Paralyzer [Gotham]

10

I topped off some shot glasses and turned back to the other customers, frowning when I found Barbara smiling at me expectantly. After taking down Penguin, Sofia gave Barb her club back, even gave her the money to renovate. The bar now rested where the center chair had been, giving me a full view of the club through the crowd's heads. "What's up?" I hummed, leaning towards her over the bar.

"Could you tell those brats over there to keep it down?" she asked, eyes narrowed in impatience.

"Why me? We've got plenty of muscle, have them do it," I scoffed.

"I asked you because you aren't doing much doctoring these days, you hardly bartend. Plus, I'm pretty sure you know one of them." I rolled my eyes but left the bar, frowning as I took in the teenagers getting wasted in the booth, eyes locked on the ring leader.

Some kid walked off with a bottle so I knabbed it from his grasp, giving him a pointed look as he came back to sit with his friends. "I'm gunna have to ask you guys to keep it down, or I'm closing out the tab for tonight," I sighed, picking up the discarded empty glasses.

"Do you know who I am?" the boy chuckled, laughter falling short as I looked up and met his eye.

"I know exactly who you are, Bruce," I greeted, standing up and handing the empty glasses to a passing bartender. "What I said doesn't change."

"Aunt Luci, what're you doing here?" he chuckled. "Guys, this is my aunt, she's been all over the place with criminals in this town." I folded my arms over my chest and frowned at him.

"I'm an adult, I can make my own choices. You however... Where's Alfred?"

"Go ahead, call him. He won't answer," Bruce shrugged, leaning back into either girl at his side.

"Why not?" I asked curiously.

"'Cause I fired him," he slurred with a smirk. "It was time to move on, you know what I'm saying?"

"No, actually," I shook my head. "I don't know who you're pretending to be, but the kid before me isn't my nephew." His eyes narrowed at me but I couldn't care less about what a moody teenager had to think about me. "I meant what I said, reel it in or you're done for the night."

I turned away from him and paused a moment, watching as Tabitha threw herself in the middle of a barfight and quickly ended it. I rolled my eyes and went back to the bar, keeping an eye on his booth for the rest of the night.

[]

Victor was home before I was, sitting on the couch and cleaning his guns on the coffee table. I shook my head and slipped my hands over his shoulders, smiling when he leaned his head back. I ran my fingers down his face and studied his expression with gentle curiousity. "You feeling okay?" He took Falcone's death a lot harder than I did, I wasn't sure if now it had just doubled, but his stress was a bit more palpable now.

"I thought you weren't that kind of doctor," he frowned, quickly turning his lips up in a chuckle.

"I'm not a shrink, no. But I do care about how you're doing." I turned my lips up as well, restarting a trail down his jaw. "Call me sentimental." He scoffed and lifted his head, taking a moment to stare at the hand I rested on his left shoulder. I had been overwhelmed by curiosity the first few times I'd gotten to see him, but I was starting to learn. There was a small patch just below my hand, an inch or so from the bullet wound I'd stitched up for him. The exit wound was more visible than the entry, but he wasn't as concerned about his back with his privacy; both had scarred over and were pale.

It hadn't registered in my infected mind, but when the virus was unleashed on Gotham, he'd added a few marks in that spot, healed over and the tally incomplete, though he had fresh spots he meticulously finished before moving onto the next. I'd come to the conclusion that this spot had been reserved for me, somewhere in his warped mind. "If you won't tell me that, talk to me about work." He turned from my hand and lifted an invisi-brow at me, turning his eyes up to my face. "Is all I get being a bartender for the Sirens? It's not really a glamorous life."

"Wait until Sofia needs something from you, or--"

"Don't say it," I sighed, pulling a step back. "I don't want to hear another word about it." Victor nodded, eying me even closer for a second before turning forward. I came back when he sat up, setting his gun down before pulling me over the back of the couch. "Hey," I chuckled, smiling when he pressed his forehead to mine. He held me there a long moment, running his fingers over my skin and making me sigh. "Now I'm gunna need to shower, again," I lightly scolded, doing nothing to stop him.

"Mm, sucks for you," he mumbled. I shook my head and gave him a short kiss.

"Go ahead and finish cleaning your guns, I'll be out soon enough. I've never had to clean gunpowder residue off myself before," I chuckled, pulling back and standing from his lap.

"It isn't that hard. Just use soap." I rolled my eyes and walked to the bathroom, ignoring his laughter as I pulled up my shirt and examined the dirty finger tracks he'd left, making my skin look pale in comparison. All the way over, I didn't hear a single clink of metal, the weight of his eyes telling me he was following the paths, too.