See No Evil: Shine (ch.18) (Patreon)

"Oh, hell," Jim Gordon cursed as he saw the envelope marked with 'From a Concerned Citizen' with no return address that was delivered in his mailbox. The postal service would have destroyed any fingerprints on the outside, but the inside was still a possibility. Swallowing a sigh, he pulled out a pair of rubber gloves that he kept on his person at all times -- after years of being a cop and the police commissioner, you learn that a crime could happen anywhere and everywhere in Gotham.

Grabbing the letter, he found that it was light with a faint bulge in the package. Jim eyed it while taking out a small laser pen and aiming it at the package. He didn't really know exactly what the pen was, but it was given to him by Bruce Wayne as an investigation tool. A prototype that the multi-billionaire wanted to outfit the entire police force with.

It scanned the package, quickly showing a green light to show that there weren't any toxic or harmful chemicals in the package. So, instead of another attempt at assassination, it could really be from a concerned citizen. That was nice. Usually, he just gets death threats in the mail when they weren't actually trying to kill him. Not wanting to take the envelope inside, where his daughter Barbara was, Jim opened up the package.

A quick twist of the pen revealed a black light that could reveal and snapshot fingerprints. A handy thing to have. If Bruce Wayne wanted to foot the bill and hand the pens out like candy, then Jim wasn't in any right to stop him. The interior of the envelope was clean -- whoever the concerned citizen was, they went to lengths to make sure they would remain anonymous.

Inside the letter was a black thumb drive. Cautiously, Jim grabbed it, looked it over to find that it was also clean…

And just looking at it, Jim felt a headache forming. He missed the days when the only kind of mail he didn't want were bills and junk mail. If someone was sending him something like this, that meant a mess was heading his way. But, as commissioner, it was his job to clean it up.

Leaving the rest of his mail for now, Jim walked inside and headed straight for his office. Being a commissioner paid well, at least, so he had a modest home in the nice part of town. It was hardly the Wayne Manor, but he had come a long way from a dingy studio apartment during his Blue days. His daughter was in her room, probably talking to Dick Grayson on the phone.

She was old enough to move out. Jim knew that. But his daughter was getting ready to leave the nest and move in with Richard, even if she hadn't brought the subject up with him.

But that was a problem for later. Upon reaching his office, Jim grabbed a computer from his closet -- a fresh one. Nothing on it, and it's ability to access the internet was completely removed. Anything put on the computer would be isolated. His leather chair creaked as he sat down in it and plugged the thumb drive in and with a click, he had accessed the singular file on the drive.

"Ah… shit," Jim cursed as he read over the information. Leaning back, he tore his gloves off to massage his eyes, a sigh escaping him. This was a real mess, wasn't it? But, if the file could be believed, then it was a golden opportunity. Swallowing another sigh, Jim leaned forward and studied the files, attempting to judge their authenticity.

The Blackgaters were going to 'his' Amusement Park because they believed the ones who organized the attacks on them was the Joker.

Jim knew the Joker. He knew him in ways that few could. The only person that could claim to understand that lunatic better was Batman. And this wasn't him. It didn't have his signature anywhere. If the Joker wanted money, he'd rob banks or notable people, or arrange for something to be stolen. The Joker was a clown. Everything was a great big joke to him.

So, every action that he took built up to an inevitable punchline that only he would find funny. And with his obsession with Batman, he would leave crumbs of clues behind at every step to make sure that the Dark Knight was there for that punchline. Starting a gang war was something that he would do, but not like this. Not so deep in the shadows that you couldn't see him unless it was pointed out to you.

Yet, instead of a knock against the information's validity, it supported it because of a typed out sentence.

'This is a lie.'

The Blackgaters were acting under false information. Someone had pointed them in the wrong direction. The Blackgaters were going to Amusement Mile in force, only there wasn't going to be a gang fight. There might be a few Jokers around, but it wouldn't be an explosive gunfight where bodies just pile up.

