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See No Evil: A Hard Place (ch. 3)
🕑 Added 2020-07-22 15:02:26 +0000 UTC
I sorta, almost, kinda had a plan. Or, I had an idea that could become a plan with a little nurture and care. And by nurture and care, I meant dumb luck, a little cunning, and some more information. Though, it was still a bad idea. It was just my only one, so it was the one I had to go with.
Stepping outside of the waiting room, leaving my pristine silenced pistol in my pants line to act as a deterrent, I nearly ran into Dr. Leslie Thompkins as she went to enter the waiting room. She blinked when our eyes met, a clipboard pressed to her chest. There was a brief moment of silence before I broke it, “Is Tifa doing okay?”
Dr. Thompkins nodded, her expression serious. I couldn’t tell how old she was, but if I had to guess I would put her in her sixties. Maybe late fifties. Old enough that she could have retired by now to sit back on a beach somewhere instead of running a free clinic in one of the worst parts of town.
“She’s resting now, but she’ll be fine. I’m surprised that she was conscious when she came in -- there were enough tranquilizers in her system to knock out a horse,” Dr. Thompkins informed, glancing down at her clipboard for a moment before she glanced back up at me. “Are you going somewhere, Vergil... St. Jude, was it?”
Huh. I actually kinda forgot that I picked that as my last name. Meant it as a joke, but all things considered, it was rather fitting.
“I’m heading out. Penguin has my face and a reason to come after me,” I told her bluntly, glancing at a nurse that walked by who seemed too busy to pay attention to us. “But I don’t have a legal identity or a home address that he could use to track me down. So, I have time. Figured I should spend it wisely.” Dr. Thompkins narrowed her eyes a bit at my explanation.
“How so? You could try going to the police-” She started, but I had already considered that possibility and dismissed it.
"I'm not going to jail," I cut her off with a shake of my head. "To get those charges dropped, I would need a good lawyer. And do I look like someone rolling in cash?" I asked her, keeping my tone even. I had two hours to consider every possibility, running the scenarios in my head over and over again. The first death could be ruled as self-defense but the second had been an execution. Distressing circumstances or not, what I knew about DC's law didn't exactly inspire a lot of trust. In Gotham? I'd probably get the book thrown at me because the judge and jury were bribed. "And that's assuming that someone on Penguin's payroll doesn't push me down a set of stairs in lock up."
Dr. Thompkins looked like she wanted to argue the point, only she couldn’t bring herself to. Simply because she knew I was right. As relentlessly grimderp as Gotham could be in comics, even at its brightest, the concept of lawful justice in Gotham was an absolute joke.
“What do you intend to do, then?” Dr. Thompkins questioned and that was the million-dollar question.
“I’m going to go out and make some quick cash for some bribe money, then I’m going to try to convince the Penguin not to kill me,” I told her. Going by the look that she was giving me, Dr. Thompkins didn’t seem to think much about my plan. And, to be completely honest, she was probably right. “I’m not going to be able to take on his entire mob by myself. The easiest way this problem goes away is if I find a way to convince him that I’m worth more to him alive than dead.”
Dr. Thompkins realized where I was going with the train of thought, “You want to work for the Penguin.”
“Want is a strong word,” I corrected. I ran the idea in my head hundreds of times and I kept coming to the same conclusion. Even with Tifa at my side, I didn’t feel confident about our chances of taking on the entirety of Penguin’s mob. For all I knew, they were hundreds strong. And what did we do after we take down the mob? We kick his ass? Then what? Do it again when the bones heal and constantly look over our shoulder for his goons? Kill Penguin? Anything short of that and he was going to continue to gun for us.
Killing him, however, would draw a whole lot of heat and attention that we didn’t need. Right now, this entire thing was under the radar for most parties. I wanted it to stay that way.
“The only way this goes away is if Penguin wants it to. If that means I have to work for him, then so be it,” I continued, making Dr. Thompkins’ lips thin at the explanation. But, tellingly, she didn’t offer a comment. “I appreciate you helping Tifa. I’m not sure if the Penguin knows about her, but if he doesn’t have her face then she’s in the clear.”
Dr. Thompkins let out a small sigh, “Be more concerned with yourself. Do you have a way to disguise yourself?” She asked, catching me off guard with the question. I shook my head, prompting her to continue. “I have some clothes that look like they would fit you. And if you cut your hair, then that would help.”
The offer really caught me off guard. I gave her a cautious look, “I know this is a neutral ground, but won’t helping me cross a line?” I questioned, making Dr. Thompkins let out a small huff of laughter.
“I’ve done a lot more. Vergil… you tried to do the right thing. You saved that girl from a hellish fate. I can’t protect you, but I can do what I can to help you out. A haircut, some clothes, and you can put down the clinic’s address as your address on any job applications that you put in.” Dr. Thompkins decided, her voice firm and her eyes softening up enough that I was forced to look away.
“I’m also a murderer,” I pointed out, compelled to. Stealing a glance at Dr. Thompkins, I saw that she didn’t look surprised. So Tifa had told her the whole story. Not surprising, I suppose.
“Maybe,” Dr. Thompkins allowed. “But, for now, you’re a kid that’s in way over his head for trying to do the right thing. Are you going to accept my help or not?”
