Post by Deleted on Nov 28, 2013 4:30:06 GMT -5
The streets of Gotham were never silent, especially not on the east side. The distant blaring of sirens in the distance, and ringing of gunshots. However one gets used to it and learns to deal, especially when it's all that is available. And Two-Face hardly noticed the chaotic noise of the streets, often too distracted with the noise going on in his head. The two, always speaking and never staying silent. 'We can't trust the cat, kill her when she gets here!' one would hiss. 'No, Selena's too valuable, and has too many connections. We need her!' the more often sensible one spoke. But the urge to kill, to give in to the temptation was there. But both voices needed to be calmed, and a decision had to be made, that's where the coin came in.
Two-Face sat in a casual position, feet on the table old wood and leaning back in his equally as old chair. In his right hand, he held a cigar to his lips and puffed a ring of smoke. In his free hand, he flipped his coin. Flipping a coin like biting his nails, a habit he could never break. He would often do it without paying mind to it, as natural as breathing. 'Damn, sure couldn't have found a bigger pit' he thought while his mind wondered. The Black Bass it was called, and the isolation was good for a private little meeting. But that was the only positive part, considering every chair was off-balance, the wallpaper was peeled, and the liquor cabinet was only stocked with piss for liquor. However, the owners were easily payed off, and his henchmen didn't seem to mind the drink. Speaking of which there were two of them, piss-ass drunk and holding shotguns. Thank God he wasn't relying on them.
“You sure she's coming boss? This isn't the type of place for... her type, ya know?”
One of his two henchmen said, sitting on a rather wobbly bar stool. They were formalities, wouldn't even be useful if Selena got... frisky. Considering they thought of her as no more than just some woman, the underestimation alone would make them pray. “Yeah, It's getting late and all...” the other idiot slurred, deep into another glass of whiskey.
“If I didn't think she'd be here, why the hell would we be here?! I pay you idiots to shoot, not give goddamn insight.”
Dent needed better hired guns, as in ones that wouldn't get drunk on the job. Most of the gang-members did their job fine, but clowns like these were just machine gun fodder. He took another puff of his cigar, and a flip of his coin. There'd better be progress tonight, something to get him on the right track. But, he kept his mind leveled, and kept his coin flipping.