Wingman Prelude- Orientation Day (1/1)

Greendale: Day 11 of the Misfits' Undercover Operation

 

With the rest of the Misfits still enrolled in the college, Drury had left Rigger, Reardon and Gar to browse the nearby mall. With them distracted, and in good enough spirits, he was able to enter the Ballroom, a small bar in Greendale's town center without arousing their suspicions. As he opened the door, he was met with a large, suited guard, standing between him and his contact.

 

"You're late," the guard noted.

 

"Couldn't find a parking space I liked," Drury lied, placing his cocoon gun and the accompanying cartridge of white pellets onto the cork crate beside him: holding his arms out so that the guard could pat him down, pausing as their hands reached the large stuffed rabbit Drury had forced halfway down his back jacket pocket.

 

"It's for my son," Drury blushed. "He'll be 20 this month."

 

The guard raised a judgemental eyebrow, but gave way nonetheless, allowing Drury access into the private booth. The seated occupant rose to his feet and offered his hand out to greet him.

 

"Mr Walker. We haven't been formally introduced yet. My name is David Li, but you can call me-" he began, only for Drury to cut him off.

 

"-Bookworm, yeah, yeah, Roman's right hand, I know. Chuck's mentioned you. Said you were an honourable sort. Or at least as honourable as a mob accountant gets, I suppose... He's also said that he wished you'd find more... eh, 'ethically sound' employment."

 

"Oh, I'm quite satisfied in Mr Sionis' employ, thank you," Li smiled politely. "Although we have been... challenged, as of late. Perhaps it's better to show you: Here."

 

Li reached into his briefcase and handed Drury the first of many photos, as Walker tried his very best not to throw up.

 

"Lucio Moxxom. October 31st. Halloween. Head decapitated and mailed to the Sionis penthouse," Li explained, before moving onto the next victim:

 

"Marco Viti. November 5th. Bonfire Night. Thrown into a Steel Mill furnace. Headfirst."

 

And the next:

 

"Angelo Mirti. November 16th. Thanksgiving. Drugged and strung up outside the East End Warehouses. A pound of C4 placed... Well, in a place best left unsaid. And since then, there have been three other murders just like them. Remind you of someone?"

 

"Julian..." Drury realised, as his heart sank.

 

"Yes. There was a note attached to the first victim's... ah, head, which matches the handwriting we have on record... Here's the copy I made," Li handed Drury a small sheet of paper, and he read it aloud:

 

"'Roman Sionis... should've stayed in Italy... blah blah... day of reckoning...' bit pretentious... 'Before this year is through, we will see you burn.'" Drury read. "How come I didn't hear about this sooner? Why didn't you go to the cops?"

 

"Because the last thing Mr Sionis wants is the GCPD intruding on his businesses. He gets enough bother from the Bats: Something we have in common, I hear. We can help you with that," Li lowered his glasses. "Mr Sionis, believes there's a connection between Day, and this man: The White Mask. And, on Halloween, a recent blood test confirmed his suspicions that White Mask, real name: David Franco, is the son of Richard Sionis. His father. This revelation has Mr Sionis reeling, as he's now certain that Franco, has joined forces with Day to remove him from power."

 

Though he had only been half listening, Drury suddenly perked up. "Sorry, Dave Franco-?"

 

"Yes, believe me, we all know what it sounds like... Might we skip the jokes and focus, please?" Li sighed.

 

"Oh, no, we can not just gloss over that. I've got so much material to work with!" Drury joked.

 

"If you could concentrate please-" Li restated, as he motioned to his bodyguard, the burly man who had patted Drury down earlier with firm enthusiasm.

 

"Right, yes, sorry," Drury gulped. "Continue."

 

"In the weeks since he first received those blood tests, Mr Sionis has turned to Henry Ferris: Iron-Hat, a vile man really. Ferris, believes that to catch Day, we must first lure him out into the open. And what better way is there, than with a holiday party? I believe you're familiar with the annual Janus Cosmetics Christmas ball."

 

"I am, yeah," Drury reminisced. "But you could wrap Roman in tissue paper and a big red bow, and Jules would probably still show up. Doubt it matters to him, but it would limit casualties."