I did. Dr. Thompkins took me to a back room where she grabbed a pair of scissors and started hacking at my hair. It fell in locks and clumps, revealing more of my face. It was only when the pile started to really grow around my feet that I realized how long my hair had gotten. The hair that used to brush against my shoulders was trimmed up until it was only a few inches long -- luckily since I spent most of my time indoors working, and with my natural Irish complexion, there weren't any tan lines to give me away.
My hair looked shaggy, clearly cut by an inexperienced amateur, but I barely recognized myself when Dr. Thompkins finished up. I looked younger with a beardless jaw and shorter hair. "Thanks," I told her, brushing away stray hair with a hand. My head felt lighter without all of the hair on it. I didn't look at her as I thanked her, but I silently added her to the list of people I was going to repay with interest for this.
"No need to thank me," Dr. Thompkins dismissed before she passed me a leather jacket. A good one. The leather felt soft as I took it, along with a white hoodie to go underneath. "Wear these. They're just some old clothes left behind by my ex-husband," she told me as I shrugged them on. I didn't feel the cold, but they would certainly help with hiding my identity. If only because they were much nicer than anything a bum like me would be wearing.
I suspected that was a lie, but I didn't call her on it. Looking at her, I nodded, showing that I was ready to head out. "Take care of Tifa," I told her, receiving a nod back. So, at the very least, Tifa would be okay. The feeling wasn't motivated by any kind of altruism or selflessness. It was selfishness. If this idea of mine didn't work and I died some horribly painful death, then at the very least I didn’t want it to be for nothing.
"Are you going somewhere?" A sweet voice spoke up, making both of us glance over to an open door where Tifa stood.
"You should be resting," Dr. Thompkins informed sharply, making Tifa grin brightly as she placed a hand on her hip before cocking it. I knew that pose. And I have learned to fear it.
"I'm good as new," Tifa insisted. "I don't feel any side effects anymore, and I think I've slept enough for one day." Then Tifa sent a pointed glance at me, "If you're heading out, then we should go together. It's safer that way," she pointed out, sounding like she'd already decided that she wouldn't be staying.
"Like I said, you're a lot more memorable than me," I refuted. "You staying here and laying low is the best option for both of us. If Penguin does have your face, then his goons will recognize who I am by recognizing you."
Tifa, to her credit, seemed to consider that point as she gave me an intense stare.
"How much danger are you in because you helped me?" She questioned directly, her hands curling into fists. I hesitated to answer because telling the truth was my knee jerk reaction if only to guilt her into helping me out in return. But saying that you were up Shit Creek without a paddle because of someone, because of Tifa, felt cruel. Tifa's lips thinned as she gave me a pointed look, "If they do find you, would you be able to fight them off?"
My silence spoke volumes. Tifa nodded to herself, coming to a decision before she threw a practiced smile my way. “Then it sounds like you could use a bodyguard. I might not look it, but I’m actually pretty tough! You won’t have to worry about a thing, even if those Penguin guys do show up,” she decided.
Dr. Thompkins glanced at me, expecting me to argue the point, but I knew better. “You’re going to come even if I tell you to stay here, aren’t you?” I hazarded a guess and earned a genuine smile from the woman. She looked thoroughly unrepentant. “Fine,” I caved, trying to feel reluctant, but that would be a lie. If Tifa was half of the badass that I remembered her being, then I felt safer with her.
“I’ll get you some… less memorable clothes,” Dr. Thompkins remarked, making Tifa look down at her outfit. Her expression became a little sheepish, but she smiled all the same.
“They’re great for fighting and getting tips at the 7th Heaven,” Tifa defended. And I absolutely believed her.
…
“So, what are we doing?” Tifa questioned as we walked down a street. She wore the jacket that Jack gave me and the hat that we traded a car for, but underneath she wore yoga pants under her skirt and a simple white long sleeve thermal shirt. It might be a little restrictive wearing that many layers, but Tifa looked a lot warmer as we walked down the street.
“We’re going to the city landfill,” I said, glancing at Tifa as we walked down the streets of Gotham, following the flow of people. It was tempting to keep my hood flipped up, but it would look out of place and I wanted to avoid any kind of attention. Noticing her puzzled expression, I clarified, "A place where people dump stuff that they don't want."
Realization flooded in, "Oh, like a scrapper?" She questioned and my own puzzlement must have shown because she continued. "People who go through Shinra's dumping grounds, or the ruins of Sector Eight from where the plate had fallen. It's dangerous because of the monsters that live there, but I've heard there's good money in it if you find something good."
"Same basic idea, but I'll be fixing stuff up. Then I post a few pictures on the internet and, hopefully, someone will buy it," I explained as we walked. By fixing stuff up, I meant I would be using the cards to take care of that for me. It would work. People bought stuff for cheap on Craigslist and eBay all the time, so putting up a washer and dryer for a hundred and something bucks? People would snatch it up in a heartbeat.
All the while, Tifa looked around the city with barely concealed wonder.
"It's really different from the slums," Tifa noted more to herself than to me. "Is it like this everywhere in… America?" Tifa asked, almost sounding like she was afraid of the answer.
"No, only in major cities, but there are plenty of those. Go further west or south, and the area grows more rural," I told her. My memory of Midgar was rather fuzzy, but anywhere called the slums was generally not a nice place. "What was Midgar like?"
