Metal Gear Wayne: Shadow of the Bat

Chapter Seven: Injustice for All

Disclaimer: I do not own Metal Gear or Batman. I make no profit from this. This chapter contains graphic violence and references to the sex trade.

Flip the coin.

Good side up.

The fires in Gotham burned bright and men and women screamed. Above the carnage and chaos, the mighty spires of Gotham loomed. Hideous boilerplate architecture clashed horridly with Gothic stonework and gargoyles. Buildings constructed after the earthquake two years ago, made from glass and steel were the first to be destroyed while the older, more sturdy styles of architecture held fast under the onslaught.

On the first floor of a building, one particularly frightening stone gargoyle took a Molotov cocktail to the face. The granite decorative sculpture was engulfed in flames. It's stubby wings threw off smoke and fire and made the gargoyle look as it if were alive and freshly emerged from the gateway to hell.

But hell isn't someplace in the bible or underground. No, hell is in the hearts of the human race; hell was in Gotham city.

In the streets, a gang of women in black leathers armed themselves with Uzis and shot down anything in sight. They laughed as they filled the bodies of fleeing women and children with bullets. For in Gotham city, beauty is a curse and asking politely gets you nowhere.

This gang was known as the Leather Mammas. They killed without mercy and in the bedroom they liked it rough; sometimes extra rough.

The Leather mammas for years had held their own against the various male gangs and super criminals who called the city home. The Mammas had good picking tonight. Their pockets were stuffed with expensive jewlery and lots of cash. The cash was more important though. Since the Bat showed up, everything was harder for a thief to sell now. You almost couldn't make a dishonest living in this town anymore.

A speeding white truck roared down the street, bullets richocheting off the side and off the bullet resistant windshield.

The Leather Mammas screamed obscenities and fired weapons as the truck nearly ran them down. The driver of the stolen armoured car passed close enough to see the women wearing human fingers, ears, noses and eyes as earrings and necklace decorations.

The mercenary behind the wheel shuddered. This town had its own set of problems; and to think that things had actually improved since five years ago.

Well, whatever good the Batman had done, Revolver Ocelot's plan had pretty much undone all in a single night.

In the driver's seat, the mercenary behind the wheel signed. "Shit, the sooner we're out of this city the better."

"Why?" said the man in the passenger's seat. I the back of the armoured car there sat six more mercenaries. These were various hard cases pulled from battlefields all across the world. They'd come because Revolver Ocelot was offering them more money for this job then they'd ever seen in their lives. He hadn't told them what it was they were stealing, only that it was big time Wayne Enterprises stuff. Truth be told Ocelot didn't expect any of these guys to live to collect their money.

The man at the wheel shook his head. "This city is fucked. There's just something wrong about the people here, you know what I'm saying?"

The guy in passenger scoffed. "Yeah right; I lived for five years in Iraq. The only difference between Gotham and Baghdad is that rent is cheaper in Gothem; this is practically home for me."

The driver wore black tactical gear with a nametag sewn onto his breast pocket, "Red." Red had been working for one of the big mercenary companies in the Near East when he got laid off after the company folded due to international investigations.

The guy in passenger seat wore a green coloured getup that looked like it was surplus army gear. A bandanna with the Union Jack pattern adorned the man's head. So far all he'd referred to himself as Lorne.

It was much the same with the rest of the mercenaries. Nobody had ever met one another before tonight and none of them had ever worked together. Also, nobody trusted anyone else; which was perfect for what Ocelot was planning.

Suddenly Lorne turned to Red, "Stop the car; I gotta take a piss."

Red did a double take and touched the brim of his black baseball cap, something he usually did when someone said something stupid. "What?"

"You heard me," said Lorne. "Stop the car or I'll piss myself."

Red looked at Lorne with the most utter disbelief. "Piss out the window! There's no way that I'm stopping in this shitstorm."

Lorne gave Red an angry look and his hand went to the Makarov pistol holstered at his side. "Stop the fucking car already, I'll only be thirty seconds."