 

"You're being sarcastic, I take it," Li noticed. "Believe me, you have every reason to distrust my employer, hate him even, but if you do nothing, if The Calendar Man kills Roman Sionis... Well, you have no idea the kinds of monsters he's kept at bay. Or the evils that will rise up in his place..." Li stopped himself from elaborating further and instead, took a pen from his breast pocket, and scrawled a few digits onto the napkin beneath his soda. "The offer stands. We can grant you safe passage into Gotham, however many guns you require, and in exchange, we request your expertise in dealing with Calendar Man. I'll be staying in the hotel on Rhodes Street; visit me there when you have an answer."

 

==Greendale: Day 17==

 

"You didn't tell me you were working with Sionis," Kuttler frowned.

 

"No, I didn't..." Chuck murmured, just as confused as he was.

 

Drury approached the False Facers and shook hands with Li. "You remembered my terms, yeah?" he asked.

 

"Yes," Li spoke. "We already have people bringing Mr Sharpe to the rendezvous point," he confirmed. "We are, however, still struggling to locate Mr Fiasco. We've not heard from him since he was released from GCPD custody."

 

"Forget it, Len knows how to disappear: he'll be deep underground by now," Drury reasoned. "He's never really liked the spotlight."

 

"Quite," Li agreed. "We have a small smelting plant in one of the neighbouring towns. I've arranged to have your truck moved there, where it can be quietly decommissioned."

 

"But not before you 'quietly' scavenge whatever Bat-Tech you can get a hold of, right?" Drury questioned him, hesitantly reaching into his back pocket, and placing the keys into Li's expectant palm.

 

"Perhaps," Li said coolly.

 

"Oh, mind you, I quite like the hood ornament," White remarked, as he ran his fingers along the grill of the truck. "Might have to keep that for myself."

 

"Uh, Drury?" Chuck interrupted, speaking on the group's behalf. "Could we maybe talk about this for a minute?"

 

Drury, looked back over to Li. "Five minutes," the Bookworm relented. Walker nodded gratefully, and rejoined the rest of the Misfits.

 

"How exactly did you arrange an escort from the Great White Shark of all people? Did you subscribe to the Iceberg Lounge's loyalty scheme?" Kuttler inquired, a note of sarcasm in his voice.

 

"They do that?" an oblivious Mayo asked. "What a gip!"

 

"Dru?" Rigger asked expectantly, electing to ignore Mayo.

 

"Well, you remember those couple of days we spent in the city center? Blake had his teaching gig, you got your sword, Gar got that nifty new lighter and we all had a brief pint in that place on L-Street?"

 

"Sure, that was the happiest I've ever been," he replied.

 

'Really?' Gar thought.

 

"Well, while you were browsing through shops, I actually had a meeting with Li there: The guy with the hat. We'd been texting for a couple of days prior; think Sharpe maybe gave him my mobile... Doesn't matter. Well, matters a little... But, what's important is, Li told me that Sionis' people are being taken out one by one. On holidays," he stated, pausing for dramatic effect.

 

'Julian...' Chuck gasped.

 

"Jules?" Blake wondered. "But that'd mean..."

 

"Exactly. I think we've found our mastermind," Drury concluded.

 

Ten placed his head in his hands. "God, Drury, I thought we moved past this," he sighed wearily.

 

"We did, I know, I'm sorry, but look at the facts: We know Carson isn't smart enough to play the long game. Julian is. If he's part of- or the leader of the Outcasts, we have to take him down. We could end this all, right here."

 

"Just like in Nanda Parbat, right?" Reardon asked, standing his ground.

 

"That was different. Please," Drury pleaded.

 

"Ok, Drury, let's say that he is behind all this, that he paid Krill and promised Carson revenge: that still doesn't explain that Zolomon ghoul," Chuck addressed it. "What does he get out of this?"

 

"Guess we'll just have to ask him ourselves," Gar stated, as he stood by Drury's side.

 

The other Misfits, looked more hesitant to join him.

 

"There'll be a party," Drury tried to entice them. "Booze. Food. Women," directing each of these at Flannegan, Mayo and Blake in that order.

 

"I'm in," Blake replied confidently, as Rigger also cheered enthusiastically.

 

"You know me, boss, I'm just here for the paycheck," Otis agreed.

 

"And if there's a free buffet-" Mayo licked his lips. "Well, that'd just be swell."

 

'Swell...' Gar mouthed, looking at Drury and nodding affirmatively.

