kingdomsofrain | picture prompt meme

Edited 2018-03-15 22:56 (UTC)

"Hi." A very informal greeting, but by no means unusual from Victor. He wasn't really the type to give long speeches or make a big announcement about how he'd caught him off-guard or something about how he shouldn't try to run. For one thing, the very visible guns he was wearing tended to do a lot of the talking for him. For another, he didn't really feel like threatening this man anyway. Seemed pointless.

But he did want to know where this was going.

"We could actually go inside." As dramatic as standing on a dark street was, this was Gotham. It was raining, he didn't like getting wet. So he pointed at a bar down the street with his thumb. "They make good drinks."

What he should have known: if you're an assassin, there's no way of entering Gotham without attracting Victor Zsasz's attention. Especially not if you're already known to the man. Daud had assumed dimly that Zsasz would show at some point. What he hadn't counted on was that it'd happen so soon.

He'd been in the city, what, two hours, three? Half walking the streets, half scoping out loftier vantage points. Just getting a sense of some sliver of Gotham (noting potentially useful routes for escape, for general travel, for remaining more or less unnoticed) before seeking out a place to stay the night. He shouldn't have used the streets at all. Should've stayed high and away from where he could be found. Because now he was caught in a situation that spelled no good.

There was no getting around it; that much was clear. Or, well. He could've slowed time, blinked away, disappeared before Zsasz could fire any of those guns (probably, though the man was preternaturally quick with weaponry, or he was last Daud knew). Even that would only be delaying the inevitable, and it'd give Zsasz all the more reason to distrust him. Which seemed like a terrible idea. Daud had come to Gotham to fade into the woodwork, not to instigate rifts or get himself killed.

"Zsasz.

"Why not."

"Aw. Don't I feel special." There was a smile on his face that told just about anyone exactly nothing, which was true of most every expression that ever crossed his face. Calling him a hard man to read was an understatement, given that there were some that claimed that there simply was nothing to read.

Victor turned to walk toward the bar he'd pointed out before, not looking back to see whether Daud was following and not hesitating with turning his back on him. Confidence. Hard to tell whether he'd risen to the top because of it or whether he had it because of being on top. He walked in and simply headed right to a free table, taking a seat and waiting for Daud to join him.

"You're not looking to work." It was more of a statement than a question. "So why come here?" There was the question.

It'd been a while since Daud had seen that kind of confidence. There'd been plenty of toughs and hardasses in Dunwall, plenty who strutted and squawked their own praise, who thought they could take down an empire if they wanted. But all of them had retained three or four shreds of caution, the kind that kept them from turning their back on others, the kind that had them watching warily when winds began to shift.

Daud had held something of that confidence - the proud confidence, the unflinching the I-can-turn-my-back-on-you confidence - himself, once. Now it was... not gone, but off-kilter. More prone to fluctuation. And when he followed Zsasz toward the bar, he threw a glance of two over his shoulders, just for caution's sake.

He stood looking down at Zsasz for a minute before sitting, allowing his rigidity a slight relaxation, leaning back against the booth and folding his arms.

"You sound sure about that." It was a casual remark, tossed off as if it didn't mean much. Of course Zsasz would know, though the Void knew how he could say. He'd heard somewhere, or he read it in Daud's actions. Taken a wild guess or simply sensed it on the wind. However he'd discerned it, the man was right.

"I've got no way of disappearing in Dunwall. They know my face, my name. Here, I'm nothing. And the best place for a criminal to get lost is a city of crime." It was more than he'd typically have said, but knowing Zsasz, it was best not to withhold information or play it coy. Daud would rather have come to Gotham, established a home for himself, and dealt with this sort of business far down the line. But there was no use fighting against what was happening, and maybe it wouldn't end too poorly.

"True. Besides, in Gotham no one cares. I don't even get traffic tickets." And that sure as hell wasn't due to his careful driving or amazing parking skills. He didn't give enough of a fuck for either and his city had never punished him for it. Understandable, who'd want to be the traffic cop that gave Victor Zsasz a ticket.

