#i have bare minimum knowledge for this one as seen by the caption

[dailydegurechaff]

Been reading this excellent Fallout 1 fic (https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/a-young-womans-quest-for-a-water-chip.1161243/)

So today's daily Degrucheff is: Vault Dweller?

Today's Daily Degurechaff is… fallout is the guy with the blue jumpsuit giving a thumbs up, right?

[fordarkisthesuede]

The Tolls Of Justice - Chapter 3

*throws confetti* IT’S DOOOONNNNEEEEEE! (I barely beat my deadline, huzzah!!!)

Sorry for the long, long wait. I apparently needed to recharge my internal batteries... But here we go!

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Important Spoiler Tags:  drug mention, prostitution & stripping mentions, gun mention, violent thoughts, therapy sessions

Read on AO3 or continue below:

[Chapter 3:  Ink Trails]

John was finding it difficult to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing.

He couldn’t help it. He’d made the mistake of looking at recent Gotham news, hoping for something new in the murder case every newspaper and station seemed to be going on about, but he’d scrolled too far down his news feed.

You Won’t Believe What This Arkham Orderly’s Seen -  Bruce Wayne and ‘Joker’ not ‘just friends’!

Dr. Leland had warned him that people would speculate about his relationships with others. Especially Bruce, given Bruce’s social standings and John’s lack thereof. Bruce himself had said his team of lawyers were well-equipped to stop this sort of gossip from spreading; he’d proved it the last time one of the tabloids had printed such a thing, getting it redacted with an apology from the paper itself.

But that was before they actually had a relationship.

Bruce was careful. He’d never said anything or done anything romantic while John was locked away, with the exception of his first post-Scarecrow visit, when the power and cameras were turned off for those few minutes. And last Saturday, of course, but did it really count when they were so far from Arkham’s nosey orderlies and any prying eyes? The article clearly stressed Arkham orderly.

But John had been good. He’d kept the real them a secret, even from his Arkham doctors. Even from his current doctors. Sure, he’d occasionally give a slightly suggestive comment when he and Bruce had the rare chance to be completely alone, but no one could have possibly overheard them. As much as he wanted to shout it from the rooftops, John understood that any question about potential tampering with his recovery process could land him right back into another involuntary stay at Arkham.

And he’d die sooner than face that.

Unable to stop himself, he ignored the pair of shorts still waiting for a proper hem and skimmed through the thing, keeping in mind that Bruce would no doubt bring the hammer down on the Gotham Moonrise regardless of the details.

Anonymous Arkham orderly claims to have inside knowledge regarding the relationship between John Doe, alias ‘Joker’, and Bruce Wayne, blah blah blah... “Reports to have seen Bruce pay off themselves and other orderlies in exchange for uninterrupted time in John’s cell on multiple occasions”?

“Hah, I wish,” John muttered to himself, closing the article as his anxiety starting to ebb away. A lot of money must have exchanged hands to be bold enough to make that claim on paper. Bruce’s team of  three-piece suits were probably already on their way to the Gotham Moonrise’s editorial department with a nice large lawsuit.

He skimmed through further. There was an old close-circuit-camera picture in the middle, taken in the nicer of Arkham’s two visitor rooms - John and Bruce were sitting together at the table, watching something on Bruce’s phone. Bruce had been showing him one of the old Gray Ghost serials up on UBox upon learning that John had only ever seen bits and pieces of the nearly thirty-year-old cartoon reboot from bloggr posts. John didn’t see how that qualified as them ‘getting cozy’, as the caption put it, considering they had to stay a minimum of a foot apart at all times inside there.

He breathed out slowly, like he was supposed to, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to fidget. He pulled up his favorite picture of Bruce. He was walking down the steps of the courthouse after his first hearing regarding last year’s mess, looking determined and impossibly handsome in what John knew to be his second-favorite suit, the black with dark gray pinstripes. There was nothing about the angle or lighting that was wrong:  it was perfect, like him. “It’s nothing, John,” he told himself in his best imitation of Bruce’s smooth, deep tone, “They won’t throw you back in on idle gossip.”

“You’re right,” he answered in a whisper. He kissed the tip of his index finger and tapped it over Bruce’s face. “I’m worrying over nothing,” he said firmly. The more he said it, the more he believed it.

The feed above that article had some of the usual fair regarding celebrity socialites cheating on their significant others and some minor political scandal, but then - boom, third article down:  Missing man’s body found near East Docks.

John wasn’t sure how to feel. He was excited there was something new, but he couldn’t help but think he shouldn’t be happy over a stranger’s death. The thought might as well have Dr. Leland’s voice attached, telling him to think of how it would feel to lose someone he cared about, and apply that. The stranger might have been a criminal, but he could’ve been someone else’s Bruce Wayne.

But John didn’t cause this one. It was a force beyond his control. He didn’t have to feel bad about it. Hell, it might have been justified. Maybe Muddy Nye had done far worse things than distribute toxic garbage to the masses through organized crime.

The scar on his palm peeked out over the edge of his phone.

...or maybe Muddy was someone’s John Doe.

