It's Irresistible

“Was it worth it, Bexley?”

The muscles running along her spine tense, and the tightening pull moves up to her shoulder blades and makes her jaw creak. Every last inch of her is in some kind of pain or another, throbbing or burning. Blood from her scalp is blinding her left eye, and she reaches up to wipe it away with her forearm. The marks on her back pull and scream at the movement, but she doesn’t make a sound.

She chose this house to squat in to patch herself up for a reason. The place is so condemned that even the crackheads won’t come near it, but he found her. He always finds her. There’s a part of her that’s aching to turn around and snarl at him, like a wild animal, but she doesn’t. The human side of her is ashamed. Her body is riddled with wounds, some healing and some fresh. The left side of her head has been shaved because some asshole ripped most of her hair out on that side. Bloody bandages and unwound thread litters the space around her.

“I’m not finished.”

His shoes are going to get dirty from walking across the filth on the floor, but that’s not enough to stop him. Her body seizes up a little more with each step that he makes, and she’s curled into a ball by the time he reaches her. Her knees are pressed against the wall, and her forehead is pressed tight against bone and wallpaper. How does she look to him now? Did she look worse than this when he found her on the street? Wearing rags and one more day of starvation away from selling herself?

“You have destroyed him, Bexley. Anyone that he has ever depended on is dead. His three daughters and two sons, dead. How many grandchildren?”

Grandchildren…no one was spared. Some were older; the oldest was a sophomore in college. The youngest couldn’t even crawl. Only three of the five children had blessed Nathan Hawthorne with grandchildren.

“Six. Ages ranged from two months to twenty.”

“You even killed his wife and mistress.”

“I’m not finished,” she repeats. Forty-two family members are dead, by her own hands, but it isn’t enough. Not yet.

The air pushes against her bare back when he kneels behind her, and she can feel warm hands smoothing down the tense line of her arms. He’s trying to turn her around. She could resist. Fight. She won’t. She owes him everything, so she lets him turn her around. She can’t quite meet his eyes though. Instead she looks at his chin and wonders what he thinks of her. Was she worth saving from the streets?

“What have they done to you?” Her body will never be the same. She took on trained killers without any plans or finesse. The only reason she’s alive is because she has rage on her side; it’s like her body refuses to give up until her task is done.

“The mistress had a lot of guards. The last one tried to carve my heart out.” The lunatic said something about putting it in a nice stew, and she used a table leg to cave his skull in. Not before he left some deep grooves in her flesh though. X marks the spot.

“You need to rest.”

“I’m not finished.”

She finally raises her eyes, and his blue eyes look so sad. It’s the same look he had when he pulled up at the curb she was standing on; he should have left her there. When he reaches out, she holds still and lets his hand rest against her cheek. His fingers brush against the shaved part of her head, and she fights down a shiver. That’ll just make her ache more.

“When you’re done, rest. You’ve earned it, Bexley. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I took away his family.” Her mother was nothing more than a maid, and she didn’t deserve to die. Drivers and gardeners. The cook had been six months pregnant. No one that died that day deserved it. If Hawthorne can give the order to kill everyone, so can she.

“You are not alone, Bexley. You never have been.” She knows that he cares about her, in his own way. He cared for her mother, and he wants to do right by her. She also knows that she’s doing him a favor by taking out a rival family.

“I know. I’ll rest as soon as I’m finished.” They stand up at the same time, and she squares her shoulders. He might be taller than her, more powerful, but she trusts him. The jacket he drapes over her shoulders is warm and soft, and she holds it against her bare skin.

“Take care, Bexley.”

“You got it, Mister Carmine.”


Sunlight is streaking through the windows when she wakes up, because she doesn’t have curtains. She doesn’t really have anything, except for some clothes and an old radio. Her back pops as she sits up on the lumpy mattress, and she scrubs a hand through her hair. She didn’t fall asleep inside; she fell asleep outside. More specifically, she fell asleep on Victor. Oops. Huh, it looks like he left his jacket behind too. She shrugs and pushes her arms through the sleeves, and she takes a moment to just think things over.