"Fuck you!" shouted Red. "I'm not stopping for anything. I'm going to drive this armoured car to Burton Square, blow up the backup generators for Wayne Tower and then collect my paycheck and blow it all on whores and blow! Stopping in the middle of pandemonium doesn't fit anywhere in that plan."

Things were coming to a boiling point. In the back of the car, the other mercenaries with their wildly different training, weapons and outfits. They were all watching with interest. They didn't care if Lorne and Red killed each other as long as it didn't cause the vehicle to crash. A few of them were standing up to take the wheel if Red and Lorne did get into a shootout.

Taking one hand off the wheel, Red had now put his hand onto the handle of his scorpion submachine gun. "For the last time, you can piss in a coffee cup if you need to. We're not stopping for anybody."

However at that moment, the choice was taken out of their hands. A gunshot sounded off and a large anti-materiel round blew out one of the puncture proof tires on the armoured car.

The squabble forgotten as Red suddenly struggled to keep the armoured car from colliding with a telephone pole.

Against his better judgement, he rolled down the window and looked at the front left tire. Red cursed to himself; it was a flat tire. Looks like they'd have to stop after all and with a sniper on the loose with definitely not friendly intent.

Flip the coin.

Bad side: kill everyone

Good side: Interrogate one of them, kill the rest.

Getting out of the vehicle, the mercenaries began to fan out and form a defensive perimeter so that the flat tire on the armoured car could be fixed. Still, all the armour made the vehicle necessarily heavy which in turn made for some very slow tire changing.

As two men worked on changing the tire, the rest of the men pointed their weapons outward. Despite their varying weapons, they were all heavily armed to the last. However the shooter was still out there so the men were understandably twitchy.

Gunning the engine, Red managed to fit the armoured car into an alleyway which hopefully would offer some protection from hostile fire.

The men changed formation, getting behind the armoured car, leaving the two men changing the tire largely exposed.

Using his battlefield experience Red looked down the barrel of his M-16; attempting to scan for any suspicious looking spots where a sniper could attack them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Lorne tapped him on the shoulder. How could this moron be so passive about the situation.

"I'm heading into that building to take a piss, come and spot me so I don't get ambushed."

Red groaned; watching some other man take a piss was not how he'd imagined mercenary work in Gotham would be like. However, the men were a unit; no matter how disorganized and ill disciplined so he went to spot the man.

The alleyway they'd entered had noly one entrance. Near the posterior of the alley there was a metal door leading into a building which luckily wasn't on fire.

Higher up in Gotham, a figure with an anti-materiel rifle observed the two mercenaries enter the building to the side. The figure was heavily armed, carrying a pair of pistols as well as an assault rifle. Lovingly clenched in his hand was a crowbar with little red spots on it that were not rust.

Dropping his rifle, the figure reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a double headed coin. He flipped the coin; good side. Time to kill them and torture information out of the remaining survivor. This wasn't the first time he'd sprung a trap like this and it wouldn't be the last.

It didn't take long for Red and Lorne to enter the building and find a washroom. Unlike the rest of the city, the public bathroom showed no signs of being burned, bombed or in any way full of dead bodies.

Truly Red hated to have to hold this guy's hand while he went to the bathroom. He truly suspected that Lorne was just doing this to get out of any potential danger while leaving the rest of the group to face attack.

Lorne groaned in delight as he answered the call of nature. He was shaken when he heard the sound of gunfire nearby. This alarmed him because it was the mercenary group firing back.

Lorne wasn't exactly a team player. He'd gotten as far as he did by betraying his enemies and allies for profit. He was a bit like Ocelot but nowhere near as smart or tough. As tempting as it was to let his teammates slug it out alone, he didn't fancy the idea of fighting his way alone through Gotham.

This job was supposed to be a cakewalk. Drive into the city at a specific time and blow up an emergency generator which wasn't supposed to be heavily guarded due to the secrecy of its design. There was a huge chance that they wouldn't see any combat at all.

Much as he boasted about his time in Baghdad, he's spent most of his time there looting and pillaing; spending very little time in actual combat with insurgents.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard Red make a noise like a yell or . . . a gurgle. It was hard to tell over the sound of the firefight.

