The Wingman #1: Black Tie

===Two Months From Now==

 

"I'd like to go back to something you said in our last session. Why do you distrust therapists?"

 

Gar sighed heavily, and tapped his cigarette into the ashtray below him. "Well, it's a con, isn't it? Exploitive. Haven't met a single therapist that wasn't pulling some kind of strings behind the scenes.

 

"You're referring to Hugo Strange," the therapist noted, as she scrawled something into her notepad.

 

"Strange," Gar spoke, his voice full of disdain. "Strange experimented on my best friend's brother. He was a kid at the time. Then he put together a supermax prison whose goal was to bury the prisoners under eight feet of debris."

 

"Speaking of Mr Walker-" the therapist began.

 

"Nah, nah," Gar waved his hand dismissive. "You're not tripping me over like that."

 

"What's discussed here remains between the two of us."

 

"We're not talking about Drury," Gar warned.

 

"Very well," the therapist relented. "How about your job, or is that another off-limits topic?"

 

Gar slid down the chair. "Job's a job," he muttered.

 

"But you enjoy it?"

 

"Sure," he admitted. "I mean, I'm good at it. Very good."

 

==The Gotham Royal Hotel==

 

First established as a legitimate business founded by Roman Sionis' grandfather, Janus Cosmetics quickly became a front for the Sionis family's drug trade, partnering with the Falcone and Maroni crime families in the secret production and distribution of illegal narcotics.

In that regard, Janus' annual holiday party was no different: Though the odd shareholder was invited for the sake of appearances, most of the Black Mask's guests were actually mobsters, super-criminals and sociopaths like himself: Iron-Hat Ferris, The White Mask, The Great White Shark- even Mayor Cobblepot had snagged an invite (although he had wisely, and politely, declined). The Misfits, his hired muscle for the evening, were scattered throughout the 40 storey hotel, relying information back and forth through the small headsets attached to their ears.

 

"Alright, Misfits, report in," Sionis ordered.

 

"Mayo and Kuttler. Lobby secure," Calculator spoke: he had established his base of operations on the ground floor, surrounded by security cameras, computers and several haphazardly placed, incomplete gizmos that he was working on. Beside him, The Condiment King took a glug of champagne, swirled it around in his mouth, and disgusted, dribbled it back into the glass.

 

"Brown and Flannegan. West balcony secure," Kite-Man announced. Just as he finished checking his binoculars, Chuck thought he spotted a black clad figure positioned on the neighbouring building. As he looked back however, the figure was gone. Writing it off as his imagination, he turned back to Ratcatcher, who had already fallen fast asleep on the patio furniture.

 

"Rigger and Sharpe. East balcony secure," Firebug confirmed, as he watched Chancer take a plate of hors d'oeuvres from a nearby server, and stuff him face full with them.

 

"Reardon and Blake. Penthouse secure," The Ten-Eyed Man checked in: He and Catman were both posted outside Sionis' own office, a position he was more than fine with, although Blake was disappointed that he wasn't going to be able to mingle with any of the beautiful heiresses downstairs.

 

"Walker and Lynns. East ballroom secure," Killer Moth finished, adjusting his tie. "Doesn't feel right, though, we should be wearing our costumes for this," Drury confessed to a distracted Firefly.

 

"You heard Sionis. Better this than dressing as a 'bad Eurovision Act,'" Lynns replied.

 

"I like it! We're like... The Reservoir Bugs," Rigger smirked. "Although," he scratched his shirt collar, "I am starting to sweat a little."

 

"Yeah, why did you do that?" Sharpe inquired, his mouth full of miniature quiches.

 

"Well, I didn't want to have to run to the car to change," he stated. "How do those Superman serials make it look so easy?"

 

"Nah, you three are the only ones with bug related names. Unless you count Eric," Chuck suggested.

 

"No, he doesn't count. Spiders, are arachnids," Kuttler disapproved.

 

"That, and all the Dogs died in that movie. It's like calling your boat the Titanic. Or your dog Old Yeller."

 

"Fuck you, I haven't seen that yet," Blake snapped.

 

Reardon tilted his head to one side. "Blake. Were you ever going to?"