Mister Carmine wants her here, back in Gotham, with Victor. She knows that he was the one that killed the man responsible for killing her mother, and Mister Carmine’s other employees. She’s kept tabs on his killing career since then, and it’s impressive. She’s impressed. Still doesn’t explain why Mister Carmine wants her here, in Gotham. She left the city right after killing Hawthorne and never really planned on coming back; Gotham is her home, but what’s a home when you’re all alone? The balance of power is a little chaotic though. Falcone, Maroni, Mooney…all of the big bosses are gone. There’s just Cobblepot now. Mister Carmine got her all caught up, so she knows that he has the brains to run things. Running Gotham takes more than brains though. You gotta be ruthless.

Victor doesn’t think she’s ruthless. She’s not really sure why it bothers her that he thinks she’s…childish. Yes, childish. When he looks at her, there’s something in his dark eyes that reminds her of an adult putting up with a child. There was a guard in Mister Carmine’s house that used to look at her like that whenever she asked him if he wanted to color with her. Where is it written that cold-blooded killers have to be all dark and depressing? She can kill with the best of them and dance in her socks if she wants to. She’ll just have to show Victor that she’s good at what she does; she just also happens to be a happy person, thank you very much.

The sound of a window breaking echoes throughout the empty space, and Bexley moves to her feet with a small eye roll. Isn’t it too early for breaking and entering? That’s more of a nighttime activity. Her bare feet are quiet as she walks down the short hallway, and she stops right as the hallway opens into the kitchen. Four men are standing in front of the bar, where her radio is still sitting, and they didn’t even bother to hide their faces.

“Probably should have waited until I furnished the place before trying to rob it, ya know?” She reaches up to gather her hair into a ball as they all turned to face her, and their faces practically light up at the sight of her. People are always underestimating her.

“You here all alone?” one of them asks.

“All by my lonesome,” she smiles. She’s got a feeling that today is going to be a good day.


Victor pauses at the door leading inside of the warehouse and can just make out the music coming from inside. When he left, Bexley was curled up on the bare mattress in the bedroom with only his jacket as a blanket. He had a few things to tend to, and it took a little longer than expected. It’s only around nine; there’s still plenty of time for them to go…shopping. The whole concept is still foreign, but it might help him understand her a little better.

“We’re hell raisin’ and we don’t need savin’ ‘cause there’s no salvation for a bad girl.”

The kitchen is covered in red. Puddles on the floor. Streaks across the ceiling. On the cabinets. The bar. Even the radio has a little bit of blood and hair stuck to it. The first body is right in front of him, like he tried to run for the door. The second body is slumped against the bar. The third is halfway inside the refrigerator. The fourth body is being held up by Bex.

“We’re rock bottom but there ain’t no stoppin’ ‘cause they don’t know nothin’ about love.”

Bex is looking right into the fourth man’s eyes with her hands locked around his throat, and the man is weakly pulling on her wrists. Going by the weird angle, he’d guess that the man’s right arm is broken. The veins in his face are darkening and pulsing, and Victor watches as Bex slowly smiles while tightening her grip.

“We’re hell raisin’ and we don’t need savin’ ‘cause there’s no salvation for a bad boy.”

He steps around the first body and crouches down next to where the fourth man is kneeling, and he can feel her eyes on him. The man’s eyes dart over to him, but Victor just smiles at his panicked gaze and watches as the blood vessels in his eyes pop. Now that he’s closer, he can tell that the man’s fingers have been broken too. All ten. Bex releases one of her hands, and the look in her eyes when he looks up at her is unmistakable. He reaches up so that they can both cut off the man’s airway, and the only sounds in the empty warehouse for the next few minutes is the man’s desperate gasps for air.

“We’re rock bottom but there ain’t no stopping ‘cause it’s you and me against the world.”