Quickly, Lorne managed to zip it up and grab his weapon.

As he turned around, he found himself face to face with a horrific sight. There was a guy in front of him wearing a boring suit and holding a gun in his hand, but that wasn't the scary part.

The guy's face was all fucked up. It looked like he was wearing a mask or something; like a Halloween mask but truly scary, not just pretend.

Lorne raised his gun to blow away the scary man but the man beat him to the punch. Lorne's aim was suddenly thrown off when he took the end of a crowbar to the mouth. The impact of hard metal on brittle bone and tooth sent the mercenary spinning and causes blood and broken teeth to fly from his mouth.

The crowbar was swung again and got the man in the stomach, winding him. Lorne fell to his knees, gasping for breath. He felt a strong hand grab his shoulder and throw him forward. The floor of the men's room was filthy and unforgiving; he broke and bloodied his nose on it.

Eyes watering and in considerable pain, Lorne looked up and saw what had become of Red. The driver of this little operation was lying face down on the ground in the middle of a rapidly spreading pool of blood. A massive wound on his neck was open where somebody had stabbed him from behind with the hooked end of a crowbar and ripped out, taking a large and fatal sized hunk of flesh with it. In fact, Red's body had only just stopped twitching and was just truly dead in the last few seconds.

Lorne screamed as his attacker swung the metal bar down onto the back of his leg, most certainly breaking it. A few more gentle crowbar hits to the skull send Lorne off to La-la land.

In the alleyway, the whole mercenary team was dead; all killed by a second shooter. That shooter was just coming down from his nest. The man was dressed in fairly standard military equipment and a ski mask and sunglasses which totally covered his face.

He descended a metal ladder but lost his footing the last few steps and fell the last ten feet. Hurting and groaning in pain, Johnny Sasaki dusted himself off and checked his gun to make sure that he hadn't damaged it too badly. After the disastrous terrorist takeover of the United States by Solidus Snake, Johnny found himself in Gotham City trying to find work with the gang bosses and thugs.

Unfortunately for Johnny, all he got in Gotham was Catwoman rearranging some of his teeth. That was why it was so wonderful that Two-Face gave him a job. Johnny had successfully sniped and killed all of the mercenaries Ocelot sent to disable the backup generator. It was the first competent job he'd done in thirty years. Prior to that the only thing he'd done right was put together a model plane as a kid.

"Uh, hey Mr. Dent; I did well didn't I?" Just listening to Johnny's geeky voice made Two-Face want to blow him away.

Stepping over the dead bodies of the mercenaries, Two-Face had an unconscious Lorne in a fireman's carry; a prisoner to interrogate.

Harvey Dent, once Gotham City's White Knight, had always had the nickname "Two-Face" attached to his reputation. On the one hand he honestly and tirelessly worked to rid the city of crime and fight organized crime, even going so far as to work alongside the Batman. By the same token, Harvey had a dark side.

He'd struggled with dissociative personality disorder his whole life and lied to the people of Gotham with the frequency of a Soviet propaganda minister. Harvey's rocky marriage with alleged spousal abuse had been solid gold for the tabloids. The White Knight of Gotham had been a two faced bastard who cheated on his wife every week with a new hooker and embezzled public funds.

For all his flaws though, Harvey did love his wife even if he was too caught up in a power trip to be a good husband. Enter the Joker. Joker thought it might be fun to burn Harvey and his wife, Rachael, to death. Harvey got a new look and Rachael didn't make it.

Dent, with a history of anger management problems was pushed over the edge and found himself a niche as Gotham's newest vigilante. Unlike the Batman, Two-Face wasn't afraid to put a few felons on the ground.

Two-Face looked down at his coin; a two face gag coin with one side badly scarred and pitted. It was fitting symbolism.

Flip the coin.

Good side: pay Johnny

Bad side: blow a hole in Johnny's skull and do the world a serious favor.

