing with it. If we cover up the tracks  about you getting my costume, there'll be no accessible paper trail to  me being Spider, and from there we can just continue as usual with a bit  of extra care "

"And it's not as if you were going around yelling it out," Butcher nodded. "Okay, maybe we're not totally fucked."

"There's that trademark optimism of yours!" I said with fake cheer.

We were sitting on his couch in his living room at the deep hours of the  night, both of us with our legs up on the coffee table in front of it.  Butchie's apartment building was just a few blocks from mine, though his  place was definitely nicer and better furnished, with a punching bag on  one side next to some workout equipment. A great sound system, posters  of musicians and pictures of friends, family and me decorated his walls.

(The fact that pictures of him and I were right next to ones of him with  his siblings, nieces and nephews always warmed my heart.)

His cat was curled up on my lap, purring away as I scartched behind its  ears. He was a crotchety tabby of a tomcat that Butcher had colourfully  named 'Fuckface'. In my opinion, Fuckface must have been directly  responsible for at least seventy percent of the surrounding feline  population, and about five percent of the canine population just out of  sheer stubborn horniness.

"So what's the word on those two Billy's bringin' over?" I asked him. He  and Butcher had coordinated the recruitment effort between themselves,  and I'd mostly let them handle it.

"I dunno about his, but mine's a genius with computers," said Butcher,  who was old and probably thought the same of anyone that could use  Excel. "Bit of a cocky little shit, so you two are probably gonna get  along."

"How old is she?" I asked.

"Same as you."

"So it shouldn't be too much of a problem having her follow orders, good."

"Oh, no, that'll definitely be a fight," he said. "Competent, loyal, obedient. Pick two, Sam."

I sighed, but nodded. "How'd you meet her, anyways?"

"Helped her out of a tight spot a couple years back," he shrugged. "She  got a little cocky stealing from some people, it got her caught and I  had to use my name to soothe some egos and make things run smooth as she  gave back what she took."

"And why'd you help me?"

"Ah, helping dumbass children is like Pringles, you know?" he smirked at me. "You can't stop at one."

I laughed.

It wasn't much later that Billy knocked, and he came in with two girls.

One was a tall, attractive black girl. Serious black eyes, curly hair  shaved at the sides, nice figure and pretty calloused fingers for a  hacker. Upon entering, her eyes zeroed in on Butcher and she gave him a  small, pretty smile before she turned to me with a much more distrustful  expression. She was introduced to me as Farah Kane and she chose to sit closer to Butcher than I.

The other was a short girl of asian heritage. She had a round, soft  face. A thin frame, long straight black hair, and a serious expression  that looked kinda funny on such an innocent-looking face. Her soft  features betrayed the grace of her movements, and I could tell there was  some muscle to her. Her expression was carefully neutral, but her eyes  didn't meet mine and she spoked quietly and a bit tilted. Billy  introduced her as Yua Saito,  and she chose to sit precisely in the middle between Butcher and I,  leaving Billy to sit on the loveseat next to me, opposite to Farah.

"Well," I said, "Thanks to everyone for coming. Does anyone want  anything to drink-" "Don't just offer my shit!" "-and should we do  introductions, or do we just get to it?"

"I'm for skipping introductions," Farah said, arms crossed. "What's there to drink?"

"God fucking dammit," said Butchie.

"Beer, coke, tap water, bottle water, and a box of Orange Juice that's been sitting in the back of his fridge since I was ten."

"I'll have a beer," said Billy.

"Beer too," said Farah.

"Water, please," said Yua in a small voice.

"D'you mind?" I asked Butcher, who flipped me off but went to get the  drinks. Once everyone had theirs and their mouth full (except Butcher  and Billy, who knew me) I said, "Anyway, I wanna rob the Iceburg  Lounge."

Yua made a slight choking noise. Farah fully spat out her beer.

"What the fuck?!" she said, then she turned to Butcher who was frowning at the spilt beer on his nice floor. "Sorry, sir."