"It was rough," Tifa admitted. "Without a filter, the water tasted and smelled like sulfur, and monsters would occasionally attack… but it was home," she added quietly, her voice almost lost in the sea of noise that was a busy city. She caught me giving her a worried look and threw on a happy-go-lucky expression to hide what she was feeling. "But it's pretty far away at the moment, so we should probably focus on the problems we have right now."
"Probably," I agreed with a nod as we began to walk out of the city limits towards a landfill just outside of the city. "But, provided that we both live through this, I'll do what I can to help get you home," I promised her, looking forward at the long road ahead. I had absolutely no clue if it was remotely possible, but given that both of us were displaced from our respective universes, hopping through dimensions was possible.
Tifa let out a small laugh before she tried to stifle her giggles, only for them to bust through the dam. Her shoulders shook as she sent me a genuine relieved smile, "Well then, I guess I have nothing to worry about. With a reliable guy like you to help me out, then I'll get home for sure." The heartfelt gratitude in her gaze made me look away as I ran a hand through my much shorter hair.
"Reliable?" I questioned, trying to change the subject.
"Well, you saved me. And you seem to know what you're doing in this kind of situation," Tifa remarked. I wonder if I should tell her I had absolutely no clue what I was doing and that I was flying by the seat of my pants? "If I was alone, I'd probably just start chasing down Penguin's men for answers."
"I think you're giving me too much credit and not enough to yourself," I refuted. Tifa might be right that the best answer was to be direct with Penguin and try to solve the issue with violence. Or going to Batman to help us. The only thing that held me back was the question of what came next?
If we went to Batman… I broke the golden rule. Maybe Batman would understand and look away. Maybe he would help. But, just as likely, he was going to toss my ass in a prison cell for murder. I wasn’t Jason Todd, who he loved like a son, or Selina Kyle, who he cared for. I was a nobody to him. And I wouldn't go to jail for this. I refused.
"Maybe," Tifa allowed. "But, either way, you're pretty reliable. Ladies like that in a man, you know."
I let out a small huff at her teasing tone. "Well, at least I'll have that going for me." I was average looking at best, and as scrawny as I was, that best didn't apply more often than not. I was dirt broke, homeless, and I wasn't particularly funny either. But, at the very least, I was reliable.
"I'm serious!" Tifa said as we walked, making me let out another laugh.
"I'll worry about what the ladies like when a mob boss isn’t out for my head," I compromised on the topic. "I'll buy a place to stay, some new clothes, and I'll get a decent haircut." Once this hurdle was taken care of, it was all uphill for me.
"Your haircut is," Tifa hesitated for a very telling moment. "Nice," she settled on with a small wince.
"Good save."
"Well," Tifa hedged, knowing that argument was lost. "I'm going to take a nice hot shower. They have those at the clinic. Dr. Thompkins would let you take one too," she continued, sounding like she decided that was true too.
"Hopefully," I agreed. Sleeping in a sewer hadn't exactly helped with the BO.
We reached the landfill around an hour later. There was a check-in point, but that would cost money. Instead, Tifa and I circled around a massive chain fence. We hadn’t been looking for a spot where the wires had been clipped and peeled back, but that didn’t stop us from using it. Once we slipped inside, I took in the drastic change of scenery.
Garbage. Garbage as far as the eye could see. The stench was somehow worse than the sewer. I heard Tifa coughing next to me, pinching her nose shut, only to gag a bit when the stench was so powerful you could taste it. There were mountains of trash bags piled on top of each other, ripped and intact.
“Bruce Wayne started a recycling campaign so this place sorts by types of garbage. We need to find the electronic and metal piles,” I told her as I started to walk. My feet sunk into the garbage, but I ignored it. Just like sleeping in a sewer, this was only temporary. Only until I got myself out of this situation and I got my feet underneath me. Even still, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over my shoulder and making a comment. “Are you still glad you came with me?”
“You don’t want me to answer that,” Tifa warned, firing back with a teasing edge.
“Stick close, bodyguard,” I said, climbing over piles of garbage. Once I had a vantage, I spotted piles of metal. The dumping ground for electronics and the like. The two of us slowly made our way over, wary of someone spotting us, but no one was in the area, letting us reach our destination with little trouble. As we neared, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cards.
“Now what?” Tifa questioned, able to breathe a little easier now that we weren’t standing on a mountain of fermenting trash. I looked around the piles of rusted scrap metal, glass, and other crap. There was some truth to that saying of one man’s trash is another’s treasure, because looking at it, all I saw was money.
“Now, I use these,” I said, walking forward and slapping a card onto a refrigerator that was missing its doors and filled with stains and mold. Instantly, it vanished, becoming a brown F-Rank card. I heard Tifa suck in a sharp breath, prompting me to explain. “I picked these up back at the boat. They were in the box I used to knock that guy out. Not sure what they are, but they can do this… and this,” I explained, slapping another card onto another refrigerator. Another F-Rank.
Tifa walked forward, looking at the cards and her eyes widened when I combined them to get a D rank item. A normal refrigerator. This one had doors, it looked clean on the inside and outside. Provided that it worked, that was around a hundred bucks right there.