"You do what you want. But you're a good egg. If you want to make money without getting tangled, let me know." It was either him or the Lady, but he wasn't about to advertise for her. Besides, personally he'd have rather worked for himself, all bias aside, and Daud was a good man. Seemed a waste not to make use of his talents.

"I work for the Penguin right now. Mostly. You heard of him?" Still a new player, by Gotham standard. Nothing like how established the Falcone family had been, in their way as rooted in the city as the Waynes. Don Falcone had left the city and although Victor still considered himself loyal to the Don above anything else, he knew that times had changed. He could adjust, he had the Don's blessing. "He lets me do my thing. I can delegate. No one but me has to know who you are."

"I've heard the name; not much more. What news of Gotham we got in Dunwall was always suspect." Had either sounded too good or too bloody to be true, and it was always clear the messengers were playing sides and championing sensationalism. "I'm under the impression he's tenacious, anyway. Good to know he doesn't keep you on a tight rope." It was hard to envision Zsasz being kept on a tight rope, or any kind of rope. And it did sound like an ideal position; connected to someone with power, easy access to what must be a plenitude of jobs, but not kept at some bastard's beck and call.

And Daud could, if he was understanding correctly, become a part of that. It was tempting, and flattering to have someone offer work so quickly. It would've been so easy to say yes and slip back into his old role (he could, and he could reshape his methods to fit this city, more corrupt through and through than Dunwall, filled with even more opportunities to enact his will and carve out a place for himself). Easier still because Zsasz - confidant as ever - made it seem to simple, so natural. All Daud had to do was say yes, and that would be that.

But he'd told himself it was ended. But he'd seen too much to go back. (It was a nice thought. It wasn't entirely true, but it was a nice thought, and for the moment he stuck by it.)

"It's a tempting offer, but I'm trying not to repeat my old mistakes." Mistakes like helping Dunwall plummet closer to its end. Like killing the one woman who'd kept everything in check, who'd kept the disease from devastating the entire city. With her gone, probably the only decent mayor the city's had in years, everything'd gone to hell, and there was no telling if Dunwall could ever recover. Daud had never seen his work as anything that touched the people beyond his targets. The way he'd seen it, he'd changed the world in small ways. Made his mark one person at a time. Jessamine changed that. Jessamine's death showed the broader consequences of his action, show how corrupt those consequences were, and now Daud couldn't stop thinking in that way.

He wasn't going to say all of that, of course.

"Sounds like you're doing pretty well for yourself."

"Always am." It wasn't a boast, Victor Zsasz wasn't one to boast. It was just true. Thanks to Don Falcone he had enjoyed the position of number one enforcer to the head of Gotham basically ever since he started this job and even now, his reputation ensured him a similar status. Almost symbolic to who wielded power in Gotham, being able to employ him. Oswald Cobblepot didn't have his loyalty the same way Don Falcone had it, but he liked working for him. He was fun. Maybe that was part of why the man's position wasn't questioned much. Victor wouldn't be surprised and he didn't have to sit back and analyse it. He just kept to the rules of Gotham and he managed to keep up with the changes that were befalling his city. Same old. As he said, he always was.

"Suit yourself. Maybe you'll manage to stay out of things." He lifted a shoulder in a shrug, clearly expressing his doubts there without a word. It was Gotham. The city had a way of sucking people in. He couldn't imagine it would be any different for Daud, largely because he couldn't imagine it would be any different for anyone. "Dunno if Gotham is going to stay out of you."

It had a way of getting to everyone. "Police captain just got killed. On camera. And in this city? Now everyone's laughing like the kid who shot her." What a unique plays. "Whole town is more fascinated by chaos than scared of it. They're breaking the rules."

The mob continued losing its grip. He wondered sometimes if Oswald knew. "You staying in the Narrows? Have a look at the graffiti everywhere. 'Haha' is the tagline, I think."

"I'll take my chances." Daud wasn't worried, not explicitly. In the back of his mind, though, his doubts about this city grew a little stronger. He'd known there was a risk in choosing a place that held so dearly to its crime, but he'd been focused on the benefits of blending in with such a city.

