(((JOE)))
The batman #3: old friends 1/2
The office of roman sionis
Much unlike the traditional and somewhat tasteless grandeur of his opponents tower, the tower of roman sionis is both simplistic and overpowering. His office alone is a display of wealth yet of minimalism. The tables are not furnished with oak and solid gold ornaments but smooth white marble and unimaginably priceless pieces of what falcone might refer to as “modern catpiss corporate art” highly parallel to the beautiful renaissance pieces that renew the presence of life within the very halls of the falcone tower.
Roman sionis does not surround himself with lawyers, stock traders and businessesmen but instead decides to sit alone with a good volume of some tediously written text and stare out to the city, glass of the finest wine the underworld has to offer in one hand and a snub nose revolver in the other. Just to be sure. Life is good for roman but before he can even turn the second page of the third chapter of the fourth book this week, business interrupts and in this case, in the form of Floyd Lawton
Floyd rudely barges his way past one or two of sionis’ staff making himself comfortable by Romans side
Floyd: what’s it about...the book
Roman: I’m sorry. Excuse me if I seem distracted but who the hell are you to come in here like you own the joint, abuse my staff and insult me?!
Lonnie Machin: you read too much.
Floyd Lawton: he’s right. Too many words in that sentence there
Roman: then maybe I’ll dumb it down. Get out before it’s too late.
Floyd: I’m not gonna leave. But I will answer your question—the one from before that is. I am a hitman. The best hitman. Deadshot
Roman: hah! Dead-shot? Never heard of you...okay now it’s too late
He smirks in triumph as six or seven heavy looking and clearly trained goons flood the room and block all exits
Roman: Get Ridda these jokers
And thus without further ado the eager men strip Floyd of all his tools and train their guns on the sharpshooter to which he simply just smirks.
So without wasting his breath on another single word, Floyd, with a smug sense of expertise, dashes straight into the chest of the first man pulling a combat knife from his ammo belt. He then thrusts it into five of the six remaining thugs, before reclaiming his handgun and aiming it at the final thug
Floyd: I should warn you. I don’t always stick to guns....
He then plants some led into the thugs nose, precisely 0.6 cm from his right eye and 0.4 from his left.
Floyd: ...but they kinda are my thing.
Roman: alright. Now you got my attention. So what do you want. a job?...I will give you a job. Four million dollars right here right now
Floyd: not why I came
Roman: I’m sure it’s not. But how about it. I mean that is a lot of money is it not
Floyd: fine—who?
Roman: oh I dunno. How bout red riding hood over there.
Lonnie: I’m sorry. What
Floyd: no more joking roman.
Roman: okay okay. I said I’ll listen. Man of my word
Floyd: we’re here by penguins command
Roman: Oswald hey? What does that wingless excuse for a gangster want now? Money? Turf?
Floyd: cooperation
Roman: a deal huh?
Floyd: uhuh
Roman: then where the hell is he. He wants to talk business, then he can do it him goddamn self. I’m a busy man...
Oswald: really? It doesn’t show
Roman: been a while little man. Couldn’t you have kept it that way?
Oswald: still treating me like filth roman.
Roman: why? Should I not?..little man
Oswald: no you should not roman and I’ll tell you why. Because unlike some of us I don’t shake in my boots behind a cheap kids Halloween mask. I built an empire. I wasn’t given one! I’d rather not have to look you in your ugly face or lack there of but alas, desperate times
Roman clenches his fists but out of a sense of intrigue holds back and asks: and what exactly might be desperate times mr.desperate ?
Like roman, Oswald too tries his hardest not to unleash hell upon the man opposite him
Oswald: falcone. He’s making moves and I don’t like it. You saw he bought Arkham? Now he’s renovating it?, then there’s the hits he sent out on the bat and not to mention the drug tax!
Roman: drug tax? Why don’t I know about this
Oswald: boohoo sorry you weren’t included. It’s just a rumour anyway but from a reliable source.
Roman: how reliable?
Oswald: reliable
Roman: and what’ve you got planned to deal with it?
Oswald: simple really. We Weaken him. take out a few of his best money makers, refuse to pay the drug taxes when they come through, have all our associates do the same, make sure Arkham never gets finished and finally—if it comes to this and I do hope it doesn’t. Kill the old man! Egad!
Roman: and what makes you think I’ll kneel down to this scheme? You clearly want his place. I’m no idiot, I know what’s up!
Oswald: shared interests. We both know how much you make off of coke, guns and the rest of it. I think the whole city is probably smart enough by this point to know it’s not all steel Is it? Huh?
Roman: make a lotta good points Oswald—for a bartender that is
Oswald: that was a while ago mr sionis. You know that. Now is it a Yes or a no? You’re pushing my patience
Roman: hmmm. Yes I’ll help you though you should know I don’t enjoy the idea of this alliance. But hey, It’s like you said... desperate times...
