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ask-maxie-boy · 2 years ago

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Goonion's Ghoul (Part 4)

Bruce does a little digging. This one's a little more serious, but dont worry, the shenanigains resume next chapter <3

Part 1 & 2 Part 3

The pool hall was fairly quiet tonight. It was a dim place who's customers were the only thing shadier than its corners. The smell of smoke lingered in the whole building, but the usual cloud that held over the room seemed to be gone.

The "No Smoking" sign on the door was new, and it seems like people were listening. Bruce fiddled with the stick match between his fingers - he wondered if it was going to be a problem.

"8 Ball, side pocket" Clack!

"Tch. Good game, whatever."

As the men and small crowd around them get their bet earnings, Bruce approached with a predatory grin. "Hey fellas, mind if I get in on a game?"

Most of the men seemed to be sizing him up, but one in particular (the one who won the last match) inhaled sharply. "Matches fuckin' Malone, I haven't seen you 'round here in a while! You sonofabitch, where ya been?"

'Matches Malone' pulls his titular match out from his teeth, and puts on an annoyed face. "Bah, deal went south, had to lay low for a while." Someone handed him a pool stick, prompting Bruce to nod and grab some pool chalk.

"I getcha. We can go a round, Matches. Loser buys a round at the bar for everyone."

"Jeez, I said I was just layin' low and thems are the stakes?" Matches' grin comes back, a gleam rolling along his aviator shades. "Guess I could use a free drink, so why not?"

The other guy rolls his eyes. "Well, aren't you confident. Promise that'll changes once the game starts."

The game gets set up quickly, and they let Malone break. He lines up his stick, but isn't too concerned about exactly how to hit this shot.

"Say," Bruce asks, "I heard there's a new way of gettin' some help around here. Any'a you know about it?" The cue ball slams into the triangle of other balls.

"Oh, you're askin' about the Goonion? You don't gotta beat around da bush. Even if you weren't in good company, there ain't no need to be hush about it." The 7 ball rolls into a corner pocket, a solid color sunk.

Its an easy shot to the 5, side pocket. "Wouldn't expect that from a big band 'a criminals," Bruce says, casually lining up the hit, "but I guess that's Gotham for ya. So, how do I get in contact?" *Clack!*

"There's a big place on 29th street, down by Proctor Ave." The 5 cleanly rolls into the next pocket. "They put up a big sign just yesterday, you cant miss it."

The next shot is a bit more tricky, trying to get the 3 without hitting the 10 in. "No shit? A big ol' sign that says 'Hey, a buncha lackeys here!' right out in the open?"

The other guy snorts. "I mean, the cops don't give a damn, and the criminals are already in on it. That just leaves the bats, but between you and me? I hear the robins are in on it."

Not only does Bruce miss the 3, he knocks the 10 in, closely followed by the cue itself. A scratch. "Well, now I know you're just fuckin' with me."

His opponent grabs the cue ball with a chuckle, and puts it just by the 12 for a clean corner pocket hit. "Like how you were with that last shot? Yeah, yeah, I'm messin' with you... kinda. There's a runnin' joke that the robins should be considered one of us."

Second stripe down, Bruce's eye twitches, hidden by his large sunglasses. "I don't see whats so funny about it, considering how many times we've had our ass handed to us on a black-n-blue platter by 'em."

Its a more difficult shot to hit the 9 in the side pocket, but the opponent aims anyway. "Yeah, Danny's got this big ol' thing about how Vigilantism's a crime and Batman's a crime lord. Ya kinda have to hear him say it, but damn if it isn't funny." He makes the shot, but the cue ball slides in the pocket with the 9, as Bruce bites back a grumble.

Its his chance to get back in the game, and clean it up. Bruce puts the ball on the table, and lines up a shot that should also get him in position for the next few. "Danny, eh? Whats his deal anyway? Everyone seems all buddy buddy with the guy, but I can't find out a thing about him. He some kinda "

The normal sound of a pool stick hitting the cue is clean, crisp, and short. A satisfying ricochet right to where it was aimed, sealing a calculated move into victory.

