The Wingman #2: Middle Management

==The Gotham Royal Hotel==

 

The West Balcony: Floor 22

 

Before either had had a chance to recover from their earlier misunderstanding, Gar and Jenna were joined on the balcony by David Franco, who took little notice of either of them whilst he concluded his phone call. Accompanying him, was Ramsey Rosso, the same bodyguard who had rudely intruded upon the pair's reunion earlier that night.

 

"Very good, Henry," Franco spoke into his phone. "Wait for me at the rendezvous." He cleared his throat, and tapped Jenna on the shoulder. "That was Henry, Jelly Bean. We should go." His previously smug smile faltered, when he finally noticed Lynns beside her.

 

'Jelly Bean?' Gar looked over at Jenna, catching her face turning ever so slightly red in embarrassment.

 

'Who's Henry? Another boyfriend?' Sharpe said to himself, still listening in on them through the comms.

 

"Who's Henry? Another boyfriend?" Gar repeated without thinking.

 

The muffled sound of Sharpe face-palming could be heard from the other side of the earpiece.

 

"Gar!" Jenna scowled reproachfully.

 

"Sorry," he spluttered. "Bad joke. I'm, uh, not very good at them.

 

"Apparently not," Franco glared at him suspiciously. "Jelly Bean?" he repeated impatiently. "Something I should know about?"

 

Jenna shook her head, her anger rising. "He was just sharing work notes, Davey. God! I'll be there in a sec."

 

"Jelly Bean-" he began.

 

"Don't call me Jelly Bean."

 

"Fine." Clearly irritated, Franco held his hands up in the air in defeat, and sauntered off.

 

'Smooth,' Sharpe whistled

 

Lobby: Ground Floor

 

They'd been sitting there for two hours now: Kuttler, was sat by the monitors, Mayo, was finishing off his third Big Belly Burger. So far, nothing. No loud noises, no booby traps, no intruders; just the drunk chattering of party guests on the security cameras, the smacking of Mayo's lips and the clacking of Kuttler's slender fingers on the nearby keyboard.

Bored, and still rather peckish, Mayo rolled his chair over to Kuttler's side, and let out a long yawn. "Still nothing?" he asked.

 

"The entire building is monitored by this security room. If there's a breach in protocol, we'll know," Kuttler said calmly.

 

"Kay, cool," Mayo nodded unsurely. "But, say... Mr Polka Dot's with them," he pointed out. "Couldn't he just... Portal them in?"

 

"The insulin that I spiked him with should keep him incapacitated for a few days, but in the event that it doesn't, we have a contingency. Here, screw this in," Kuttler instructed Mayo. 'Ah, it'll do,' he thought, as he added the finishing touches to the small device.

 

"You see," he elaborated, "The dots he peels from his costume are one thing, simple nanotechnology: The fireballs, the buzzsaws, the explosives... The ones he summons seemingly from thin air, are another matter entirely: rifts in the skin of reality which he harnesses from that infernal belt of his. Which is why I've cobbled together this old thing:" he stated, presenting Mayo with the finished device: a lightweight, black and grey square of some kind. "Be careful with it, it's not a toy. It's a dimensional neutraliser."

 

"Bit small isn't it? You really think that'll stop him?" Mayo asked, his scruffy mono-brow furrowing.

 

"It had better," Kuttler began, hastily changing his attitude upon registering the concern on Mayo's face. "I- Theoretically, yes. I tried out a prototype on The Folded Man some years ago. Imploded the poor man... Luthor, had wanted a contingency in-place in the event that Swift, Shade, ever betrayed us... Didn't quite pan out, these things never do...

This new one is non-lethal, per your friend Brown's specifications. It should simply sever the connection between him and the dimensions he harnesses his portals from. The only problem is, it needs to be directly applied to his costume for the signal to work, which is no small feat. I, am diabetic, and you... really should have diabetes too," he added, casting his eye towards the stack of fast food wrappers.