But, it also meant that the Blackgaters would be out in force.

Jim clenched his jaw, a hand grasping for his cigarettes. He took a deep breath in, letting it calm him as he thought furiously. Someone was trying to use the police force to topple the kings of East End. The thought of it gnawed at Jim -- whoever sent him this letter and drive sat hidden in the shadows, pulling strings, and using the police as a blunt instrument. He didn't like it. How much he didn't like it was determined by motive.

Concerned Citizen. A vigilante? Or was it a two-bit crime lord that was trying to pave their way to the top of East End's totem pole? The former… it left a bad taste in his mouth, but if their heart was in the right place, then Jim could accept it. The latter… Jim would make it his personal mission to take them down.

Which case it was would only be revealed once the dust had settled. If one gang clearly grew more than the rest in the scramble, if it looked like the Blackgaters falling had been a part of a plan… then that's how he would know.

"Or, it's a trap," Jim muttered as he stood up. But that seemed… unlikely. The past few weeks, the Blackgaters had been getting hammered. Their sources of income were hit, razed, or outright seized by other gangs. The drive offered information -- most of which Jim already knew, but it's validity was confirmed by a handful of hideouts that he only knew about because of Batman.

The information was real. The real issue was that there was next to no time to act on it. Sting operations took months to set up. One on this scale would take years to get approval. So, the obvious answer was to go around the rules a bit. Batman was currently gone -- after about a decade, Batman had felt he deserved a heads up whenever he was stepping out of Gotham on League business.

With his first pick out, he had to get in touch with Robin and Nightwing. Closing his computer, he took the thumb drive out before he snuffed the barely smoked cigarette out in his secret ashtray. Walking out of his office, he headed to the kitchen and left the thumb drive on the counter before he opened the fridge. Grabbing some orange juice, Jim heard footsteps approach the kitchen and he had to suppress a smirk.

His daughter might be a grown woman, but that just meant he had years to learn her habits. And, without fail, when it was nearing lunch and he opened the fridge, she would…

"Hey dad, are you making lunch?" Barbara asked, stepping into the kitchen. Jim glanced over his shoulder to see her -- Barbara looked too much like her mother at times. A mane of red hair, intelligent blue eyes… Barbara. His ex-wife, had been a troubled woman, but together they had created someone wonderful. If a bit too clever for her own good.

Jim nodded, "I'm thinking fish." He said, grabbing some salmon from the fridge. He'd prefer a burger, or better yet, a steak, but Barbara had been waging war on his bad health habits for years now. Between his sleepless nights, poor eating habits, his smoking addiction, and the fact he just wasn't the young man he used to be… well, Jim found that he had fewer defenses than he thought he did. So, fish was on the menu more often than not.

As he grabbed it, he saw his daughter eye the thumb drive on the counter before she spoke. "Need any help?" She asked, her gaze flicking up to him.

Barbara had always been too curious for her own good. Combined with her good heart and her fierce nature…

His daughter, Barbara Gordon, was Batgirl. She had been for years now. And that fact never got less scary. The only thing that made it bearable was the fact that he had seen evidence that she could protect herself. She had a team of people with superpowers that left his head spinning at her back. And Batman as well. Jim couldn't say he would ever get used to it, or even like it, but he also knew that it wasn't something he could ever stop her from doing.

Because he had done the same thing for years -- relentlessly opposing the criminal elements in the city, no matter the danger or how big of a target it made him. Any argument he could use to convince his daughter to give up the cowl could be turned against him to step down as commissioner. And if he couldn't do that, then he had no place asking her to stop.

"I think I got it, but thank you. Finished speaking with Richard?" Jim asked as he began lunch preparations. His cooking skills were novice, but when most of the food comes pre-prepared, that didn't really matter.

Barbara let out an amused huff, "You know he hates it when you call him that. He thinks it means you're mad at him." Jim knew. It was half the reason he did it.