John opened the article, finding a video on top. That would be much faster than reading.

He recognized the newscaster - Faith Ackart, who had covered his recent court proceedings with barely a smidge more kindness than Jonathan Crane’s. A real go-getter in the journalistic field with apparently very little fashion sense; her top was so bright it made the blush on her cheeks look severe.

“You think your morning’s bad, be thankful you aren’t Lou Monger - a task that should’ve taken two minutes turned into nearly two hours after Lou went to take out the trash and found a body in his business’ dumpster.”

The camera cut, showing the police tape draped across an alley and a dumpster underneath a fire escape in the background, where the aforementioned man stood in front of it with the microphone almost shoved in his face.

That was the exact alleyway he was yesterday morning. The same dumpster with the dent on top, the same fire escape, the same graffitti in the background… He could practically smell the rotting fish carcasses.

“I just open the lid, ready to throw on more crap, and this guy’s just layin’ there, dead as a doornail,” Lou explained, looking angrily flummoxed, “I got a business to run and now I gotta leave my customer’s hangin’ for two hours during prime-time! I open the lid, guy’s got a new hole in his head - what else do you gotta know?”

The camera cut back to Faith, standing across the street from the police line. The body had already been removed.  

“What Lou didn’t know was that the body was that of Muddy Nye, who police believe to be connected to the van explosion by the East Docks on Tuesday morning - where an anonymous witness says they spotted Batman nearby only minutes before. G.C.P.D. decline to comment on whether or not the group killed in the explosion are connected to those found aboard the Chandis, and on the supposed Batman sighting.”

John drummed his fingers against the table surface. A wannabe-mobster shot in the head, a la execution style…

And suddenly, like a trigger pulled in his head, he realized that both he and Tiffany had used the fire escape. She might have used the dumpster. There had been no rain the night before to wash any of their trace evidence away, and the cops were likely going to comb over the alley for anything useful.

That was bad. Real bad. Especially if Tiffany had caused that dent in the top of the lid. Especially-especially since he’d been walking around when he technically shouldn’t have been.

Tiff please tell me you didn’t use the dumpster as leverage yesterday!! He texted, unable to stop his leg from bouncing anxiously.

For what?

The fire escape??? Muddy’s dead

He’s LITERALLY sleeping with the fishes in that dumpster

I touched the fire escape and our prints are gonna be all over the ladder!!!!!

Hang on

How could John hang onto anything? They would have known he left work, and they’d question his boss, who would no doubt lie and say he snuck out to cover his own ass, they’d question him, and they’d suspect John heavily for no other reason than his past history and they’d throw him back in.

He could feel his heart racing. He didn’t want to go back to Arkham. How many exclamation points after that did he have to use to drive that point home?

Okay so 1 I didn’t use the dumpster, I jumped like a normal person, and 2 chill out. Traffic cam got conveniently jammed around 2am so they definitely planned to dump it. They’ll just check the dumpster

John breathed deep, trying to relax. She had a point. Why check the fire escape if the killer dumped the body like a pro?

3 sleeping with the fishes?? That is a terrible pun wtf

But it’s not wrong!! He texted, This has classic mob hit all over it.

“Actually…” It did, didn’t it? He could practically see the plan in his head:  kidnap to get information, shoot in the head to stop any squealing, drop off at a planned dumping ground a good distance away…with fish, no less. They didn’t go to the harbor where the message would be crystal-clear, despite the large stretch of it not occupied by cops... Yet with a million dumpsters in the city to choose from, and they went to a dumpster with fish?

It was as if…

“It is a joke,” he muttered to himself, believing it more firmly as the words left his growing grin. It was a terrible, tongue-in-cheek sort of gag.

The whole thing was something he couldn’t help but laugh at, escalating from titters to a low cackle.

He tried to stifle it with his hand; the manager was rather keen on a quiet workplace, and he knew ‘random laughing’ had a more negative connotation when he was the one doing it.

The back-room door swung open on queue, and Mr. Prinya stuck his head in. “John, keep it down,” he whispered in a rush, “I’ve got a customer.”

“S-sorry,” John managed, swirling in his chair as he slyly slid his phone underneath the pile of orders, “I just remembered a funny meme.”

The older man frowned like a stern parent. “You’re not on your phone at work, are you?”

“Me? Never. You know, idle hands and all that,” he lied, holding up both hands and wiggling his fingers to show he was empty-handed. “If they’re here for the shorts, tell them to wait - thread got stuck again.”

Mr. Prinya eyed him, his suspicion waning into something like concern. “You need it unstuck?”

“Nah, I’ll get it.”

“Okay...just keep it down.”

“Yes, sir,” John affirmed with a little salute.

The second the manager was gone, John put his phone on silent and slid it back into his pocket. He didn’t really like straight-up lying to people he didn’t dislike, but he tried to think of it like lying to the Arkham staff - if  it meant he and his secrets were safe, then it was acceptable.

The door didn’t quite close - it had a habit of not sticking without being given a little slam. He could hear the annoyingly digital door chime and the last customer’s cheery goodbye through the crack in the door. And then another not a moment later, as tinny and loud as ever.