Luckily for Johnny, a couple of seconds later Two-Face threw a bundle of cash at Johnny's feet and walked away with his prisoner.

Stooping enthusiastically, Johnny bend down and picked up the money. "Hey thanks Mr. Dent—uh, I think there's blood on the money—b-but that's okay! Thanks for the work."

Two-Face continued to walk, putting his coin in his pocket and grabbing a big Colt 1911, he went off to do some work. This would be the last time he'd hire Johnny Sasaki; this time he got lucky.

Mamma Ling's Whorehouse

Acting with the speed of his animal namesake, Solid Snake charged downstairs with his gun drawn, ready to do battle with the forces of evil.

Scanning the area with his SOCOM pistol, Snake saw a sight that sickened him. The whole front of the whore house was smashed in by a giant SUV that most likely had been stolen. The driven lay sprawled over the front of the hood with blood rapidly pouring out of his fractured and perforated skull.

Flooding in from the hole generated by the SUV were a gang of men dressed in hoods and skull masks. Those skulls with red hoods simply wielded basic melee weapons like bats with nails in them, crude flails and assorted knives and some agricultural tools. Those skulls with black hoods were armed with stolen and illegal automatic weapons. One of the black hooded skulls saw Snake and raised his Uzi machinegun. Snake however was too speedy for the desperate criminal. Two shots he fired, both struck the gang member in the head while a third shot fired right through the man's skull.

Two more black skulls popped up with Ak-74's and opened fire on Snake. The super soldier ducked down and avoided a horizontal spray of devastating firepower. Deciding to go for a different set of tactics, Snake pressed a button on his suit and withdrew a dark green capsule.

Utilizing a subvocal command interpreted by the protective plating around his neck, Snake ordered, "Spy mode on."

Instantly, the contact lenses he wore became active. Nanomachines began to connect to Snake's optic nerves. The world changed. Everything became a shade of blue/grey. Promptly, the great spy could see everything in a whole new light. He could see through objects, he could see people's bones and how many weapons they carried. Those armed with guns appeared yellow while all others appeared blue.

Seeing that the two gunmen were reloading their weapons, Snake through the green capsule at the men. With pinpoint precision, the gas capsule landed at the feet of the two skull mask wearing gang members and exploded. Both men were suddenly awash with green smoke that made them scream like schoolgirls and drop their weapons. Made from a modified version of the Scarecrow's fear toxin, the green smoke pellets were designed by Otacon to incapacitate attackers while not killing them; they'd just run in fear and eventually pass out.

The green gas dissipated rapidly, an unfortunate weakness of the compound. the gang members were visibly rattled by the sight of two of their heavily armed members taking off and running like screaming cheerleaders.

Rattled but not beaten, many of the gang members still busied themselves with acts of mindless violence and mayhem. Under each mask was a human being horribly deformed mentally by a life on the mean streets of Gotham; they loved the smell of the kill and they'd eat until they had their fill of blood. At present there were about twelve gang members not including the two who'd just run off. Two were busy raping a whore while another tore out her tongue with a pair of pliers.

A conventional smoke grenade landed in front of the gang members raping the prostitute. Most of them had no goal beyond killing the hookers for fun or raping them. The gang bangers noticed the grenade and began to scream a warning to their comrades. Their fun was about to end.

The smoke grenade rolled to a halt on the floor and began to spew out vast quantities of white smoke. An impenetrable wall of rose up and both sides of the battle were suddenly immobilized by the lack of visibility.

Like a nightmare of old, Snake in his state of the art sneaking suit swung through the clouds. Inspired by his beloved Final Fantasy video game series, Otacon modified the contact lenses so that when active they would make Snake's eyes turn green and slitted. Snake of course had no idea who Sephiroth was but their eyes were the same.

In the midst of the thick smoke, the gang members shouted in confusion as the prostitutes fled for safety. In his first encounter with the bloody gangs of Gotham, it looked like Gotham had better rethink its strategy if it wanted to get rid of this new interloper.