 

Mayo kicked the floor glumly. "That's not really fair... I exercise! Sometimes."

 

"Uhuh." Unmoved by his hurt feelings and feeble protests, Kuttler's attention was drawn elsewhere, as a faint sound pierced the air, like the whistle of the wind on a cold winter morning. "No, it's too soon..." he said under his breath. "Mayo," he whispered to his charge. "You need to get this device to Flannegan. He'll know what to do," he stated, placing the small device into the palm of Mayo's hand.

 

"Got it," Mayo replied dutifully, tucking it inside one of his mismatched socks. "But what about you-?"

 

"I'll manage," Kuttler stated, as he opened a drawer beneath his desk, retrieved a syringe and a small torch, and strutted off into the direction of the noise. As he loaded the syringe with insulin, his hand was intercepted by a bony arm.

 

"Uh uh," a voice responded. "You're not taking me out the same way twice.

 

"How the hell did you get in here?" Kuttler asked.

 

"I cycled. How the fuck do you think? I Portaled in. Jesus, and you're meant to be the smart one," the intruder answered with a curled lip, almost offended by the question

 

"Ah, Krill," Kuttler spoke, pointing his torch at the intruder's face with his free hand. "You're looking well. For someone recovering from an insulin overdose."

 

The torchlight glinted off the plastic feeding tube around Krill's nose, and he winked back unabashedly. "Oh, all better now, thank you," he gestured with his right hand, tightening his grip on Kuttler's wrist with his left. "I ate a dozen Knickerbocker Glories and a New York cheesecake on the way over here. You would not believe the amount of traffic there is on my commute."

 

"I agree. I wouldn't," Kuttler remarked.

 

Distracted, Krill turned to Mayo's abandoned soda, dabbed the straw, and took an obnoxious slurp of the liquid. "So, Pointless," he slurped, taking a note of the discarded food wrappers, "Who else is here?"

 

"Whatever do you mean?" Kuttler asked aerily.

 

Seeing through the lie, Krill snapped impatiently. "Now, don't play coy, you diabetic doughboy. No way you ate all this by yourself."

 

"Must've been the hotel staff," he said blankly.

 

Impatient, Krill shoved him aside, and marched into the main annex. Kuttler, breathed a sigh of relief: Mayo, was nowhere to be seen. 'He's quicker than I expected,' he thought privately.

 

Still unconvinced, Krill slapped Kuttler across the face. "If it was the hotel staff's, then how come the soda's still cold, you prick? How come the ice ain't melted?" he spat.

 

'Abner, what's taking so long?' a voice called into Krill's headset, and the Polka Dot Man reluctantly turned his attention away from the fast food investigation.

 

"Had a run in with one of your boys that's all," he relaxed.

 

'Charlie?' the voice asked excitedly.

 

"Nah: Kuttler, the science nerd. The one I was telling you about."

 

'Is he going to be a problem?'

 

Krill smirked as he looked down at Kuttler's stirring body. "Shouldn't think so, no," he replied, as he swung his leg back, and kicked him in the stomach.

 

~-~

 

"Boss, the passcodes worked, looks like Krill's contact was true to his word," a henchman spoke. "The building is ours."

 

"There's a surprise..." Day muttered, as he knelt down beside Kuttler's bloodied figure. "Is he alive?" he inquired.

 

"Yeah, yeah. I know you have a fetish for these clowns," Krill replied.

 

Day tutted disapprovingly. "You shouldn't have attacked him."

 

"He shouldn't have stuck a syringe of insulin in my neck. Lousy git anyhow: all the charm and warmth of a weekday Wetherspoons. What do you want me to do with 'im?"

 

A thin smile broke across Day's face. "Bring him upstairs. It's high time we introduced ourselves."

 

North Corridor. Floor 22

 

Drury put his finger to his temple, and frowned. "That's weird," he noted.

 

"What?" Gaige asked grumpily.