The batman #3: old friends 1/2
The office of roman sionis
Much unlike the traditional and somewhat tasteless grandeur of his opponents tower, the tower of roman sionis is both simplistic and overpowering. His office alone is a display of wealth yet of minimalism. The tables are not furnished with oak and solid gold ornaments but smooth white marble and unimaginably priceless pieces of what falcone might refer to as “modern catpiss corporate art” highly parallel to the beautiful renaissance pieces that renew the presence of life within the very halls of the falcone tower.
Roman sionis does not surround himself with lawyers, stock traders and businessesmen but instead decides to sit alone with a good volume of some tediously written text and stare out to the city, glass of the finest wine the underworld has to offer in one hand and a snub nose revolver in the other. Just to be sure. Life is good for roman but before he can even turn the second page of the third chapter of the fourth book this week, business interrupts and in this case, in the form of Floyd Lawton
Floyd rudely barges his way past one or two of sionis’ staff making himself comfortable by Romans side
Floyd: what’s it about...the book
Roman: I’m sorry. Excuse me if I seem distracted but who the hell are you to come in here like you own the joint, abuse my staff and insult me?!
Lonnie Machin: you read too much.
Floyd Lawton: he’s right. Too many words in that sentence there
Roman: then maybe I’ll dumb it down. Get out before it’s too late.
Floyd: I’m not gonna leave. But I will answer your question—the one from before that is. I am a hitman. The best hitman. Deadshot
Roman: hah! Dead-shot? Never heard of you...okay now it’s too late
He smirks in triumph as six or seven heavy looking and clearly trained goons flood the room and block all exits
Roman: Get Ridda these jokers
And thus without further ado the eager men strip Floyd of all his tools and train their guns on the sharpshooter to which he simply just smirks.
So without wasting his breath on another single word, Floyd, with a smug sense of expertise, dashes straight into the chest of the first man pulling a combat knife from his ammo belt. He then thrusts it into five of the six remaining thugs, before reclaiming his handgun and aiming it at the final thug
Floyd: I should warn you. I don’t always stick to guns....
He then plants some led into the thugs nose, precisely 0.6 cm from his right eye and 0.4 from his left.
Floyd: ...but they kinda are my thing.
Roman: alright. Now you got my attention. So what do you want. a job?...I will give you a job. Four million dollars right here right now
Floyd: not why I came
Roman: I’m sure it’s not. But how about it. I mean that is a lot of money is it not
Floyd: fine—who?
Roman: oh I dunno. How bout red riding hood over there.
Lonnie: I’m sorry. What
Floyd: no more joking roman.
Roman: okay okay. I said I’ll listen. Man of my word
Floyd: we’re here by penguins command
Roman: Oswald hey? What does that wingless excuse for a gangster want now? Money? Turf?
Floyd: cooperation
Roman: a deal huh?
Floyd: uhuh
Roman: then where the hell is he. He wants to talk business, then he can do it him goddamn self. I’m a busy man...
Oswald: really? It doesn’t show
Roman: been a while little man. Couldn’t you have kept it that way?
Oswald: still treating me like filth roman.
Roman: why? Should I not?..little man
Oswald: no you should not roman and I’ll tell you why. Because unlike some of us I don’t shake in my boots behind a cheap kids Halloween mask. I built an empire. I wasn’t given one! I’d rather not have to look you in your ugly face or lack there of but alas, desperate times
Roman clenches his fists but out of a sense of intrigue holds back and asks: and what exactly might be desperate times mr.desperate ?
Like roman, Oswald too tries his hardest not to unleash hell upon the man opposite him
Oswald: falcone. He’s making moves and I don’t like it. You saw he bought Arkham? Now he’s renovating it?, then there’s the hits he sent out on the bat and not to mention the drug tax!
Roman: drug tax? Why don’t I know about this
Oswald: boohoo sorry you weren’t included. It’s just a rumour anyway but from a reliable source.
Roman: how reliable?
Oswald: reliable
Roman: and what’ve you got planned to deal with it?
Oswald: simple really. We Weaken him. take out a few of his best money makers, refuse to pay the drug taxes when they come through, have all our associates do the same, make sure Arkham never gets finished and finally—if it comes to this and I do hope it doesn’t. Kill the old man! Egad!
Roman: and what makes you think I’ll kneel down to this scheme? You clearly want his place. I’m no idiot, I know what’s up!
Oswald: shared interests. We both know how much you make off of coke, guns and the rest of it. I think the whole city is probably smart enough by this point to know it’s not all steel Is it? Huh?
Roman: make a lotta good points Oswald—for a bartender that is
Oswald: that was a while ago mr sionis. You know that. Now is it a Yes or a no? You’re pushing my patience
Roman: hmmm. Yes I’ll help you though you should know I don’t enjoy the idea of this alliance. But hey, It’s like you said... desperate times...