Clenching his wrist, Solid Snake fired the grapnel line at the ceiling and swung down like Robin Hood. Kicking with both feet, he knocked the wind out of and busted the ribs of one gang member who'd been mutilating the rape victim. Snake put a bullet through the downed man's head without a second though.

One of the rapists swung at Snake with a sickle, a quick CQC move knocked the sickle from the man's hand and dislocated his elbow at the same time. The third assailant took a sternum shattering kick to the chest.

The smoke was starting to dissipate thanks to a wind coming through the whole in the wall. There was still enough sight obstruction for Snake to have an edge. He picked off the confused and disorganized gang members like a hunter shooting clay pigeons. There was no challenge to it.

The gangs were ruthless, brutal and bloodthirsty. They murdered women and liked it, they sold drugs to children and nothing stopped them but liability; not even having the illusion of a code of honour. They were no match however for the courage and skill of Solid Snake.

Martial arts bone breaking moves had members screaming in pain and begging for an ambulance. Switching his handgun out, Snake produced a Desert Eagle fifty calibre handgun and a special stun knife based off the CQC knife.

Attacking like a maestro, Snake's moves were characterized by a superb precision and simplicity; economy of motion and the power to turn an enemy's attack on them were integral to his fighting system. With his knife he held one attacker at bay, spinning around and using him as a meat shield; while his gun took care of long range enemies.

The thunderous boom and iconic profile of the Desert Eagle served to make an impression on Snake's enemies. However the hookers were hardly idle. Several of the skimpily clad working girls returned from their flight with illegal automatic weapons of their own, aiding Snake in the fight.

The gang members were caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. One of them heard the roar of a chainsaw, only for Mei Ling's mom to chop off the man's head in a gory display worthy of Leatherface. Not waiting for applause, the matriarch prostitute drove the chainsaw at another gang member, thrusting it right through his face. Blood, brain and skull fragments were thrown all over the place and Mamma Ling didn't look like she'd lose a wink of sleep over it.

It then sunk in for all the gang members that they were losing ground rapidly and began to flee. However the hookers began to chase the remaining gang members killing the injured and mutilating them. As Snake watched the hookers mutilate the bodies of the dead gang members, peeling off both their masks and their faces, the reality sunk in for Snake; Gotham was truly a different place.

Seeing that the fighting was over, he deactivated his spy vision and his contact lenses immediately became clear. Snake really hated that it gave him literal snake eyes. Theatricality wasn't his thing. His modus operandi was to sneak in and sneak out without a single soul seeing or hearing him. Theatricality was for the costumed freaks and glory whores.

Snake turned to meet with Mei-Ling, who was utterly horrified by the violence that had been wreaked. She probably wouldn't stay long in Gotham; the library had a pretty limited selection.

Snake quickly brought his Chinese friend up to speed, "Mei Ling, there's a metal Gear in Gotham."

"Yes," she said, "but what's it doing here?"

Snake cleared his throat before pulling out a cigarette from a handy hidden pocket on his suit. Suavely, he lit the death stick with a heating element built into the thumb of his right glove. The heating element in the glove was originally meant to shock an enemy; any attempt to grab Snake and he'd grab them with hands which could scorch flesh. Unintentionally they came in handy for lighting smokes. "Bruce Wayne's company was working on a Metal Gear that could work as an anti-Metal Gear weapon; like RAY but more advanced."

He narrowed his eyes as the cigarette took light. "You need to leave this city, Mei-Ling; dangerous people are on the loose and even anyone who isn't a psychopath might just trample you trying to escape."

The soldier took a drag on his smoke and added, "You should seriously get your mother to leave this city as well. Ocelot is getting involved and there's no telling what he'll do."

"Hey," interrupted the voice of Mei Ling's mother, who walked up to snake with her chainsaw in tow. The older woman began to speak in Mandarin, "I've been beaten, raped, shot, stabbed and run over and the Joker made me dig my own grave; there's nothing that will make me leave my business and my home. My daughter is free to leave but I'm staying."

The older woman grabbed the smoke from snake and looked deeply into his eyes as she sucked on it seductively. "And besides," she said in accented English, "There is the Batman."