 

"Getting some kind of interference from the lobby..." Drury addressed Gaige, before returning to his earpiece. "Ballroom team, this is Drury: We've lost contact with Kuttler. Mayo too. I repeat; the lobby team has been compromised. Make your way over to the east hallway, and we'll work out a plan."

 

"What about the guests?" Chuck asked. "Shouldn't we notify them-?"

 

"Not Jules' target," Drury assured him. "Just you lot head on over to the east hall. I'll be there shortly."

 

The Ballroom: Floor 22

 

Mid conversation with Manga Khan, Rigger replied "Copy that."

 

Now with an excuse to escape the mug-based conversation that had, by his estimate, been going on for about half an hour, he looked over towards the emergency exit sign, and started to move towards it. "Ok, that's really interesting," he said agitatedly, barely listening to Manga's lecture.

 

"See, it is interesting. People think mugs are simple, and they are, but there's so much more to it!" the golden man cackled enthusiastically.

 

"I tell you what," Rigger said, cutting Manga off, and handing him a small business card. "Here, is my work number. Call that whenever, and we can talk more about those mugs of yours, eh, bud?"

 

As Rigger walked to the door, his phone started to buzz, and as he glanced over his shoulder, sure enough there was Manga, holding the phone to his ear expectantly.

 

"Well, um, well not now obviously," Rigger stammered into the receiver.

 

Sionis Penthouse: Floor 48

 

"Penthouse team, how can we help?" Reardon asked.

 

"You can start by getting Sionis somewhere safe," Drury's voice responded. "Is there someplace he can lay low? A place Day wouldn't know about?"

 

"Wouldn't be much of a mob boss if there wasn't... There's a series of old service tunnels below the building. They come out beneath the south Steel Mill. Reinforced steel, would've survived the quake," Sionis spoke.

 

"Can you get to it from there?" Drury inquired.

 

"Sure. There's an opening on the thirteenth floor... the architects were superstitious like that."

 

"Go," Drury advised.

 

North Corridor: Floor 22

 

Tilting his head back to Gaige, Drury smiled apologetically. "Sorry about that; duty calls," he stated, hesitating slightly. "We can talk more later, but just- Look," he paused. If you're planning to start a gang war here, tonight, I really need to know," he pleaded.

 

"Oh, like you were planning on telling me about Day?" Gaige rolled his eyes. "God, you are a self important ass sometimes..."

 

"It's part of my charm," Drury joked.

 

"No, it's pretty fucking tedious actually."

 

"Just, listen, the Misfits... they're a family to me. Always have been. And, well, right now, they need me. If their safety, is in any way jeopardised because of some revenge scheme, then-"

 

"No. No, they aren't," Gaige stated, cutting him off. "You have a family," he reminded him. "Three kids that, right now, need their father far more than the Dice Boy or the Hang-Glider ever have. It's time you remembered that. Those weirdos, those friends of yours? They're grown men. Strange, yes. Degenerates, abso-fucking-lutely. But grown men all the same."

 

Drury paused. "Four kids," he corrected Gaige.

 

"Squealy girl, emo boy and the pre-schooler. Who am I missing?"

 

"Simon. Lightning Bug?"

 

"Ah, the Superhero," Gaige said disdainfully. "See that's what happens when you don't have a father figure in your life... What goes around comes around, I guess," he added regrettably. "Take you, for example, stuck in some pointless war with Ted Carson, who's that for? It's not for your kids. It's not for your Misfits, so don't give me that bullshit; Even if those weirdos were dependant on you, and they're not, it's not their fight. It's not their war. It's yours-"

 

"Now, you wait a second, I didn't want this-! Any of this!" Drury argued.

 

"-And for a long time now, you've been treading water, doing the same old crap, in a bitter bloody cycle: You trap him: he escapes, you kill him: he's resurrected- doesn't matter, either way he's back, so he seeks revenge... you have a dick measuring contest...then once you're bored, you kill him again- or bring in someone else who can-"

 

"That's not fair! Carson struck first. He ran over Gar, he got the cops on my tail, he tried to murder me at Gotham General. If I'd left the Misfits alone, there's no telling what he'd have done. They're safer by my side!"

