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Victor stares off into space and absently gnaws on his lower lip. His gut has been churning with anxious expectation.
His team lead, Yolie, barks in amusement. “Yo, Vic!”
His drifting mind is snapped back to the present. He is sitting behind the wheel of his Imperial; his all-female team is with him. The soft droning of their voices finally register in the background. The three women in the backseat are discussing plans for the night. Their voices begin to trail off in order to listen in on what is being said up front.
His lead is in the passenger seat giving him the hairy eyeball. He furrows his brow in confusion and gapes at her. The woman had a derisive look that could cut steel. She is adorned in leather finery nestled under a black wool coat. Her large frame matched his own in height and weight.
Her nose chain sways when she throws her closely-cropped head back and flops her hands upwards in a questioning manner.
“What’chya thinkin’ ‘bout, man? You’ve been chewin’ your lower lip off for the last ten minutes.”
Victor shrugs and feigns innocence. “Just driftin’ off. My blood sugar might be low. How ‘bout we go get dinner after this job?”
The woman lets out a snort. “Yeah. Job.”
Yolie scoffs and slumps in the seat; her brows pinch into a scowl. She shakes her head and peers out the passenger side window.
Victor raises a hairless eyebrow and slumps in his seat, mimicking the surly woman. He didn’t need to question her sour attitude or her snark. He’s well aware of her thoughts on the arrangement.
A call from an expected number vibrates his phone resting on his lap. He opens the device and the speaker on the other end begins talking.
“Hyun is ready for pick up.”
The call ends without another word. Victor glances at Yolie then rights himself to start the car. He maneuvers his Imperial through the back alley roads to reach their destination. Once there, his women quickly exit the vehicle and make their way into the club as they draw their weapons in case of unexpected loose ends. Victor opens the trunk and readies metal restraints, not giving anything to chance.
Ever since his failure at keeping Penguin secured, he has been much more thorough with his tasks than usual, to the point of annoying his team with his micro management and exhaustive security routines. The women take it in stride. They insist on sharing some of the blame of what happened that night at the Iceberg Lounge.
Carmine Falcone punished Victor by placing him on babysitting duty and warned that if there were any more unexpected failings on his end he would make the assassin’s professional life non-existent in Gotham.
After a couple of minutes the back door opens. His women and their “partner” exit with the limp body of the head of the Joon family ring. They get him into the trunk of his Imperial and bind his legs and arms in the prepared shackles.
Victor eyes the red-hooded man as he steps back and removes his mask. Blue eyes shift towards him; they immediately go hard. It sends a shiver of delight up his spine. He can never get enough of Jim’s disdain of him. It keeps him on edge; the kind of edge he loves. This time there seems to be a reason for the scowl as the man gruffs out impatiently.
“You need better intel! There were more than what was expected.”
Victor arches a hairless brow and enters the back door of the club. He wanders through the bullet riddled back rooms all the way to a supply area. He spies a dead man he wasn’t expecting to see, along with two of the dead man's gunshot-riddled cronies. He searches their bodies and finds two large manilla envelopes with high dollar stacks inside. There is a note folded attached with names of two Falcone capos.
Zsasz stands and looks over at Jim who has followed him inside. “Small-time gangs are gettin’ bold since there’s no one keepin’ the pressure. There was gonna be war on the upper west side.”
The blonde’s blue eyes shift away from Victor; he eyes Jim with a curious grin. The ex-lawman is typically hard and stoic, but every now and then the facade breaks to reveal a conscience burdened with guilt. Victor is about to address Jim's discomfort when, from the corner of his eye, he sees movement.
A young man leaps to his feet and clumsily raises an automatic rifle at them. He roars in triumph as he presses on the trigger but nothing happens. Victor and Jim flinch in unison. The two of them gape incredulously down at their own bodies, amazed that they have not been cut down. They both glance at each other then at the trembling youth whose expression turns from righteous fury to utter bafflement. Victor unholsters one of his Sigs and points it at the shaking man. Jim unsheathes a knife. The young Joon member is smacking the gun helplessly in hopes of unsticking whatever maybe be lodged.
Instead of firing at the would-be attacker Victor sighs and rolls his eyes. He then explains. “You need to take the safety off. Go on. I’ll give you ‘nother chance.”
Zsasz flashes a predatory smile. It was obvious to him that the confused youth has never fired a gun. Jim begins stalking his way around; his knife at the ready. The last of the Joon family trembles and sobs in fear. He turns the rifle every which way in a panic, looking for the safety switch. The man quickly drops the weapon in favor of running.