Richard Grayson, though most knew him by Dick, or Nightwing… Jim always figured he would be the hardass parent when it came to his daughter's choice in boyfriends… but as much as Richard Grayson could annoy him, it was hard to hate someone you had watched grow up. Jim knew Richard way back when he had first donned the clothes of Robin, and he watched him grow up into a fine young man. A bit too handsome, and a bit of a playboy, but even at his worst there was never a doubt that Richard was faithful.

"Good," Jim responded, grabbing some plates. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Barbara do… something with the drive. She tapped it with something, probably a stupidly advanced alien thingamajig that downloaded the contents of the drive.

She really was too curious for her own good. Living with the police commissioner gave her all too many chances to keep her finger on the pulse of Gotham and Barbara abused that fact relentlessly. It was just something that he had to live with. But it wasn't like it didn't come in handy.

Barbara went quiet for a moment, before speaking and when she did, Jim knew he had her. "You're staying out of East End, right? It's been all over the news lately," Barbara started and Jim had to suppress a smile.

"I'm the commissioner. I go where I'm needed," Jim answered, offering a small shrug. It was an old argument between them, one in which neither of them would back down from their stances. And it was also why he knew he could never ask her to give up being Batgirl.

"Most police commissioners stay in their office," Barbara pointed out and not for the first time as the smell of bourbon-soaked fish filled the kitchen.

That was true. But, at his heart, Jim knew he would always be a detective. "It's important people see me. I got the job because people knew that they could come to me to give them a fair chance -- that won't work if I'm cooped up in the police station all day." He had spent the better part of two decades building the reputation that he had -- the honest cop. At the start, it felt like he was the only one in Gotham.

"But that doesn't mean you have to be at the center of every dangerous situation in Gotham," Barbara said, but there was a sigh in her tone. She knew she couldn't convince him. She was just too stubborn to give up trying.

"Well… I'll have you know that I'm not throwing myself at the Blackgaters with a gun and a badge as my weapon and shield," Jim said as he let the fish cook. It was an olive branch.

Barbara accepted it, trying and failing to hide a relieved expression. It was honestly like she expected him to act like Batman and start throwing hands at every single gang in Gotham at times. “You’re leaving it to the Batfamily?” Leaving it to her, she meant.

Jim paused for a moment, wanting to give her a pointed look. “The police won’t just be standing around, but we’ve had a reliable tip. With their help, we can hopefully put the Backgaters out of business for good.” It would still leave the matter of the gangwar, but without a longtime giant like the Blackgaters, they could handle the smaller gangs with ease.

Barbara hummed, probably already making plans for the downfall of a gang that had dominated parts of Gotham long before Jim had stepped foot in the city.

Three days. The Blackgaters were attacking Amusement Mile in three days. For the police, that was months too soon to do anything about it. For the Batfamily? That might as well be all the time in the world.

…

Barbara Gordon sighed as she suited up. The information that she had unknowingly received from her father had been checked, double-checked, then triple checked. For the past three days, she and Jason had investigated relentlessly to confirm it, and it had fully checked out.

“We should call B,” Jason said, leaning against the batcomputer. His arms were crossed, his face set in its usual scowl but it was deepened because of his annoyance. “You don’t live with the guy. When he hears about this, pissed isn't going to cover it.” That much was true, Barbara silently admitted as she looked up at the batcomputer, an unnecessarily large screen that could fit all the information that she would need and more.

“Jay, you know Bruce. If he hears we’re inviting out of town help, he’s going to be… himself.” The words control freak didn’t begin to describe Batman. It was a large part of what made him the best at what he did, but it also made it incredibly difficult to deal with the man. “Or would you rather the Blackgaters stick around?”

A low blow, but a necessary once. Jason Todd was defined by his time on the streets. He knew them better than anyone, even Bruce who could tell you where a pebble came from in the city. He would know exactly the kind of vile cancer the Blackgaters were to Gotham. The supervillains were poison, but the gangs were cancer.