"Not your fault," he grumbled.

"Right," she turned to me again, "Are you out your mind? The Lounge has  more security than any other building in Gotham, trying a smash and grab  there is suicide."

"Which is why we're not handling this like a smash and grab," I said.  "We're going to be slow, methodical and careful about this. I'm thinking  two, three weeks gathering as much info as we can. Maybe a full month.  We can't make the risk zero, but that doesn't mean we can't reduce it.  Here's my thinkin': Farah, you're good at hackin' an' shit, right?"

"... yes," she said.

"Cool, you try and get as much info as possible from the outside," I  said. "Find out his security, guard shifts, floor plans, whatever.  Whatever you can't get from that, Billy can ask Goonion folks that  worked there, or I can figure out on my own by casin' the joint."

"Won't be easy to find out the location of safes and such without raising suspicion," Billy noted.

"Focus on the guards and such," I told him. "Make it look like recreational bitchin' about Penguin hirin' outside the Goonion."

"Wait," Farah said. "You're that Billy? The one that made the fucking Goonion?"

"I am he," he said, lifting his can a little and giving her a wink. "Pleased to see my reputation precedes me."

"Don't shit where you eat," I told him. "If this goes right, we might be working together for a while."

"I was just being friendly," he said, defensively.

I gave him a Look, and he raised his hands in defeat.

"Moving on," I stressed, "Safes and such we can get either from  the floor plans or from me casing. I'm thinking we can all go in,  pretend to be having a fun night out. Or I can just sneak in. Or both?"

"Both sounds good," Butcher said, "Get yourselves familiarized with the public face."

Farah was looking between Billy, Butcher and I, taking sips from her beer.

Yua raised her hand, "And me?"

"Good question," I said. "Any ideas on what you can do for gaining information?"

She shook her head. "My focus is acting as strength on missions."

"That'll have its place later on the job, then," I said, and when I saw  her tilt her head a little downwards, I hurried to add, "Still, you can  come with when we go in. Never a bad time for learning new skills, and  it could be team buildin' and shit."

Yua looked surprised, but she nodded, "Thank you."

"Ain't no thing," I dismissed. "Now, I ain't sure of this, but I'm of  the opinion that a white collar motherfucker like our Mister Cobblepot  probably has a few off-shore accounts. And being the elitist sack of  shit he is, he probably don't expect us to even know what those are."

I was met with nods from everyone, and continued, "So here's the  barebones of the plan: we go in, act like its all a regular heist. In  the confusion, I want you, Farah, to try and get access to his personal  computer. I doubt you'd be able to get in from outside the network, but  once inside, I want you to take whatever you can and burn what you  can't. Or just put it out of reach, but the most important part is that  he doesn't have his shit anymore."

"Why?" Farah asked. "For real tho, what's the end goal of all  this? Are you trying to start a gang or something? Is this all supposed  to end with you wearin' the crown?"

"Nah," I said. "Graveyard's got enough fools that wanted it."

"Then why? It's one thing to take shit from him, but just burning it  don't make sense," Farah complained. "I heard what happened to Two Face,  too. That was you, right?"

"Indeed," I nodded.

"So what the fuck is all this?" she gestured around. "You've got the  head of the fucking Goonion following your word, the fucking Butcher  acting as your bank, and you apparently have powers, so what the fuck is the endgoal?"

"The endgoal," I said, "Is fuck 'em."

"... What?" she asked, exasperated. "Fuck who?"

"Fuck 'em," I repeated, shrugging. "Fuck 'em all. Fuck the villains,  fuck the cops, just fuck 'em. I wanna play the game my way; no civilians  getting hurt, no taking the fall for some well-connected incompetent  fuckwit, and no getting killed over some piece-of-shit chunk of real  estate."

"So it's about making your own side?" she asked.

"It's about bein' free," I said. "I'm tryin' to live the American Dream, you know?"

She stared at me for a minute, before a disbelieving laugh escaped her. "Fuck it. I gotta see how this goes now."