Jim charges. He leaps over a small pallet and swoops in on the distracted man with his knife. The pathetic screams of the fleeing youth rips through the supply room. Jim wrestles him down to the ground by his hair and stabs him in the neck. The victim bucks wildly and tries to scream but it comes out as gurgling cries. Jim's body locks the man down and soon the struggling stops.
Zsasz flashes a shark-like smile as he gets closer. Blood spurts everywhere, dosing the blonde in crimson showers. He found that he thoroughly enjoys watching Jim kill with his hands rather than with his guns, it’s become a fetish of his for the last couple of months now. The once Golden Boy of the GCPD is now something else– something dangerous. The respect he had for him has morphed into something akin to the adoration one would feel for a muse.
He lets out a soft moan when he hears the squelching of Jim’s blade slicing through arteries and viscera. The man looks up at him with those impossibly blue eyes that are now hazed over. There’s blood splatters on his face. Jim had just killed a dozen men, yet had looked perfectly untarnished, until now. Large crimson droplets roll down his chin and neck.
Victor narrows his eyes down at Jim who begins to stand. The hardness in Jim's eyes is gone as they gaze at each. Victor’s lips part. His attention is helplessly attracted to the path of a crimson droplet rolling down Jim’s neck towards his jugular notch.
An almost uncontrollable desire to snatch the man into his arms and lap up the blood burns through him. His hands twitch. He knows it's folly to even entertain such an idea especially when Jim is armed with a knife and high on a killing frenzy.
The blood-covered man walks around him and exits the room towards the back door. Zsasz closes his eyes and swallows, reigning in his carnal arousal as best as he can. He then turns and exits the building. Jim is gone by the time he steps out of the club. He quickly enters his car. He and his women head home with their entertainment for the night.
___
Zsasz watches on as Carmine quietly thinks on the information he provided. Hyun caved quickly to his slow and excruciating torture. The man remains locked away in his playroom, alive, for now.
“It's confirmed. The weapons are where Joon said they would be. Alessandro’s businesses coincidently closed in anticipation of war.”
“Want me to retrieve him, boss?”
Carmine turns and shakes his head; there is a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Victor smiles widely as he waits for whatever the man commands of him.
“We will address this at the next capos meeting. Invite Hyun.” Carmine begins walking towards his study door. “Just his head.”
Victor quickly joins Carmine down the hall. The old man glances at him and asks, “How’s our cleaner?”
Zsasz flashes his teeth and gleefully replies, “He’s in his element. So much promise.”
Carmine stops and flashes Victor a small smile. “That may be the case but this arrangement is temporary. Don’t get attached, Victor. He isn’t a recruit. He’s a liability.”
Victor’s smile disappears as his gaze lowers in contrition. It disappoints him greatly to be reminded of Jim's temporary status. Carmine’s voice pulls his attention back.
“Does he ask about the night you brought him to me?”
Victor shakes his head. “He never brings it up.”
“Good. Never tell him anything even if it's the truth. Give him his next assignment. Have him burn down one business each belonging to Lorenzo and Antonio on the upper west side. We want Alessandro to believe the Joon tried but failed. I’ve already called upon the Kelly brothers to burn down the Joon club as soon as the hit was completed.”
With that Carmine continues his way down the hall to a reception area. The sound of greeting voices can be heard as he enters.
___
The hour is now midnight. Victor is in his Imperial coupe, he calls out to Jim.
“Meet me at my building in twenty minutes.”
The call ends without acknowledgement. Jim was never one for chatter. The man hates what he is being made to do but Victor’s seen the thrill in his eyes when he’s in the middle of a job. There is something within the wayward lawman that takes sadistic glee in all the carnage he has ensued. He begins to wonder if Jim would ever give serious consideration going into contract killing.
Something within Zsasz pangs painfully. He huffs in resignation and heads out to collect whatever fuel is in reserves in his outbuilding.
Jim’s nondescript sedan pulls into his long drive; he looks at his watch and nods impressed. The man is punctual. He ushers him to drive around back to his large storage building.
Once the sedan parks, Jim exits looking fresh after a brief break. He is wearing a dark blue button up under a black leather jacket. He has black jeans on along with black combat boots. His women had made a covert run to the man's apartment and brought him his clothing and shoes. He could have easily bought Jim clothes to wear but the man had tailored wear. He loved how every piece of Jim's ensemble hugged his smaller frame tightly.
Victor smiles widely as he appreciatively assesses Jim's grooming. Blonde tresses are swept back and facial skin presents a smoothness of being freshly shaved. He grins and beckons Jim over to the roll up doors. He hears the man gruff anxiously.
“I thought I was done for the night!”