Jason shot her a sharp look, and he had apparently been practicing his bat glare. Nothing compared to Batman himself, but it was a decent attempt. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth. Those guys are absolute trash. And you know it’s not going to be the end of it, so don’t even try telling me that.” He was getting mad. His Crime Alley accent always reappeared when he was losing control over his hair-trigger temper.

Most of the time, Babrara wasn’t sure how to feel about Jason. He was a sweet kid that cared more than he could afford to. But he was deeply damaged. It wasn’t his fault -- he spent most of his life taking care of his heroin-addicted mother, then more years on the streets until he was so desperate that when he saw the batmobile parked in Crime Alley, his first thought was to jack its tires.

Those that heard that story thought it was brave, brash, and impressive all rolled into one. Babara saw it as a desperate act. A hail Mary.

Add in the drama with him and Dick, drama that she had been involved in… A lot of things were said. None of them could ever be taken back, only paved over. But, Jason never seemed interested in burying any hatchets, instead choosing to collect grudges, so she always felt like she was walking on eggshells around him.

“It can drive them out of Gotham,” Barbara pointed out. The Blackgaters were going big. They had to. They needed a show of strength to show that they were still on top in East End, so they were martial up their gangsters for a major attack. It would paint a target on them, probably making the news, but that was the point. Their goal was to weather the storm, and once it passed, it would be back to business.

Jason scoffed, “The Blackgaters aren’t the type to go quietly in the night. Won’t be long before Blackgate churns out more scum and sends them to the streets. Not to mention that the Blackgaters are larger than Gotham. You know that.” He had a point. A deeply annoying point.

Barbara sighed, turning to Jason. He was fifteen, nearing sixteen, but he looked younger. Most of his life was spent eating actual garbage if he got anything to eat at all. Malnutrition, to his annoyance, had left a permanent reminder. “Are you in or not?” She could do it alone-

“I’m in,” Jason confirmed easily. “I’m just making sure you know what you’re getting into because I’m throwing you under the bus when B comes back.” He flashed her a smirk and some tension eased out of her. He pushed off the computer, "Let's get going then. The team is meeting us there, right?"

Barbara nodded, "It's just two others." The team was still a black ops unit, but as the years passed, public team-ups happened. Little things that would explain why two heroes were seen together if there ever was any evidence of the team leaked. Instead of headlines reading 'Justice League Has A Black Ops Team' they would read 'Junior Justice League In The Works?'

"And Jason?"

Jason looked back at her, "Yeah?" He questioned, somewhat shortly, expecting a cutting retort.

"Thanks," Barbara told him, heading to the bat cycles. She had a lot of regrets with Jason. When Bruce first brought him in, when he gave him the mantle of Robin… No one had made him feel welcome. Not her, not the team, and especially not Dick. But, Jason had weathered their scorn until the dust settled and now it was up to them to mend bridges because he wouldn't offer any olive branches.

Jason just shrugged, "As pissed as B's going to be, it won't be anywhere near as bad as it would be if I let you do it alone." A habit that he had -- deflecting any kind of thanks or praise.

With her back up settled, Barbara swung a leg over her cycle before she took off with a burst of acceleration. Her red curls flew back along with her cape, Jason right behind her. The walls of the cave raced by in a blur as they picked a secret exit. Once they were out, the afternoon sun was almost blinding.

The Blackgaters were attacking during the middle of the day in the hopes of avoiding Batman. But they weren't Batman.

People gaped as they zoomed by, unused to seeing them active with the sun still up. Paying them no mind, Barbara headed to the meetup point. A car lot just on the fringe of Amusement Mile. In no time at all, they reached the top to see the rest of the team.

Dick, her boyfriend, was dressed in his Nightwing attire complete with a face mask. With it being day, thus the lightning better, so he didn't want to risk anyone identifying him. Standing next to him was Kid Flash, or Wally West,a fellow redhead dressed in a yellow and red suit. Standing next to him was Artemis -- hero name and real name. A blonde with an olive skin tone dressed in green tights with an arrowhead emblazoned over her chest.

