Clang... clang... clank...
The Chevy's door was jammed. Marco yanked on it three times before it finally gave way. Inside, Darnell was slumped in the passenger seat, one hand loosely gripping his Glock, barrel pointed at the floor. He wasn't moving.
"Don't tell me your own stupidity finally killed you."
He scrambled into the van and reached for Darnell's neck, checking for a pulse. Just as his fingers touched skin, Darnell suddenly moved, exhaling sharply and letting out a pained groan.
"Mamma Mia!" Marco nearly jumped out of his own skin. "What are you doing?!"
Darnell managed a grin, breathing hard. "I was hiding here... couldn't move. Figured I'd play dead. Maybe get the drop on someone if they got careless."
"Fine. Don't bother explaining." Marco pointed at his ear. "I can't hear you anyway. I used a flashbang earlier."
"So I can say whatever I want and you won't hear me? Hahaha... urgh... AHHH!"
Darnell burst out laughing, then immediately wrenched his broken ribs and started screaming.
"It's ringing, not deafness, you idiot." Marco gave him a flat look. "And by the way, Cobblepot sold us out. He took the witness and bailed halfway through. He left us as bait. This isn't over."
Darnell nodded slowly, processing. "Got it. Wait till I heal up. Oh, I heard sirens earlier. Backup showed?"
"What?"
"I said, backup—" Darnell groaned. "Come closer, man. I can't yell that loud."
"No, only Gordon showed up. Don't know if he came on purpose or just happened to be in the area. Doesn't matter." Marco climbed into the van and tossed his rifle onto the floor. "I left all the bodies and the surviving suspects with him. Why?"
Darnell made a listening gesture, tilting his head. After a moment, he said, "Lots more sirens now. Big convoy."
"Well done. Being late really is a fine Gotham tradition." Marco laughed, though it sounded bitter. "When they get here, first thing you do is request medical. Insist you got hurt in the crash and couldn't fight. You don't know anything about what happened. Got it?"
"What about you?"
"I passed out from the flashbang aftereffects. Before I went down, I was screaming about taking out enemies... Actually, forget that last part. Too complicated for you."
"You're not unconscious."
"I am now."
Before Darnell could say another word, Marco slid down in his seat and slumped against the window, perfectly still.
---
When Marco opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a white ceiling.
He turned his head left, then right. Darnell was in the bed to his right, arm in a sling, chest wrapped in what looked like half a roll of plaster. His partner was practicing deep breathing exercises. When he noticed Marco looking, he grinned.
"They all left. I can't believe you fell asleep."
"What else was I supposed to do?" Marco stretched, wincing as every muscle in his body screamed at him. "At least the shitstorm is over."
"Right now they're probably grilling Gordon for answers." He tried to push himself upright. He hadn't felt it during the fight, adrenaline did that, but now every inch of his body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. "After all, they can't exactly pin everything on two seriously injured officers without looking like assholes in the media."
"How bad are you hurt?" Darnell asked, watching Marco hop down from the bed and start pacing. "You should stay still."
"Lying still will only slow recovery." Marco kept moving, working the stiffness out. "How about you? Just the fractured ribs?"
"Oh, just the fractured ribs?" Darnell gave him an incredulous look. "Is that how you comfort patients? They reset my dislocated shoulder, but my elbow joint has a hairline fracture too."
"Ouch. Joint fractures need careful rehab, or you'll have problems down the line. Better not move too much." Marco glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "How is it seven o'clock and not dark yet?"
"You moron. It's seven in the morning. You slept the whole night."
"What? No wonder I'm starving." Marco rubbed his stomach. "I could kill for some arancini right now."
"How the hell would Gotham General have Sicilian rice balls? The Moretti sisters were gonna bring me something, but the cops outside wouldn't let them in." Darnell shook his head regretfully. "I wouldn't mind some of those breakfast sandwiches you make, though."
"Shit! My car! Did you get insurance when you bought it?"
"Uh..."
The way Darnell stared and stammered told Marco everything he needed to know. His face went pale.
"Goddamn it. I'm ruined."
While Marco was stomping around in despair, the ward door opened. Two men walked in.
The first was a tall, burly middle-aged man, slightly taller than Marco, built like a brick wall. He made the man behind him look especially small and fragile. The smaller man walked with a pronounced limp, the kind that naturally inspired sympathy in people who didn't know better.
The smaller man carried a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a large gift box under his arm. He wore a shy, almost apologetic smile as he waved.
"Good morning. I'm here on behalf of Don Falcone to visit two brave officers. I've brought a fine bottle of wine and wish you both a swift recovery."
The temperature in the room instantly dropped below freezing. Darnell looked from the visitors to Marco, surprised that his partner wasn't showing any anger at all. Confused, he whispered, "Hey, shouldn't we say something?"
"Of course not." Marco shook his head slowly. "Where I come from, we say that speaking to someone who already has la Morte at their shoulder invites the malocchio. It curses you. Better not to acknowledge them at all."
Darnell exhaled. That sounded right. He didn't know much about Italian superstitions, but he knew they ran deep. He immediately looked at the two visitors with exaggerated shock.
"They're dying?"
"Obviously." Marco smiled coldly. "You probably don't know, the men abandoned with us in that ambush were Zsasz's crew."
"Zsasz? Victor Zsasz?!" Darnell suddenly shuddered, jolting his wounds and yelping. "Ow... shit. That guy... in some ways, he's scarier than Deathstroke."
"What? No way." Marco looked unconvinced. "He can't compare to a world-class merc like Deathstroke."