“Ah, good morn-” There was a brief pause. “Good morning, Mr. Nito,” Mr. Prinya said, his accent becoming a little thicker on the ‘i’s and ‘o’s.

“My vest ready?” A somewhat gruff voice replied.  

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but John was more of a hyena person anyway. He had no problem taking a peek to satisfy the itch to know.

Mr. Prinya’s small shoulders were clearly tense. The customer looked the rough type, with shaved eyebrows, barbell brow-piercings, and a nose ring. He seemed to have a tan, but the facial features and complete lack of any other underlying accent indicated that he was probably only a little less white than John.

“Yes…” Mr. Prinya sorted through the rack. He was at least a head shorter than ‘Mr. Nito’; what would that make him, five-eleven? Or six? “Here it is.”

“I hope you know I ain’t leavin’ ‘til I know it’s safe.”

There was little doubt it wasn’t drugs; probably coke or heroin, given how much was carefully distributed in the fabric. Or it could’ve been something new hitting the streets.

John thought back to Vicki Vale and her little drug-ring; he’d gotten used to passing information along to Bruce, hadn’t he? His first instinct was to tell him. The handsome billionaire might not be directly involved this time, but it was certainly something he’d be interested in...and probably thank him for.

John could barely see the lumps in the cloth as Mr. Prinya brought to the counter. It looked like an old police-grade bullet proof vest - it wasn’t as big as the SWAT ones he’d seen on TV, or the one he’d worn last year.

He had a good angle. Bruce’s tech had that fancy facial-recognition software on it. It’d be easy to find him through that - or just by combing over his tattoos. One could be one for a recognizable gang.

Flash off, zoom in, and...snap!

The vest was laid carefully on the table. “Of course it’s safe,” Mr. Prinya assured.

Mr. Nito - if that was his real name - snorted.  “For all I know you could’ve done shoddy seams on purpose.”

“Of course-” Mr. Prinya stopped himself short.

The tattooed man glared at him. “Of course what? You got somethin’ to say?”

The rudeness of him was one thing, but the way the guy touched his belt, like he was going for a gun, really rubbed John the wrong way. He could see the handle of a blocky pistol under the guy’s unseasonable zippered jacket. He didn’t have to pull it out - open-faced threats of death like that just made John think of the bridge incident, and that memory was one that still made his blood boil.

“No,” Mr. Prinya responded with a slight hitch. “Of course you may look.”

Tamper you instincts, they would say. He tucked his phone away and clutched his hands. Clench, release, clench...

Calm down. (Hard to do that when he knew all too well what it felt like to be on either sides of a gun barrel. There was too much power behind them.)

Think of your future, Dr. Leland had advised months and months ago.

...Bruce...wouldn’t want him to go out there. If the guy talked, people might know where he worked. His private life was meant to be private until he was officially released.

But Bruce would surely have taken a bullet for him. And he wouldn’t have let that...that scumbag just walk around acting like he could just do whatever the hell he wanted.

He mentally crossed ‘hiding’ off his list of options. He certainly wouldn’t go in there and just punch the guy - there’d be too much collateral damage.

John would play it cool. Confident. Things were different - he was different. He could do that. Be that.

(He’d save the gory imagery of the guy clutching the bleeding stumps of his fingers for a mental replay later.)

So he clutched the door-handle and made a show of entering, swinging the door wide - not too wide - with a random piece of clothing tucked under his arm. “Hey, boss-man-” He cut himself off as appropriate, pretending to just see the ‘customer’ behind the counter. The man’s eyes flashed to him, hard at first, and then widening with recognition. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know we had company!” He flashed a grin Mr. Nito’s way.

He looked less horrified than John would have wanted. Not the ‘oh my God, it’s that crazy guy from the news last year’ that John expected. More like John was someone he knew, and he just didn’t expect to see him there. Or really, more of a ‘you look weird, and I’m suddenly not sure of what dimension I’m in’ sort of stare.

Mr. Prinya, on the other hand, looked almost disbelievingly surprised to see him. “D-did you need something, John?” He asked, his accent just as thick as before.

“That darn machine is still stuck,” he lied, “My butterfingers can’t untangle the threads as easily as you.” He wiggled his free set of fingers to show how noodley they were. It wasn’t completely untrue, which sold the bit better - he usually got so frustrated when the knots wouldn’t untie that he’d end up cutting them out nine times out of ten.

Mr. Nito’ had tugged his jacket back over his pistol. He was still staring at John. Thinking about how much of a risk it was to deal with the Arkham loon. He’d fought Batman and lived. He could be armed. Even if he wasn’t, he was fast, and who knew if he cared about collateral damage?

John stared right back, feigning curiosity. “Is there something on my face?” He asked as innocently as possible while imagining the guy’s hands being slammed on the counter and stuck there with the whole tomato of pins.

He wouldn’t be able to reach for his gun if his hands were pinned. The thought was so funny it almost made him laugh; he could feel his grin widen.