The radio must be broken, because it’s replaying the same song over and over. The fourth body falls to the floor, and Victor easily moves to stand straight again. Bex tilts her face up to look at him, and he really looks at her this time. She’s covered in blood and still wearing the same thing as last night, but she pulled on his jacket. She doesn’t look hurt despite the rest of the violence evident.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” His eyes flick over to the rest of the bodies, and Bex bites the inside of her lip as she looks around.

“They broke in.” She points towards the living room by jerking her thumb over her shoulder, and he sees the glass littered across the bare floor. “I told them they should have waited for me to furnish the place, but they didn’t leave. Breaking and entering is rude but forgivable. Whatever they were planning, it wasn’t going to be easy to forgive.”

“So you killed them?” It looks like the second man was bludgeoned to death with the radio, and the third body had his head slammed between the refrigerator door and refrigerator itself. He’s not so sure about the first body.

“No one touches me without permission.” The fourth man had all ten fingers broken. She killed four men, all at least twice her size, and doesn’t even have a scratch on her. “Sorry about your jacket.”

“We’ll buy a new one today.” She stops pulling at the blood stained fabric to look at him, and he watches the way that her cheek twitches. It looks like she’s fighting a smile.

“You’ll go shopping with me?” She bounces a little as she rocks up onto her toes, back and forth, and Victor looks at the carnage in the room. It’s not even noon yet and four men are dead. That deserves some kind of reward.

“I’ll go shopping.” She gives a loud whoop of joy before running off, but she slides to a stop in the entrance to the hallway.

“What about the bodies?”

“I know someone that can take care of it.”

“I’ll go get cleaned up!” He listens to the sound of her feet running across the ground, and a moment later the pipes start creaking. Showering, right. There’s a little bit of blood on his right hand, from where his fingers overlapped Bex’s on the fourth man’s throat, and he walks over to the sink while making a quick call. His hand is clean by the time the call is over, and he looks around the room.

Bex can’t stay here. This place is impossible to defend properly, and she needs to be kept somewhere secure. It’s not that she can’t take care of herself, the dead bodies in the room prove that she’s more than capable, but she needs to focus on the big targets. Not a bunch of lowlifes doing a morning break-in. The solution comes to him a moment later, and he’s still talking on the phone when Bex waltzes back into the room. She bangs her fist against the radio a few times to get the song to change, and he watches her sway as she waits for him to finish.

“Can you feel, can you feel my heart?”

It’s not something she should be able to dance to, but she is. He ends the call but keeps quiet so that he can take a moment to observe. She looks so normal and carefree; the long-sleeved shirt she’s wearing is a dark purple, her jeans are a light gray, and the old shoes are a faded yellow. Her hair is free and swaying down her back, and she’s being careful not to step in the drying pools of blood. It looks like he still has a lot to learn about her.

“You’re moving.” She spins on her toes to face him, and her head tilts to the side as she looks at him.

“I am?”

“You are. Go get your stuff.” Her smile is quick and shows a flash of teeth, and she moves so fast that he barely has time to lock his body in place before she jumps. He locks his arms around her back and feels the strength in the thighs wrapped around his ribcage. Her palms smooth across his cheeks, and her eyes really do look brighter up close. A lighter shade than the average color he first thought.

“Am I moving someplace fancy?” Bexley is the daughter of a maid; she might have spent time in Falcone’s home, but she’s still the daughter of the help.

“It’s shiny.” Her squeal nearly deafens him, and she wraps her arms tighter around him for a moment before wiggling free and disappearing. Once she is completely out of sight, he moves over to the bar and picks up the radio. He turns the music off and then uses the second man’s jacket to wipe off the blood clinging to the durable plastic.

“Ready!” Bex is weighed down with bags when he looks over, but she’s still smiling. Of course she is. He leads the way down the stairs and to the car, and Bex tosses him the keys after she pushes all of her belongings into the backseat. The car is idling when she slips into the passenger side, and she scoots over until she’s plastered to his side. “So, tell me about this new home of mine.”