 

"Well, Philip, I guess we'll never know."

 

"Just get me my Holiday Killer," an exasperated Sionis commented.

 

"Calendar," Chuck muttered under his breath.

 

"What?"

 

"Holiday was Alberto Falcone. Julian's Calendar Man," Chuck explained.

 

"Same difference," Sionis scowled.

 

"Phew- Don't tell Jules that. He'd go Apeshit," Sharpe pointed out.

 

==The Ballroom==

 

David Franco and his entourage of himself, his aide, his date Jenna, and the Physician, entered the Royal's ballroom. Awaiting them, was the Injustice League, a trio of villains consisting of Paul Booker (Major Disaster), Dufus Ratchet (Big Sir) and the Mighty Bruce, who had all since hung up their colourful outfits in favour of ill fitting shirts and ties. Normally, Booker and his cohorts were excluded from such events, but Dufus' newfound celebrity status had given the three access into the 'Big Leagues,' so to speak.

Spotting their coworker, Booker adjusted his collar, and slicked his hair back. "Gotta say, J-Bird, this is a pretty sweet shindig," he whistled at Duffy.

 

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" The Physician

suddenly complained, having already encountered an over-eager mug salesman on the way in. "You too? We expecting anyone else? Abbot and Costello? The Three Stooges? Waldo?" he yelled at Booker, only for his attention to be drawn to the Mighty Bruce. "Ah, but of course, Waldo's already here, I just couldn't fucking find him in this crowd!" Exasperated, he pushed past Jenna and the Injustice League, probably in search of someone else to yell at.

 

Disappointed, Booker turned instead to Ratchet. "Dammit, Sir, you're embarrassing me. This is a fancy party, don't use your fingers like some kinda animal," he scowled disdainfully.

 

"...It's finger food," Jenna pointed out.

 

"Oh, well, I suppose-" Booker begrudgingly admitted. "But it's... It's a principle!"

 

"Nice find Davey," Iron-Hat Ferris complimented Franco, as he circled Jenna, impressed. Jenna, held onto her purse (and the concealed power-drill) tightly.

 

Ferris' eyes flashed, a smug smile hidden behind his mask. He pulled Franco in close, and chuckled. "This one's got ideas above her station. Keep a tight lease on her, son."

 

He disappeared towards the bathroom, still laughing crudely, leaving Franco and Jenna to share an embarrassed look between themselves. A smile on his face, Franco rubbed her arm. "I'll get us a drink, shall I? he grinned nervously, as he walked off towards the bar, leaving Jenna alone with his aide. Standing there idly, she looked across the ballroom, and gasped as she noted a very familiar face among the crowd.

 

"Gar?" she called out.

 

Lynns' mouth fell open, and an awkward sound escaped his lungs. "Jenna!" he replied, in a mix of coughing and spluttering.

 

"Drury!" Walker added, making his way over from the other side of the room. "I'm also here. I also like to be included."

 

Noting Walker, Jenna's face fell, and she scratched her nails distractedly. "So, you're not-" she began.

 

"Not what-?" Gar asked, puzzled.

 

"Not here to see me," Jenna said, a slight note of disappointment in her voice.

 

Gar bowed his head. "No. Sorry, but no, Sionis hired us to serve as security. Drury signed us up because- it, uh, doesn't matter. You look great," he noted.

 

"You don't," she replied with a slight smirk.

 

"Heh," he said back, looking down at his feet.

 

"Sorry," Gar paused, as he suddenly noticed Franco's right hand, standing unreasonably close to the pair. "Do you mind, this is a private conversation."

 

The aide, didn't reply.

 

"It's fine, it's fine! I'm back. Stand aside, Ramsay," Franco announced, as he returned to Jenna's side. 'Ramsay' didn't say anything, but dutifully stepped aside.

 

"Friend of yours?" Gar asked, noting the white suited figure now walking towards them, two champagne glasses in hand.

 

"Yes... Boyfriend..." she trailed off, as she introduced the pair. "Davey, this is Gar- Garfield Lynns. And Gar, this is my boyfriend, David Franco. The White Mask. Sionis probably mentioned him, right?"