Mr. Nito looked away and gathered the vest under his arm as quickly as possible, looking like he was trying to hold a toddler on his hip. “If this falls apart on me, it’ll be your fault,” he emphasized at Mr. Prinya, glaring with less machismo than before, “Hope you’ll remember that,” he huffed.

He turned and left, leaving John to titter under his breath at how the tough-guy act had dissolved into an immature little bark. The obnoxious doorbell went off and the man disappeared into the city with a disgruntled scowl.

Mr. Prinya watched him go, only relaxing when the man was out of sight. He muttered something incomprehensible in a relieved breath.

“Yeesh, what a weirdo... Whelp, I’ll be in back if you need me!” John spun on his heel, two steps into his return to his lonely work when Mr. Prinya spoke.

“John,” Mr. Prinya said in a similar sort of tone to the one Bruce used when he wanted John to stop and think for a moment, “You shouldn’t…” He paused, thinking further, seeming to soften with every passing moment. John waited for him to finish. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” John said honestly. It wasn’t as if he’d actually done anything outside of show his infamous face. He decided to gamble and ask the big question rather than let the chance slip away. “Who was that guy, anyway?”

Mr. Prinya eyed him. He had that sort of gentle-letdown look Dr. Leland used to get when she would tell him ‘no’.  “Don’t get mixed up in this. You have your own life to worry about.”

It was the second time that was said to him in two days...

Maybe fate was trying to drill that into his head.

...or maybe it was just coincidence.

“I swear you guys say that as if you’re not part of my life,” he said with a short chortle, making sure to close the door behind him.

The back room felt much cooler than before, and for a moment he felt like he was back in Bruce’s cave, sitting at that ridiculously oversized supercomputer to dig up dirt wherever he thought a useful little worm of information might be. Only this room was smaller and crowded with sewing supplies instead of fancy tech and stalactites, and there were no bats or handsome best friend around for company.

Still, he couldn’t shake the sense of intrigue that came with the idea. He pulled up the picture he’d taken of ‘Mr. Nito’.

He zoomed in on the tattoos. A dragon tail peeked out of the jacket’s sleeve - it was such a standard thing to get that he figured there wasn’t much to go on with that one.

A large embossed star sat between his neck and shoulder. He’d seen celebrity chefs with the same sort of tat’. Nothing special.

Knuckle tattoos - because of course he’d have those - spelled out ‘PAIN’ on his left hand. He didn’t doubt there was a matching one of some kind on his right. Talk about basic.

There was something peeking out above the v-neck:  the top of a face that looked like it was split in half, with the expressions like the sock and buskin masks in theatre, cast in black and red. Or at least that’s what John assumed they were, given the eyebrow and eye shapes...

That one was definitely more unique. Worth looking into.

He heard the door chime again, but Mr. Prinya didn’t sound so nervous when he greeted them this time. There was no need to go back out or throw the sewing machine at someone. (At least...not yet.)

John had to get back to work. He’d have to sort through a lot of social media garbage to find something like it, but he had a lot of free time on his hands...

                                                    *~*~*~*~*

John had been through far too many FriendBook pages. And Chirp pages. And bloggr posts. And he’d posted and searched through the more disturbing internet forums. All in moments snatched where he could at work and travel and in the very few spots in St. Dympha he could get away with using a contraband phone in to look up gang symbols in the tri-state area and beyond.

And nothing. Not a single thing depicting either the symbol the bodies made on the Chandis or the tattoo on ‘Mr. Nito’.

He was tempted to just ask Bruce (or even Tiffany) and shove the picture he’d taken of ‘Mr. Nito’ in their fancy Batcomputer to analyze, but...they were both definitely-probably busy. After all, they were working on the mysterious-gang-war case, and Bruce was probably dealing with the stupid tabloid article from that morning on top of that, and those were more important than his little investigation.

(Besides, he really liked that expression Bruce got when John had figured something out; surprise and pride and intrigue all rolled into one. He’d gladly comb over a hundred more pages of junk to see that face when he inevitably surprised him with.)

And now he was stuck in group. Unable to do anything but sit and mull over what he was missing, and think about Bruce’s mess of a mystery. He’d looked as far back as the nineteen-twenties for criminally-linked logos that looked even remotely like what either of them should be, but found none. It had to be new, and small enough to fly under the radar…

John had a mental catalog of all the gangs that were and ever had been in the city. Black Mask was much more recent, seizing the opportunistic hole that Falcone had left in his wake and picking up business fronts and those ridiculous protection rackets, and adding in the standard drug trade. He was sure he was an out-of-towner who noticed the lack of a big organized crime unit… Or at least someone who operated outside of the city to get power before moving in on the big fish.

He’d crossed off a lot of the old mafias already, mostly due to them being dead and gone. Falcone’s leftovers weren’t smart enough or loyal enough to organize themselves into some sort of revenge plot; they were the type to follow the new guy. Maroni’s crew tended to be more hot-headed and not take orders from new people, but there were only so many left, and they had their own little territories carved out on the map that Black Mask hadn’t bothered trying to take.

