The Man in the Iron Hat
==Butchinsky's==
"You know why they called me the Eraser?" a voice rasped.
Jumbo shook his head nervously. He was tied to a wooden chair, thick rope binding his arms and legs.
"It's quite simple really," Fiasco explained, as he ran his hand along his tool rack, before settling on a red crowbar. "I fix mistakes, dispose of problems. I can clean a crime scene in minutes, kill a moron in seconds, and you best believe me when I say I know all the best spots to hide a body."
The crowbar cracked against Jumbo's ribs. He let out a high pitched, muffled shriek of pain. "So, Ned Carson. Tall guy, bit dim. You're what, his brother?"
Jumbo nodded frantically.
"Figures then, that you know where he is," Fiasco grumbled, as he struck him across the face. "Yes?"
Jumbo nodded again, blood dribbling from his chin.
As Fiasco raised the crowbar again, a gloved hand caught it, and kicked it to the ground. "That's enough, Len."
Sharpe jumped to his feet, wiping a smile from off his face.
"You following me now, Chuck?" Len spat.
"You're not hard to find. It was either here, or Gar's place," Chuck said, kneeling beside Jumbo, and removing the tape from his mouth. "He's one of the Outcasts, huh?" he asked. "Is this how we treat people, now?"
"It's ok," Fiasco grumbled, striking Jumbo again. "He's a racist."
"Oh, come on, he's not a racist, you just made that up!" Chuck snapped back defiantly.
"No, it's true, I am a racist," Jumbo whimpered.
"Shut up Ant Man, you have brain damage," Chuck muttered.
"- I hate the NBA, they're all so much taller than me."
Len turned his head, satisfied.
"Len, stop he doesn't know anything," Chuck said firmly.
"Oh, Bullshit. He's sat in my bar, day after day, drinking, listening, talking. Bet he's been supplying Ned info from the start."
'Ted,' Chuck said under his breath.
"He made me, I swea-"
"Shut it," Fiasco snarled. "The way I see it, this is a public service. They hurt one of us, we hurt them back, it's the way things have always been. You think Lynns hasn't torched someone who didn't talk? Or are we gonna ignore what Walker did to Ra's or Blaze?"
"That's different and you know it."
"It's not that different," Sharpe shrugged passively.
"Drury has a plan," Chuck said desperately.
"Walker's plan, is a cross country jaunt of self discovery. Forgive me if I'm not wholly confident," Fiasco said irritably, kicking Jumbo's chair. "If you don't want to help, fine. But don't come down here with some self righteous bull."
"He can't say shit with his skull caved in," a deep voice called out. The Misfits spun around: Walking down the stairs, was Eric Needham. Seeing his chance, Sharpe slinked out the basement, taking a wary glance at the trio.
"A confession under duress ain't no confession," Spider began. "People will say anything to make the torture stop," he said softly, resting a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Go."
==Gotham International Airport==
November 4th. 16:56
Henry "Iron-Hat" Ferris walked through the airport briskly, a large box tucked under his arm. Mounted around his head was a rusted iron mask, welded to him as a form of atonement. As he walked, he could hear them; the common people whispering, giggling at his attire. 'Inferiors,' he thought. 'Screw them all.'
"What you got there, sir?" a voice called out.
Ferris swore under his breath. The guard, a large, Arabic man in a turban, approached him and placed a cautious hand around his bag.
Iron-Hat shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, that's just a bomb."
The guard scowled, and spoke into his radio, another hand rested on his gun.
Unperturbed, Ferris rolled his eyes nonchalantly. "Right, I forgot explosives are a touchy subject with you people. TSAs, I mean," he added unconvincingly.
"Now, can you give me a hand? The metal detector's a bitch."
=Sionis' Penthouse. Diamond District=
November 6th. 13:32
"Mr Ferris, thank you for coming. Please, sit," Li instructed. Ferris glanced at him suspiciously, and walked over to Sionis, a grimace hidden under his iron mask.
"Roman," he said, adjusting his collar.
"Henry," Roman grinned back, shaking his hand. "How was Sarajevo?"
Ferris looked around the room, grimacing at a collection of shrunken heads posed along the wall. "Dirty," he said firmly.
"This is David Li, my assistant. David, this is Henry Ferris. Had him stationed in the East End a few years back... One of our biggest markets, you know."