 

Gar looked over at Jenna incredulously and shook his head. "Nope. And if he weren't standing in front of me, I'd assume he were some Klu-Klux Klantasy you'd made up to mess with me."

 

Franco smiled. "Hah! Pleasure to meet you, Gar, Jenna's told me so much about you!"

 

"That's funny," Gar grimaced. "Because I know jackshit about you. Friend of the crime family, I take it?"

 

"Oh, sure, Romy and I go way back; it's in our blood! How did you-?"

 

Gar shrugged. "Lucky guess. Look, Mask-"

 

Franco raised a gloved hand, smiling. "Please. It's Mr Mask! No, I'm kidding, I'm kidding. It's David, David Franco."

 

Gar paused in disbelief. "And what, your friends call you Dave-?"

 

"If you like. We friends, Gar?" Franco inquired, a undercurrent of malice in his tone.

 

...

 

Gar looked back at Jenna, then at Franco. "Is this some kind of elaborate joke, or am I going to have to get my flamethrower?"

 

Drury's eyes narrowed as they made contact with Franco's. "Oh. Hi Mark," he said out of habit, and instinctively placed an arm around Lynns. "Hey, Gar, how about we talk over here for a minute?" As they walked off, Franco murmured in Jenna's ear. "And you kissed that man?" he asked. "How did that work- the man has no lips, Jelly Bean." Jenna tutted in displeasure at the remark, and looked back at Gar regretfully.

 

"Ok," Gar muttered reluctantly. "Ok. But don't take your eyes off of him. I've seen Now You See Me, and I regret it immensely.

 

"Dude, you saw Now You See Me?" Rigger's voice rang out through the comms.

 

"I like Morgan Freeman!" Gar answered back.

 

"Then watch a Nature Documentary, at least you'll learn something."

 

"Rigger!" Drury interjected. "Gar, have you considered seeing someone who isn't some kind of supervillian?"

 

Gar put a hand to his chin and pondered. "You're right, Drury, maybe I'll screw your sister, and in twenty years, maybe I'll force you to raise our kids together."

 

"Gar," Drury spoke candidly. I don't have a sister."

 

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Just a little on edge, I guess."

 

Drury nodded. "Sure. A little. Look, there comes a time when we need to date outside our social circles, because otherwise we'll reach an unending point of supervillain incest. King of Cats already has a head start there, and Floyd told me things about Nightshade that'd gross Dekker out."

 

Gar shook his head, watching as Franco leaned forward and planted a kiss on Jenna's cheek. "I dunno, maybe Zodiac was right," he sighed.

 

Drury very suddenly slapped him across the face, and pulled him close.

 

"You're delirious. Listen, the way I see it there's only one difference between you and Franco."

 

"Money-?"

 

"Skin," Walker said in unison.

 

...

 

Gar scowled at Drury, who hastily tried to save himself. "No, yeah, I meant money."

 

Across the table, Franco was now joking loudly, placing a hand on Sharpe's shoulder. "You think I'm bad? Wait until you meet Cyan Mask!" he cackled, as the two of them burst into hysterics.

 

Drury paused in realisation. "Do you think maybe Zodiac hated the wrong Dave Franco?"

 

Gar nodded. "I mean I wouldn't say the wrong one, but it's a distinct possibility."

 

~-~

 

As the night progressed, Gar sat at the side of the ballroom beside Drury, every now and then speaking up to insult or mock Franco from a safe distance. The rest of the Misfits were still wired into the comms, and would occasionally join the conversation to either vouch for, or criticise Gar's apparent obsession with the man.

 

"It's dumb, but I actually worked with the real Dave Franco. The actor, I mean," Gar was now saying.

 

"Oh, really?" Reardon asked.

 

"Billings' film, right?" Rigger inquired.

 

"Yeah," Gar explained. "Funny: He was actually billed to play you," he nodded in Drury's direction.

 

"Well, that's just nonsense," Drury scoffed.

 

"Yep," Gar smirked. "He backed out of it a few weeks into filming, mind."

 

"Oh. Oh, now I'm not good enough for him?" Drury asked indignantly.