What Zsasz had said about Gotham not staying out of him.... It was troublesome. Daud knew the way a city, the worst parts of a city could creep into a person. Change the rules of necessity and the bounds of what was permissible. Change the ways importance appeared, lives appeared, changed the ways that you could shape yourself. Make yourself out of devastation, and while it wasn't all so dramatic as that - even now he couldn't believe killing was always the wrong route, or that he'd been utterly mistaken in his endeavors - it wasn't as distant or unimpactful as he'd thought. Or maybe it was more apt to say it impacted in ways he hadn't imagined.

So a city could change you, and Daud was beginning to wonder whether he'd really taken a proper measure of Gotham. There hadn't been time or opportunity to be truly thorough in his research, and now that he'd arrived, he could already feel the pull of the city. Then there were Zsasz's words to consider: 'whole town is more fascinated by chaos than scared of it.' Zsasz wasn't one to speak lightly or exaggerate (Daud wasn't sure whether the man just didn't know how, or whether he found embellishment a waste of time; both, maybe, and Daud could appreciate that). If things were so deeply misaligned here, would it be wiser to leave? Now, before the night came on, before the city could catch hold of him, before he could come up with half a hundred reasons to stay.

He'd think about it. Hear Zsasz out and then make a decision after. Another half hour couldn't hurt, right? And it could be he was panicking too quickly; just an overblown sense of suspicion since leaving Dunwall (which wasn't true, which he sincerely doubted, which he didn't want to think about).

What was he doing here, anyway? Rather, what was he going to do? He'd come to disappear, but of course disappearance wasn't as simple as ceasing to move in the world. Disappearing didn't mean you stopped living. What did he want from any place, from himself?

He turned himself back to the conversation. "That's one hell of a city you've got.

"Killing the captain of police on camera... That takes a certain kind of disregard. Or theatricality, I'm not sure which.

"Never really been my interest." Daud had always been more for shadows, never hiding his face but keeping his tracks clear, appearing out of nowhere and ending the target in a moment. Quick and graceful, in and away.

And maybe, maybe that was what would save him from this city. Maybe he was too quiet for a place that flocked to the dramatic. Maybe there was nothing here to tempt him, and no need to move away, after all.

"Maybe you'll get a taste for it. Seems like even two time crooks are picking themselves a gimmick these days." It was a lot of things. Insane, sure. Confusing, maybe. Interesting? Definitely. And so Victor didn't mind. He liked entertainment as much as anyone. Being that edge between life and death was enough to let him feel alive, as someone mostly untouched by emotion otherwise, but having this kind of crazy becomes commonplace in the city? Definitely kept the boredom at bay.

"For blending in... If your actually hold back, might not be that hard. A lot of things happening that draw attention. Almost had a bus full of cheerleaders set on fire the other day." There was certainly stuff that could serve as a distraction. They could hide just about anything in this city right now. Victor had a feeling that that was exactly what they were doing.

"But don't you start working for anyone else." Victor put a hand on his chest. "You'd hurt my feelings."

All three of them.

The last remark earned the bare edge of a smirk. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

He drew out his cigarettes, lit one, tilted the pack toward Zsasz; he couldn’t recall whether the man smoked, but the offer was open. The simple action helped clear his head a little, and he took a drag.

“If the urge to dive back in overwhelms me, you'll be the first to know.

“My guess is you’re the only one in the city worth working for, anyway.”

It was an honest observation; Daud didn’t bother with flattery unless he had to. It was clear Zsasz had connections to the more interesting jobs. And working for Zsasz would mean better odds of not pissing off the wrong people. Would mean tackling assignments on his own and not being stuck dealing with strangers. And Daud didn’t doubt that the pay would be good.

Then, too, he wasn’t foolish enough to pit himself against the whole of Zsasz’s operation. If the man was deadly alone, he’d be nearly unstoppable with a well-funded network at his back.

This would have been a good moment to end the conversation. Assurances had been given, Zsasz probably had the basics that he needed, Daud didn’t feel like the man was going to send anyone after him. Quick and to the point, and he could be on his way right now.