"Batgirl," Dick greeted with a flirty smile that she could hear in his voice. She smirked in response before he turned his attention to Jason, "Robin," He greeted a bit more formally. "Glad you-"

"Don't bother. What's the game plan?" Jason interjected briskly, not having any of it. Dick winced, but Barbara wasn't sure why he was surprised. Not anymore.

Instead of pushing the issue, Dick nodded while Artemis walked over to thump Jason's shoulder. The younger man offered a rare lopsided smirk, acknowledging her, but said nothing. Dick cleared his throat, and Barbara knew him well enough to tell that he was jealous. She was the same. But… actions had consequences and Artemis had been in Jason's corner since the start.

"We're keeping the plan simple. Me, Batgirl, Robin, and Artemis are playing decoys. The more guns pointed at us, the less that are pointed at civilians. KF, when you've identified everyone, do your thing," Dick said. It was an exceedingly simple plan, but one that leveraged Kid Flash's superspeed well. It wasn't instantaneous, and if he ran through the group before they were all identified, then some Blackgaters would go unnoticed and slip away. "The police have been notified, so once we arrest them, we head for their HQ and take down the management."

Wally nodded, "Sounds like a plan to me!" He said cheerfully. In response to that, a message with coordinates appeared on her HUD. Coordinates for placements. "Ah, less good."

"Can't be helped, KF," Dick said, sounding apologetic. Artemis chuckled before she leaned in to kiss Wally on the cheek. The redhead sighed, but he understood there was no point arguing it. He took off on a blur and a blast of wind, though not before returning the favor to Artemis. After that, Jason and Artemis went the opposite direction, using their grappling hooks to swing across the street. Once they were alone, Dick let out a tremendous sigh. "He still hates me."

It didn't take a genius to figure out who he meant. "He…" the lie wouldn't leave her lips. "Hate is a strong word. Probably." Barbara offered a weak reassurance as they walked to the ledge of the building. Dick gave her a look that told her that she wasn't helping.

It was the truth though. "It's not like he's any better with me. Just keep doing what you're doing. He'll accept the olive branch eventually."

'You will never be Dick Grayson.' Those were the words that had left her lips to a boy trying his absolute best to live up to the legacy Dick left behind. They weren't a reassurance. They had been an insult. Barbara didn't have many regrets, but that… that was one of them. Because, after that, Jason stopped trying to fit in. When someone insulted him, he repaid it ten times over. And in the drama between Jason and Dick… Dick had a lot of friends and all of them had taken his side.

"Hopefully," Barbara added, not finding it likely at times. Dick sighed next to her.

"Well, I can try to bribe him for forgiveness later -- it looks like it's about time," Dick noted. To prove his point, cars began pulling up. Flat black vans -- easily identifiable, but that was also the point. They weren't the only ones as well over two dozen cars pulled up, blocking off part of the road. Men and women dressed in black and orange got out, guns in hand. There were a lot. It was an easy thing to see near two hundred gangsters on paper, but actually seeing them was a different manner.

She and Dick responded in sync. Barbara leaped off the building, using her kevlar cape as a glider, she sailed towards the gangsters that were too focused on the task at hand to look up.

As she neared, her hands dipped to her utility belt, making her drop but her momentum carried her towards the gangsters. One seemed to sense her because he glanced up just in time for her foot to catch him in the chest. His back slammed into the car door, warping the metal while her hands flung three batarangs each. They arced towards their intended targets, leaving her free to attack the gangsters in her immediate vicinity.

The sound of gunshots was impossibly loud, and it was a sound that she never quite got used to hearing. Regardless, after breaking the arm of a gunman while she slammed her heel into another's knee to dislocate it, Barbara looked up to see Jason fall upon the men shooting.

