Paralyzer [Gotham]

14

I was cleaning up the area of the house Penguin let me operate in. Unfortunately, this was also the area he sent people to be tortured, either when I wasn't around or abdicating me from the room altogether. I spent time in my car when the latter took place, I wouldn't take part in that and I couldn't stand listening to wails of agony coming from the torturee; didn't help that they echoed through every section of the house, even if faintly.

Whoever had used the room last night left a literal bloody mess of it. I had to sort out the books by which where covered in blood splatter and which weren't. Then it was just a matter of drying them out, maybe an attempt to blot out the blood later. I looked up from seperating pages and found Gilzean poking his head in, taking in the mess before me with a sympathetic smile. "Boss needs you."

Taking a deep breath, I threw on a clean set of gloves and grabbed my duffle bag. Penguin had a lot more...delivery tasks, I guess you could call them, than Falcone did, I found it was easier to keep a bag full of the basics on hand for random moments such as these. We didn't say anything to each other as he led me through the house and I soon found why, no words would've prepared me.

There was a man laid out on the floor, twitching and gasping, blood trailing profusely down all sides of his head, originating from a large wound I could only asume came from the fire poker discarded some feet away. "Well?" Cobblepot's voice sounded, tearing my attention from the fish-like man just a moment before turning back and trying to get an assesment.

"I-I don't have the equipment to do--" Penguin sighed and reached into the belt of the guard standing nearest, pulling out a gun and shooting the man at my feet. I nearly jumped out of my skin, hardly breathing as he handed the gun back over.

"Best to put him out of his misery, then." I wasn't an idiot - I knew exactly the people I worked for, I just had never seen it with my own eyes. Now that I have, it had me rethinking a lot. This is the kind of business that got Andrew shot in the first place, but without it I wouldn't be able to support his body until he woke up. All things considered, I was seriously reconsidering my options; though, it wasn't like I had many. "You're free to go, Lucian."

I barely heard my name, hardly processing what he'd told me before Gilzean put a hand on my arm to lead me back. "Sorry you had to see that." I shook my head, still held in shock's firm grasp.

"I've seen a lot of death, just not up close..." I shook my head again as I squeezed my eyes shut. "I'm gunna, um, take the night off. Call if there's something I can help with." I gave him a weak smile and walked myself out of the house, pulling off my gloves as I neared my car. I couldn't help but notice that the hands I prided myself on being ever-so-still, were shaking and nothing I did or told myself stopped it.

[]

I sat beside Andrew's bed with my cat wrapped tightly in my arms, running my fingers down it's arm over and over in an attempt to soothe myself. I'd been working for the mob for a year, I don't know why seeing what was really going on upset me so much, but there was nothing I could do about it. My heart leapt into my throat at the sound of the front door unlocking, turning my head and watching through my hair as the intruder let themself in.

Despite myself, I relaxed a bit when Zsasz walked through, dark eyes scanning over the house until they landed on the open door. Taking a breath, I turned back to Andrew, irritation pulling on my nerves. "I don't recall giving you a key."

"No door is locked to me," he tempted, but I didn't turn towards him again. His voice had sounded in the livingroom and I didn't hear him move at all, the suddenness of his hand on the side of my head causing my breath to hitch. All the same, the feeling of his thumb running over my hair was comforting, as strange as it was. "You okay?"

"Does the boogeyman actually have a sense of empathy?" I scoffed, opening my eyes and shifting my hold on the cat.

"Everyone's first kill is difficult, even if you don't pull the trigger." I turned to face him, finding a conflicted frown on his lips. "Goody two shoes like you clearly don't take it all that well." I rolled my eyes and turned away from him again, unable to refuse his touch on the side on my head.

"Who even told you?" I breathed, not recalling him being around the house since last week.

"I have eyes everywhere and ears anyplace else," he shrugged, his hand giving way a bit when I leaned my head into it. "Seemed like you could use someone to talk to." Unable to help myself, I scoffed, having trouble believing this was the same man who made my skin crawl on several occasions.

"Did someone hit you in the head really hard?" I asked in disbelief, flicking my eyes up to him. "Does Victor have a twin he didn't tell me about?"

"Alright, enough," he sighed, taking his hand back and sitting on Andrew's bed. "Stiff kinda looks like you."

"I'd sure hope so, considering that's my twin," I chuckled, not really sure how I felt about him being so close to Andrew. I couldn't tell if he just didn't have eyebrows or he was just really, really blonde, but if he did, they climbed his forehead quickly, taking a moment to look between us.

"So that's why you do all this," he realized in wonder, leaning back as he turned to inspect me a moment.

"He would do the same for me," I shrugged. "All I can do is wait for him to wake up."

"Boring," he drawled, adding in a yawn. If you put aside the fact that he was a serial killing hitman, the one thing he was good at was using his dramatacism to lighten moods. It could be menacing at times, like when he had no purpose for humor, but I could tell he had a lighter point to it this time.

"C'mon, enough disrespecting the comatose," I breathed as I stood, noticing how he eyed the way I clutched the cat. "C'mon," I encouraged when he still sat there. "I won't ask again." He rolled his eyes before heaving himself up to stand, slowly walking into the livingroom and watching over his shoulder as I shut and locked the door behind us.

I could feel him building up a sarcastic comment when there was a heavy thud on the door, slowly drawing me over to check the peephole. I could barely make out Gilzean leaned up against the door, opening it and jumping when it gave quickly under his weight. My eyes widened as I took in the blood soaked rag he held to his wrist, a stump where his hand used to be. "I know you said to call," he breathed heavily, rightening his posture when he saw Zsasz and tilting his head to adjust to his collar.

"Yeah, I'd find it a little hard, too," I mumbled, taking his elbow and leading him to the diningroom. "What happened?"

"Nothing to worry about, doc," he hissed, sitting down and resting his arm on the table.

"Oh, yeah, no," I exclaimed as I grabbed supplies from the hall closet. "Let's give it a double high five and call it good." Zsasz snorted and I caught the miniscule glare Gilzean sent his way.

"Don't do anything too special, okay? Just...stop the bleeding." I frowned but nodded, quickly getting to work. I knew better than to ask questions, especially after the terrible way he already deflected the only question I really had. Butch had already suffered greatly just to keep his head, now he's lost his hand, and for what? But in reality, did I really want to know, especially after what I saw today?