That is not the noise that echoes through the hall.

Instead, the stick bounces off of the cue strangely, shaking awkwardly as a much harsher CLACK! attacks everyone's ears, as the ball rolls slowly in the wrong direction, and hits nothing.

His opponent, and everyone with and without money on the game, look right at him. Some are giving dirty looks, some seem angry, others just discontent. A few look ready for a fight to break out, as the sudden tension ensnares him. He gets the feeling its not the bum shot they're upset about. "Uh... any chance I can try that hit again?" He asks sheepishly, analyzing exits, preparing for the brawl that might happen, and a cover story for how Matches got out of being attacked by this many people.

Bruce winces as his opponent places their hand on his shoulder, but doesn't strike back just yet. His opponent still seems tense, but not rearing back an attack. "Matches, you'se a good guy, so I'm gonna let you off easy on this one. But for 'da future, dont go askin' around about Danny. He doesn't like people poking into his business.”

The crowd seems to calm down a bit, but there's still a few bad looks being sent towards Bruce. He puts some hint of worry in his voice, dusting off his suit to sell the idea that that shook him up. “I.. I see. Caposh.”

His opponent goes back to the table, picking the cue off the table after Matches' bad hit. “...He's just a kid, Matches. Smart, kind,” he lines up his next shot on the 11, “I'd call him naive if he didn't prove he knew what he was doing.” A clean shot, into the side pocket.

“If you're goin' to the Goonion, you'll meet him and see.” Another easy shot, 13 into the corner. “He does good work. The Hood may have started the union, but Danny stoked the flames, kept us together when we wanted to fall apart.” A hard hit, the cue ball stopping dead as it strikes its target, knocked straight into the pocket. “He fought for us, went up against some of the most dangerous people in Gotham and told them to kneel.” Someone in the crowd murmurs, “Stronger together,” which has him roll his eyes. “Yeah yeah, we all did it, sure. But someone needed to face 'em down, and not only did he bite the bullet,” 14 ball, corner pocket, “he spat it right back out at 'em.”

“He got us dental!” Someone cheers, and most of the crew cheers with him, clinking beer bottles together.

“Point is, he's a good guy who does a good job, and the least we can do is stick our noses out of his business.” 15 ball, opposite corner. “We don't need him getting hurt because we couldn't do that.”

Something flickers in Bruce's eyes at that last comment, noting the slightly somber tone. “...he didn't ask you to stay away, did he?”

“He didn't need to. I told ya, you'll get it when you meet him.” He points out his last shot, “8-ball, corner,” and hangs over the table to aim his cue. “People like him don't usually stick around Gotham, and not by their own choice. If someone finds out you're the one who made him leave, whether you meant it or not...”

The 8 ball rolls cleanly into the pocket, a promise fulfilled. “You'll be lucky if you're found with a bullet to the head.”

An open secret. One that puts him in harms way if the details get out. Details people are purposefully avoiding, out of gratitude. Makes things difficult for him.

“...Well, a deal's a deal. A round on me, everyone!”

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#the goonion #dc x dp #dp x dc #goonions ghoul #haha bruce get fucked #also please dont put danny in danger ;c #told you the goonion takes confidentiality very seriously

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ask-maxie-boy · 2 years ago

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Goonion's Ghoul (Part 3) [dp x dc]

(A/N we switching the official name of the goonion to The First Universal Henchmans' Union. Just makes sense, thank y'all for the advice)

(Parts 1 & 2: here) (Part 4: here)

"Before we begin, I'd just like to clarify a few things. Mainly, can I ask for your preferred name?"

"Is that a joke?"

"Well, I figured it would professional to come out and call you Mr. Cobblepot, but seeing as we're talking about a... certain aspect of your enterprises, I wasn't sure you wanted your legal name in the records. The Union takes confidentiality very seriously."

Oswald Cobblepot looked down at the scrawny boy in front of him. This was the guy that had Eddie shaking in his boots? He tapped the ashes off his cigarette into the ashtray, and scoffed. "Doesn't matter to me, as long as you remember who you're talking to before you open your mouth."

