The Wingman #5 Window Pain (2/2)

"How about it, Charlie? Want some ice cream?" Chuck asked his son, a beaming smile on his face.

 

"Hell yeah!" his son answered back, jumping up and down with glee.

 

"Charlie..." the elder Brown tutted. "Don't say that word."

 

"But you say it all the time!" his son protested. "Before football, during football, after football... When you're arguing with mom..."

 

"Because I'm a grown up," Chuck deflected. "Promise me you won't say that word again."

 

"Daaaaaaaad..." Charlie rolled his eyes

 

"Charlie, promise me," Chuck said sternly.

 

"Ok, I promise," the boy relented.

 

"Good," Chuck smiled. "Now, how about that ice cream?"

 

"Hel-uhhhhhhh, yes, please!"

 

==The Gotham Royal==

 

East Hallway: Floor 25

 

Time until Detonation: 27 minutes

 

Drury was thrown through one of the guest room doors, landing on the king-sized bed at the room's rear. He grabbed the table lamp, and flung it at his attacker's head, knocking the King's crown off the top of his head.

 

The King of Cats smiled, swinging his whip above his head, and bringing it down across the mattress; Drury rolled off the bed, hiding behind it for cover. Looking for an offensive weapon, he ripped a drawer out of the bedside table, and threw it at the King, striking his left arm, but doing little to halt his approach. Joey attempted to rush the King from behind, but the King used his momentum to fling him up in the air, and onto the floor beside Drury, followed by a knife that lodged itself in the headboard above them.

 

"Go on, napalm him!" Drury instructed Joey.

 

"Dru, I don't carry that stuff on me," he pointed out.

 

"Gar does," Drury said with unflinching certainty.

 

"And, uh, you've seen Gar, right?"

 

"I- fair point," Drury relented. "So, how come you're alive, Karl? Thought you'd expended your nine lives."

 

"Because you shot me in those catacombs?" The King chuckled. "If you shoot a man four times, they're only dead once."

 

"His, uh, logic is sound," Joey admitted. "Can't believe I just accepted that..."

 

Chuck entered the frey, holding a fire extinguisher plucked from the hallway. Firing it at Kyle's back, the foam forced him against the wall, giving Drury the opening he needed to fire his cocoon gun, sticking the King to the wall.

 

"And I thought I was the freak," Kyle commented, licking the substance with his elongated tongue.

 

"Gross," Joey rolled his eyes.

 

A second blast covered Kyle's mouth, preventing him from saying anything further.

 

"That took longer than expected," Drury admitted, wiping a string of drool off his shirt. "Should we be expecting Zodiac or Planet Master, or are we done here?"

 

"We're done," Chuck nodded, as the trio walked back into the hallway. "Assuming the guys grounded Krill."

 

"They will have," Drury assured him. "C'mon, Roman's penthouse is in the other building; We can use the overview bar to reach it."

 

"Drury, Julian knows that's the closest way to reach the second tower; by the time we get there, it's going to be swarming with goons; we don't have time for another fist fight," Chuck stated.

 

"Besides, that's still 23 flights of stairs we'd have to climb, sure there's no other way?" Joey asked.

 

"I suppose we could use the wingpacks, but I don't trust them in this weather," Drury stated. "What do you suggest?" he paused.

 

"I... might have something," Chuck smirked. "Pass me that knife, will you?" he asked.

 

Drury raised a confused eyebrow, but obliged, removing the King's knife from the headboard and handing it to his teammate.

 

"Thanks," Chuck nodded. "Won't be long. Probably. You two look after him."

 

He pried the window open with the blade, and clambered onto the ledge; Gotham's frigid winter weather pummeling him in the face.

 

Drury, turned to Kyle, and back to Joey, frowning. "Don't suppose we could play Charades?"

 

~-~

 

Chuck looked up at his target; 23 floors above him, was Sionis' Penthouse. On the opposite tower. If he could get some height, he could glide over to the other building, that he knew. But if he botched it... Well, 25 storeys was a long way to fall. Should've invested in that grappling hook... Drury always assured him it'd cost too much, that flight was the future. Well, Drury wasn't the one dangling off the side of a high rise hotel.

 

~-~

 

"I heard Nygma payed you a visit," Arthur Brown tutted, examining a framed photo of Chuck's family.

 

"Yeah? What about it?" Chuck frowned, removing the photo from Cluemaster's grip and placing it back on the counter face down.

 

"Listen, Charlie, I ask the questions," Cluemaster shrugged. "Now, what'd he want?"

 

"Information," Chuck said plainly.

 

"Hey, don't be a smartass," Cluemaster scolded him.