The small-time gangs (seventeen of them at the last count) scattered around the place didn’t really have enough to pull of a stunt like that of the Chandis. They were more the types to make deals with the big time crooks and go down in a blaze of glory if something went wrong.

So unless it was someone new… But why? That was the real question. It felt too personal to be random. Maybe whoever was running Black Mask had crossed paths with someone who had the patience to wait for revenge. Someone deadly. Trained, if the knife-throwing was anything to go by. Maybe it wasn’t a gang, but one person. A serial killer bent on revenge. Maybe B.M. killed someone they cared about, or took something from them.

Maybe B.M. had lit a circus on fire or something. He added it to his little list of things to look up later.

He hated admitting it, but Tiffany had been right in her little insinuation - there was little he could do about this particular thing while he was on the inside...

“John? How about you?”

Of course Dr. Ludgate would call him out while was sitting there thinking. She had a knack for picking on the quiet ones. She looked it, too, with her severely-sharp haircut and the general attitude that she commanded the room. He wondered if she used to be a teacher or something. (She certainly had the style of those fussy teachers he’d seen on T.V. over the years. Awful floral patterns were her apparently her favorite thing in the world.)

Of course they’d call him out when he was sitting there thinking. He hadn’t been paying attention for quite a while.

Complete honestly wasn’t even an option here. He’d hate to just say he was just daydreaming or not listening…

“Ah, well, I was just thinking, doc’...”

The doctor was giving him the ‘ah, yes, go on’ look he was used to. It seemed a lot of the group was paying attention to him… Well, who was he to disappoint an audience?

“I still have those moments where things feel like some kind of alternate reality. Like I’m in one of those weird ‘what-if’ comics and I’ve got only so many pages left until I find myself still in…” That cozy little slice of hell, he wanted to say. But that was ‘inappropriate’ and ‘disturbing’. Not exactly the picture he wanted to paint for himself in front of a healthcare professional. “Well, Arkham.”

Mickey, sitting across from him in their little circle, was watching him like he was actually paying attention. He had a tendency to stare at his lap a lot in group. Or into space.

“But...the past couple of weeks have helped prove that I’m not there anymore.” ...kinda. He thought carefully. “Like it’s not just the scenery that’s different, you know?”

Some thoughtful looks at that. Nice.

He wasn’t going to add on anything too sugary, like his hope for others feeling the same. No, no, that wasn’t his style. He leaned back in his chair, unable to hold back the little grin. “Though this place could take some pointers from it. Exposed brick is much more chic than all this eggshell.”

A couple of titters and amused little smirks in the group. Much better.

Dr. Ludgate just nodded her head. “It’s good to know you’re feeling more comfortable, John. I think everyone here has days where they don’t feel like they’re really at a better point in their lives.”

John leaned back a little further in his chair. She didn’t seem to completely understand, but that was okay. She got the end message, at least, and that was what mattered. He didn’t really care if anyone else got it or not.

When no one else spoke up after a few beats - clearly no one wanted to delve further into that conversation link - Dr. Ludgate pretended to look at her watch. “I think that’s about all we have time for today.” She made sure to look at the group as a whole. “You’ve all made wonderful progress.”

A phrase he’d heard a thousand times, and it still hadn’t lost it’s funny side. He at least managed to swallow the urge to giggle at it.

John strolled out of the room, going straight back to thinking. There wasn’t much he could do with Bruce’s stuff. Back to thinking about the mysterious Mr. Nito as he made his way back to his room. The perfect thinking place.

He hadn’t seen anything resembling the weird theatre masks in his tattoo search, either. It was apparently rather unique. Maybe he had to do some more forum digging for that one…?

“Hey, John,” Devi Hanson waved to him from a little further down the hall clad in pink cheetah-print pants, and he saw a flash of intensely-bright neon green in her hand.

Nail polish. It was ridiculously bright, and he was seized with the urge to have it. “Where did you get that color?” He asked enthusiastically, already making a bee-line for her.

“Outside, where else?” She joked. “What, you wanna use it?”

He could steal it from her, but she was one of the few people who actively enjoyed his company. “How many ways can I say yes? Absolutely, sure, oui, si, ja...”

She gave a light laugh. “Alright, but you have to do my right hand for me.”

“Deal!”

He followed her into the recreation room. It was ten times cozier than Arkham’s; only one orderly to oversee things, much comfier sofas, a cable package with actually decent things on half the time, several board games that weren’t just checkers or some variant of it, and people that weren’t prone to sudden bouts of violence. (Well, mostly. He’d seen a very heated game of Dungeons, Dragons, and Dice.)

They sat at one of the corner tables, away from the crowd watching that boring ‘“nerdy” comedy John didn’t understand the appeal of.

“So, how’s the sewing gig goin’?” Devi asked casually as she started to paint her left hand with practiced strokes.

“About as well as it can go,” he answered. He wasn’t going to mention anything about what transpired earlier. “How’s the laundry shift?”

“Hot and borin’,” she answered back. “They say a job’s a job, but it actually makes stripping seem good again. At least there was fun music and a lot more money in it.”

