You know, I never really believed all those hack writers going on about how freeing flying feels.
Still, I can admit when I'm wrong, because this actually did feel pretty good.
Although I was probably only getting about a third of the full experience, considering I was just a flying head.
Thank God for Volition. I'm fairly certain I would've screamed the entire time if I didn't have that running.
I doubt the whole thing would've been nearly as funny if a screaming head had been flying around the room. Then again, I'm pretty sure most of the people downstairs thought the whole thing was some kind of stunt.
Also… I think it really says something about Gotham that most of the crowd didn't even balk at their boss's flying head doing a circuit through the air.
Still, it seemed my brief career as disco décor had come to an end. My head floated upward under some unseen force and drifted toward the second floor.
I was greeted by the sight of my headless body standing beside Red Hood. Nearby was the slightly singed form of John Constantine, who was standing over the owl-costumed would-be assassin and studying it with clear fascination. The tiny form of the Simurgh hovered in the room as well.
I couldn't really move my head much, so I settled for shooting the tiny creature a series of grateful blinks. It responded with a small nod.
I raised my hand.
Well… my body raised its hand without any real delay.
"Huh… that feels freaky."
"I have so many questions." Red Hood shot my floating head a harsh look. "But first…" He pointed a finger toward the little Simurgh. "What the hell is that?"
There were a lot of ways I could answer that. Most of them would probably make the situation worse.
I decided a carefully curated response was the best option.
"Don't know, but we're cool." My body shrugged at him.
"Right…" He looked like he wanted to ask more, but then his gaze moved between my floating head and my still-standing body. After a moment, he tossed his hands up and walked toward the bar. "I'm not drunk enough to deal with this shit."
With his curiosity temporarily satisfied, I turned my attention toward my own body. It was strange seeing myself from the outside like this, but the strangest part was my neck.
Instead of bone and blood, it just sort of… ended.
A grainy void covered the place where my neck should've connected to the cut. No matter how hard I tried to peer through it, there was nothing there.
Hmm. That's not terrifying at all.
Hallelujah for Volition!
Perhaps sensing that my morbid curiosity had run its course, the Simurgh gently lowered my head back toward my body. There was no strange sensation or dramatic flash of light. My head simply descended, and a moment later I was whole again.
My hand rose to rub my neck, but there wasn't even a mark where the cut should've been.
That was gonna take some time to process.
But business came first.
Someone had tried to ruin my party!
They had also attempted to kill me, of course, but the party-killing part was even more unacceptable. The sheer lack of decorum involved was staggering.
Did they have any idea how many hours I put into this?
With that thought firmly in mind, I strode over toward John, the Simurgh drifting along behind me.
John finally looked up from the body. "Well, I'd ask how you're doing, boyo, but you look right as rain."
"I'm good at keeping my head," I said. "You seemed pretty interested in my would-be assassin. Mind sharing what you found?"
"Hm. Don't think I should." John gestured vaguely at his singed clothes. "You already had your little fake angel toss me like a bomb at the bastard." He jabbed a thumb at the scorch marks across his coat. "Hell, if I hadn't burned one of my little tools, good old Johnny boy might've kicked the bucket. So I'm thinking I deserve a little—"
"One year."
John blinked, clearly thrown for a moment.
"A year of…?"
"For one year, whatever brew, hooch, or spirits you want, I'll make it and give it to you if you help me out," I said.
Have you ever seen a man's face twist into pure hunger?
"Deal. No taksie backsies, brat!" John was positively giddy.
I rolled my eyes at the bastard's blatant alcoholism. I probably could've bartered better, but I wanted this problem killed in the crib.
Someone coming after me was honestly par for the course. I'd dealt with grudge attacks and ambushes even back when I was a no-name mook. Frankly, I was surprised it had taken this long for a real assassin to show up.
But tonight of all nights, I wasn't having it.
"Well, what you've got here, mate, is a good old classic undead," John said.
"Like a zombie?" I frowned. This would be the absolute worst time to have a freaking zombie outbreak.
"I'd recognize it if it were just that." John crouched a little closer to the body. "No, this is something different. Some method of undead I've never seen before." He continued inspecting the corpse. "Usually, you need a catalyst to animate the dead. A bit of magic or a resentful soul to power the body are the usual options. This little tyke, though, doesn't have traces of either."
He kicked the still-downed assassin for emphasis.
"While that's all fascinating, how does that help me?"