He rushed forward, giving the gunmen an obvious target rather than Artemis, who was perched in an overwatch position. Her heart jumped to her throat, but Jason made it to the gunman unharmed before he delivered a devastating knee to the jaw before following it up with an elbow to his collarbone that snapped it like a twig. Stripping the gun away, Jason moved on, delivering brutal incapacitating blows to everyone that he could.

All the while, Artemis fired down arrows. Smokescreens, tear gas, and normal arrows. It was pure chaos, but Barbara had learned to thrive in chaos.

Then, without any warning, it all came to an abrupt end. A blur rushed past her, and the gangster she was about to punch was laying on the ground, his gun stripped away, and his hand and feet bound. The force of the wind cleared the gas around Barbara, and she found it was the same for everyone around her.

Superspeed really was the most broken power, Barbara reflected. Wally wasn't even anywhere close to as fast as the Flash was, but he took care of over a hundred gangsters in a handful of seconds. Of course, it wasn't invincible, and it attracted its own kind of villains, but Barbara was forced to admit that if she had to have powers then super speed would be her second pick.

"The management isn't here," Dick informed, his voice firm, not even sounding out of breath.

"On it!" Wally said and took off in a blur, racing towards the building to recon and clear the way. The sounds of sirens filled the air, only slightly drowned out by the sound of her cycle rushing towards her. As she got on, Dick jumped on behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Once he was secure, Barbara took off. In front of her, Jason and Artemis weaved through the incoming police cars. Jason's talents with vehicles didn't end at just stealing their tires. The cops could clean up the gangsters, but they had to snag the management before they could even think of getting away.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at the building. The doorman was already incapacitated, leaving their entry seamless. Knowing better than to take the elevator, Barbara used her grappling hook at the stairs to shoot upward. Wally was waiting for her at the top floor, a confident smirk on his lips.

It took but a moment to get through the door, bringing them into the inner sanctum of the Blackgaters. A smile grew on Barbara's face, glad to finally be making a dent in the crime capital of America. They reached the door with ease…

Yet, when they opened it, Barbara's smile promptly fell.

A body sat in a chair behind the desk, Ted, the leader of the Blackgaters.

And none of his lieutenants could be found.

…

Revy looked at Vergil -- he was sitting on an open folding chair, staring at a silenced gun in his hands. She could practically see the cogs moving in his head, turning over the problem. Trying to find a different answer than the one that he had arrived at. But, all evidence to the contrary, Vergil was a smart guy. Smart enough that he reminded her of Dutch. So, he knew what had to be done. He was just getting cold feet about actually doing it.

“Are you sure about this?” Revy asked, leaning against a wall in an abandoned building. The kind of place where gunshots could be heard and not reported because they were just that common. “We could probably snag his savings-” The thought of the millions slipping through her fingers practically made her salivate, but Vergil cut her off.

Vergil shook his head, “No, we can’t risk it. They went way too loud. If all of the Blackgater money vanishes, then people are going to notice. Skimming from the top was dangerous as it is. They’ll have reason to investigate where the money went rather than leaving it alone and focusing on the gangwar. And the trail will lead to us one way or the other. Plus, it's not like five million is nothing and we can always hit the Blackgaters for whatever pocket change they have left." He was right. Batman had a habit of chopping off the criminals that stuck their necks out too far.

Revy sighed deeply before she glanced at the people in the room with them. All bound and gagged. The prisoners from 7th Heaven. A few were softly sobbing, but more were glaring with absolute hate. They knew what this was.

“How are you paying for that building of yours, then?” Revy asked, staring one down. The one that had shot whatshisface in the leg.

Vergil let out a small hollow laugh. “I took out a loan from Mr. Cobblepot,” He said, making Revy look at him. He glanced at her, a smirk on his lips that didn’t reach his eye. “I’m officially… twenty-five million in the hole.”