“Huh, I didn’t know you did that.”

“Eh, it was a lifetime ago. It’s how I got into my nasty little habit.” Devi was rather quick at painting, apparently, already going on her third nail. “I’d rather go back to bein’ a stylist again, actually. I could style and dye hair like nobody's business.” She shot a look at his hair. “Wouldn’t need to do yours, though. You’re color sure stays...”

“It’s au natural.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Really? Man, you’re lucky! I’d kill for a color like that.”

“Maybe I did,” he said slyly, half joking to himself. For all he knew it was true. “We’ll never know!”

She gave him a funny look. Sort of curious and amused. “You don’t remember anything before the last decade, right?”

“Correct-a-mundo.”

“So why do you look like you’re always thinkin’ really hard about somethin’ lately?” Devi started blowing on her nails to dry them.

It was always tempting to tell people to mind their own business, but Devi had half her arms covered in very well-done tattoos. He could use some insight... “‘Cause I’m thinking hard about things.” John started to paint his own left hand, deciding on odd fingers instead of all of them. “In today’s case, though… It’s tats.”

“So nothin’ to do with the studmuffin that keeps visitin’ you?” Devi was shaking her hand and blowing on it alternatively.

Either she was blowing smoke, or...she saw the tabloid article. “That? It’s...just a rumor,” he shrugged off, finding it difficult to say. He’d mostly just avoided the topic altogether, or else rolled his eyes when people brought it up. He hadn’t had one of those stupid tabloid opinion pieces since last year, when it was very easy to say it wasn’t true because it wasn’t.

“Didn’t say anythin’ about rumors.” She admired her nails, looking for imperfections.

John narrowed his eyes. Did she think he was stupid? “You didn’t have to. You probably saw that stupid article on the news rack while you were out, and that’s why you lured me here. To ask about it.”

“Not even close!” Devi answered with a little frown, “I actually like your company; you’re funny and you’re the only one in this joint who appreciates my taste in color,” she said, gesturing to her whole yellow-and-pink outfit, “And I asked because half the time I see you, the guy’s almost attached to your hip. What’s this about an article?”

Oh. Whoops. “Sorry,” John muttered, feeling bad at jumping to conclusions, “it’s this whole stupid tabloid thing… It’s bad enough they gossip about Bruce, but to just...speculate about our relationship like that! It’s enough to...” He breathed in through his nostrils. “It really pisses me off.” It was too close to home, too paranoia-inducing...too much that put Bruce on edge, and thus John on edge.

Devi gave a sort of half-nod, half-shrug. “That’s what they do. Don’t give ‘em the satisfaction.” He knew she was right, but it didn’t help that she didn’t know everything about the situation. She couldn’t possibly know how messy it made him feel. “Anyway, why were you thinkin’ ‘bout tattoos? Jealous of mine?” She leaned her right arm on the table to show off the prowling leopard and scatter of flowers trailing down from her shoulder. She had someone’s name tattooed under a cross on her opposing forearm, and a necklace of constellations on her collarbone.

Flattery was the best way to go the majority of the time. “Yours are pretty,” he offered, watching her sit up a little proudly, “but I’m just puzzling over one I’ve seen,” he said cryptically, finished on his thumbnail. “I’ve never seen one like it before.”

“You got a picture?” She asked, putting her left hand in front of him so he’d get the hint.

John eyed the guard in the corner. He waited until he’d turned just enough away to slide his phone out of his pocket and pull up the gallery, zooming in on Mr. Nito’s tattoo. “If anyone asks, it’s yours,” he muttered, nodding to the phone as he started painting her other hand.

“Not allowed one yet, huh?” Devi pulled it across the able and looked. “Hm… That’s new to me.” She zoomed out, much to John’s discomfort. “Him, on the other hand, I’ve seen.”

“You have?” John could not keep the excitement out of his voice. “When? Where?”

“Here,” she shrugged. “Hang on a sec - hey, Mick’,” she called out, leaning to get a view of the only ‘Mick’ it could be in the facility, “Can you come here for a sec’?”

John did not want to involve him. They weren’t on...well, any real terms. It was hard to tell if Mickey liked him...or anything at all, in fact. Mickey was too abrasive to know if he would be loyal to anything or anyone.

Mickey, unfortunately, did in fact come when called, though. Maybe he had a soft spot for Devi, or women in general. “Yeah?”

“You remember this guy? I remember seein’ him, but I don’t remember his name.”

Mickey breathed out, crossing his arms over his plain t-shirt and looking...not very different from his usual gruff expression. His thick dark brows were furrowed together. “I just knew him as Ian.”

“Yeah, that was it… He didn’t stay too long, did he?”

Mickey snorted, smirking a little. “A week.”

John resumed painting, not realizing he’d stopped. “Who was he?”

“A patient,” Mickey replied. He was staring holes down at John. “We shared the same doctor. Why?”

John was getting annoyed, and he was getting tired of being polite. “That’s my business.”

Mickey decided to just sit next to Devi, still staring at him. “You trying to stop a racket?”