“That’s one way to do it,” Tifa remarked, sounding excited as she realized where I was going with this. “Do you have any idea how they work? Are… these kinds of things normal here?” She asked quietly, sounding thoughtful. I thought she would be more shocked, but given what materia did, maybe I shouldn’t have.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. In comics, you only ever follow heroes or villains and they encountered stuff like this a lot. However, I had no clue if this stuff was easy to get your hands on for normal people. But, given that it came in on a boat, probably illegally smuggled, then my bet was no. “I don’t think so.”
Tifa rose an eyebrow at me, “You don’t think so?” She questioned, making me give her an odd look before it clicked into place. In the insanity of our escape, we never actually talked about where we were from beyond mentioning it in passing. Tifa had absolutely no idea that we were both from different universes.
“Yesterday, I found myself here. Back home, I lived in New York City. Which exists here, but Gotham? Didn’t exist,” I started, and I saw an unsettling realization flash in Tifa’s eyes. “All I had were my clothes on my back. I’ve been trying to get my feet underneath me, which is how I found myself working that henching job. And how I met you.”
Tifa mulled that over for a long second, closing her eyes for a moment before she let out a small breath. “I… thought as much,” Tifa admitted. “There are no monsters, I haven’t seen a Shinra logo anywhere. Dr. Thompkins didn’t have a single Cure materia and a place like this should be teeming with monsters. At first, I thought we were in Wutai or something, but… if they had cities like this, then Shinra wouldn’t have beaten them in the war.”
Her shoulder slumped in defeat, her lips thinning as her hands curled into fists that trembled. Unlike me, she had reasons to want to go back to her world.
“The promise is still in effect,” I told her, turning my attention back to my work. I slapped a card onto an old microwave and got another F-Rank card. “I’ll help you find a way back home.” I didn’t look at Tifa as I said the words, knowing that I would ruin whatever image she had of me by feeling thoroughly embarrassed by uttering such a cheesy line.
“Thank you, Vergil,” Tifa said, meaning every word. And with that, we went to work.
My item cards began to fill up with various objects. Refrigerators, TVs, microwaves, computer monitors, game consoles and controllers. And, most importantly, I found space heaters and phones. None of them went passed D-Rank, even when they were bumped up to pristine.
There seemed to be a massive roadblock for some items where they just can't be improved any further. Or, at the very least, not with more of the same item. Diminishing returns in terms of improvement, which was good to know at the very least.
But, as we slowly gathered supplies to sell, I decided to take a risk. The goal for this trip was to make money, not experimentation, but I still found myself looking down at two cards. A D-Rank go-phone and a F-Rank busted Lex phone. Two very different phones. Up until now, I only combined similar items to improve their quality. What would happen if I combined two items that were similar, but very different?
Curious, I pressed the two cards together. They fused and my lips tugged down into a frown when I saw the card downgraded into a F-Rank. The phone screen was still messed up, but there was now a hinge. Unsealing the creation, I held the touch screen phone in my hand before I reached up to the top and folded it in half, like a flip phone. It didn’t work, and it was fairly useless, but… the idea had potential.
I couldn’t experiment now, despite how much I wanted to. Tifa and I needed a major payday before I could afford to experiment with the cards to wind up with some wild combinations. Like what would happen if I combined a taser with a baseball bat? Or what if I combined a washer and a dryer? A TV and a refrigerator? Was that the secret to increasing a card's rank? Or could I improve items by taking one aspect of an object and using it to improve another -- like if I had high grade steel and a basketball hoop, if I combined them, would I end up with a basketball hoop made out of high grade steel?
But, at the moment, I had a much more pressing question -- if I combined them, would I make more or less money? Given how shady that would look on the internet, I realized I certainly wouldn't click on a link claiming to be a working fridge/TV that was being sold on the cheap. It was better to stick with what was familiar, in this case.
“We should grab some clothes, and blankets too,” Tifa pointed out after we had picked clean a small portion of the dump. I nodded, thinking that would be for the best. Both of us only had one set of clothes.
“We might be able to get something at a donation center,” I said, looking at the piles of trash and finding that there was no convenient pile of cloth-based trash. If we wanted to find it, then we would have to dig through a mountain of trash. “But it should be fine for now. You’ll-”
Tifa gave me a Look, knowing what I was about to say, and that look made me revise what I was about to say.
“We,” I corrected, “will find a place to hunker down for the night. We could probably ask Dr. Thompkins if she knows a decent place. Or, if we get any bites, then we could rent a motel room or something.” As I spoke the words, I nearly stepped on a camera. It looked battered and busted, the case cracked and covered in dirt but I slapped a card on it all the same. Unsurprisingly, it was an F rank item. And despite knowing nothing about cameras, I knew the shape.
Taking out my card of cameras that I had ground up to D-Rank status, I slapped the two of them together. Before, the cameras that I used had been mostly disposable cameras thus the camera’s appearance had reflected it. However, when I combined the two cards, the camera adopted the appearance of a named brand. The case that had been shattered was fixed, the lens was whole and everything looked good. Great even, considering it became a C ranked item.
An Enhanced Wayne-Tech Camera. So, from the look of it, it took the base of the superior item.
Now, for the moment of truth. I looked down at the phone that I had spent several busted phones fixing up. A slightly older touch screen phone made by Lex Corp. Taking in a deep breath, I braced myself for disappointment and combined the Wayne-Tech Camera and the L-phone. I kept a clear thought of what I wanted to happen in mind, trying to will it into reality. And, apparently, it worked.