“The man that lived there was loyal to Maroni. When Cobblepot took over, he proved to be stubborn.” He drives past the early working girls and listens to the way that Bex hums low in her throat.

“You didn’t kill him in the house, did you? That’s bad karma.” She rubs her temple against the top of his shoulder before finally falling still, and he looks down at her. Her hands are clasped in her lap, and he can see the scrapes and bruises on her knuckles.

“On the patio.”

“That’s better than inside, I guess. You know the owner?” He’d slit the man’s throat with his hot breakfast still on the table, and the manager even thanked him afterwards. Turns out he hadn’t been a very good tenant. Complained about everything, threatened other tenants, and liked roughing up the street girls he brought home.

“He owes me a favor.” Those were the manager’s words; Victor didn’t even have to cut him a little first. Bex is quiet as they ride through town, but he can feel the way she twitches every time they pass an apartment building. When the car finally comes to a stop, he feels her stop breathing. Big brown eyes are staring up at the building, which is just as shiny as he promised even in the dim light of Gotham, and he feels her blindly reaching for his hand. He offers it up out of curiosity, and she presses his palm tight against her smile. After a moment, she laces her fingers through his and twists around to smile at him.

“You did this for me?” He cashed in a favor that he never even asked for, and he doesn’t mind using it for her. If they are really going to work together, she needs to be kept safe. Yes, she has no problem with killing and seems to be quite good at it, but why take chances? This is Gotham and the chances are never good here.

“All for you. Can we go now? We have a full day ahead of us.” She hums a little before leaning forward to brush her cheek against his, like a parody of a hug, and then the passenger door opens.

“Mister Zsasz? The apartment is ready for you.” The man leaning down to look at them is in his mid-forties, with gray mixed into his light brown hair, and completely average looking. Victor only tolerates him because he’s good at doing what he’s told.

“Have her things taken up. We’ll park the car.” All it takes is one snap to get four attendants rushing forward, and the backseat is emptied in a minute. Once the doors are closed, Victor puts the car back in drive and heads towards the garage.

“This place is huge! And there was a doorman! What floor am I on?” Bex is practically vibrating next to him, and he reaches out to place a hand on her bouncing knee. He feels the heat of her through the denim and expects her to pull a knife on him again, but she just slumps over onto him and sighs. “I trust you too. Partners and all. What floor?”

“The twentieth, at the top.” If he’s guessing correctly, the fourth man tried to touch her and had all his fingers broken. She’s barely known him for twenty-four hours but trusts him?

“Like the tippy top?” He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He just parks the car and leads a bouncing Bex over to the elevator. She uses both hands to latch onto his arm on the ride up, and the manager is waiting for them inside.

“Hello, Mister Zsasz, Miss…?”

“Bexley! Wow, this place is really somethin’,” Bex says as her eyes move around the room. From where they’re standing, they can see the kitchen and living room. Sleek modern appliances and dark colors. The living room is done in shades of brown, and a large couch dominates the space. “No TV though. We’ll have to fix that.”

“Ah, yes, we’ve been refurnishing. We have the bedroom on this floor and the guest bedroom upstairs all set up, but we haven’t had a chance to refurnish the master bedroom upstairs. If you like—”

“We’ll take care of that. We’re going shopping today.” The manager glances over at Victor, and he raises a brow at the man. He might not actually have eyebrows, but it gets the point across.

“Yes, of course. Just have it delivered here, and I will make sure that it gets set up.”

“That’s really awesome of you. How about we do a walk-through and figure out where I want everything to go. That way there’s no mistakes, you know?” The man looks panicked when Bex loops her arm through his and tugs on him to get him moving, and Victor watches them make their way over to the staircase. There’s two bedrooms upstairs, along with two bathrooms, but the main patio is off of the kitchen on this level.

