[Feat Achieved! High Level Ragebait]
[+1 Bronze Ticket]
Heh. Guess Shiva found my little gift.
[Rolling Bronze Gacha Ticket]
[Music Player]
|Common Item|
Not just an ordinary music player, this player is indestructible and has excellent sound quality, with built-in speakers and headphones. It is capable of playing any song the holder has heard of before and records it inside its archive.
Oh hell yeah. Gotta take that out for a spin later…
"I can't believe I'm even thinking about agreeing to this…" Cobblepot groaned as he rubbed at his eyes. "Run me through your… grand plan again."
"We set up a big meeting between the mob and the Union." I leaned back in one of his office lounge chairs, already imagining the scene. "All fancy and official. One of those expensive restaurants with too many forks and not enough food. We throw down the gauntlet publicly enough that they have to reply."
"Uh huh." Cobblepot pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Then, once we've got them at the table, we offer them the chance to surrender so we look magnanimous." I shook my head. "But you and I both know the Dons will never bow."
"You're not wrong." He grabbed a cigar, lit it, and took a slow drag. "Still, while I'm fine with that part, give me a refresher on your… last step?"
"I challenge the mob bosses to a dance battle and embarrass them so badly that I destroy the mob."
Cobblepot stared at me.
For all their self-importance, I could probably decapitate the mob in a week simply by sending Simmy after them to assassinate their leadership. Hell, I could take a walk over there myself and handle it the direct way if I really wanted to.
But that wouldn't be enough.
For the Union to thrive, I needed to destroy them overwhelmingly and publicly. Everyone had to see the old guard fall apart, not in a blaze of glory, but under a spotlight with their dignity set on fire.
"Right…" Cobblepot took a deep breath through his cigar, a forlorn look settling over his face. "I'm not even going to ask how that's supposed to work. But it will work, right?"
I scratched my head.
"Probably."
His forehead hit the desk with a dull thud as he muttered something under his breath.
"Why did I ever agree to work with a lunatic like you…"
I shot him a silly grin. "Money."
"Right…" The villain massaged his temples. "So what do you need me to do?"
"Set up the venue, if you could. I thought about using the Iceberg Lounge again, but…"
"Those old codgers would never risk coming to my club." Cobblepot snorted. "Unlike somebody, not everybody has giant monsters at their beck and call."
"Yep. So I was thinking some fancy place in Little Italy. Their ground. Makes them feel comfortable."
"Hmmm…" He picked up a pen and started making notes. "I could spin something. Anything else?"
"Start the rumor mill about the talks. Get the public whispering so there's pressure on everyone involved. I'll leave the invite details up to you as well. You're probably a better hand at that than me."
"So you want me to do everything," Cobblepot said dryly, "while you do nothing."
"Yep!" I admitted without an inch of shame. "Delegation is the key to good business."
"Just… get out. I'm going to pop a vein at this rate."
"Keep up the good work!" I shot him a thumbs-up as I walked out of his office.
He only glared at me as he took out his phone.
I smiled as the first step toward paying back the mob began.
Out with the old and in with the new.
I pulled out the music player and simply thought of a random song. A few seconds later, cool jazz filled my ears, and I hummed along under my breath as I left the Iceberg Lounge and took a walk into town.
—
Crook's Bar looked just like it always did.
Rotting wood, crappy neon signs, and cheap beer cans littered the place from wall to wall.
Despite all that, I couldn't help but smile as I entered the crummy bar.
It felt like a lifetime since I'd been here. So much had changed in just a few weeks that the memory of walking through these doors the first time almost felt like it belonged to someone else.
Unlike last time, the bar was in full swing.
Roaring chatter filled the room as dozens of low-level thugs and goons mingled over cheap drinks. The only real difference was the multicolored potions decorating the bar top and resting in people's hands.
It didn't stop there, though.
Crook's Bar had always been a place for the lowlives of Gotham, but there'd always been this little hint of despair and dread that rested over the place. Gotham would always be Gotham, and if you were in the business, that was an attitude you picked up real quick.
So I couldn't help but smile as I felt the sheer raucous joy in the room.
Maybe even a little bit of hope.
I didn't want people fawning over me, so I wore a simple ski mask as I strode toward the bar to get a drink. Thankfully, a move that would've gotten me looked at like I was insane in any other state barely earned me a side-eye here.
It was named the Crook's Bar for a reason.
I ordered a simple beer and settled in, content to relax the night away. Simmy had left to do angel things, which meant I was on my lonesome for once, and honestly, I didn't mind it.
There was something nice about sitting at the bar, sipping cheap beer, and watching the room.
A couple of guys were arguing over whether stamina potions counted as cheating in a fistfight. One woman in a leather jacket was carefully pouring a healing potion into a shot glass like she was making a cocktail. Three goons near the corner were laughing so hard that one of them nearly fell off his chair.
It was stupid.
It was loud.
It was fun.
Although, really, I should've guessed what would happen at this point.
"You ready for the job, Zac?"
A man slipped into the seat next to me with the classic nonchalant look of a criminal getting ready to commit a crime.
He didn't look at me directly at first, just leaned one elbow on the bar.
I eyed him for a moment.
He had obviously mistaken me for some henchman he was supposed to meet. Maybe it was the ski mask.
I took another sip of my beer as I contemplated what to do.
Ehh, fuck it.
I slammed the rest of it back, placed the glass on the bar, and nodded.
The man gave a satisfied little grunt and jerked his head toward the back exit. I followed him through the bar and out into the colder air behind the building.
"So," I asked as the door swung shut behind us, "what should I call you, Mr…?"
As we left Crook's Bar, he pulled on a blue parka and donned a pair of blue shades with a cold confidence.
"You can call me Captain."
***
I'm running a 50% discount on all my tiers for a limited time. Don't miss out!
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.
There will be no Goon Chapter this Saturday, unfortunately gotta drive some family for a colonoscopy.
Just a sidenote but also started posting GGG on Royalroad. If anyone would like to pop over there and give it a rating or a follow, it'd be much appreciated.