A C-Rank L-phone with an enhanced camera. Exactly what I wanted.
“We’re in good shape,” I decided, nodding at Tifa as we left the dump. She cracked her knuckles as she stretched, looking pleased with our progress judging by the slight smile playing at the edges of her lips. “Now all we have to do is take some pictures, go somewhere that has some wifi to make a few posts and hope someone buys something.”
With that in mind, I took out my new phone and one of the microwaves and started taking pictures. The same with the TVs, refrigerators, everything. The camera on the phone was outrageously good, the pictures were crisp and clear, exactly what I had wanted from it. Though, that did beg the question of what did I have to do to get a higher tier item? Or, better yet, what would they be able to do?
I pondered the issue as we made our way back into the city. A few people shot us dirty looks when they ventured too close, repulsed by the smell that clung to us. Tifa looked faintly embarrassed, but she didn’t let the looks bother her too much. I had already resigned myself to smelling like shit, so I barely cared in favor of spotting a coffee shop. Checking my phone, I found that it had free wifi.
“Let’s head in,” I said, jerking my head at the coffee shop. Following me in, Tifa looked around the small coffee shop that played lofi jazzhop softly over the speakers as ambiance music. I heard her take in a deep breath, welcoming the smell of roasting coffee to get rid of whatever traces of rotting garbage still lingered.
“What’s that smell?” Tifa questioned as we took a seat and I connected to the wifi.
"It's coffee. Have you never had it before?" I asked, wondering if this was one of those slight differences between realities. If so, her universe sucked a lot more than I thought it did with the planet trying to kill humanity and all.
"I haven't. I've heard of it before, but you won't find it in the slums unless you smuggle it from Shinra. Which makes it really expensive," she explained as we took a seat some distance away from everyone else. No one seemed to notice or care about our entrance, so the smell of coffee was helping mask the stench.
I looked at her for a moment, watching her as she eyed the interior with interest and let out a small sigh before I reached into my sock and peeled off a ten. It was a bad idea to spend money before I made money, but after everything, the least Tifa deserved was a cup of coffee. Her eyes widened when I slid the money over to her. "That's ten bucks. You won't be able to afford anything that hits two numbers before a decimal," I informed, figuring she would have no clue what the value of the currency was.
Tifa smiled, taking the money, "I'll get you something too." That wasn't a request. Tifa was surprisingly pushy and stubborn, I was finding.
"Just get me a small black coffee," I caved, going with the cheapest option. Despite the heresy of such a beverage, my go-to was a Cuban coffee latte, but that was too expensive for me at the moment. Tifa nodded and practically skipped to wait in line after dumping the jacket she wore to secure her place. While she was doing that, I set up an account on a few websites.
Google might not be a thing, but my google-fu translated over to Lexing and before long I had several items for sale at just under market value. A pristine older model refrigerator was going for one-fifty? I was selling one for one twenty-five. A used TV was selling for three hundred? I marked mine for two seventy-five. Just lower enough that people would be compelled to click on the link, but not so low there was obviously a catch.
I attached the accounts to an email address and then it was a matter of waiting for someone to bite.
With Tifa still in the line, talking to the barista, I opened a new tab and typed out two words: Justice League.
I got about a billion hits. News articles, videos, and even their own website. The lineup was expansive beyond the core members, and the Justice League had formed some number of years ago in response to an invasion by the Appellaxian race, whoever they were, way back in 2003. Three years later, the Justice League went public in 2006.
And the current year was 2014. So, not only was I in a different universe, but I was also in the future by about a year. Which was kinda cool. Regardless, that meant that superheroes had been a thing for about a decade at this point. Longer if you count their brief appearance during WWII. There was a whole lot that I wanted to research, but I ended up pressing on a link about Batman.
There was extremely little known about him. There was exactly one clear picture of him -- one of him shaking the president’s hand when the Justice League got a UN charter. There were some videos of him in various situations, but they were extremely poor quality to the point you couldn’t make out a single detail. Regardless of the fact that the people surrounding him were in 4k HD. I was willing to bet some kind of tech was responsible.
Batman also had a Robin. Given there were a handful of reports of Nightwing being a thing, the Robin was either Jason Todd or Tim Drake. Batgirl was also a thing, and given the fiery red hair, it was Barbara Gordon.
Beyond that, nothing in particular stood out. Nothing that could give me a solid lead on exactly what rendition of DC I was in. But, at the very least, I could cross a few names off the list.
Sitting there, I quietly asked myself if the knowledge changed anything. Batman didn’t appear to be a raging asshole that beat up criminals for the thrill of it and called himself the Goddamn Batman. He had his fair share of fan sites, some describing experiences that they had with him, describing him as nice and gentle to the victim after he was done stomping some fool into a coma.
The answer was no, it didn’t. I wouldn’t go to jail. I would get myself out of this situation, then I would get myself back on my feet, then I would make myself successful, happy, and rich. I missed my chance to go to Batman and ask for a handout. I was a murderer now. And I wasn’t stupid enough to try to hide that fact from him.
“Here you go,” Tifa said, sliding a cup of coffee over to me along with the pitiful amount of change. I accepted them both and took a long sip of my coffee. The strong taste washed over my tongue, somehow not burning me before I swallowed it, a content sigh escaping me. The taste of it gave me the kick that I needed more so than the caffeine. I used to load up on cream and sugar, but now I got used to drinking it black and strong enough it could be used as motor oil. I eyed Tifa sipping her own frappuccino, chocolate based on the color, her eyes lighting up.