John ignored that and started on Devi’s pinkie finger.

“The hotel’s got one, too,” he continued quietly. That caught John’s interest.

Devi gave a slight chortle. “Every bus’ in the docks has one. Stupid to try and get us to be so law-abiding when they put us down there.”

Yes, now John was doubly-interested.

“What kind is it?” John asked Mickey, looking up from his handiwork.

“Drugs and prostitution,” he answered as Devi made a disgusted face, “Yours?”

John decided to be honest as he started on his own right hand. He rather liked the look of his left. “Pretty sure my boss is a drug mule. I don’t think it’s by choice.”

Devi winced harder. “Ugh. I got lucky, mine’s just a secret loan racket in the basement.”

Mickey was watching him. “Are you trying to stop them?”

It was...almost hopeful. Like he actually wanted that. A tough guy like Mickey, who could have easily been in a gang himself, wanted the crime in his life stopped. How...oddly refreshing.

“I don’t like being potentially thrown under the bus for other people’s decisions,” John chose to say, discarding the joke that he still had Batman’s number on speed-dial. “It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

Mickey nodded sagely. “You don’t want to go back,” he stated. “I get it.”

“Until you’ve been in Arkham, Mickey, you really don’t.” He hoped it didn’t sound as rude as he thought. “You guys know the name of your employer’s racket group?”

“Some guy named Boata,” Devi answered, blowing on her newly painted fingers.

Mickey looked up at the ceiling very briefly. “Last I heard, it was something like ‘Volto’.”

Interesting. A chain of small gangs working in such a small area? That only meant one thing:  they were sections of a bigger gang. Especially with such European-sounding names...

The leftovers, perhaps. Or maybe they wanted just to sound like the leftovers. Cast the suspicion of the Bat off.

One thing was for sure. He had to find Ian’s full name. A last known address wouldn’t hurt, either.

And that meant he’d have to break into an office.

Notes:   I’m very happy with the first section, but less satisfied with how the second half turned out, and it bent me out of shape for a week to think of how it would end... But I reminded myself that I’m setting up for what’s coming in what should be Chapter 5, and...oh boy, I know that is gonna knock some socks off. (Including mine, haha!) So it’s worth the struggle, but I hope I kept everyone’s attention. :)

So, fun facts! I had to look up what the theatre masks were called, and “sock and buskin” are literally names for the masks, taken from the “sock of comedy and boot of tragedy” characters could wear on stage. (I’ve...never heard of such a thing before now, but I like it.) And my reference to “a whole tomato of pins” is an allusion to the common tomato-shaped pin-cushion. I’ve grown up with one in the house and rarely see any in sewing stores that aren’t shaped like that, so I thought it was a sort of funny thing to add.

It’s really too bad I can’t just make a whole game for this, because I think John would have some interesting mental-mapping in animation. You’d get to see him connect the strings together like Batman does on his tech, and imagine some things like Bats’ 3D-projecting. Plus he talks to himself, both aloud (like Bruce) and in his head, so the player would actually hear that sometimes, and some of his little vocal memories from other people. (If my alternate-universe self is doing this...man, I hope she’s having fun with it.)

And of course, thank you for all the love so far!! Every time I get a note I go like this:  (♡´౪`♡) *✧ ✰ ｡* I’ll see you in two weeks, when we rejoin Bruce! 

[maritimemanual]

How To Become A Marine Engineer: Salary & Qualifications

Marine engineering is one of the most lucrative jobs currently available. This is not surprising considering the glamour and incentive that is associated with it. However, how much of it is true, only someone working in the field can tell you. In this article, we will familiarize you with the career path and the duties that will be vested in you at the start of your career as a marine engineer. After reading this article you’ll know how to become a marine engineer.

It will surely clear some of your doubts and misconceptions and hopefully not scare you off for the truth is indeed a little distant from the reality of the lives of marine engineers.

The shipping industry is growing at a steady rate with the increase in commercial activities, and thus, there are several opportunities for students who want to take marine engineering as a career. With the rise in the number of navy and trading vessels getting registered the need for marine engineers is rising too.

There are specific prerequisites that need to be fulfilled by an aspiring candidate. Here is a detailed guide on how to become a marine engineer.

How To Become A Marine Engineer: Career Path of a Marine Engineer

Anyone aspiring to be a marine engineer needs to get a graduate and a post-graduate degree from a reputed college offering the course. This is the bare minimum, and it does not take much to get into this course. A senior secondary certificate works just fine. In most places, the duration for this course is four years but may vary from place to place.

During this course, a student learns both the theory and its practical usage. The latter might be conducted in-house or in a more real-world scenario like shipyards. Here, they are familiarized with Magnetic and Gyro compasses, electronic navigational aids like the Radar, Decca, etc. The students are also taught practical navigation and astronomy.

Since English is the most widely used and understood language in the merchant navy, it is given special importance. Apart from that, computer science, applied mathematics, physics, electronics, and marine management are taught to students.

Some special topics that are purely related to this field are also taught like maritime commerce, the control system and last but not the least environmental science.