 

"No, of course not. That's your thing, right?" Chuck muttered under his breath. "He wanted me to set up a meeting. With the boss."

 

Cluemaster's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't told."

 

"Because I said no," Chuck explained. "I told him that I don't have that kinda pull. That even if I did, I kinda enjoy living."

 

"And then?" Cluemaster scowled.

 

"He left."

 

==Sionis Penthouse: Floor 48==

 

"What do you mean they got Kyle?" Day snapped.

 

"I'm telling ya boss, Walker and the Rigger kid took him out. We're getting pulverised down there," a henchman protested.

 

"Nevermind..." Day lied. "I want the rest of your men covering the Overview Bar, do you understand?"

 

"Sure, but-"

 

"Ahem," a second goon cleared his throat.

 

Day stiffened up; the approaching henchman was holding a purple cushion, and resting atop it was a comically large rotary phone. "It's for you," the goon stated with a deadpan delivery.

 

Day clutched the phone, and held the receiver close to his ear. "Hello?" he whispered.

 

"You know, I've never been too fond of calendar puns. I just don't know... They're pretty week, and they always feel a little dated. To be honest, I think their days are numbered."

 

~-~

 

"Look, I'll give you a tour!" Drury Walker said enthusiastically. "Here's the old suit; like the eyebrows? Gar hates them, but I dunno, I always thought they were pretty snazzy. Here's the cocoon gun; god, you should see it in action. Doesn't always work, but when it does? Beautiful. That's Gar over there, obviously. You've met him before. And that's Len. Say hi, guys."

 

Gar tilted his head at Chuck disapprovingly. Len, on the other hand, took a step forward and shook his hand firmly.

 

"Good to meet you," he nodded. "Loved seeing Riddler taken down a peg or two. And Lynns too, of course."

 

Chuck's eyes widened in recognition, as he spun around. "Oh my god! You were on Team Riddler when I-"

 

"When you sabotaged our kites?" Gar spat his toothpick onto the floor.

 

"I'm so sorry!" Chuck repeated over and over.

 

"I landed in a tree. Drury there had to come get me."

 

==Sionis Penthouse: Floor 48==

 

Ten, cocked his head to one side. Day was distracted; Krill and the King of Cats were gone. Now was a good a chance as any:

 

"Blake, I need you to pull my finger," he whispered to his captive cohort.

 

"This is no time for a fart joke, Reardon," Sionis warned. Li, shook his head disappointedly.

 

"It never is," Blake sighed.

 

"No, not- My prosthetics have an emergency release mechanism. If you can reach it, I'll be able to slip out these restraints."

 

"It... it could work," Kuttler pondered aloud.

 

~-~

 

"Kids, Drury! Kids!" Chuck slammed his hands on the desk.

 

"Leave off me, how was I supposed to know?" Drury gulped down a fourth glass of whiskey.

 

"You didn't think to, I dunno, check the guy you hired wasn't a psychopath?!" Chuck stammered.

 

Drury wiped his nose. "Roman was more than happy to loan him out. I thought-"

 

"What? That Black Mask is the benchmark for strong moral fortitude?"

 

"So, what!" Drury snapped.

 

'So what-?' Chuck mouthed in horrified disbelief.

 

"It's over! That Red Hood wacko got him, didn't he? He's gone."

 

"Yeah, just like Chancer."

 

"Hey! You leave the kid out of it: He's in a coma, that poor sod might never wake up!" Drury yelled, his lip trembling.

 

"Drury," Miranda nudged his elbow. "Tell him."

 

"Tell me what-?" Chuck asked, puzzled.

 

"I... ran a guy over. Few weeks ago. Killed him on impact."

 

"A civvie-?" Chuck asked, his hands shaking.

 

"Nah, one of ours..." Drury confessed. "A cape, I mean, not a Misfit. It was some D-Lister."

 

"You... you get a name?" Chuck slid down into the chair opposite him.

 

"Does it matter? He's fertiliser now," Drury shook his head.

 

...

 

"I met Lightning Bug. When I was-" Drury stopped himself from finishing the sentence. "It doesn't matter. It's just... he seemed like a good kid."

 

~-~

 

As Chuck scaled the side of the East Tower, his left shoe slipped off his foot; Panicking, he used the nearby flagpole to steady himself. Hanging above the Gotham Skyline, one shoe lighter, he smiled to himself. He remembered the day Charlie got his first kite... Funny the things that come to you, when you're precariously hanging from a fire escape thirty storeys up...

 

He had just separated from Maria, and to keep his son's spirits up, he'd taken Charlie to see Toy Story 3, just the two of them. Charlie loved the first two films; wore out the VHS replaying them over and over again.