Spending money was probably the wrong choice, but some things were worth it.
“That’s really good,” Tifa admitted, trying her best not to drain the cup in one go. Her eyes lingered on mine for a moment, prompting me to slide it over as I continued to research the world we found ourselves in. I was trying to figure out what exact universe we were in, but nothing really stood out in terms of events. Though, at the very least, I wasn’t dealing with Soviet Superman.
But if this was the Injustice universe, we were utterly fucked.
Tifa’s face scrunched up when she took a sip of mine, earning a small laugh from me at her disgusted expression. “It’s an acquired taste,” I defended, proving the point by taking a sip. I don’t think she believed me. She opened her mouth to argue the point, only to be cut off when my phone vibrated in my hand.
An email notification came down and I might have tapped into the Speed Force with how fast I tapped on it. The icon dropped down, reading out a message, a slow smile spread across my face.
We had our first buyer.
…
“You the guy selling the TV and game console?” A heavily built man wearing blue and black walked up to us. I nodded, leaning back in my spinning stool that was attached to a small bus stop-like building. It was meant to be a place where you could use a public computer, but it had been stolen at some point so I was using the outlet.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, standing up to greet the buyer. My gaze slid behind him at two others that wore matching colors. Tifa stood off to the side, watching the deal go down. “This is them,” I said, turning to the TV that stood on a counter and the game console next to it. To prove that they both worked, I turned them both on and the home screen of the console was displayed. Turning to the guy, I saw that he actually looked fairly impressed and surprised that I wasn’t selling busted up goods.
“For both, it’s three hundred, right?” The guy asked, scratching a few day's growth that covered his jaw. He glanced back at me, a cocky grin on his face as he lifted his shirt to reveal a handgun tucked into his belt loop. “What do you say about giving me a discount?”
I looked down at it for a moment before slowly looking back up at him. “Hm. What would you say to paying fifty more for trying to rob me?” I fired back, lifting my hoodie to reveal my handgun tucked into my belt loop. I watched him glance at it, the cocky grin falling from his face to be replaced by a sour expression. He clearly wasn’t expecting me to be packing heat.
There was a beat of silence as we glared at each other until he broke it. “Bet that piece won’t fire,” he challenged.
“Do you want to find out?” I asked calmly, seeing Tifa shift behind the guy. A worried expression passed over her face, but she went to intercept the other gang members, placing herself between us and them. My second gun was with her. She didn’t need it, but Tifa understood that a gun was just as much a warning sign as it was a weapon. The gang members would think twice if they were staring down the barrel of a gun, more so than they would if she just threatened them with her fists.
“You’d really plug me out in the open?” He pressed, trying to get me to back down.
“Do I look like someone who has a lot of options?” I replied, keeping my cool. And that seemed to unnerve him. He must have seen something in my expression because he nodded very slowly and dropped his shirt over his gun before he slowly reached into his pocket. Pulling out a roll of fifties he moved to hand it over to me.
I didn’t take it. “Three fifty,” I told him, making his brow furrow in confusion. “Three hundred for the console, controllers, and TV. Fifty for being a dumbass. Keep the rest,” I told him, keeping my voice steady. It would be a lie to say that I wasn’t tempted to take it all. I was more than tempted. I wanted it more than anything I had ever wanted before in my entire life. But, I wasn’t in a position to be too greedy. “And I want you to write a fucking glowing review. Right here. Now.”
I could make way more money if I continued this line of business. Getting junk, combining it into useful items, then selling them. However, in a city like this, I needed a good reputation to convince people that I would deliver what I promised. Robbing him now would net me a nice influx of cash, but I was looking long term.
“Right…” The guy muttered, peeling off three hundred and fifty dollars before he took out his phone and typed out the review. “I’m, uh, giving you five stars,” he added as he showed me the review. I read it over once and nodded -- it was a good balance between a rave review but not to the point that it would feel fake.
“Good,” I said, grabbing the money as I backed up out of the booth. “And next time? Just pay,” I told him, leaving him with the console, controllers, and TV. Tifa saw me leaving, and backed up as well. We kept our eye on them until we turned the corner. And only then did I let out the breath that I had been holding the entire time.
“Did he try to rob you?” Tifa asked, frowning when I nodded, but it quickly vanished like smoke in the wind when I flashed the cash at her.
“He tried, but I got him to pay anyway,” I answered, and it was only after the exchange was over did my heart start pounding. Or, rather, I became aware of it. “But it’s fine. We have the money, we got a good review -- for now, we’re off to a good start.”
I had money. Three hundred and sixty dollars. Hardly a fortune, but compared to before it might as well be a million dollars. The two of us cut through an alley, just in case the gang members tired to chase us down. It was only when we reached the end of it that I realized I recognized the alley. If only because of the barrel with a burnt-out fire in it at the end.
This was where I met Jack and the others.
“We could rent out a room at a motel,” Tifa said. “And maybe when you get us the IDs, I could start working as a bartender again. I was a pretty good one. We didn’t have much in the slums, but I always closed out with plenty of tips,” Tifa informed proudly. She glanced at me and found that I was looking in the opposite direction. “Is there something wrong? Are they following us?” Tifa asked, her hands closing into fists as she ignored the gun in her jacket pocket.