Victor lightly admonishes him as he enters the storage area. “Take these canisters of gasoline and do your job.”
Zsasz looks over his shoulder when Jim fails to do as told. He narrows his eyes at the stiff blonde glaring at him. Jim's compact form is planted firmly a couple steps from the entrance. His face is partially illuminated by the light spilling out into the night. The gleam of a large knife in Jim's hand grabs his attention.
Victor beams a casual grin as he turns to face him. He opens his peacoat and pats right above his heart. He holds open the lapels and purrs at Jim, “Come on then.”
Jim’s glare subsides as a smirk graces his tight-lipped mouth. “Still too relaxed around me, Victor.” He holds up the knife and brandishes the point from side-to-side, like a wagging finger. “Very foolish considering how awful you are at physical combat.”
Zsasz smiles widely as two of his girls nudge Jim with the nozzle of their guns. Jim glances over his shoulder then returns his gaze. Victor makes a sweeping gesture down at the canisters; he flashes Jim a hard look.
“Now. Like a bunny. Hop. Hop.”
Jim closes his switchblade and grabs the canisters. Victor approaches with a folded piece of paper. He slips it in the breast pocket of the man’s leather jacket.
“The addresses. Call when it's done. Mm’kay?”
He stands back and watches as Jim stows the canisters inside the trunk of the sedan before entering the vehicle and peeling away. His team lead approaches him with a shake of her head.
“He’s too dangerous to have loose.”
Victor's eyes follow the taillights of the sedan. He responds, “That he is. But what fun I’m havin’.”
The woman scoffs and glances at her cohort who is making a gesture with her fingers at Victor’s crotch then she holds her hand open, a smug smile playing at her ruby lips.
Yolie shakes her head in disbelief and barks out, “Damn it, Zsasz! I just lost fifty bucks.”
Victor eyes Yolie and Celia with a raised eyebrow. A sour look twists the olive-skinned features of his team lead's face. She looks him up and down as her hand slips into her coat to retrieve a bill fold.
The Celia wiggles her hips from side-to-side; a throaty laugh bellows as she waits. She beams at the cash thrusted at her before snatching it in glee. “Told ya!”
Yolie groans, “Yeah, yeah. Nine times outta ten he goes for tall, dark, and well hung. It was a safe bet.”
Zsasz blinks as the two women leave without another explanation. He then realizes just how full and heavy he is in his trousers. He adjusts himself then closes the roll-up door.
___
Next night.
Jim joins Victor below in the interrogation basement. The man enters the darkened viewing space. Zsasz already has Hyun strapped to a large wooden chair in the actual playroom. He gagged the man to keep him from calling out and possibly triggering Jim into some unforeseen action. The man maybe an efficient killer but every now and then his righteous indignation surfaces to complicate matters.
Victor is leaning against the wall next to the viewing window. Jim approaches and looks inside at the captive.
“Figured he’d be dead by now.”
Zsasz pushes off the wall and slides next to Jim. “He’s a dead man now.”
Jim glances at Victor then returns his focus to Hyun. “So, what do you want? You want me to kill him?”
Zsasz shakes his head. He turns to face Jim who is busy analyzing the bound captive. He takes a step closer, risking the capricious man’s ire. Victor can smell him. His body heat radiates the scent of warm skin and whatever soap he uses to clean himself. He’s noticed how much different Jim smells when they are close and alone. It’s sweet, warm, and intoxicating, much like caramel and whiskey. His eyes scroll down Jim’s smaller frame as he replies.
“You’ll be deliverin’ his head.”
Jim turns from the window, muscles are tensed as shoulders pinch upward. The man looked ready to attack if Victor were to take another step closer. An arresting blue gaze seemingly invites him to test his luck.
Zsasz smirks as he removes his coat; he leans in a little as he lets the thick garment slide from his arms. Their eyes lock onto each other; Jim’s hardened persona briefly melts away. Lips part while blue eyes latch onto his mouth and stay.
The cadence of Victor’s voice slows as he comments in a hushed tone. “Wait here. I won’t be long.”
Zsasz trots into the lit interrogation room. He rolls up his sleeves and selects his first instrument to bleed out the victim before working on removing the head. It’s a messy process and a long one, especially for the one receiving it if they are still aware. He takes the long razor and slices the man’s carotid arteries. He quickly stands back so as to not soil his boots. He waits for the man to die of the blood loss.
Movement in the viewing space catches his attention. Jim has his coat and is walking it to a series of hooks by the stairs. Jim brings the collar to his nose and inhales for a moment or two before placing it on the hook.
