Law knew exactly who he wanted to target next on the list of Joker's subordinates. Vergo had been a thorn in his side, the monster in his closet, for years. If he were being honest, he was a majority of the reason Law had been forced to live with one eye looking behind him at all times, wondering if the day would ever come when Joker came back, looking for his lost operative. Ever since they'd first met, Vergo hadn't liked him. Something about him just made the older man irate.
So many years of feeling paranoid. It had been too long, in the bartender's opinion. He'd let this fester for too long. It was about time that Vergo learned his place and met his fate, once and for all.
The only issue was that Law had no idea how he was going to take the man down. Vergo rarely went anywhere totally alone, either with a companion, or with followers trailing behind him at a distance. And on the rare occasions when he did travel without company, it wasn't like it made much difference. The man himself was not one to trifle with unless after a great deal of forethought.
Law didn't have too many favors left to call upon. Most had been used getting Summer to safety and to take out the other members of the network. He could only think of a few left that he could use to his benefit. And they had to agree to it in the first place. By now, everyone knew of his vendetta against Joker's network, no doubt working it into their own plans to seize more power.
Not everyone wanted to be thrust into the spotlight, the direct involvement with Joker's downfall, though. Because if he failed, it would paint a large and vibrant target on their back as well, for even considering the idea of helping Law with his plan. A double-edged sword indeed.
When it all came down to it, once Law had thought it over and over and over, until he was starting to wonder if there was any point to his revenge, he figured that perhaps this once, the law enforcement could actually come in handy. Just this once. He'd never had faith in the police department, having experienced from the opposite perspective how ineffective and incompetent they could be at their jobs.
On the upside, perhaps involving the police would throw Joker off a bit. It was the very last option Law would ever consider. Something even Joker would least expect of him. It could prove more beneficial in the end.
He just had to bank on the fact that this time around, some good would come from involving them.
One of the few remaining contacts left to him Law used to find Vergo's location. A well-known drug den to the criminal world. One of Joker's main distributors of opium and other hardcore drugs you couldn't legally acquire. The operation was streamlined and worked efficiently. You had to know somebody who knew somebody to even have heard of it. Not to mention, entrance could only be given to those who had special cards. An indicator that they were trustworthy and wouldn't go snitching to the wrong people.
Getting a card wasn't easy, and often times required the person to commit some sort of terrible crime to even be eligible for it. Only the worst of the worst came here. And of those, they were the most respected and dangerous.
Law only knew about it because he'd often ran product through it, or made deliveries to resupply their heroin. You had to be one of Joker's trusted people to even do that. A fact that still made Law scratch his head. What was so special about him that Joker obsessed about? He would never understand.
According to his insider, Vergo was supposed to be at some important meeting at this den for the rest of the night, which would give Law the perfect window to make his move. Under cover of darkness, Law made his way to the general area. It wouldn't do to be caught in Joker's territory, especially alone and unarmed as he was, but it was worth the risk. So he told himself.
Finding the nearest payphone to the den, he dialed 911 and stood in the box, trying to stay bundled up despite the cold.
"911, what's the nature of your emergency?"
"It's, uh, not really an emergency," Law started, trying to alter the tone of his voice to be unrecognizable to the normal cadence of it, "but I know where there's a big drug den around here. I saw a lot of people go in there, you could smell it from here."
"Ok, and where are you located?"
"The corner of 125th Avenue and Marshall Terrace. But this place is in an old warehouse nearby. Big, brick building that doesn't look like it's been occupied in…oh, years probably."
"And you said you saw people go inside?"
"Yeah. I think I saw a few of them with guns. Big guns."
He could hear faint tapping through the phone as the operator jotted everything he was saying down. "What is your name, sir?"
"Adam Parrish."
"Is there anyone there with you?"
"No, I'm alone."
"Ok, just a moment…" There was more typing on the other end, and Law looked around anxiously. He didn't like being out in the open like this. Vulnerable.
"Alright, and how many people are inside of the building, sir?"
"I don't know. Maybe dozens or more. I didn't get a look inside, just saw a few go in." He said, sounding impatient. "I can't just stand here like this, I feel like someone's watching me."
"Sir, I'm gonna need you to stay on the line with me please. I've got authorities on their way. Now, could you describe the men that-"
"Please hurry, I think I see someone coming!" He whispered, before hanging up the phone in a rush. It was more to put the pressure on the police to get their asses her quickly, before anything could go wrong with his plan, but Law still didn't like being out for anyone to see either. He hurried into the shadows across the street.
He'd still have a good view of the area without being spotted. He doubted any of the police would be looking his way once they arrived. The mess would be at the door of the drug den. This move was reckless. It was putting the lives of officers at risk, sure. But it was their job, and to be honest, they hadn't really done their job up to this point very well. It was time they took things seriously. Either that, or lose their life. Whichever they decided.
Already, he could hear sirens coming from further into the city, closing in on his location. He swallowed down the pit in his stomach, hoping things went well tonight. It was either that, or there'd be a large police memorial for the deceased after tonight. Hopefully not. The ideal situation would be Vergo's body on it's way to the city morgue, but he'd just have to wait and see.