"Glad we got that squared away," I said, turning to Yua, "And you?"

"... I would like to join as well," she decided. "I've lacked direction for some time now, and your path seems as good as any."

"Glad we got that squared away," I said, raising my can. "Ladies, Billy  and Butcher, I believe this is the beginning of somethin' great."

I was right. We'll get to that later.

{[X]}​

I was smoking on the fire escape again, trying to blow smoke rings, when the window opened and Stephanie stepped out.

I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, but said nothing as she sat down, again with a cup of tea in her hands.

Before us, the parade of lights moved to and fro, each spark  representing a life. The infallible engine of Gotham moved, cop and  ambulance sirens crying out as they moved from hope to despair and from  despair to hope, dealers advertising at the top of their lungs while  fiends rushed to buy, cars breaking down, people arguing, people  laughing, anger, love and everything else represented just at my feet.

Ever since I got the expanded awareness of my Spidey Sense, it'd become  easier to appreciate that for all that my city was a literal Hellmouth,  the beauty of life still shone-

"Were you trying to fuck my mom?" Stephanie asked out of nowhere,  surprising me so bad that I gasped and accidentally swallowed the entire  still-lit joint.

"Ohshit- Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry!" she said, putting down her mug and  coming over to slap my back when I doubled over and started coughing..  "I'm sorry I just wanted to ask and I didn't know how and I've been  thinking about it all day, are you okay?"

"I'm good," I waved her off, voice rough. "Jus' didn't expect it."

"Yeah, I guess I could have been more careful," she backed off a little,  still staying near as she watched while I rubbed my throat. "Do you  want some tea?"

"It's good, it doesn't hurt much," I said.

"Oh, good," she said.

We stood there in silence for a bit.

"... so were you?"

"Wh- no! No, I wasn't trying to fuck your mom, Stephanie," I said. "I  just... I could tell she'd gone a long time without anyone just doing  somethin' nice for her just for the sake of doin' something nice for  someone, and I thought that was shitty."

"... aren't you like a drug dealer or something?"

I frowned at her, "Don't be reductive, bitch. I'm a full-ass person, I got more to me than just standin' on a corner."

"I... yeah, that's fair," Stephanie nodded. "Sorry."

I frowned some more, then eventually waved it off. "It's fine. I get  where you're comin' from. I wouldn't want some thug around my mom  either."

"Mm," Stephanie said, "Still. Sorry for all the times I was mean to you."

"... thanks."

We sat there for a while, and eventually I decided to pick up the  conversation, "I didn't mean to get so attatched, to tell the truth. But  I'd been doing my shit for eight years and I missed my mom and I  just... I just wanted someone to talk to that wasn't in it. Someone  normal."

Steph gave me a look and hesitated for a moment, like she wasn't sure  what to say. Eventually, she settled for, "I think... she wanted  basically the same from you. She has like, work friends or pals from  college. But none of her work friends come home, and all her college  friends knew dad first. I think you were a nice balance between knowing  about dad and not thinking he's the same guy than when she met him."

I grimaced, spat to the side, and said, "So basically mutual bullshitting?"

"... yeah, pretty much."

I sniffed, mulled it over, and eventually said, "Fuck it, I don't regret  what I did. I let Arthur's shit go unrocked for longer than I should  have, anyways."

"Oh, by the way, thanks for kicking the shit out of my dad," she said, like she'd forgotten to do it sooner.

"The pleasure was all mine," I said.

We looked at each other, then chuckled at the fucked up situation.

"Man," she said. "How old even are you?"

"Fuck is everyone asking that today?" I muttered. "I'm eighteen."

"Seventeen," she said.

"Fetus."

She flipped me off.

"... so what's all this, anyway?" I asked. "We cool now?"

She shrugged. "Hard to hate you for being nice to my mom if you were interested in being nice."

"Well, that and in her daughter."

She blinked, then her ears got very red and she reached into her window to grab a pillow and throw it at me. "Asshole!"

I laughed.