The last gasps of life gurgle out in a long drawn exhale. It grabs Victor’s attention, but before continuing with his grisly task, he glances back as Jim who is sitting on the stairs. The older man looks pained as he rubs at the back of his neck.
Zsasz raises an eyebrow at the strangeness of what he witnessed. He returns his focus to the dead, but still warm body before him. Once he is done, he places the head in a small cooler and exits the room. Jim finally looks up and stands.
Victor lowers the cooler to the ground and asks, “You hungry?”
Jim blinks with the question. He looks down at the cooler then back up at Zsasz. “You’ve got to be kiddin’ me.” He sighs sourly as a scowl forms “Where am I taking the head to?”
Victor smiles as he hooks his thumbs under the straps of his rig. “Oh, not tonight. Tomorrow night. Best you don’t travel wit’ the head until then.”
Jim growls out, “Then why the hell am I here?!”
“To enjoy dinner with me and the girls. I’ve made latkes, carrot kugelettes, and Gundi soup. Dessert is chocolate babka from one of the best bakeries in Gotham. It’s to die for.”
Jim scoffs and sighs heavily. Victor levels an incredulous look his way. “Got somewhere better to be?”
“Yeah, at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.” Jim huffs and begins climbing the stairs.
Victor’s smile fades; he quickly states to Jim’s ascending form. “I have a Banff 1966, a forty-nine year old scotch. You can have a few shots of that if you stay and join us for dinner.”
That stops the damnable man in his tracks. Jim looks over his shoulder at him. A blonde brow rises in obvious interest at the extravagant offer. Zsasz recovers his coat and begins climbing the stairs. He adds with a large smile.
“Come, I’ll join you in a coupla drinks before dinner.”
___
Jim stares out the window into the night. Zsasz takes advantage of the man’s pensive mood and appreciatively takes in his body. He marvels at the way Jim’s compact form is sculpted into the perfect V-shape silhouette. His leather jacket hugs at broad shoulders and wraps snug all the way down to a small waist. Victor bites his lower lip as his gaze scrolls down to a small pert ass and well-formed legs that fill black slacks. He can already envision pulling Jim down onto his lap.
Victor lets out a silent huff of hot breath and quickly brings his glass to his lips to distract his wandering mind. He quickly adjusts himself below, thankful for the darkness in the sitting room.
Jim takes another long sip from his glass and sighs heavily. The sound of it like someone gathering some resolve; there was definitely something on Jim’s mind. He hasn’t said one word since the two of them entered the sitting room nor has he looked at him even when Victor poured him a second round of scotch. Jim has been standing in front of the window, lost in thought.
Zsasz leans back in a leather sofa chair; his arms dangle over the arm rests. His crystal tumbler hangs from fingertips as he lazily swirls the glass.
A gravelly voice finally pipes up; the tone of it almost despondent. “Is there anything really keeping me here?”
Victor raises an eyebrow and waits for the man to elaborate, but Jim is bringing his glass to his lips. Zsasz shrugs and sneers at the man.
“I dunno, Jim. You’re a fool to think otherwise.”
Instead of the typical scowl there’s a look of hurt from those large blue eyes that glance over a shoulder. Victor looks away, unsettled by the odd expression. He instantly dislikes it. It made him feel funny. Not funny, ha-ha, but funny in that an alien and unrecognizable discomfort pricks at him.
He frowns and dismissively chides, “Come on, Jim. You know why you’re here.”
Jim returns to his night view. “Carmine really knows where to hit me. What if I were to stop caring?”
Zsasz’s annoyance turns to piqued interest. He stands from his reclined position and grins. “The old man isn’t someone who plays ‘round. He meant what he said. That’s why he’s given you a long leash. He’d think nothing of killin’ Lee even though he once thought of her as family. And Bullock? Well, what’s ‘nother dead cop?”
He turns around to face Victor. “My time with you has shed some light on what I’m capable of.”
Jim takes a couple steps towards him. His expression darkening as his voice lowers to a dangerous tone. “Maybe I’ll just disappear. Then come back. Armed. And with nothing to lose…”
Victor scoffs incredulously. “I thought you finally chilled out.” He nods down at Jim’s glass. “I’m cuttin’ you off. I shoulda known you were a mean drunk.”
Jim steps closer and turns his face up to peer into Victor’s eyes. “You did this to me.”
Zsasz frowns down at the man and shakes his head. “Are you serious? Jim, you did this to yourself. You killed Oswald. You did that.”
Jim’s expression turns ice cold. “You… (the volume of his voice growing louder with each word)... should…. have… killed me!”
