‹ Prequel: Just Paint Your Face
Sequel: Half Jack ›
Terra Firma
The Files Are Out, The Cards Are Dealt
"So... the files have been finished."
Angel pulled some manila folders from her bag, sliding them carefully to me. They were classified. I read the names at the top.
Napier, Jack.
Queen, May.
Angel stared contemplatively out of one of the large windows of my high priced apartment.
"Why are you showing me these? They're classified."
Angel shrugged, "I'm allowed to do what I want with them. They're mine. And I figured you'd find them interesting. They've got a ...literary... element to them."
I cocked my head at her, opening the files, not surprised to find a sloppily made up clown grinning for the camera and a beautiful, despite her slightly disheveled appearance, looking redhead smirking.
"A literary element?"
"Yes. Their stories are... fascinating, to say the least."
"Don't tell me you've developed sympathy for them."
She shrugged. I blinked. I was one to talk... but Angel? She was the most righteous out of all of us. If anyone was to shun madness, it would be her.
"...But... why?"
"You've never talked to them." She chuckled, "They've been through hell and back, Cosette. And they grew up within a few blocks of each other. It's so strange..."
"Really?" I peered at their files. That I did not know, "Elaborate."
"Well..." she stroked her mug thoughtfully, "It all started with this happy family out in the suburbs. On the outskirts was a trailer park..."
Ivy
He had me blindfolded. Which wasn't too big of a deal. He liked to keep everything a surprise for me. As if I needed a blindfold to know he was full of surprises. That came with the warning label, printed plainly in his maddening eyes.
It had been a few hours now, stuck in the van, and I was becoming restless. He was "thoughtful" enough to have Goofy and Grumpy in charge of the driving, while he sat beside me playing stupid car games.
"Now over here you'll see... nothing. And if you'll look to your right you'll see. Oh. Ah. Hm. Nothing! And on your left..."
"Shut up." I couldn't help but laugh as I crossed my arms. I swear, sometimes he was like the stereotypical five year old brother.
"Oh, oh, turn this song up!"
"Turn it down. Rock makes me more dizzy."
"Fine then. I'll sing it."
"No! Really..."
"Oklahoma City looks so so pretty..."
"Stop!"
"I'm sorry? What? I have a nice voice! Get your kicks on route 66..."
"Jack..." I growled.
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU. Everybody! Get your--"
"SHUT. UP!!" Grumpy shouted, "Or no radio."
I could hear Jack sneer and grumble beside me. He was in a good mood, otherwise he would've yelled back. There was silence for a few minutes.
Ah. Peace.
"Oh! And over here you'll see... nothing! Get it? You're blindfolded! Hahahahaha!" He cackled wickedly and I clamped my hands over my ears.
Men.
Riddler
"Hey buddy, this is a private bar. Get outta here."
I raised my eyebrows at the bartender, clearing my throat.
"But I have... business to attend to."
The bartender looked at me darkly, glancing over to a door I figured led to downstairs, "What business we talkin' about?"
"The questionable kind, I suppose you could say..."
"Look, he don't want to see no one right now.."
I snapped over the bar, pulling out a pistol from my dark green jacket. I smiled, delighted at the fear in the fellow's eyes.
"Oh, riddle me this, riddle me that... what would you rather have: the pull of the trigger? Or the blow of a cane?"
The man looked at the cane hanging limply in my hand.
"C-Cane..."
I let go and smiled, "Trick question, my friend. The pistol's not loaded."
His eyes grew horrifyingly wide. As did my grin.
"But my arms sure are strong..." I took up my old friend, swinging it over my head, bringing it down.
I heard the name just before the final crack. A desperate plea for help from his little boss.
"Two-Face!"
Ivy
"Alright... open your eyes."
"Where the hell are we?" I knew it wasn't Gotham. I smelled no smog, no rain. It was only crisp, chilly wind and the nightly hooting of an owl. I felt grass between my toes.
Definitely not Gotham.
"Just do it. Come on."
I blinked, face to face with an old house, standing crookedly out of the ground like a rotting tooth. its roof was sunken in and some shutters were missing. The once pleasantly white side paneling was a dusty grayish color and two windows stood sagging, looking at me menacingly. The little garden I remember from the past was gone, desolate. Barren. A wasteland.
"This isn't funny." I felt my fists clench and my jaw tighten. The ivy on my arm boiled hotly, "This isn't funny! How could you bring me here? HOW COULD YOU?" An odd possession came over me and I dropped on my knees, tearing blindly at the ground I'd walked on for 18 years. The ground I never wanted to see again.
Jack grabbed my shoulders suddenly, shaking me.