Only he was already here. Zsasz’s company wasn’t unpleasant. The information he was gathering would be useful in determining how to navigate the city. And maybe, maybe there was a little more to be gleaned. More that might tell him whether to leave this city before nightfall. Besides, with his head cleared, he felt less prone to making bad decisions. He could do this: have a conversation, leave without bending from his purpose. It wouldn’t be so hard.

“How’d you end up working for this Penguin? Or is that none of my business.”

"Huh." It was the kind of sound that could mean much of anything, but at least it was enough acknowledgement to make clear that Victor had been listening, something that was far from being a given. He remained silent for a while, looking off to the side as his eyes narrowed a bit, as if it simply took some time to think back on events that had already played out and everything that had been set into motion.

"It's none of your business. But it's no secret either." Given the way this city had developed, it really wasn't an easy journey from A to B, even for someone as straight-forward as Victor Zsasz. "Old Don, Don Falcone, he had a lot of people gunning to take him down. But this little guy, he outplayed them all. Don Falcone got out of town, he's retired down South. And the little guy has taken over. Penguin. Oswald Cobblepot. King of Gotham."

Victor moved his hand in a shrug-like gesture, pausing again for a moment before continuing. "He's not a Falcone." The loyalty that he felt for Don Falcone went deep, but Don Falcone was gone. "I like him. He's fun. Plays by the rules and still changes things up."

“Good for the Don, getting out.” Was that something like loyalty he was getting off of Zsasz? Huh.

He could say something in return, even if it wasn’t much. From Daud, any offer of unprompted personal information was a rarity consciously given.

“It’s been a long time since I worked for anyone outside a contract.” Since before the Mark, and even then he’d never stayed with one employer long. “I can’t imagine really working under any of my clients. Bunch of frothing rich bastards.”

His clients. Unaware of what they asked or what he could do. Knowing only that they wanted their way and had the money to get it. And what were they going to do without him? Higher lesser men, sloppier assassins who may or may not get the job done. Hell. Maybe some of his Whalers would start taking hits of their own. There was an uneasy feeling behind that thought, something torn between revulsion and pride. Just look at what he’d done. Just look at all of it.

Shit. He couldn’t think about that. Daud took another draw on the cigarette, turned his eyes back to Zsasz.

“I appreciate the information. Gives a newcomer a little more to build from.”

Edited 2018-04-19 05:36 (UTC)

"Contract work has its upsides. Plenty of opportunity for that in the city. The Lady is the one to ask for with that, at least if you don't want any hassle with clients." Not Victor's way of working, but he had plenty of colleagues who preferred working that way. Some of them he even worked with on occasion too. "It's about reputation. Gotham has belonged to the Falcones as long as most can remember. I have too. Whoever wants to be in charge of Gotham wants me."

Victor smiled briefly, at least the shadow of it, lifting his shoulder in what could pass as a shrug. "Pays the bills."

And then some. "Just remember not to do any work for free. We're professionals around here."

“I don’t plan on doing any work, at all.” Not of that kind, anyway. And he’d saved up enough money in Dunwall that employment wasn’t really required. (Which left him to what, exactly? There was that question again, the nagging doubt about what he intended to do here, how he intended to fill his days. It’s nothing he needed to figure out now. Nothing he even needed to think about.) “But I’ll keep that in mind."

He shook his head, offering the fleeting suggestion of a smirk. “I'm guessing you don't have much trouble paying those bills. Feels good to be popular, doesn’t it?” It was half a joke, half an honest reflection. He didn’t want that kind of notoriety anymore, but he expected part of him would miss it for a long time to come.

His eyes flicked around the establishment before returning to Zsasz. “You interested in a drink while we’re here?” He felt like he could use one. Hell, maybe after this he’d buy a bottle of his own from the nearest liquor store, take it to wherever he could find to spend the night. (Assuming he decided to sleep at all; assuming he didn’t spend the entire span of darkness prowling the city.)

"Sure. I'll pay. You're new in town and don't want work. I feel like I have to treat you." Which actually did lead to another interesting venue of conversation. "How are you paying the bills?" He inclined his head a little, then slowly nodded. "That's that "what if" question."

Victor raised a hand just a little, but it was enough to get the waiter's attention. "The usual." Whatever that was supposed to mean. He moved his fingers to Daud, indicating quite eloquently that he should order whatever he wanted. It wasn't until the waiter had walked off to get their orders that Victor continued where he'd left off.