 

"Hah. That's not strictly true, is it?" Gaige growled. "I'm sure it was fun, at first. That little Tom and Jerry routine of yours. But then, his daughter got involved: then it was a problem. Cause now- Daddy's out of the picture, and it doesn't look like he's coming back.

And she's young, and grief stricken, so she uses her inheritance, a little from her dad, a little from her mom and her creepy uncle, and she backs the Society.

So what do you do? You go to the League of fucking Assassins, and you ask them for help. So don't- Don't tell me that I wasn't there, that I don't understand your, uh, family feud, cause I do. My daughter died for it, and the Misfits will die for it until you learn to let them, and this fucking war of yours, go. Break the fucking cycle."

 

Drury stared into Gaige's eyes, the same eyes he'd kept hidden behind a scarf or diving helmet since before they'd met, and he swallowed. "Yes, sir," he said coldly, as he walked down the hallway. Passing him on his way out, was David Franco, looking slightly disheveled, and his ever-present bodyguard. Composing himself, the White Mask approached Gaige and smiled his usual insincere smile.

 

"Physician, it's time," he celebrated with an unwelcome hug. "Oh; bee-tee-dubs, I caught what you said to that moth loser; some of it, that is. Fucking wild man. Well said, just wish I'd had my phone on me-"

 

Very suddenly, Gaige grabbed Franco by his collar and flung him against the concrete wall. "That 'moth loser' is the Demon Slayer. Show him some fucking respect."

 

As Franco attempted to wriggle free of Gaige's iron grip, Rosso moved in to intervene, as large black veins rose to the surface of his skin.

 

"Not... Now... Ramsay..." Franco gasped, as his skin flushed a deep red.

 

"You three, stop!" a fourth man interrupted them.

 

Gaige dropped Franco to the ground, as he turned around.

 

A group of armed henchmen had blindsided the trio, their machine guns aimed at their chests. "You're coming with us," the leader of the group announced.

 

Gaige's eyes narrowed, as he examined each of the thugs in turn. "Is that a bobble hat, son?" he raised an amused eyebrow.

 

==Bathroom: Floor 22==

 

"Sir is a big boy now, Major, he can wash his hands aaaaaaalllll by himself," Dufus announced proudly.

 

"I ain't taking that chance," Booker replied agitatedly. "I've seen where you put those oversized sausage fingers when you think no one's looking. Eating boogers... Boogers! This! Was our chance to hit the big leagues!"

 

"You always say that, Maj," the Mighty Bruce replied tiredly.

 

"And, Bruce! I'm always right! I can't help it if an army of penguins or the JLI, or an unforeseen, overbearing night school teacher gets in our way sometimes."

 

"Every time."

 

Before he had time to think up a retort, Booker was interrupted by some kind of commotion outside. "What was that?" he wondered from a moment, then shrugged. "Meh, someone else can handle it."

 

The Ballroom: Floor 22

 

"Woo! Gotta give ol' Black Face this, he knows how to throw a party," Abner Krill declared loudly as Gaige, Franco and Rosso were escorted into the main ballroom, their hands raised above their heads in surrender. The other guests were all huddled together in the center of the room, kept at bay by more of The Calendar Man's armed henchmen.

Day himself, was stood on the stage, a large spherical drum positioned behind him. "Round up the stragglers," he murmured to his closest henchmen. "There's always one or two troublemakers... Lock down the elevators and bring anyone you find to the ballroom." The henchmen, unbeknownst to the crowd, were Joker goons, and each wore matching Christmas jumpers and hats, no doubt per Day's request. "Now, ladies, gentlemen, Misfits... would you all mind staying where you are. Please, draw your attention to the device behind me. Some of you, may have already recognised it, but for those of you not in the know-"

 

Kuttler, let out a strained cough as one of the henchmen dragged him to the front of the stage.