"Simple." John grinned as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small purple crystal. He muttered a few quiet words, and then the collapsed assassin jerked upright. "The soul is completely exposed."
The assassin stumbled for a moment before settling into an unnatural stillness. John chuckled as he waved his hand, casually puppeteering the body. "Idiots animated the body, but an undead without any magical bindings is free real estate for any good practitioner."
"So you can deal with these guys easily?" I asked. The last thing I wanted was undead assassin fights breaking out in the middle of a celebration.
"Yep." John waved dismissively. "You can trust good old John. I'll have these fuckers rounded up in a jiffy."
A chill ran down my spine.
Wait… am I trusting John Constantine?
Oh hell no.
"And you'll have a good helping hand. Lil' Simmy here would love to help you out." I gestured toward the hovering Simurgh.
She seemed to get the message immediately and floated over toward John.
"Eh…" John's face twisted into visible discomfort. "I mean, I've got this. You could just—"
"She would love to help you out," I repeated, putting extra emphasis on the words.
The Simurgh drifted even closer.
John looked increasingly distressed.
The man grumbled under his breath but eventually relented, leaving the room with his newly animated assassin in tow. I gave the Simurgh a nod, trusting her to keep the bastard in check.
A soft song answered me before she floated after him.
"Is that going to be okay?" Red Hood asked from the corner, sipping his drink while watching the entire exchange.
I have absolutely no fucking idea.
But…
"Totally."
He snorted, clearly not believing me.
"I probably should've asked earlier, but you wouldn't happen to recognize who that was, do you?" I asked.
Red Hood shook his head. "They're not League of Assassins, and they're not any major mercenary I've heard of."
Well, it was worth asking at least. I'd probably have to put out an alert to my people regardless, even if I trusted the Simurgh and my luck.
"I'm going to take a walk for a bit. You good here?" I asked.
"Yeah." Red Hood glanced down at his phone for a moment before suddenly straightening with a chuckle. "Once you're done with that, I've got someone I want you to meet."
—
Bruce had a lot of reasons he shouldn't be here.
The Goon Union's nebulous criminal status was one of them. His own reputation was another. He had spent years carefully shifting public perception away from the reckless party boy image and toward something closer to an eccentric CEO than the reckless party boy he once was. Attending a massive festival organized by a rising criminal organization was not exactly helpful to that effort.
There was also the simple fact that an event like this was practically begging to become a target for half the criminals in Gotham.
Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—his entire family had volunteered to pick up the slack for the night. They had even gone so far as to recruit a few additional hands to help patrol the city. His fellow Leaguers who were currently in Gotham were out and about as well, though that had required little encouragement. Tim and Cassandra had gone the extra mile by bringing in Superboy, Wondergirl, and Beast Boy to help keep watch over the city.
All so Bruce could attend Jason's invitation to the festival with a calm mind.
It might have been a heartwarming gesture if not for one very obvious problem.
His entire family was doing it to troll him.
Bruce kept his face carefully blank as he passed a line of men and women waiting to take photos with a cardboard cutout. Normally, it would have been some celebrity or cartoon character.
Instead, it was Batman and the Joker.
Except that the Batman figure had been turned into a caricature of his face after his little misthrow.
Bruce exhaled slowly.
Still… seeing the Joker's reputation get dragged through the mud was, admittedly, a balm to his soul. Bruce could only hope the catastrophic hit to the clown's image would discourage some of the more impressionable fools from following him.
Even so, did they really have to drag him into it as well?
He had not reacted that badly, goddamn it!
The various themed decorations and merchandise scattered throughout the street were pushing Bruce's relaxed CEO persona to its absolute limits.
"Fear the Bat when the shadows fall!" a jingle rang out from the first floor.
Bruce glanced down and immediately felt a muscle in his eye twitch.
Someone wearing an inflatable Batman costume was standing on a small stage and singing into a microphone.
"Laugh too loud, and you'll lose your balls!"
The inflatable Batman mimed throwing something.
The crowd around him erupted in laughter. A few people even doubled over while others jokingly covered their groins and groaned in exaggerated terror.
Bruce felt a creeping sense of dread.
Oh God…
Was this going to become his signature now?
"Beware the Night! Or I shall give your balls a fright!" the performer continued, the line trailing off as the crowd howled again.
Bruce quietly pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Fuck…"
***
Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.
I have advanced chapters on my Pa tre on/daisyberry if you wanna read ahead.