 

The next to speak, Chuck sighed. "God, peer pressure is a bitch... Hell yeah, let's do it," he smiled. That just left Ten.

 

"Hey. You said you trusted me," Drury smirked.

 

"Eh-" Reardon protested.

 

"You said, 'Drury, I trust you,' you did," he teased.

 

"Hey, if you said that, it's on you," Blake shrugged.

 

"Well, that's- That's not a direct quotation," Reardon responded. "It's not!" he repeated to the skeptical ensemble. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "Fine."

 

"Does it even matter what I think?" Kuttler asked bitterly.

 

"I mean, I thought I'd at least give you the illusion of choice," Drury smiled boyishly.

 

"Good job," he scoffed.

 

==Gotham City==

 

The Apartment of the Deceased Jumbo Carson. Now home to his brother Ted, his daughter Bridget and their lackey Roger Hayden

 

The door creaked open, as Julian Day entered the room, his hands smelling strongly of hand sanitizer: A habit he had taken up since his meeting with The King of Cats. Hayden, was currently sat atop the kitchen stool, watching cartoons with intense delight, while his hands caressed his beloved Medusa mask.

At the side of the room, Bridget was putting up a Christmas tree; with many of the decorations recovered from her childhood home to celebrate the first Christmas she was spending with her father since his return- a gesture gone unnoticed by Carson himself.

 

"Allow me," Day said softly, as he reached into the cardboard box of mementos and placed the star at the top of the tree. 'No tinsel?' he noted. 'Pity.'

 

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Carson perked up. "Who'd you kill this time, huh?" he demanded, as he poured himself a cup of black coffee.

 

Day didn't reply.

 

"And where the hell's Krill anyway?" Carson continued to press. "Would never have agreed to this arrangement if I'd known you'd be poaching my people for god knows what."

 

Bridget, was actually quite grateful for Krill's absence. Though responsible for bringing her father home, Krill himself had been both crass and disrespectful to her family, with his constant jokes aggravating Carson's already foul temper. Day, at least, buried his insults in flowery language that often went over her father's head.

 

"My partners have Krill working on a separate assignment right now," Day spoke. "You, should stay focused on yours."

 

"Separate assignment- Stay focused? But I'm not doing anything!" Carson disagreed.

 

"Precisely," Day said coldly. "I can't have you bumbling around Gotham like a drunk Darth Vader."

 

"I-," Carson stammered. "We should be out there, searching for the putz who killed Jacob!"

 

Day took the coffee pot out of Carson's hands, and poured the steaming liquid into his festive mug. "No. You really shouldn't," he disagreed. "The matter has already been dealt with. Pass the milk, please, Roger."

 

Carson intercepted Hayden's hand. "No, 'Roger,' don't pass him the goddamn milk! Dealt with? Dealt with?! You have no right to-"

 

"Oh, and you do?" Day scoffed. "It was your failure at the hospital that got Ant-Man captured. And your inaction that got him killed."

 

Bridget arrived at her dad's side and placed her hand on his shoulder, in an attempt to calm him down. "It's not worth it," she urged.

 

Carson took a deep breath. "That's my point," he told Day. "Listen, if you'd just let me talk to your partners, we could coordinate on this. Let me set the gas mains alight, hit the power station. Something big to draw Walker out of hiding!"

 

Day paused to process the magnitude of Carson's suggestion, and brow furrowed, turned to Bridget sympathetically.

 

Dejected, Carson changed direction. "At least I'm trying! While you were out... washing your hands? I, had a talk with the White Mask. Turns out, he's seeing somebody,"

 

Day rolled his eyes. "Barson, I'm really not interested in tabloid news and idle gossip," he said disinterestedly.

 

"But you'll like this: His new girlfriend, is none other than Jenna Duffy. Lynns' girl. You know what that means, don't you? They broke up," Carson said gleefully.

 

Day raised an eyebrow, suddenly invested. "Really?" he wondered.

 

"Really?" Carson quoted. "Yes, really, why would I lie? It was a big teary eyed thing, Franco said. Apparently, Lynns had to choose between her and his best friend, and he chose Walker. Crazy, right?"

 

"Crazy," Day repeated. "Hn. Congratulations, Barson, perhaps you're not all that useless after all," he concluded.