Turned on by mother Ling's come one, Snake felt a pang of jealousy just by the way that she said "the Batman."

"Batman," Snake growled, "What does he have that I don't?"

Mei-Ling's mother smiled, "Wait and see." The old woman turned, suddenly feeling her age. She and her girls would focus on fortifying the whorehouse while Snake ran off and played hero.

Snake turned to Mei-Ling, "I have to leave." He gestured to her whore's outfit that made her look like a Hentai drawing of a Street Fighter character. "Try to get something practical to wear."

Before he was to make his exit, Mei-Ling's mother had one last thing to say, "Oh, Mista Stranger," he turned to face him and smiled, "My name is Ning, look me up." And she took the cigarette in her mouth before walking away.

Snake was now alone with Mei-Ling and the mutilated corpses of the Skullz. Reaching into his suit's multiple pockets, he drew out an ear bud and handed it to Mei-Ling. "This connects to my CODEC, contact me if there's trouble."

Mei-Ling nodded solemnly, "Good luck, Snake."

Snake smiled back at her, "Warriors make their own luck."

Raising his arm high, Snake fired the grappling line attached to his wrist. The thin line was almost invisible to the eye but stronger than steel. Instantly, the line went taught and the powerful motor in snake's gauntlet lifted him up like a comic book her. He zipped to the top of a building and then vanished.

Mei-Ling knew that there was nothing to worry about but she still worried for Snake's safety.

Lorne awoke with a start. His head felt like his brain had been removed and replaced with cotton stuffing; it beat even the worst hangover that he'd ever had.

He groaned at the pain that jolted through his body like bolts of lightning. He felt like while he was unconscious his kidnapper got into a fight with his wife and took out his anger on the hostage with a crowbar. Lorne was honestly fearing some serious internal injury.

With great difficulty, he managed to open his eyes. What he saw was not encouraging. While everything was shaky, he could still make out the dingy inside of an old, rundown porn shop.

Struggling to keep his eyes open, Lorne forced his hurting neck to tilt his head around so to get a better look. If it was any indication of what was going to happen next, the owner of the porn shop was lying spread eagle on the ground with severe bruises on his face and a good fraction of his skull missing from a large caliber gunshot. Looks like he got the bad side of the coin.

It was then that Lorne could hear the sound of footfalls. The sound caused alarm to rise up in the mercenary's chest. He struggled to move from where he was but he found escape impossible. He'd been hauled here, tied up to a chair and worst of all he'd been stripped totally naked. Now Lorne was getting really frightened.

Two-Face walked in carrying a playboy magazine and a box of old and well used tools. Dismissively, he threw aside the skin magazine and began to open up the old and dented metal tool box.

Lorne was scared, but when he got a good look at Two-Face, then he was terrified. He just wished right then and there that he could evaporate on the spot, or fold in on himself like a piece of paper to shrink from that piercing gaze.

Once upon a time, Harvey Dent had been a handsome, two faced liar. Now that he literally had two faces, he was more honest than he'd ever been.

One half of Two-Face's face was still handsome; he had a strong chin, twinkling blue eye and messy but sexy straw coloured hair.

The other half was something else altogether. The whole thing had been massively burned, to the bone in some places. Now, even years after the original injury you could still scarred remains of third and second degree burns.

The fire had melted his skin also opened up a grisly hole in Two-Face's cheek; so that all the time you could see his now chipped, yellowed teeth. All of his hair had been burned from the left side of his head; all that remained was gruesome, cancerlike scar tissue.

The worst thing was the eye. All the skin around his eye had been burned away. Doctor had to do major resonctructive work just to make sure that Harvey could still blink. The eye was a large bloodshot orb nearly twice the size of Harvey's other eye. It was partially glazed from the fire and it seemed to glow in the dim light.

Lorne's state of intense fear was broken by a small, metallic sound. Two-Face had flipped the coin. The imprisoned man could only watch as the coin seemed to take forever to land in the super criminal's hand.