This training not only trains the aspirants mentally but also prepare them physically as well and are hence, made compulsory.

After completing the bachelor’s degree, it is always recommended to get a master’s degree in the same as not only does it increase the candidate’s employability but also improves upon his already gathered skill set.

It is not too difficult as the end of the previous course covers most of the tough concepts. Here, the knowledge that the candidate has gained over the past four years (in most cases) is put to practical use and that involves spending a lot of time doing lab work.

As long as one is focussed cracking these is not that difficult. One needs to have a clear idea as to what one expects from the industry. If one is serious one can do a Ph.D. in this area as well.

Life of a Marine Engineer

The life of a marine engineer is not a very easy one. A marine engineer is expected to know almost everything about the ship, and I am not even exaggerating.

From the design of the entire ship to how every component works, a marine engineer should know like the back of his hand. They not only understand them but are also responsible for designing the steering system, heating, cooling, and ventilation systems and hydraulics of the ship.

After they have designed the system and have chalked out where and how every component needs to be, like where each duct, machine and power source is to be located, they move on to estimating the maintenance cost of the entire system, which later needs to be approved by the management.

After the budget has been approved and the design and specification that are to be followed have been decided on the next step is to carry on regular inspection and checking.

A marine engineer also needs to provide the management with regular updates regarding expenditure and progress reports. Any issue that comes up also needs to be fixed by them.

As is evident, a majority of the work can be done by the marine engineers from an office. Still, they need to be on the ships for inspection and to understand the requirements of the ship and its crew better.

They also carry out maintenance works, e.g., a marine engineer who specializes in offshore drilling may be required to supervise the maintenance and repair works of the machine and the components involved in the process.

Job Description of a Marine Engineer

Marine engineer is a specialist technical professional who designs, develops, builds, installs, inspects and maintains the engines, propulsion systems, pumps and other technical equipment of a ship or other marine vessels. A marine engineer can choose to work on different types of vessels depending on his aptitude and expertise.

As a marine engineer, you may decide to be an expert in one domain such as either the engines and propulsion system of a vessel or become a design engineer of a ship.

A Marine Engineer, you could be entrusted with any of these roles:

Act as a technical leader and provide project management for ship design and construction.

Inspect and evaluate marine construction and metrics like stability, weight, and hydrostatics.

Document all the requirements, instructions, material specifications, and troubleshooting guides for a vessel.

Identify trends and improve designs using all the logs and data.

Marine Engineering Salary

How To Become A Marine Engineer

A job this trying obviously has its perks. Based on the US Government’s Bureau of Labor Statistics, the average annual salary of Marine Engineers and Naval Architects is $84,850. However, for the more successful ones, an annual salary of $145,790 is quite common.

Shipping is still the cheapest mode of transport and hence are indispensable especially in trade. Hence the number of ships continue to increase and with that, the demand for marine engineers is seen to experience steady growth.

In addition to the traditional ships, the emergence of newer fields like utilizing alternative sources of energy like wind and tide as opposed to oil has expanded the horizon for the aspirants.

The market for marine engineers is going to keep growing because the old vessels need to be remodeled based on the newer guidelines and norms and newer ships are to be put into service. Some offshore opportunities for marine engineers will also open up as companies start looking at alternative energy sources like wind turbines.

However, we must not forget the fact that despite all this marine engineering is a niche field and will always be a small part of the job market.

A marine engineer starts off by learning the working mechanism of specific systems and as he becomes more and more adept at using these systems, he or she is made to learn the use of more complicated applications which becomes mandatory for operating in the maritime environment.

However, if one is not comfortable with the idea of spending long durations at the sea, there are still some career opportunities available in the field like office jobs where CAD (Computer Aided Design) skills are sought after.

What to do After Marine Engineering

Doing marine engineering does not necessarily mean that you need to stick to it for the rest of your career. Experience is probably the most important quality of a marine engineer.

This experience is well sought after by clients all over the world. Getting USCG licenses can help you boost your career. With the increase in its level, your responsibility increases and so does your worth in the market.

Many people move to sales while others share their valuable experience with high paying clients who have their own projects in mind. They need your help to execute them.

Also read: Top Marine Careers – Sea Jobs On Ships

Should you Choose Marine Engineering as Your Career?

I hope that the article has so far educated you with everything that you need to know about marine engineering as a career. Now it is your turn to decide whether you are ready to take the plunge. As it happens with any engineering field, your maths and science need to be strong.

The training itself is a rigorous process and underestimating its level of difficulty will only get in trouble in the long run. So, it will serve you good to prepare accordingly.

The driving force behind any successful career is your passion. To work as a marine engineer, you need to be extremely passionate about the ocean and the various technology involved in harnessing the power of the sea.

All marine engineers do not get the comfort of a desk job. So, if you are thinking of completely avoiding onshore duties, you might want to look at some other career opportunities for it would not be long before you fail miserably and that too after wasting years of hard work in an extremely niche field.

But if ships, sea and the maritime life fascinate you then you, will definitely find this career to be extremely rewarding.

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