I shook my head, “No, it’s… well, when I first arrived here, I was helped by a couple of guys. They’re homeless and they let me stay at their camp down in the sewers. And Jack, he, well, he got me the henching job, which is how I met you,” I explained. I scratched at the back of my head, a frowning in thought. “It’s probably a bad idea, but-”
“You’re worried about them,” Tifa finished for me.
“I am,” I admitted. “I don’t think there’s any way that I could be connected to them, and I’m not sure if Penguin would do anything to them in the first place because of Waylon, so I shouldn’t have anything to worry about… but I should probably avoid them.”
“But you want to thank them,” Tifa said, sending me a gentle smile.
“I do,” I agreed. “I… we-” I started, feeling like I had to make a case for what I had to say next, but Tifa’s smile just grew, making me close my mouth. “I want to give them a heater. They can’t have too many fires going at once because of the smoke, so it’ll help them keep warm when winter comes.” Or maybe I could give them something that would help with the smell?
“That sounds good to me. They sound like kind people. Helping them out is worth more than some cash,” Tifa pointed out. I nodded, a knot of tension melting away when she backed the idea.
“Okay. Let’s go. Oh, and… uh, prepare yourself for the smell,” I warned her before we started walking back through the alley. Luckily, I had memorized the way there just in case I had to run away from them if they were trying to feed me to Killer Croc, so it didn’t take long for us to find the manhole cover.
Waiting for a lull in people walking down the sidewalk, I lifted the manhole cover with some difficulty and slid it out of place enough that we could climb down. Tifa tried to stifle a gag at the stench but didn’t quite manage it completely. Between sleeping down here and the dump, my nose had turned itself off so it didn’t bother me much. Climbing down, I expected to be greeted with the familiar sight of a camp illuminated by Christmas lights.
Instead, I found a half-demolished camp. The makeshift tents were broken apart and ripped, the fire barrel was knocked over into the sewer water-
The sight of it stole my attention away to the point that I almost didn’t notice the body that I had nearly stepped on until it was too late. A hole seemed to open up in my gut as I crouched down, “H-hey, what happened here?” I asked, rolling the body over to see that it was Tony. His beard was drenched in blood, a cut above his eye was still dripping, and his eyes were closed. He groaned as I rolled him over, his eyelids fluttering.
Tifa dropped down and gasped at the sight. The hole in my gut slowly gave way to horror -- was… was this because of me? Because they helped me?
As if to answer my question, I heard someone laughing. The sound of it echoed through the tunnel but it was almost drowned out by a pained scream. I leaped to my feet, torn between finding out what was going on and helping Tony. Despite the beating that he had suffered, he looked up at me through swollen eyes.
“Fuck them up,” He spat at me, ordering me to go.
Gritting my teeth, I nodded as I strode forward, yanking the gun from my belt loop. Now that I wasn’t stuck looking at the damage of the camp, I noticed that some people were laying on the ground, battered and bloodied, concealed by what was left of their homes. There weren’t many, only a few, but it was a few too many.
Tifa didn’t say anything as she followed me into the camp, my anger growing with every second as I searched for the source of the scream and the laughter. My hand shook at my side, the gun clenched in my hand with a white-knuckled grip. I forced myself to approach slowly, knowing that I couldn’t just rush in, but every instinct I had screamed at me to run forward and make whoever had done this pay with blood.
There was a small platform that was obscured by a dirty sheet on a higher level. A place where you could cross over to a different tunnel, or something. I heard someone grunt as if they were struck heavily, followed by more laughing. My blood felt like fire in my veins as I walked up the steps, turning the corner and stepping out to see what was going on.
Jack was on the ground, slumped over and battered. His face was covered in blood, his shaggy hair was matted with it. The same with his beard, while a small pool gathered where he laid. I barely recognized him. Three men stood over him, one holding a gun while the other two carried baseball bats. Both of them were covered in blood.
The gun in my hand bucked, and it was only when I watched the one with the gun stagger forward a few times that I realized that I had shot him. Wet spots formed on his back, centered around his chest, before he fell forward, dead. I killed him. When he hit the ground, the other two rounded on me, jerking back in surprise.
Tifa moved before I could. She darted forward, springing into action. Running up, she leaped onto the guard rail of the platform to give herself some height, and after taking a few quick steps she jumped off of it. She flipped once as she sailed towards the two men that stood over Jack, but it wasn’t for flair. It was to build momentum.
Sticking out a leg, Tifa slammed her foot down onto one of their collar bones hard enough that the harsh sound of it breaking echoed through the tunnel. He was driven to his knees, folding underneath the blow. As he fell, Tifa pivoted in midair before she lashed out with another kick. This one caught him in the face, sending him flying back as if he had been kicked by a horse, and he only stopped when he hit the wall hard enough that the tile broke underneath him.
This time when I took aim I was fully aware of what I was doing. I lined up the shot, center of mass, and pulled the trigger. The other man doubled over, clutching his gut as he dropped the baseball bat he carried.
I had been aiming for his chest.