"A pleasure," Li smiled, offering his hand. Ferris looked at it, then turned back to Sionis. "Yes... no surprise there. Those people knew exactly what they wanted... 'Course then, an itsy bitsy spider started to cause all sorts of trouble. Buyers remorse, I reckon."
Li glanced at him warily. "This, is why we called you, he said, placing a dosier onto the desk. Iron-Hat wiped the edges, and slid out a photograph of a young man. "Our esteemed Mr Franco, I presume?" he asked Roman, taking no notice of Li.
"That, was taken in 2004. Kid was something of a street urchin, friend of Ms Kyle's- Catwoman, if memory serves. He broke into our estate, quite by chance actually. Normally, Dad'd take intruders out back- bang, but not him..." Sionis reminisced. "No, Dad took a real shine to Franco: had him shine his shoes, cook him breakfast- even took him on jobs, once or twice, which is more than I can say for me. Course, I just assumed he was bent," Sionis added unenthusiastically. "What do you suggest?"
"Blonde," Ferris noted, an air of approval in his tone, as he examined a later photo. "The white mask is a nice touch also... We got lucky," he concluded.
"Lucky?" Sionis asked indignantly.
"Well, one can only imagine the kind of filth your father lay with... Who knows what sort of creatures he might've spawned." Ferris said.
"You should meet with him. Keep communication channels open at the very least... It'll send a clear message to the gangs; that you respect family, regardless of its... origins."
"He raises a valid point, sir," Li said. "We'd fare far better with Franco as an ally, than as an adversary."
Sionis scoffed. "Franco's unreliable, boyish, irritating... And if he has anything to do with those packages, then he could be equally dangerous."
"You'll have to forgive Mr Sionis, he's been a little shaken since-"
"Packages?" Ferris interrupted.
"Packages," Sionis said, gritting his teeth. "See, the British, have a tradition. Bonfire Night. Five, six hundred years ago, this guy- Guy Fawkes actually, tried to blow up the houses of parliament, but failed. So, now, each year, the Brits put together all the wood they can find, make a straw dummy, modelled off the bastard, and set it alight.
Yesterday, someone threw one of my bodyguards into a furnace, and mailed me their charred hand. The week before, they posted my lawyer's severed head with a candle in his gob."
"If I may sir, if Franco has any connection to our calendar killer, then a sit down might be the best way of determining his intentions. If he is, we can quietly, and more importantly, justifiably, dispose of him. And if he isn't, who knows, perhaps this Calendar Man will deal with him for us," Li suggested.
"Yeah..." Sionis nodded slowly, a sort of sadistic excitement sweeping over him. "Yeah, we'll make a show of it: The lost Sionis Sibling- Only at The Gotham Royal. That'll draw the Calendar Man and his accomplices out of hiding... And if tragedy strikes, and my dear younger brother happens to get caught in the crossfire, well, that'll just be the icing on the cake."
Li reached into his pocket and took out a small notepad. "Shall I set a date?"
November 6th. 14:55
"I must say, I appreciate you coming in on short notice," Sionis chuckled. "Can't have been easy getting past the TSAs with that Praying Mantis on your shoulders."
Ferris pulled his gloves on. "Wolf," he said, lip curled. "And no, no trouble at all," he added, as he placed his hand on the door knob. "Oh, by the way, I love your assistant, very witty."
"Yeah, he's great," Sionis nodded.
"Absolutely, just goes to show his kind is great at that sorta stuff."
Roman's back stiffened. "Huh?"
"Oh, you know, book shit. Math and all that," Ferris explained.
Sionis stared at him. "Right. Right, yeah."
"Franco's good for us, Roman," Ferris elaborated. "He'll bring us back to our roots, to what the mob ought to be. I mean, look at the state of things, look at the midgets and pirates running things- they've let all kinds of freaks in. Falcone, Falcone would be ashamed."
Sionis and Ferris locked eyes for a moment, each trying to figure out the other's allegiance, when the door slid open, and an young intern entered the room. Ferris raised an eyebrow.
"Your lunch, sir," the kid said, sliding a brown paper bag over to Roman.
"Lovely," Sionis replied, handing the boy a small tip. "Burrito?" he offered Ferris.
"I don't much care for ethnic food, Roman," Ferris said coldly, as he moved past the boy, and walked down the hall.