The number hit Revy like a fist. She sputtered, pushing off the wall. “T-Twenty-five million?!” She blurted, her jaw slack as she openly gaped. How? How?! Better yet, why?!

“I was already about five million deep before we met. The other twenty million is new. Twelve million is for that building I bought -- we burnt the thing down and it was still worth ten million. Real estate in the inner city is stupidly expensive. Another two million is going to rebuilding the thing. A million is going to 7th Heaven to turn them into something more than a train station platform. Half a million to start up the construction company… and the rest is to make more money and use as social grease.” Vergil explained, and she could almost see the logic… but she couldn’t because it was twenty million dollars.

She dragged a hand over her face, the sound of Vergil’s hollow chuckling grating on her ears. “And you’re fine with that? Why bother taking the loan at all?"

“Yeah, I am,” Vergil agreed too easily for Revy to accept. “Mr. Cobblepot is footing the bill for leverage. He's trying to buy good will. The loan came with some hooks in it, but nothing that I can't handle. So, if he wants to throw money at me, then I'm not going to stop him." That...

Vergil continued, "This is going to sound absolutely wild, but I’m pretty sure I can make twenty-five million easily enough.” And that sentence sure didn’t fucking compute. “Unlike before, I have ways of making money. It’s not like I’m broke either. Technically, I’m a millionaire,” He flashed her a smile that made her want to punch him in the face. “I have you, Tifa, and everyone in 7th Heaven at my back. It might not be smooth sailing, but I can make twenty-five million.”

Revy really wanted to punch him in the face. Enough to flatten his nose and make him spit out a few teeth. She might have done just that if Vergil hadn’t suddenly stood up, turning his attention to the group of men. “But… I think I’ve distracted myself long enough.” His voice was hard. And tired. And filled to the absolute brim with bitter acceptance.

Her lips thinned, “You don’t have to be here for this. Much less do it.”

Vergil didn’t look at her but at his gun. There was a lengthy silence, and again, he tried to find another answer other than the one in his hand. He wanted 7th Heaven’s role in the fall of the Blackgaters to be a secret. From the initial attacks to siccing the Batfamily and police on them. All of it. The only problem was a dozen witnesses that would talk the first chance that they got.

Because they would talk. They were kept locked up for weeks, fed shit food, had the shit knocked out of them by bums when they thought they could get away with it -- the list went on. Every single one of them had reason to talk. To try to get revenge, to try to kiss ass with their bosses, because they knew if one of them talked, it would be a question of why the rest of them didn’t and they would die for it. They knew it. Revy knew it. And, most importantly of all, Vergil knew it.

Vergil nodded his head, hefting the gun, and for a moment, she thought that he was going to hand it to her.

But he didn’t.

The gun bucked in his hands, and he pulled the trigger until it ran empty. The smell of shit and blood filled the room. Revy barely blinked, but she watched Vergil carefully, unsure what to do. He took in a slow, deep breath -- back home, people would have said that he was savoring the smell, but Revy saw enough of Vergil to know that wasn’t the case. He was committing it to memory. Adding that to the number of crosses he was bearing for the good of all.

Saint Vergil. A nickname that more than a few newcomers had started calling him.

“Yeah… Yeah, I had to. Can’t ask people to do something that I’m not willing to do myself,” Vergil said, swallowing thickly. Probably vomit. He was an absolute idiot for thinking that made him tough, but if he was trying that hard…

Revy nodded, “True. I’d probably shoot you next if you kept barking orders at me while sitting on the sidelines.”

Vergil offered a weak smile, collecting the bullets and tossing a card on the bodies. One by one they vanished. Only blood remained, and not much of it. No one would be any the wiser.

“In the leg?” He asked hopefully, pain in his eyes. Revy let out a theatrical sigh before she grabbed a cigarette from a pack. Liting it, she breathed in deeply before offering Vergil a sharp smile.

She didn’t answer… but, yeah, she’d wing him instead of putting a tunnel in his head.