"Of course! As you wish, Mr. Penguin."

There it was. That smile just a bit too wide, just like Riddler had said. Oswald Cobblepot wasn't an amateur, he wouldn't let something like that throw him off balance. "Alright, kid, lets cut to the chase. Whats this all about a Union?"

"Oh, Mr. Penguin, I had thought you heard! The First Universal Henchmans' Union is a recently formed collective of working class freelance goons, henchmen, and grunts of all different colors."

"Hweh! And what do I care if a bunch of simpletons wanna have a party together?"

The kid's head tilted, a sickening crack! ringing through the room. Just for a second, its eyes seemed to glow.

When you deal with bats for so long, little things like that don't sway you.

"If they're so little to you in your mind, then surely anything they might ask of you shouldn't be that hard to swallow?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop, as the thing's face tried to imitate inquisitiveness.

Good. The Penguin likes it cold.

"You can toss away the whole intimidation shtick, boy. I didn't get to be where I was by bending over to every ignoramus who thinks they can get me to do what they want."

When you deal with Bats for so long, you start to pay more attention to little expressions. The way the shadows suddenly fall onto the boy's blue-eyed, black haired face as he tilts his head downward makes The Penguin's flinch, just for a moment.

"I promise you sir, the Goonion is a very real, and very serious organization."

Cobblepot sneers, cigarette holder angling upward, as he taps his umbrella on the ground. "I pay my people well. My lounge is up to code, too. You don't have a damn thing on me, and here you are trying to pull the wool over my eyes. Well listen here, boy, you don't run an operation like this in Gotham without knowing fear. Fear is watching every shadow, looking for the pin pricks of light. Fear is the cracking of bones in the room over as you know the jig's up. Fear is watching Gotham's shadow spawn appear from the darkness, promising the only thing he wont do is kill you. You're way out of your league if you think I'll bend to such a cheap trick."

When you deal with Bats for so long, you learn to keep your eyes open. You keep track of exits, you look for little disturbances, keep your ears ready for even the softest sound.

You pay attention to that little voice that says you're being watched.

"Mr Penguin, do I need to remind you just who these 'simpletons' are? They're the men who carry your goods to and from your lounge. They're the ones who rig up the Riddler's bombs, traffic weapons in and out of the city. What happens when deals go south, when plans are canceled partway though?"

When you deal with Bats for so long, you watch the shadows. They practically live in them, entering and exiting like they're made from the stuff. Anything that might give away their position.

The shadows are dancing. Pulsing with something even darker than Gotham. He swears he can hear the sound of a bat gently hitting someone's hand. Distant laughter, not natural, almost forced.

"You know, Mr. Penguin, The Joker is easily one of our worst offenders. One of his more interesting complaints is the lack of security in regards to chemicals. See, he doesn't really care much if there's missing inventory, or what happens after his plan, as long as there's enough for what he needs." A vial flutters between its fingers, eyes almost bored as a forked tongue slides between sharpened teeth. "I wonder, where does it all go?

Eyes, green as emerald and as bright as the sun burn into Ozwald's. A grin stretches wider, wider, quite literally from one ear to the next filled with jagged teeth. "Do you want to find out?"

...~☆~...

"...My... smoking habits."

"Yeah, honestly. Its like you said. Most of your stuff is up to board, and your workers are fairly happy. Its mainly just an issue for henches with asthma, though secondhand smoke isn't something most people enjoy."

"You did all that over my cigarettes?!"

"its fairly understood that the Iceberg Lounge is not a smoke-free area, so you can do as you please there, but when it comes to abandoned warehouses or other places of business, we ask you please refrain from smoking."

"I can't believe this."

"For what its worth, the goons understand its part of your whole outfit, and are willing to compromise. We have a list of alternatives that visibly resemble a lit cigarette, and will fit in your holder, but wont actually release any smoke..."

#this post dedicated to thoth #dp x dc #dc x dp #goonion #dpxdc #dcxdp

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