They'd gone to the toy store afterwards, and he had picked out a white and purple kite, styled after Buzz Light-Year's jetpack. It was an off-brand thing; not an exact replica, the manufacturers must not have gotten Disney or Pixar's permission... But Charlie didn't care. He loved that purple and white kite.

 

He sighed. The wind in his face, and one hand on his harness, Chuck closed his eyes and let go. 'It's not flying,' he reminded himself. 'It's falling with style.'

 

Opening his kite harness, he leapt from the tower and glided up towards the penthouse window, tucking in his limbs as he burst through the glass, and collided with the large wooden desk positioned towards the room's rear. The purple telephone, slid off the desk and clattered to the floor.

 

Getting to his feet, Chuck looked around the room: "Sorry about the draught," he apologised to the captive Sionis. "And the desk."

 

"That's Italian maple," he stated bluntly. "Asshole."

 

'There's gratitude for you,' Chuck thought, as he moved towards the hostages.

 

Before he could reach them, however, a large wooden statue collided with his skull, knocking him to the ground.

 

Day dropped his weapon, and jumped onto Chuck's chest, wrapping his hands around his throat, squeezing tightly. Chuck's skin turned purple, his eyes grew puffy and swollen as Day's grip grew stronger.

 

"Why did you have to persist?" Day demanded. "Why?! You still don't understand, do you? We could've ruled this city, ruled this country. We could've been kings: Icons! But no. It's Drury's story, Drury's friends, Drury's mess that we always had to clean up. Holding us back. No more. No more. Don't you understand that everything I've done has been for your own good? Arkham City made you stronger, you realise that, no? Fearless will too, you know it will! The masses, will fall of course. Unshackled, they'll all kill each other. Spark a gang war. Lay siege to the GCPD, perhaps. But you; all of you? You will ascend! And the world? The world will finally know the name Julian Gregory Da-"

 

He was cut off, as Blake lunged on his back; Day looked over, confused, as he spotted Kuttler helping Reardon reattach his prosthetic hands. Distracted, Blake scratched his head. "Wait. Your middle name is actually Gregory? I thought you'd just made that up. Damn, your parents really didn't want to give you a chance, huh?"

 

Using Blake's confusion to his advantage, Day retrieved a small dagger from his sleeve, and slashed his torso. Blake slid off him, and crumbled to the ground.

 

"My parents?" Day asked, scowling as he reminisced. "My parents were demanding. Arrogant. Dismissive. I've talked about them before, do you remember? I doubt you would... They were Jehovah witnesses, you see. They didn't celebrate holidays, and I was expected to follow their example. So, I grew up watching my classmates and neighbors celebrate their birthdays and Christmases and Valentines year after year, while I got nothing. My first, ah, 'date' was my High School Prom- I went alone, naturally, even if I had an interest in such... things, my condition made me a grossly undesirable partner. I laced the punch with a concentrated laxative, and watched as my classmates collapsed and embarrassed themselves. The teachers thought it was food poisoning. But that thrill, I had never felt anything like it. I had to chase that high. To feel. The scars were Zsasz' handiwork, the result of an Asylum riot some years later. I used to find them rather tacky, but over time, they've grown on me."

 

"Then you won't mind this:" Chuck wheezed.

 

Still beneath him, he grabbed the wooden idol, and cracked it against Day's head. Day stumbled back, and putting his hand to his forehead, examined the fresh wound. Then he fell on his back, immobilised.

 

 

~-~

 

Drury scratched his forehead. "Yeah, I might've said the corn factory was a bad call," he said grimly, as he checked his watch impatiently.

 

Chuck looked down at the enormous bouquet of potted flowers in his hand, nodded, and lay them down at his feet.

 

"Hey, look on the bright side," Blake grinned. "If that corset's made of real ivy, then you absolutely dodged a bullet. Think of the rashes she must get, eh?"

 

Julian patted Chuck on the back, and smiled supportively. "She wasn't worth it, Charles."

 

~-~

 

Chuck sat up, rubbing his red throat, and looked over at Day. He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved the diaxymine. Julian was defeated... He wouldn't be able to fight back, it'd be so easy to force the chemical down his throat and get his friend back. 'So easy...'

 

'No,' Chuck slid the bottle back into his pocket and held his head in his hands. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the phone:

 

He knelt beside it, and out his mouth to the receiver. "Who is this?" he asked.

 

"You know... I heard there was a broken kite up for grabs..." a voice giggled down the line. "No strings attached."

 

The line cut out. And Chuck was left with a cold shiver running down his spine.

Done