"Hey. Hey. Look at me. Look at me! You remember when you were a kid. Hm?"
I looked over his dirty hair to see Goofy and Grumpy dousing the house with gasoline. I shook my head and turned away, fighting back paranoid thoughts and hysterical tears.
"Well I do. C'mere. Let me tell you a little story. My father... he was a gambler. Always gone. Mommy hated him. She drank. And drank. And hit. And kicked. When she passed out I would sit by the window of our flimsy little trailer, watching looney tunes and playing with Daddy's fishing knife."
I flinched.
The trailer park. My parents hated when I went there. But it had the prettiest patch of flowers to hide in when my uncle came over. The prettiest patch of flowers...
"And one day I see this little girl with hair as red as blood. Picking flowers. And I hate her because she's so pretty and she never looks at the window. Never." His eyes were wild and his hands were clinching into my skin, "And she looks so sad. I want to know why. I never forget about it. Never!"
He drew me up and took me over to the front of my house.
"It drove me crazy. I kept it to myself. Didn't even tell Jeannie. Drove me nuts..."
"You knew." I cried, "You knew and you never even told me. Why?"
He drew a match out of his pocket and lit it, watching the flame dance in fascination.
"It's no fun to know everything. Knowledge is like a bad day. You have too much of it and you go... wacky. And I'm a guy who's had one too many bad days, read one too many books."
I wiped my eyes.
"I know why now. Why the little girl was so sad." He twirled the match and smiled like a phantom.
"It was this house." He threw the match, giggling, watching it ignite. Orange and red licked away at the old walls, devouring it hungrily.
Goofy and Grumpy stood off in the distance, admiring their handiwork. I felt a hand reach out and grasp mine and looked up.
"So uh, you like my present?"
I laughed somberly, "Now if I could just find my uncle..."
He squinted, "Yeah. About that... I sort of... "
I stared at him, now smiling goofily.
"You're terrible!" I laughed. I suddenly felt happy.
"What can I say?" He shrugged humorously.
We both cackled, silloeuted by fire and moonlight.
Goofy
"Cute, ain't it." I nudged Grumpy.
"If by cute you mean creepy as hell."
"Boss tell you were we goin' next?"
"Home."
I nodded and stared up at the fire, eating the old house like a heavy fellow on Christmas. Eating the old hate. Soon breeding the new. Like those crazy birds you see in the Harry Potter movies. Phoenix, I think they're called.
"Home." I nodded.
Angel pulled some manila folders from her bag, sliding them carefully to me. They were classified. I read the names at the top.
Napier, Jack.
Queen, May.
Angel stared contemplatively out of one of the large windows of my high priced apartment.
"Why are you showing me these? They're classified."
Angel shrugged, "I'm allowed to do what I want with them. They're mine. And I figured you'd find them interesting. They've got a ...literary... element to them."
I cocked my head at her, opening the files, not surprised to find a sloppily made up clown grinning for the camera and a beautiful, despite her slightly disheveled appearance, looking redhead smirking.
"A literary element?"
"Yes. Their stories are... fascinating, to say the least."
"Don't tell me you've developed sympathy for them."
She shrugged. I blinked. I was one to talk... but Angel? She was the most righteous out of all of us. If anyone was to shun madness, it would be her.
"...But... why?"
"You've never talked to them." She chuckled, "They've been through hell and back, Cosette. And they grew up within a few blocks of each other. It's so strange..."
"Really?" I peered at their files. That I did not know, "Elaborate."
"Well..." she stroked her mug thoughtfully, "It all started with this happy family out in the suburbs. On the outskirts was a trailer park..."
Ivy
He had me blindfolded. Which wasn't too big of a deal. He liked to keep everything a surprise for me. As if I needed a blindfold to know he was full of surprises. That came with the warning label, printed plainly in his maddening eyes.
It had been a few hours now, stuck in the van, and I was becoming restless. He was "thoughtful" enough to have Goofy and Grumpy in charge of the driving, while he sat beside me playing stupid car games.
"Now over here you'll see... nothing. And if you'll look to your right you'll see. Oh. Ah. Hm. Nothing! And on your left..."
"Shut up." I couldn't help but laugh as I crossed my arms. I swear, sometimes he was like the stereotypical five year old brother.
"Oh, oh, turn this song up!"
"Turn it down. Rock makes me more dizzy."
"Fine then. I'll sing it."
"No! Really..."
"Oklahoma City looks so so pretty..."
"Stop!"
"I'm sorry? What? I have a nice voice! Get your kicks on route 66..."
"Jack..." I growled.
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU. Everybody! Get your--"
"SHUT. UP!!" Grumpy shouted, "Or no radio."