"Of course not in a straight fight. But Deathstroke wouldn't bother coming after small fries like us unless someone paid his fee. My life isn't worth a tenth of his commission." Darnell grimaced. "So... does Zsasz know his men got sold out?"
"I'm guessing he already knows. But not everything. Probably because someone 'voluntarily confessed' part of it." Marco's eyes narrowed. "Some people think they're being clever. Eliminate Mooney, betray their partners, take all the credit in front of Falcone, weaken other subordinates at the same time... sounds like a perfect play, right? Except the Roman isn't stupid. If he settles accounts later, that's a death sentence. So you get ahead of it. You 'come clean' to Falcone first. Play the loyal soldier forced into a bad situation. That way, you look like a hero, and the Roman has to acknowledge you."
He kept talking as if Cobblepot and Gabe weren't even there.
"Thing is, Zsasz probably doesn't give a shit about casualties. His people are expendable. But he hates being played. And we've got a living witness from his crew in custody. So guess who he's gonna blame when that guy gets back and tells his story? How do you think he will handle someone who made him look like a fool?"
"Damn." Darnell looked grave. "You remember when that same someone was working under Maroni? Killed his right-hand man. When they fell out later, Maroni threw a fit demanding justice, and the Roman had to smooth it all over. So... we have to protect Zsasz now, don't we?"
"Exactly. Just like with Mooney. Someone worked their ass off to eliminate her, and now they've put themselves in her exact same position."
"Officers... gentlemen, please, there's no need for this. If you'd just listen to me..." Cobblepot's smile was strained, his hands rubbing together nervously.
"And when we get back to the East End Precinct," Marco continued as if Cobblepot hadn't spoken, "we'll need to adjust our patrol arrangements. Increase presence at all of the Roman's operations. Casinos, brothels, warehouses, docks. And if he's unhappy about it, we tell him that due to someone's betrayal, the East End no longer trusts Falcone. Unless... he shows some sincerity."
That sentence hit Cobblepot. He staggered backward, leaning against the wall. His face went paler than the paint behind him.
"Exactly!" Darnell's spirits shot up, despite the pain. "Falcone won't tolerate a troublemaker who only causes problems. Think he'll have someone taken care of?"
"Nah. Eliminating useful assets isn't Falcone's style." Marco shook his head lightly. "He'll just slowly push them to the margins. Cut their authority, reduce their crew. Once nobody remembers them anymore, once the Roman's protection is gone... plenty of others will come for them."
"Wait, wait, please, I'm begging you, we can talk about this! I can explain! It was all... all desperate circumstances..."
"Oh, and another thing." Marco waved his hand near his ear like he was shooing away a fly. "You're badly injured, Darnell. And someone here is hoping you'll die. They brought you alcohol." He gestured at the gift box. "Alcohol interferes with metabolism, slows bone healing. It can react badly with pain medication, maybe even cause sudden death."
"What?" Darnell froze, staring at Cobblepot. "Fuck. He was trying to kill me? That's it, sour grapes are off the menu! If I could move, I'd shove their heads so far up their asses they'd be tasting yesterday's lunch!"
"That's enough, you bastard!"
Gabe suddenly stepped forward, reaching for Marco's throat. As a bodyguard, he'd stayed silent, it wasn't his place to speak. But if he did nothing while Cobblepot got insulted like this, he'd be unemployed the moment they left. At the very least, he had to make a show of force.
Marco didn't move from where he sat on the edge of the bed. He just glanced up. As the bodyguard's hand passed in front of his chest, Marco's right hand shot out, thumb, index, and middle finger clamping onto the man's index finger. Then he bent it downward.
"AH... AHHH... AHHHHH!"
A series of shrill screams erupted. The bodyguard dropped to one knee, clutching his arm. Marco wasn't using much force, just enough to hold the bone at the edge of snapping. Every time Gabe tried to grit his teeth and attack, or even pull away, he pressed just a little harder. And every press triggered another howl.
"So?" Marco asked calmly. "Want to continue?"
"N-no, ahhh... please... AHHHHH!"
Gabe was sweating bullets, shaking his head frantically. When Marco loosened his grip slightly, he scrambled backward, cradling his finger. Marco reached over and pressed the nurse call button. A moment later, a nurse hurried in.
"Hey, sweetheart." He gave her a tired smile. "Could you ask these unrelated visitors to leave? My partner and I are both injured. We're looking at hefty medical bills, rehabilitation costs. Our car got destroyed... no insurance. Our hearts are already bleeding. We really don't want visitors right now."
"Um... your medical bills will be sent to the GCPD eventually, but..." The nurse looked from Cobblepot and Gabe to Marco, clearly confused. "Gentlemen, this really isn't an appropriate time for a visit. Maybe come back later?"
The nurse didn't understand half of what Marco had just said, but Cobblepot's eyes suddenly lit up. He thrust the flowers at her, picked up the gift box.
"I'll bring a more appropriate gift next time, please, give me a little time. Believe me, we will become friends."
Marco lay back down and closed his eyes. Only when the door finally clicked shut did Darnell grit his teeth and scoot closer to Marco's bed.
"Ow... ow..."
"What?" Marco cracked one eye open. "I told you not to move too much."
"I've been wanting to ask..." Darnell lowered his voice. "How do you know the Roman's unhappy with him?"
"I don't." Marco smiled faintly. "I made it up. It's not like Cobblepot would go ask Falcone and check, right? He'll stew over it in his head. Fill in the blanks himself. And every little thing that happens from now on will make him more paranoid."
"But..." Darnell hesitated. "What if he stops filling in those blanks?"
"Then we'll try again." Marco closed his eyes. "Trying doesn't cost anything."