The Man in the Iron Hat
==Butchinsky's==
"You know why they called me the Eraser?" a voice rasped.
Jumbo shook his head nervously. He was tied to a wooden chair, thick rope binding his arms and legs.
"It's quite simple really," Fiasco explained, as he ran his hand along his tool rack, before settling on a red crowbar. "I fix mistakes, dispose of problems. I can clean a crime scene in minutes, kill a moron in seconds, and you best believe me when I say I know all the best spots to hide a body."
The crowbar cracked against Jumbo's ribs. He let out a high pitched, muffled shriek of pain. "So, Ned Carson. Tall guy, bit dim. You're what, his brother?"
Jumbo nodded frantically.
"Figures then, that you know where he is," Fiasco grumbled, as he struck him across the face. "Yes?"
Jumbo nodded again, blood dribbling from his chin.
As Fiasco raised the crowbar again, a gloved hand caught it, and kicked it to the ground. "That's enough, Len."
Sharpe jumped to his feet, wiping a smile from off his face.
"You following me now, Chuck?" Len spat.
"You're not hard to find. It was either here, or Gar's place," Chuck said, kneeling beside Jumbo, and removing the tape from his mouth. "He's one of the Outcasts, huh?" he asked. "Is this how we treat people, now?"
"It's ok," Fiasco grumbled, striking Jumbo again. "He's a racist."
"Oh, come on, he's not a racist, you just made that up!" Chuck snapped back defiantly.
"No, it's true, I am a racist," Jumbo whimpered.
"Shut up Ant Man, you have brain damage," Chuck muttered.
"- I hate the NBA, they're all so much taller than me."
Len turned his head, satisfied.
"Len, stop he doesn't know anything," Chuck said firmly.
"Oh, Bullshit. He's sat in my bar, day after day, drinking, listening, talking. Bet he's been supplying Ned info from the start."
'Ted,' Chuck said under his breath.
"He made me, I swea-"
"Shut it," Fiasco snarled. "The way I see it, this is a public service. They hurt one of us, we hurt them back, it's the way things have always been. You think Lynns hasn't torched someone who didn't talk? Or are we gonna ignore what Walker did to Ra's or Blaze?"
"That's different and you know it."
"It's not that different," Sharpe shrugged passively.
"Drury has a plan," Chuck said desperately.
"Walker's plan, is a cross country jaunt of self discovery. Forgive me if I'm not wholly confident," Fiasco said irritably, kicking Jumbo's chair. "If you don't want to help, fine. But don't come down here with some self righteous bull."
"He can't say shit with his skull caved in," a deep voice called out. The Misfits spun around: Walking down the stairs, was Eric Needham. Seeing his chance, Sharpe slinked out the basement, taking a wary glance at the trio.
"A confession under duress ain't no confession," Spider began. "People will say anything to make the torture stop," he said softly, resting a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Go."
==Gotham International Airport==
November 4th. 16:56
Henry "Iron-Hat" Ferris walked through the airport briskly, a large box tucked under his arm. Mounted around his head was a rusted iron mask, welded to him as a form of atonement. As he walked, he could hear them; the common people whispering, giggling at his attire. 'Inferiors,' he thought. 'Screw them all.'
"What you got there, sir?" a voice called out.
Ferris swore under his breath. The guard, a large, Arabic man in a turban, approached him and placed a cautious hand around his bag.
Iron-Hat shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, that's just a bomb."
The guard scowled, and spoke into his radio, another hand rested on his gun.
Unperturbed, Ferris rolled his eyes nonchalantly. "Right, I forgot explosives are a touchy subject with you people. TSAs, I mean," he added unconvincingly.
"Now, can you give me a hand? The metal detector's a bitch."
=Sionis' Penthouse. Diamond District=
November 6th. 13:32
"Mr Ferris, thank you for coming. Please, sit," Li instructed. Ferris glanced at him suspiciously, and walked over to Sionis, a grimace hidden under his iron mask.
"Roman," he said, adjusting his collar.
"Henry," Roman grinned back, shaking his hand. "How was Sarajevo?"
Ferris looked around the room, grimacing at a collection of shrunken heads posed along the wall. "Dirty," he said firmly.
"This is David Li, my assistant. David, this is Henry Ferris. Had him stationed in the East End a few years back... One of our biggest markets, you know."