Zsasz’s face turns down as he locks his gaze with the unhinged man. “So, this is what it’s all ‘bout?! I kill coz’ I get paid for it. Oswald was dead before I stepped into the club. I had no reason to escalate things. You kill coz’ you can't control yourself. That’s the difference between you and me, Jim.”
Jim’s gaze falters. The bubbling anger begins to simmer then fade. The man takes a step back as his shoulders droop. It’s obvious that the comment hit Jim hard. The blonde blinks a few times before turning around and downing his glass.
Zsasz places down his glass and comments gently. “He who is slow to anger is better than a strong man, and he who masters his passions is better than one who conquers a city. It’s a proverb. A good rule I have followed my whole life.”
Jim sets down his glass and heads for the exit of the sitting room. He stops at the door and glances at Victor.
“I know I’m just one more job away from a bullet to the head so save your breath.”
In typical Jim Gordon fashion, the man makes a brisk exit. Victor stares at the empty space where the man once stood. He tsks with disappointment and turns to collect his glass to finish his drink. The grumble of Jim’s motorcycle is cacophonous as it starts up, disturbing the peace of the night. He tilts his glass up to finish the last swallow when two gunshots ring all around him. The succession is quick; one to blow out the window and the other to disintegrate the glass at his lips.
He flinches as shards and scotch spray out everywhere. He instinctively hits the ground and unholsters his Sigs. The security alarm sounds with urgent beeps that echo throughout the home. He can hear Jim shout at him from outside.
“Stop being so damn relaxed, Zsasz!”
With a screech of an engine, Jim is gone. Victor can hear the motorcycle race down the drive way and vanish down the street. The women come running down the hallway; their weapons in hand.
Victor waves them down. “It’s alright! Shit. Think my lip is cut.”
Zsasz rolls onto his ass and reholsters his guns. He then inspects himself for any other damage. His quick assessment only finds a few superficial knicks and a sore side from taking a dive to the ground. His team leader tells the others to roll down the steel shutter of the compromised window and reset the security alarm. Yolie rushes over and squats next to Victor; she shakes her head in admonishment.
“We told you to quit playin’ wit’ that asshole! Your lip is cut. Let's flush it out and see how bad it is. Come on.”
Victor holds his mouth and chuckles. “Damn. I’ve never been more turned on.”
“Ya crazy fuck! Jim would sooner rip your head off than let you get anywhere close to him. Get up.”
Victor follows Yolie to the lower level bathroom where their medical supplies are at. He sits on a stool while he waits for the woman to clean his wound. He has his phone in his hand. He flicks it open and begins tapping out a text.
That was a hun-do in wasted scotch
[upset face emoji]
Victor places his phone on the counter. Yolie begins cleaning his lip and winces. “Yikes. Well it ain’t too bad. It’s mostly a clean cut. Surgical tape should do it.”
Zsasz grumbles, “That fuckin’... mean drunk… stupid, sexy–”
The woman raises a brow as she prepares tape. “Vic, I wouldn't normally care coz’ you’re a grown ass man, but he’s not gonna be around for long. Why get so damn involved wit’ him? He’s not lookin’ to make friends, especially wit’ the likes of you.”
Zsasz sighs and thinks for a moment before confiding in her. “When it's just the two of us there’s somethin’ there.”
Yolie rolls her eyes and retorts gently, “Yeah. A bullet. Or a switch blade. Or any of the other weapons he’s tried to assault you wit’.”
Victor chuckles whole heartedly. “Yeah. Jim reminds me of Celia’s cat before she tamed it. It came 'round because it wanted food, so she fed it. But whenever she tried to pet the cat, it would hiss and run away.”
“Yeah, now that furball coats all my outfits in black fur. So Jim is a feral cat you're tryin’ to tame?”
“Not exactly. He seems to want something but when I try to reach out to him…" He points at his lip.
Yolie gently places the tape on the split lip. “Put the food bowl down and step back. That’s the only advice I have.”
After dinner, Victor retires to his room. He exits his bathroom fresh from a shower. His phone blinks with a waiting message.
That was a hun-do in wasted scotch
[upset face emoji]
Consider it a fee for my company
Victor smiles. He sends a text back of a smiling emoji then plops down into his bed. After ten minutes another text comes in. He raises a brow and retrieves his phone.
Thanks for the drink
Btw
Zsasz puffs out and smiles.
Ur welcomed.
Didn’t mess up those looks of yours
did I?
Victor blinks at the message as a painful smile curls; the swollen lip threatens to split. He sends a reply.
Cut lip
Kiss it to make it better?
Sure. Next time you see me close your eyes and pucker up.
Victor chuckles and shakes his head. “Asshole.”