The sun rarely shines in Gotham and today is no exception. Despite the overcast weather, it’s a little warm outside and the few plants dotting the patio are thriving. Victor puts in another call, to have someone come wire the place up with security alarms and surveillance, and he sits down at the small table as he talks. The table and chairs have been replaced, but he’s pretty sure this is the same place where he killed the previous owner. The call is quick and to the point, so he is just overlooking the city when Bex comes outside to join him. Hands land on his shoulders and curl around, and he can hear her humming.

“I figured out all the placements. The second bedroom upstairs is furnished but still bare. Want to set it up as your room?” Her voice is quieter than usual, so he tips his head back to look at her. She’s looking straight ahead, but her eyes look unfocused.

“I’ll have to show up at Cobblepot’s so he doesn’t get suspicious.” If he stays gone for days at a time, Cobblepot will start getting paranoid.

“It’s still set up as a guest room, just in case. We need to start canvassing too.” He’s not sure if he’s ever seen her go this long without a hint of a smile. Even while bandaging him last night, there was a small curl to her lips.

“Canvassing?” She hasn’t looked at him either, even though he’s turned around in the chair now so that he can look up at her. She just moves her hands around so that she can keep holding onto his shoulders.

“There’s been a lot of changes lately, and some people don’t do well with change. We need to make sure no one’s planning anything against Oswald. You’re probably easy to recognize though, so I might have to do that part on my own.” Her own? She wants to charge into Gotham’s criminal underground without him? “It’s nothing against you, Victor. Everyone knows who you are, and who you work for now. I’m a nobody.”

“You’re Bexley Barba. You destroyed the Hawthorne family.” Her hands tighten so that her fingers dig into the tops of his shoulders, and she still hasn’t looked down at him.

“I’ll go out tonight and listen to the whispers. You think I can find something slutty that still covers me up?” Her eyes seem to focus for a moment, a brief flash of something that he doesn’t have time to identify, and she loosens her hold without letting go completely.

“You shouldn’t go out alone.” There. That’s what he’s been waiting for. Her eyes finally meet his, but they’re darker than he’s used to. Not the shade, that’s the same, but the look is darker.

“Would you kill for me, Victor? Not because I asked you to, but because you wanted to?” Hands smooth across his shoulders to rest against the sides of his neck, and he thinks about the look on her face as she strangled the last thief. She’d looked so happy. Now her lips are in a straight line and her eyes are too dark.

“Yes.” They’re partners, and no one messes with his partner. She reaches up to pat his cheek with her left hand and looks out over the patio as her hands return to his shoulders.

“The plants are so pretty, aren’t they? I’ve got a black thumb; I killed a cactus once. Do you think they’d send someone up to take care of them for me?” She’s smiling when she looks back down at him, and she looks more like herself now. Or is the other Bex, the one with dark eyes, the real one?

“I’m sure something can be arranged. Are you ready to go now?”

“Yep! You gotta change first though. Maybe a different jacket and a hat? Keep the shoulder holster. You never know when we might need it, and it’s kinda hot. Oh! How about a tie?”

“Such a strange girl.”

“Fair enough. Let’s go!”


“No one needs a TV that big.” The flat screen is taller than Bex is.

“But it’ll look perfect over the fireplace. C’mon, Victor, I already compromised on the curtains. And the toothbrush holders. And the bookcase. And the sheets.” Everything she originally picked out was covered in rainbows, and Victor swore he’d never enter the house if that’s what she went with. One rainbow curtain he could allow, but the whole house? The toothbrush holder she wanted had been a unicorn figurine. He’s sure by the time she found the Care-Bear bookcase that she was just messing with him.

“Get the giant TV, but I’ll have to cancel the stereo system.” At that, she pauses from pouting and narrows her eyes as she looks up at him.

“Stereo system?”

“I called an acquaintance to set up a security system, and he’s going to add in a stereo system. Speakers in every room of the house. Remote controlled. No limit on how many songs are stored.” Bex taps her foot as she thinks it over, and she finally gives a firm nod of her head.