 

"Probably more to do with the egotistical supervillian, Dru," Chuck reasoned. "Guy really needs a better agent..."

 

"Aha," Drury laughed sarcastically. He was just about to prepare a retort of his own when he suddenly stopped himself mid-sentence and rose to his feet.

 

"Hey, where are you going?" Gar asked.

 

"Oh, I won't be long," Drury reassured him. "Just think I saw an old friend," he explained, as he followed the Physician out of the ballroom.

 

"Wait, he has other friends?" Sharpe wondered aloud, doing a very bad job at hiding his surprise.

 

==The West Balcony==

 

Gar wandered onto the balcony looking for some air, and perhaps some privacy, only to find Flannegan still sprawled across the chair, napping. Opening a single sleepy eye, his first instinct was to reach into his coat pocket, and offer Gar a cigarette. "Got a light?" he asked, as he held a pair of cigarettes aloft.

 

Gar nodded gingerly, and, taking one for himself, lit the two.

 

At first, the duo sat in silence, just smoking under the night sky, until Otis slid his chair over and he turned to Gar. "The chick. Who's she to you?"

 

Gar looked over at him, confused.

 

"Oh, come on, you think I didn't notice your face crumble when that White Klansman kissed her? People, tch," he grumbled.

 

"You, were supposed to be asleep," Gar stated.

 

"Maybe I was. Maybe I've just got excellent hearing," he winked. "C'mon, spit it out."

 

Gar bowed his head. "She's a... friend. Co-worker. A..."

 

"Old flame?" Flannegan assumed, cracking a toothy smile. "How long did you know she and him were- y'know?" he asked.

 

"I... I didn't," Gar sighed. "I didn't. It's not like we dated for that long neither, but I- I'm hungry, but I can't eat. I'm tired, but I can't sleep, I don't want anything, or to do anything- I want to both kill and be that White Mask fuck... I dunno... Is- is that love?"

 

"No, I'd call that a mental disorder," Flannegan replied. "But, uh, in my experience, that's pretty much the same thing."

 

Gar sighed. "Figures."

 

'Damn it,' Otis grunted to himself. "Lynns, look. I'm gonna tell you about a woman very close to my heart."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Yeah," Otis nodded reluctantly. "Her name, was Pamela Anderson. I only met her once, in person- and several times in my dreams, at a Baywatch convention. But I knew. I knew. That there was a bosom I would happily rest my head on. A woman who I wouldn't mind listening to, as she talked about her day. She could hit me over the head with one of those flotation thingies, and I would take it like a man, or a little girl- whichever she preferred. So, you ask me, is that love? Cause I don't fucking know."

 

...

 

"I went to a Baywatch convention for her. But I missed my chance. Mainly because she was married, and I was, like, 13 at the time. But now? Now I can't even watch Barb Wire without choking up."

 

"It's Ok, Barb Wire makes me cry too," Gar murmured. "It's a pretty awful film."

 

"Point is," Otis continued, "I missed my chance, but you? You haven't. One of us... One of us deserves to be happy."

 

"Funny," Gar smiles. "Chuck said the same thing."

 

Flannegan chuckled. "Brown's a sentimental idiot. From me, you can believe it," he said, as he placed a grubby hand on Gar's shoulder. "See, I don't know what's going to happen with Carson or Day or whoever. But I can tell you what we can do right now. We'll find that Green Goblin looking fuck, and make him wish he looked like Tommy Wiseau."

 

"That's the wrong Franco."

 

Otis scowled. "Lynns, the last film I saw in theatres was Solo," he replied, as he rose up from his seat.

 

Gar turned his head around slowly. "What, you didn't see Endgame?" he asked incredulously.

 

"So I can watch a bunch of do-gooders beat the crap out of a handsome supervillian for three and a half hours? No, thank you. I watch films to escape reality," Flannegan grinned, as he held the door open for someone, and re-entered the ballroom.

 

'He'd have liked it, a rat saved the universe,' Gar thought to himself.

 

"How's Josie?" a voice suddenly broke the silence.

 

Gar turned around suddenly, to see Jenna standing beside him, a concerned look on her face.

 

"I wouldn't really know," Gar confessed. "She's been staying with her mother."