The sirens were ear-splitting now, and Law watched no fewer than 6 police cars swarm the intersection he'd called from, then park in front of the red-bricked building he'd described.
Even more policemen and women got out from those cars, complete with tactical gear and weapons drawn, running to surround the building in question. One officer searched around the payphone, looking for their witness. Law made sure they wouldn't find him. He was too well hidden.
Further away, towards the entrance to the drug den, there was shouting, and loud banging. After no following reply, the banging was even louder, and heavier. As if they were breaking the door in.
What followed next was a slurry of gunshots and cries of pain. From which side of the door Law couldn't guess, though. Shots rang out left and right, with more policemen rushing towards the door as backup. The radios in the police cars were going off the hook, officers asking for back up or medical teams to get out here as soon as possible. All this going on while more gunfire was exchanged.
It continued on and on. People shouting. Some screaming. Somewhere nearby a dog was barking from the disturbance. Law knew that if he were actually in the midst of that madness, it would be a horrifying sight. He was willing to bet almost every patron inside that den was armed and dangerous. The cops had their work cut out for them tonight.
A few minutes passed. Another few police cars showed up as backup, the officers running towards the commotion. Following that was a few ambulances, at the ready for any medical emergencies in progress. Then 10 minutes. Most of the shooting had slowed. Then 20. Shots still fired, but now at a much less frequent rate.
Eventually they stopped entirely, and miraculously it looked like they'd successfully raided the inside of the den. In ones and twos, the patrons of the den were brought outside and into police vehicles. Their wrists locked behind them in handcuffs. Incredible. Looks like the boys in blue could actually do their job every once in awhile. If the threat to their life was high enough.
Law recognized some of the people they brought out from his days running. Not many, but definitely a few. Truly remarkable, the length of time someone addicted to heavy drugs could live for. Some of these people looked haggard, older than he knew them to be, and just dirty in general. The worst dregs of society.
And then the man himself. While Law was disappointed that Vergo wasn't being brought out of the building in a body bag, he was at least coming out in cuffs. He was as taciturn and devoid of emotion as ever. The sunglasses he normally wore to cover his eyes were not there, revealing the man's eyes in full. They were piercing and judgmental, analyzing and cold. Law hated them.
He was ushered without preamble into one of the police vehicles, and he sat there staring at the back of the seat he was placed behind. Expression never changing.
Chances were, Vergo would be released in a few days. Joker had too many connections, too many lawyers with fingers deep in their pockets for this not to go to one of his men. There wouldn't be a trial. Some mishandling of evidence would see him let go without consequence soon.
But it would give Law time. Time to prepare what his next move was without having to wonder if Vergo was right there behind him, waiting for him to make a mistake and slip up. Perhaps just enough that he could go after the man himself.
Joker.
"You are the very last person I ever expected to hear from," the man on the other end laughed darkly, "what a surprise."
A slow drag on a cigarette punctured the air. "Oh, don't play your games with me. I'm sure you were expecting this eventually."
"Hmm, fair enough. I never could keep secrets from you, could I? But…I truly do wonder what you would contact me for. You made it very clear that we were never to speak again all that time ago."
"This has gone too far. There's been too much bloodshed and hatred and lies, and you know this can't go on much longer." The man tried to reason. "Leave him be. Cut your losses and let him live out the rest of his life in peace. That's all I ask. Both of them."
A cold chuckle answered back. "Such a vested interested in his wellbeing…You speak as if he's family."
"He is family."
"And what of your own brother? Your own flesh and blood?" A hint of anger started to show through his up-til-then neutral tone. "You'd sooner give that title to a dead-end kid you picked up off the street than someone who shared your same parents."
"…"
"Don't come to me speaking of family and acceptance. You sound just like he did."
Their father, no doubt. The acidic way he spit his very mention was a telltale sign enough.
"…what exactly do you want from him? Why are you going to these lengths to torment him like this?"
Another deep chuckle. It nearly made him shiver. "His very blood oozes self-righteousness, something I can't stand, but I passed onto him precious information about my business, taught him skills he needed to survive, groomed him to take a powerful position by my side and kept him safe when he was at his lowest. And then he turns around and runs, leaving behind a hefty debt to pay. He's meddled in more of my affairs than anyone ever has. So it's really only natural for me to pay him in kind."
"You lied to him to make him trust you, gave him a single option when he had no other choice."
"And you didn't?"
"…we both know it wasn't the same. I offered freedom. A life of comfort and honest work."
"I'm appalled to know you think my work is dishonest." He said with obvious amusement. "I daresay I've worked harder than anyone in making my business what it is today."
"It's not a business, it's a drug ring. You're a criminal."
"You know, saying those things doesn't help your chances of me considering your request."
Another frustrated drag on a cigarette. "If family means anything to you at all, please do this for me. He deserves a long life, after everything he's been through."
There was a long silence on the line, before the man laughed darkly once more.
"You want to help him escape this life?"