“Tifa, is Jack okay?” I asked, walking forward as the guy that I shot groaned, curling in on himself as he clutched his stomach. I glanced over at her, seeing her kneel by Jack with her fingers at his neck. She looked up at me and nodded. He was alive. Battered and beaten, but alive. Which was more than I could say for the guy that Tifa had attacked. His eyes were open, unseeing as blood slowly dripped from his busted skull.
I couldn’t tell if she had meant to kill him, but… I didn’t care. What I did care about was how he was dressed.
None of the three were dressed in immaculate suits like the people that had worked for Penguin. They were dressed in suits, sort of, but the colors were purple and green. Their faces were tatted up and covered in piercings -- whoever they were, they weren’t with the Penguin.
This wasn’t because of me. I hadn’t led the Penguin here.
“Who are you?” I asked, rounding on the one left alive. I kicked him in the shoulder, forcing him to look up at me, and I saw that he was smiling. His face was a powdered white, his hair dyed green while the word damaged was tattooed on his forehead.
“You never seen a member of the Jokers before?” The guy asked, spitting out a glob of blood as he held his hands over his wounded stomach. The Jokers? I hadn’t, but now that he mentioned, I did at least recognize the getup. So, he was a henchman for the Joker?
“Why did you do this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. My finger itched, waiting to curl around the trigger and just fire until the gun ran empty.
The wounded man let out a breathy laugh at my question, “Why do we do anything?” He asked, giving me a broad smile as if savoring my anger.
“Because it’s funny! You think anyone gives a shit about anyone down here? If there was then they wouldn’t be here. So no one bats an eyelash when we make a couple of jokes at their expense. Not the cops, not Batman -- no one. Ain't that hilarious?” He exclaimed, throwing his head back and letting out a deep laugh that came to a sputtering end when he started coughing up blood. Even still, the sound of it echoed in my ears. My heart rate began to slow until it beat at a steady tempo, my hands stopped trembling, and… my conscious began to grow very, very, very quiet.
I was going to kill him.
I took in a deep breath, looking from him to my gun. In a slow, deliberate action, I flicked the safety on and stashed it in my pants line. The man looked up at me with some confusion, shifting so that he was sitting up, a grin still tugging at his lips. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised -- it took a special kind of sicko to work for the Joker of all people.
That grin of his fell a fraction when I picked up the baseball bat that he had dropped.
I didn’t have to do this, I thought to myself as I looked down the length of the baseball bat. A drop of red blood dripped from the wood bat, hitting the ground with a minuscule splash. I could feel Tifa’s gaze on me, but she offered no protest. She didn’t try to stop me. She probably thought I was going to stop after I roughed him up a bit. I wasn't going to stop. I could feel it in my bones. I wasn't going to stop swinging.
I didn’t have to do this. But I sure fucking wanted to.
Gritting my teeth, I swung the bat as hard as I could, catching the man in the side of the jaw hard enough that broken teeth flew free in a spray of blood. The man groaned, dropping back down to the ground in a heap.
“You’re right,” I told him, lifting my bat again. “This is pretty funny.”
Despite my words, I knew that was a lie.
Simply because no one was laughing.
I raised the bat again, my chest heaving as if I had run a marathon, the vibrations of the impact running up my arms. The guy shifted, still conscious as he gargled on broken teeth and blood, and I slammed the bat down onto his arm. He managed a short lived scream, curling in on himself and rage boiled in my veins at the sight. He was going to do this shit, then he was going to curl up into a ball when it happened to him?
My grip tightened, my heartbeat thundering in my ears as and the only thing I could feel was the impact traveling up my hands that spread throughout my body when I brought the bat down on him again. And again. And another time. And I would have brought it down on him again, raining blows down on the guy that slumped over on the ground.
However, Tifa stopped a swing cold before it could land.
“Vergil,” Tifa said, her words cutting through the thundering of my own heartbeat. “You’re going to kill him!” She half shouted at me, her voice echoing through the tunnels. Her face was set, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed as she looked at me almost begging that I didn’t break whatever trust she had placed in me.
I struggled to find the words for a moment, but slowly, my head bobbed in a nod. “Yeah,” I agreed. “That’s the point.” It was like that part of my brain that was responsible for empathy was turned off. These pieces of shit decided to beat the hell out of Jack and the others for the hell of it? Because they thought it was funny?
They had this coming. Every swing and more.
Tifa’s lips thinned, “Do you really want to do this?” She questioned, forcing me to lower the bat.
“Do you think they don’t deserve it? Who else do you think they’ve done this to? The Joker? He’s the worst kind of scum. Flay a baby and wear the skin as a hat level of psycho,” I said, ripping my bat free of her grip. “And these pieces of shit are his gang. Helping him poison the city's water supply or bombing daycares or whatever.” I continued, jabbing my bat at the unconscious man.
Tifa looked uncertain for the briefest of seconds, looking down at him. Her eyebrows drew together before she lowered down, taking a knee and placing a hand at his throat. Her touch lingered there for a few seconds before she looked up at me. I knew what she was about to say without her saying a word.
“He’s dead.”
Comments
TheCynicalOne
As shitty as Midgar is Tifa isnt a native. She grew up in the countryside where everyone looked out for each other...not to mention almost the second the got to Midgar she had people looking out for her like Marle and Barret...Tifa isn't prepared for the level of depravity that psycho's like The Joker can bring to bear. Lex Luthor would be more her speed.