 

=The Iceberg Lounge's Private Bar=

 

Sionis was sat in the backroom, in a makeshift surgery room. Doting over him, was Lazlo Valentin: Professor Pyg. Sionis, had refused anaesthetic, of course: He'd heard all kinds of horror stories about Valentin transforming simple surgical procedures into nightmarish experiments. Presently, Valentin had been put to work adjusting Sionis' face in anticipation of the holiday party: Sandpapering his scalp, varnishing the surface and tracing over his skull-like features with a small scalpel, all to accentuate Sionis' fearsome visage

 

"Pretty as a picture," he snorted, as he kissed Sionis' bald scalp tenderly.

 

"Thanks, Porky. Feel better already," Sionis remarked disingenuously, as he unhooked the white bib from his person, and admired himself in the overhead mirror.

 

"Sir, the Misfits are outside," Li's voice announced through the door.

 

"Alright, give me a minute," Sionis replied as he swatted Valentin away.

 

"Look lively, the strippers are here!" White yelled crassly, as he and Li led the Misfits into the parlour. The convoy, had arrived later than scheduled, having first stopped off at Kuttler's home, to allow him to recover various devices and gadgets he believed would be useful against Day and his apparent henchmen.

 

"Just remember," Drury was warning them, "Roman's not exactly our biggest fan. Because we keep trying to kill each other. So tread carefully." He paused, as he sniffed the air. "Did you just varnish this floor?" he addressed Sionis' bodyguards. "Smells great."

 

"Lynns!" Sionis greeted them, as he entered through the backdoor, adjusting his red tie as he made his way towards them.

 

"Mr Sionis, sir," Gar replied a little awkwardly, as the two shook hands firmly.

 

"Roman, son. Call me Roman. Here, sit down," he offered, pulling a chair out for his former employee, and handing him a crystal glass of whiskey. "You too, Flannegan."

 

Chuck looked like he was going to throw up. "Otis, he threw me off a building," he muttered in his ear.

 

"That's business, Brown, you gotta look past things like that," Flannegan responded, as he too accepted a glass from Sionis.

 

"Aha, Kite-Man," Sionis sneered, finally addressing the rest of the group. "How was your trip?"

 

"Eventful," Chuck responded.

 

"Oho, I'll bet," Sionis replied, recalling their last encounter with sadistic pleasure. "Please, as a sign of good faith; your comrade in arms." With the snap of his fingers, the door opened behind them, as Montgomery Sharpe was escorted in by Iron-Hat Ferris, and a rather familiar hooded figure. As Ferris made his way to Sionis' side, his attention was drawn to Gar and Rigger. "Aw, look, they come in different colours now, that's neat," he said mockingly.

 

As Gar's fist clenched, Joey instead pulled his arm back as if to say 'It's not worth it.'

 

"Hello everyone, happy holidays to you all," The Dragon King cheered. "Montgomery has told me all about you, of course," he elaborated, placing a hand atop Sharpe's shoulder.

 

"Love that guy," Sionis said. "Caught him raking through my dumpster for body parts a while back."

 

"Quite so," Ito said nostalgically. "When Mr Sionis first asked me to tend over Montgomery, I was hesitant, but during our weeks together, I have been most impressed by his growth and maturity."

 

"That Montgomery?" Reardon asked, noting Sharpe's uncharacteristically quiet composition.

 

Ito paused, as his reptilian eyes locked onto Drury, and his gaze softened. "Ah, of course, you must be Cliff Walker's boy. You look so very much like your father."

 

Ito's remark, was intended as a compliment, sure, but Drury had never felt sicker. He put on a fake smile, and thanked him.

 

"Alas, I'm afraid I cannot stay for the festivities," Ito admitted. "My daughter, Cynthia, is having a sleepover this weekend with her fellow classmates, and it is paramount I remain there to supervise her, to limit any potential ruckus. She gets awfully rebellious when she has too much sugar. But, you should know that I have cookie dough proofing in your fridge downstairs. Once it has been baked, it shall be splendid."

 

"Thank god," Sharpe whispered under his breath, as he finally exhaled. "He's a nice guy and all, but he eats pizza with a fork and he hides all the alcohol," he confessed to an appalled Blake. "Lost $200 to his fucking swear jar already."

 

"Montgomery?" Ito inquired in a paternalistic tone.

 

"I said ducking."

Done