“Fine. I’ll go for the smaller TV, but it’s still going in the living room. And I’m getting the skeleton lamp.” He hates that lamp. It’s a skeleton standing on what looks like dirt, for the base, and the bulb screws into the top of the skull. He’s not really sure why he dislikes it so much, but he does. “Ooh, that doesn’t look like good news.”

"That's them nutjobs that broke outta Arkham. Been all over the news today.” The man is wearing a light blue shirt with the store’s logo on it, and Bex looks up at the employee with big concerned eyes.

“What happened?” The man seems almost entranced, and he rubs at his chin for a moment before answering.

“Dropped a bunch of people off the top of the Gotham Gazette. See?” He points back at the TV that’s playing the news, and Victor takes in the line of bodies. MANIAX!

“That’s terrible! Isn’t it, Victor?” She made him wear a hat and an old black hoodie hidden at the bottom of one of her bags, but she’s okay with using his name?

“Horrific,” he drawls. Bex slowly nods her head and then smiles up at the employee still hovering near her.

“So, can I get one of those delivered?”


“Doesn’t it look so much better?” They’re standing in the living room, and the only new thing is the TV hanging over the fireplace. After leaving the appliance store, they went to a few clothing stores. Bex bought so many clothes that it took both of them to carry the bags, and she held up her promise of buying him a new jacket. It’s a nice jacket. Nicer than the one that got covered in blood.

“I still think it’s too big.”

“A little extravagance never hurt anyone. Let’s go look upstairs!” The guest bedroom is fully furnished, with a bed and dresser, and done in shades of blue. Bex just peeks her head in before bouncing across the hall and into the master bedroom. Her bedroom. They drop all of the clothing bags on the dark purple blanket, and Victor shakes his head.

“Too big.” The bed is king-sized, but there’s still plenty of walking room. There’s a dresser and the bookcase, a normal dark wooden bookcase with no bears on it. There’s a connecting bathroom, which is where Bex goes next to make sure that her bathroom accessories are put up. Victor moves to stand in the doorway of the walk-in closet and waits for Bex to join him.

“Ooh, that looks super high-tech.” At the back of the closet, several monitors were put up to show a full view of the entire apartment building. It’s also where the main stereo is that hooks up to the rest of the apartment.

“You’re welcome.” She loops her arms around one of his and nuzzles against his arm for a moment.

“Thank you, Victor. Now, I need to put everything up and get ready. I’ve got a long night ahead of me.” He watches her spin away from him and walk over to the pile of bags on the bed, and he turns around so that he can face her.

“You shouldn’t go out alone.” She’s separating the clothes and folding them, even though they should probably be hung up in the closet.

“I’m a big girl and can take care of myself. I’m not even going after any big fish. Just going to listen.” One bag down.

“Where are you going?” She looks over her shoulder to smile at him, and he doesn’t like that smile. It promises trouble.

“If I tell you, you’ll follow me. We can’t have that.” She makes a quiet tsking sound and then returns to her task.

“I thought we were partners?”

“Thought I was the boss?” She turns around to look at him, head on, and he stands up straight.

“Are you giving me an order?” Her arms cross as her chin rises, and he can see how tense she is.

“It’s a request. Let me do this.”

“If anything happens—”

“—you can go on a killing spree.” Their eyes stay locked, until Victor looks down. He hears Bex cheer so he looks back up, just in time to see her charging him. Her arms wrap tight around his back as he rocks onto his heels, but he manages to keep from falling over.

“Try to stay out of trouble tonight,” he says once she pulls back enough to look at him.

“No promises.” She winks at him before skipping back to the bed, and he pulls off the borrowed hat and hoodie. His jacket is hanging in the closet, and he quickly slips it back on. “Leaving already?”

“I’ve got a few errands of my own.”

“Be careful out there. I hear there’s some maniacs on the loose.” He can still hear her laughing at her own joke when he slips out the door a minute later.