"A pleasure," Li smiled, offering his hand. Ferris looked at it, then turned back to Sionis. "Yes... no surprise there. Those people knew exactly what they wanted... 'Course then, an itsy bitsy spider started to cause all sorts of trouble. Buyers remorse, I reckon."
Li glanced at him warily. "This, is why we called you, he said, placing a dosier onto the desk. Iron-Hat wiped the edges, and slid out a photograph of a young man. "Our esteemed Mr Franco, I presume?" he asked Roman, taking no notice of Li.
"That, was taken in 2004. Kid was something of a street urchin, friend of Ms Kyle's- Catwoman, if memory serves. He broke into our estate, quite by chance actually. Normally, Dad'd take intruders out back- bang, but not him..." Sionis reminisced. "No, Dad took a real shine to Franco: had him shine his shoes, cook him breakfast- even took him on jobs, once or twice, which is more than I can say for me. Course, I just assumed he was bent," Sionis added unenthusiastically. "What do you suggest?"
"Blonde," Ferris noted, an air of approval in his tone, as he examined a later photo. "The white mask is a nice touch also... We got lucky," he concluded.
"Lucky?" Sionis asked indignantly.
"Well, one can only imagine the kind of filth your father lay with... Who knows what sort of creatures he might've spawned." Ferris said.
"You should meet with him. Keep communication channels open at the very least... It'll send a clear message to the gangs; that you respect family, regardless of its... origins."
"He raises a valid point, sir," Li said. "We'd fare far better with Franco as an ally, than as an adversary."
Sionis scoffed. "Franco's unreliable, boyish, irritating... And if he has anything to do with those packages, then he could be equally dangerous."
"You'll have to forgive Mr Sionis, he's been a little shaken since-"
"Packages?" Ferris interrupted.
"Packages," Sionis said, gritting his teeth. "See, the British, have a tradition. Bonfire Night. Five, six hundred years ago, this guy- Guy Fawkes actually, tried to blow up the houses of parliament, but failed. So, now, each year, the Brits put together all the wood they can find, make a straw dummy, modelled off the bastard, and set it alight.
Yesterday, someone threw one of my bodyguards into a furnace, and mailed me their charred hand. The week before, they posted my lawyer's severed head with a candle in his gob."
"If I may sir, if Franco has any connection to our calendar killer, then a sit down might be the best way of determining his intentions. If he is, we can quietly, and more importantly, justifiably, dispose of him. And if he isn't, who knows, perhaps this Calendar Man will deal with him for us," Li suggested.
"Yeah..." Sionis nodded slowly, a sort of sadistic excitement sweeping over him. "Yeah, we'll make a show of it: The lost Sionis Sibling- Only at The Gotham Royal. That'll draw the Calendar Man and his accomplices out of hiding... And if tragedy strikes, and my dear younger brother happens to get caught in the crossfire, well, that'll just be the icing on the cake."
Li reached into his pocket and took out a small notepad. "Shall I set a date?"
November 6th. 14:55
"I must say, I appreciate you coming in on short notice," Sionis chuckled. "Can't have been easy getting past the TSAs with that Praying Mantis on your shoulders."
Ferris pulled his gloves on. "Wolf," he said, lip curled. "And no, no trouble at all," he added, as he placed his hand on the door knob. "Oh, by the way, I love your assistant, very witty."
"Yeah, he's great," Sionis nodded.
"Absolutely, just goes to show his kind is great at that sorta stuff."
Roman's back stiffened. "Huh?"
"Oh, you know, book shit. Math and all that," Ferris explained.
Sionis stared at him. "Right. Right, yeah."
"Franco's good for us, Roman," Ferris elaborated. "He'll bring us back to our roots, to what the mob ought to be. I mean, look at the state of things, look at the midgets and pirates running things- they've let all kinds of freaks in. Falcone, Falcone would be ashamed."
Sionis and Ferris locked eyes for a moment, each trying to figure out the other's allegiance, when the door slid open, and an young intern entered the room. Ferris raised an eyebrow.
"Your lunch, sir," the kid said, sliding a brown paper bag over to Roman.
"Lovely," Sionis replied, handing the boy a small tip. "Burrito?" he offered Ferris.
"I don't much care for ethnic food, Roman," Ferris said coldly, as he moved past the boy, and walked down the hall.