"Yes."
"Well, nothing comes without a price."
"Name it."
"Oh, not yet. When the time comes, I'll tell you, but until then…expect my call."
Click.
Shachi's and Penguin's apartment was marginally better than the hotel they'd resided in for a few weeks. It felt more like a home, and there were more things for her to do in the meantime. While one of them worked, the other still stayed and kept her company. Sometimes they'd take naps when they could, leaving her wondering what she could do to occupy her time with. Most of the time they played their video games and she would watch with vague interest.
It was one of those days in particular. Penguin was home, Shachi having only another hour or so before returning from work. Several matches into what Summer recognized to be Halo, Penguin yelled for his teammates to carry their weight. Both him and Shachi were rather vocal gamers, and Summer wondered how many noise complaints they received from their neighbors. She guessed at least a few.
She didn't have much to do other than read stories on Penguin's phone. He allowed her to download a reading app to give her something to do. They had yet to give her a cell phone, since there was every possibility that they were tracking for it. Summer had tried reasoning for a disposable one, but Penguin wanted to err on the side of caution. After the fire at the hotel, they'd cracked down on anything that might put them at risk. It was maddening, no matter how much sense it made to her.
"Come on, where's the support?" Penguin shouted, jabbing at the buttons on the controller frantically. "Get your fucking acts together!"
Summer spared him a glance, before going back to her reading. It was hard to concentrate with him yelling like that, but there wasn't much they could do.
A loud knock broke both of the occupants' concentrations, their gazes swinging towards the front door. Penguin swung back around to look at her, sharing a long look before nodding towards the hallway. She stood and hurried to the back of the apartment while Penguin went to see who it was. Whoever they were, they had to have heard him yelling, so they knew someone was home.
She waited in the bathroom, closing the door behind her quietly while Penguin dealt with whoever was at the door. The sound of the door opening could barely be heard over the sound of Penguin's video game still playing on the tv.
"Uh, hi?" Penguin said in confusion. "I didn't order a pizza, maybe you have the wrong addr-"
Summer nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a very loud bang in the living room. She slapped her hand on her mouth to prevent any noise, and squeezed her eyes shut. Something fell to the ground in a thump, and Penguin groaned in pain. Reflex tears pooled behind her eyes and a deepening sense of fear began rushing through her veins. Her whole body was on edge.
Footsteps began walking down the hallway towards where she was, slow and even, and she froze as still as she could, hoping the beating of her heart hammering in her chest wasn't loud enough for them to hear. Hands shaking, desperately working to keep her breathing low and even, Summer watched the shadow of the intruder pass by under the doorway. Her eyes were glued to the movement until it passed and continued further down the hall.
Penguin was still groaning from his place in the living room, and Summer hoped desperately that he was ok. She was too terrified to risk going out to check on him, or even moving at all. She was glued to the floor by the tub, unable to do anything other than breathe.
Rustling and things being moved could be heard from the bedrooms. Another set of doors opened, and then the footsteps returned to the hallway.
The shadow appeared once more under the door, but stopped in front of it. Eyes wide, Summer watched as the handle turned and the door pushed open. She whimpered, seeing a man standing there dressed in a pizza deliver man's uniform, holding up a gun leisurely.
He took a slow step inside and Summer scrambled backwards as far as she could, reaching behind her for anything she could possibly use to defend herself. The air was punctuated with her ragged breaths, the fear taking over any other conscious thought. Her hand touched something and she brought it protectively in front of her, barely registering that it was only a better of conditioner.
The man tilted his head and grinned. "Pathetic." He said, head shaking in disappointment or amusement.
"Plea-please…don't…" She whispered in terror. The tears now fell steadily down her face, hands holding the conditioner bottle shaking visibly. "I…I don't want to die…"
"You aren't going to die, my dear." The man said, crouching in front of her gently, a hand reaching forward to brush aside her tears. Summer turned her head away, but only out of reflex. "Shh, shh, shh…" He hushed.
His free hand gripped her chin and forced her to look forward into his eyes, and the calm smile he had fixed in place. "You'll be tortured, I'm guessing. Then, when you can't stand the pain anymore, you're going to sit back and watch as your precious Law dies."
Summer's chest heaved with each sucking breath, eyes wide as she was forced to look at this man, so close to her, the gun ever present in her peripherals. It was all too much for her and she passed out from the fear, head falling limp in the man's hand. The bottle of conditioner fell from her fingers and tumbled off to the side.
The man placed his gun in his holster and picked her up, flinging her up on his shoulder to carry easier. The the returned to the living room to leave, he saw that Penguin had crawled his way over to the opposite side of the couch where his phone was, and had 911 dialed.
The gun was unholstered and he shot the phone beside him without missing. The screen went black, spidery cracks ruining the glass, and a sizable hole was now sporting the middle of it. The mechanic watched hopelessly as the man smiled at him, then turned and walked out the door with an unconscious Summer in tow. The door shut behind him and Penguin was left to bleed out into the floor, alone, from the gunshot wound in his chest.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