"What would you do if you didn't do--" Instead of finishing the sentence, Victor moved his hand to simulate a gun, miming taking a shot. Clear enough, he was sure. "Never had a good answer for that question myself. But you? You gotta have one."

’And don’t want work.’ There was a minor flare of indignation at that, a prickling of pride along his spine. It wasn’t worth arguing over, and in any case his attention was swiftly redirected by Zsasz’s questions. Daud settled for asserting, “I’ll owe you a drink.”

Then there was the other question, and that was the question, the deeper cutting question, and Daud tried not to let his discomfort show through.

It wasn’t as if he needed an answer. There would be plenty of time (years and years in cycle) to figure it out. Maybe all he wanted right now was quiet. Space to ease his mind and try to remember what it mean to live outside the assassin’s life. He’d earned that, hadn’t it? He needed it.

(This was all assuming he was capable of anything else. Assuming he hadn’t forgotten how to exist in the absence of pursuit and blood. What was he apart from his work? That. That was the other half of the question, and one he was especially eager to ignore.)

He turned his attention to his cigarette for a moment, letting himself take a drag, playing at nonchalance. “I’ve got time to figure it out.

“As far as bills go, work was profitable in Dunwall. I have a tidy sum saved up. Not that I want that getting around.” Not that he expected the information would leave this table, either.

He’d divided the money among banks and less reputable sources, had some stowed back in Dunwall if anything drastic happened. And if need be, he was well-versed in the art of theft. There was no reason to expect money would be a problem.

Still. He could’ve used that scotch right about now.

"Uh-huh." No, Victor had no plans of tattling about that - or really anything they might discuss - to anyone. Besides, he'd have been surprised if Daud hadn't had good savings in place. Anyone sensible in the business knew to do that, Victor certainly wasn't an exception either. One never knew what might make business scarce for a while or when a holiday might be opportune, especially in a place like this city these days, where things might head South any day.

Although, so far at least, the Penguin was doing better than anyone had predicted. Victor was happy enough with that. He liked him. "I'd get bored."

He said that sentence just before he got a glass set in front of him, clear liquid and some ice cubes. He waited for Daud's order to be put down before raising his glass in a cheer and then taking a sip. Just water, he might still have some work to do today. "Before I started working for Don Falcone, I was bored. Almost killed myself out of boredom."

More or less, anyway. "I gambled a lot. Tried to find a thrill. You don't get bored?"

He flicked his eyes toward Zsasz's glass, decided it was suspicious, decided it didn't matter, and raised his own glass. When he took a sip, he felt a minor relief at the burn; he'd needed this. And that bottle was going to happen after. It wasn't often that Daud drank more than one or two glasses at a time, rare that he let himself dive into drunkenness, but this night could be an exception. Call it a long-needed release. Call it a celebration of his new life (that was a laugh - as if any life can ever be new - but he brushed the thought aside).

"I've never been able to gamble. It doesn't interest me." He had a hard time envisioning Zsasz gambling, but then it was hard to picture Zsasz in any setting beyond his work.

(And himself? What else could he be visioned as? Where and what was he save for an assassin, and what could he possibly build out of life? ...He didn't want to think about it. Better to address the question without dwelling.)

Daud offered a too-casual shrug. "And I haven't had time to be bored. Guess I'll have to wait and see if it comes for me."

He would've liked to claim it wouldn't happen. Would've liked to have said he'd never been one for thrills, but it would've been a lie. It'd been part of the attraction to his work, hadn't it? The rush of pursuit and taking another's life in-hand, of choosing to end it and knowing there was nobody to stop you. The electric calculation of every movement in action, adjusting for each new factor and still remaining fixed on the target. The months of building up to the act, the gathering of research and the construction of an airtight plan that might need to be completely rewritten in the moment. All of that had brought excitement.

And all of that was what he'd given over.

It had been the right call. It had. He'd just... It'd take some getting used to.

Edited 2018-04-30 18:56 (UTC)

picture prompt meme

for reineke and gothamventures

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