 

"You've not visited her?" Jenna asked, surprised.

 

"Been a little busy... Can't exactly stroll back home without the Bats breaking the door down. Still message her every day, but... It's not the same."

 

Jenna nodded apologetically. "Listen I'm sorry about Davey. This isn't how I wanted us to meet again. But, he's, uh, persistent-"

 

"He's a persistent pain in the ass," Gar responded.

 

"He's... Theatrical," Jenna replied, trying hard not to laugh. "When all of... 'this' is over, I really hope I see you around. Work's not been the same without you." She patted him on the back, and walked back towards the door.

 

'This is your chance, Gar, speak up,' Lynns thought to himself. And then;

 

"Jenna, wait up!" he exclaimed suddenly, as he reached into his pocket. She stood there in stunned silence as he opened his wallet and... pulled out a USB stick.

 

"These are the notes Edison wanted me to take. He wanted them done for Monday, but I dunno. Do you mind handing them in, please?" he asked.

 

"... Sure," she agreed.

 

"Fantastic. Truly. It's like watching the bad kind of trainwreck," Sharpe recoiled, as he listened in on the conversation.

 

"There's a good type of trainwreck?" Reardon questioned.

 

"How did he ever have any luck with women?" Blake groaned.

 

"I mean, before he had skin," Rigger pointed out.

 

Gar put his finger to his earpiece. "I can hear all of you, you know."

 

"Well, I think you did great, Firefly!" Mayo chimed in.

 

~-~

 

"You got released?" Drury called out.

 

The Physician, took a deep breath, and tilted his head back. "How'd you know if was me?" he asked.

 

"The stench," Drury smiled. "You fucking reek of seawater."

 

'Of course...' Gaige rolled his eyes. "Now, is this gonna take all day, because I'm in the middle of something here."

 

"No, yeah, the Physician routine, I get it," Drury nodded. "I was told that's how you became Falcone's right hand in the old days. But look, you don't need to- you don't need to do the Scooby Doo routine anymore, you don't need to skulk around in the shadows making power plays. You'll always be Gaige to me: Rude tempered, spear throwing, questionable PhD-having Gaige."

 

He didn't reply.

 

"I'd heard you were dead, y'know," Drury continued. "There was this rumour back in Keystone that Talia Al Ghul had a flunkie stick a knife between your ribs."

 

"She tried," Gaige replied, trying to hide the smile now creeping up his face. "So you're working with Sionis now? Never would've expected that."

 

"You're one to talk," Drury pointed out. "I mean, White Mask? Is there anyone you haven't conspired with?"

 

"I'm an old man," he grinned, "I like to keep busy."

 

"Sure, yeah, but White Mask?" Walker laughed. "How'd that happen?"

 

Gaige bowed his head. "Entirely happenstance. He introduced himself to me in Blackgate- the Bat had got him locked up over a series of smuggling charges during that Arkham mess - amateur. Of course, I had thought he was the movie star."

 

"Yeah, there's a lot of that going around," Walker conceded.

 

“Is star too strong a word? Anyway, so I said, ‘I know you, you're that young weaselly guy, with that weaselly older brother and god knows how, a loving wife. And money. I’ve a son in law like you. Pain in the arse, he is.’ Now, I never did find out if he had a wife, and if he had mentioned one, I wouldn’t have been listening. You're well aware that I drown out anything that doesn't pertain to hunting, fishing, business or Armani. I’m being irreverent, you know this about me.”

 

Drury smirked back at him. Gaige's eyes flashed back. “Let’s see if I understand this right. So, Franco teams up with you, busts you out, all so, what, he can take over the family business? That’s very Romulus and Remus.”

 

Gaige looked puzzled for a second, and then smiled. "Walker, Franco isn't Sionis' brother. They don't share a single cell of DNA."

 

"But Roman said-"

 

"Oh c'mon," Gaige winked. "Who'd believe a dumb rumour like that?"

 

"But, if he's not... Then who's his dad?" Drury paused, his brow furrowing.

 

"Some cunt called Franco, I'd wager, how the hell would I know? It doesn't matter. All that does is that we tricked Sionis into thinking he was."

Done