 

"Mr Kuttler," Day smiled. "Do you mind explaining to the crowd what this device is?"

 

"Screw you..." Kuttler spat.

 

"Come now, Noah. No need for that," Day responded. The closest thug, slammed Kuttler in the face with the butt of their gun. "Let's try that again," Day drawled.

 

"It's a dispersal device," Kuttler mumbled.

 

"Louder, please."

 

"It's a dispersal device. Loosely based on Stagg's Cloudburst, the device that the Society... my Society... used in it's attack on the city two years ago."

 

"That it is. Don't worry, it's harmless, empty, inactive: Just for show, a visual aide if you like. It's sister device, which is being planted somewhere in this building as we speak, is not. That, is armed with a chemical concoction that you may well be familiar with. Fearless."

 

In the crowd, Drury reached for his holstered cocoon gun and motioned to Chuck and Gar. 'Fearless,' he mouthed anxiously.

Chuck, put his hand against his breast pocket, reaching not for the holstered gun, but rather the small capsule of medication Kuttler had given him earlier that week. 'A last resort,' he reminded himself, privately dismissing what he considered to be a very dangerous train of thought. 'A last resort only.' He would not stoop to the same underhanded tactics that claimed his boy's life. He couldn't.

 

"But do not be alarmed," Day continued unimpeded. "Fearless is not a curse. It is my tool, my gift: a liberating baptism, to wash the doubt and anxiety from your minds."

 

At this, a robotic voice cleared his throat.

 

"Excuse me, good sir," Manga Khan interrupted. "Excuse me, but if it's a barter you want, a barter you'll get. I will gladly take your primitive little dispersal devices, and in return, you will be placed on the waitlist for my spring fashion line."

 

"What's that idiot doing?" Drury hissed at Rigger.

 

"Hell if I know," he replied.

 

"Well, he's going to get himself killed." Flannegan stated.

 

Day's brow furrowed, his usual cool demeanor shattered. "I don't- What is this? What-? Did someone- Did someone bring a robot here?" he asked Manga.

 

"That, is Lord Manga," Krill explained. "Think QVC in space. Do you still do those 'I'm with Stupid' shirts?" he asked.

 

Manga, gestured to his robotic aide. "That 'robot' is L-Ron, my servant, secretary and lackey, thank you very much. And yes, I do."

 

"I do wish you wouldn't call me that, M'Lord," the stubby robot at Lord Manga's side stated.

 

"What's wrong with 'secretary?' It's a vital and well respected position in any given organisat-"

 

With a toss of one of Krill's buzzsaw-like dots, Manga's head was sliced cleanly sliced off its' shoulders, as it clattered to the ground, its' body following soon after. A cloud of pink mist rose from the armour and floated out through the open window.

 

"I can always get the shirt off Amazon," Krill justified his decision.

 

Day nodded, shaken slightly by the encounter. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to leave you in the more than capable hands of my henchmen. I, have a grievance to air with your host. Abner!" he clicked his tongue.

 

"Minute. Want to see if they've got any of those mini eclairs."

 

With Day distracted, Drury and company tuned into their communication devices.

 

"Can anyone hear me? Mr Moth? It's Mayo. We're in something of a pickle here. Krill's here, took The Calculator, I think. Maybe."

 

"Gee, where were you ten

minutes ago..." Gar mumbled.

 

"Under a desk," Mayo said nonchalantly.

 

"Mitch, Mr Moth was dad's name. Call me, Drury, please," Drury reprimanded him.

 

"Forget about that, Dru. Mayo, you're free?" Chuck stammered.

 

"Yeah! Listen, I'll come to you!" he said confidently.

 

"No, wait, don't," Drury hissed.

 

...

 

"Please don't."

 

But the plea fell on deaf ears: For now, the fate of every man, woman and Misfit in the Gotham Royal rested in the greasy hands of the Condiment King.

Done