I could hear Jack sneer and grumble beside me. He was in a good mood, otherwise he would've yelled back. There was silence for a few minutes.
Ah. Peace.
"Oh! And over here you'll see... nothing! Get it? You're blindfolded! Hahahahaha!" He cackled wickedly and I clamped my hands over my ears.
Men.
Riddler
"Hey buddy, this is a private bar. Get outta here."
I raised my eyebrows at the bartender, clearing my throat.
"But I have... business to attend to."
The bartender looked at me darkly, glancing over to a door I figured led to downstairs, "What business we talkin' about?"
"The questionable kind, I suppose you could say..."
"Look, he don't want to see no one right now.."
I snapped over the bar, pulling out a pistol from my dark green jacket. I smiled, delighted at the fear in the fellow's eyes.
"Oh, riddle me this, riddle me that... what would you rather have: the pull of the trigger? Or the blow of a cane?"
The man looked at the cane hanging limply in my hand.
"C-Cane..."
I let go and smiled, "Trick question, my friend. The pistol's not loaded."
His eyes grew horrifyingly wide. As did my grin.
"But my arms sure are strong..." I took up my old friend, swinging it over my head, bringing it down.
I heard the name just before the final crack. A desperate plea for help from his little boss.
"Two-Face!"
Ivy
"Alright... open your eyes."
"Where the hell are we?" I knew it wasn't Gotham. I smelled no smog, no rain. It was only crisp, chilly wind and the nightly hooting of an owl. I felt grass between my toes.
Definitely not Gotham.
"Just do it. Come on."
I blinked, face to face with an old house, standing crookedly out of the ground like a rotting tooth. its roof was sunken in and some shutters were missing. The once pleasantly white side paneling was a dusty grayish color and two windows stood sagging, looking at me menacingly. The little garden I remember from the past was gone, desolate. Barren. A wasteland.
"This isn't funny." I felt my fists clench and my jaw tighten. The ivy on my arm boiled hotly, "This isn't funny! How could you bring me here? HOW COULD YOU?" An odd possession came over me and I dropped on my knees, tearing blindly at the ground I'd walked on for 18 years. The ground I never wanted to see again.
Jack grabbed my shoulders suddenly, shaking me.
"Hey. Hey. Look at me. Look at me! You remember when you were a kid. Hm?"
I looked over his dirty hair to see Goofy and Grumpy dousing the house with gasoline. I shook my head and turned away, fighting back paranoid thoughts and hysterical tears.
"Well I do. C'mere. Let me tell you a little story. My father... he was a gambler. Always gone. Mommy hated him. She drank. And drank. And hit. And kicked. When she passed out I would sit by the window of our flimsy little trailer, watching looney tunes and playing with Daddy's fishing knife."
I flinched.
The trailer park. My parents hated when I went there. But it had the prettiest patch of flowers to hide in when my uncle came over. The prettiest patch of flowers...
"And one day I see this little girl with hair as red as blood. Picking flowers. And I hate her because she's so pretty and she never looks at the window. Never." His eyes were wild and his hands were clinching into my skin, "And she looks so sad. I want to know why. I never forget about it. Never!"
He drew me up and took me over to the front of my house.
"It drove me crazy. I kept it to myself. Didn't even tell Jeannie. Drove me nuts..."
"You knew." I cried, "You knew and you never even told me. Why?"
He drew a match out of his pocket and lit it, watching the flame dance in fascination.
"It's no fun to know everything. Knowledge is like a bad day. You have too much of it and you go... wacky. And I'm a guy who's had one too many bad days, read one too many books."
I wiped my eyes.
"I know why now. Why the little girl was so sad." He twirled the match and smiled like a phantom.
"It was this house." He threw the match, giggling, watching it ignite. Orange and red licked away at the old walls, devouring it hungrily.
Goofy and Grumpy stood off in the distance, admiring their handiwork. I felt a hand reach out and grasp mine and looked up.
"So uh, you like my present?"
I laughed somberly, "Now if I could just find my uncle..."
He squinted, "Yeah. About that... I sort of... "
I stared at him, now smiling goofily.
"You're terrible!" I laughed. I suddenly felt happy.
"What can I say?" He shrugged humorously.
We both cackled, silloeuted by fire and moonlight.
Goofy
"Cute, ain't it." I nudged Grumpy.
"If by cute you mean creepy as hell."
"Boss tell you were we goin' next?"
"Home."
I nodded and stared up at the fire, eating the old house like a heavy fellow on Christmas. Eating the old hate. Soon breeding the new. Like those crazy birds you see in the Harry Potter movies. Phoenix, I think they're called.
"Home." I nodded.