After what felt like centuries, Two-Face looked at Lorne with an intensity which spoke of a barely concealed rage. The man was a volcano that could explode at any second; it was a fifty-fifty shot. "What's your name?" Two-Face had a voice like a semi-truck running over gravel. His venom and sheer evil instantly apparent through his tone.

"Bill," Lorne blurted out. He panicked and that was the first thing which came to mind. Plus, there was no chance that Two-Face could know what his real name was.

There was a slight tremor in Two-Face's posture when suddenly the crow bar flew out and smashed the helpless captive in the ribs. There was a sickening crunch of ribs as Lorne's eyes bulged out. The captive merc wheezed and convulsed in his chair; it looked like any moment he'd drown in Gotham City's toxic air.

Two-Face looked at the small, tattered card he'd found in Lorne's pocket. It was a gift card for a chain of titty bars with Lorne's name on it. It must have been in his pocket for months after the money on the card ran out.

Two-Face got down and grabbed Lorne by the throat, using his other hand to press the iron bar across the man's throat. Lorne looked as helpless and terrified as a small child; Two-Face fed off of it.

"Your real name," said Two-Face, his hands trembling slightly with rage. If he lost it there wouldn't be enough of a captive left to fill a shoe box.

"L-l-lorne" the man gasped out barely; his vision was starting to go black between being winded by the crowbar and having the damn thing pressed across his throat.

Two-Face pulled away, throwing down the gift card and wiping Lorne's sweat on the front of his jacket.

Harvey took a deep breath and waved his crowbar a bit. Next to his coin, the crowbar was his best friend. They were like Han Solo and Chewbacca or Chell and the companion cube; there was no separating them.

"What were you hired to do?" Dent bit out. "I'll know if you lie."

Lorne gulped at the air but he still felt like he was suffocating; his entire body hurt which wasn't helping his concentration. "We were hired to blow up the backup generator for Wayne Tower, that's it."

Two-Face gave Lorne a version of the lazy eye on steroids. His huge eye on the burned half of his face was as lifeless as the glass eye of a stuffed animal. In fact, Two-Face himself should have been dead a long time ago. Under that suit, he still carried the scars from the dreadful fire, gangland fights, clashes with the Mafia and a few from the Joker. None of it compared to the pain in his heart and the eternal guilt knowing that he'd failed the person who loved him the most in every way.

"Who was it that hired you? Tell me."

Lorne began to cough and choke on his own saliva. It was so very hard to breathe; broken ribs played a part no doubt.

"The-riddler—he hired us," he gasped.

Two-Face snarled and snapped his teeth like he wanted to eat his captive's beating herart. "Wrong! I know that the Riddler was nothing more than a go-between. Who really hired you!"

If Lorne hesitated, it wasn't because he wished to protect his employer. Terror was freezing his brain. A little bit of good cop/bad cop could have loosened his tongue but that's not how things roll in Gotham. In Gotham it's usually good cop/psychotic cop; if you don't answer the good cop, the other guy will eat your left eye and if you still stone wall him then he'll eat your other eye. And Two-Face was just psychotic.

"We never saw him," Lorne babbled.

Two-Face pulled away as if touching Lorne was disgusting. "Go on!" he yelled.

"We just heard him on a speaker phone," the merc gurgled. He coughed a bit and tasted blood. Two-Face had not been gentle with him.

"And?" Dent's voice became a deadly whisper. He was losing what little patience he had.

Lorne was sweating bullets and struggling at the bonds that held him but he may as well have been glued to that chair and chained. He only stopped struggling when he heard Two-Face's expensive leather shoes walking towards him and his eyes narrow with ever present rage.

"He was british—called himself General Ivan. That's all I know! Please let me go!" And just like that, the man started to break down and cry; tears fell down his face like he was five years old again.

Two-Face stopped and narrowed his eyes slightly in concentration; it was as if the name General Ivan meant something to him but he couldn't quite remember why.

Immediately, Two-Face put down his crowbar and pulled out a switch blade from his pocket.

"Oh shit!" Lorne cried. He tried to struggle free but only managed to knock the chair over.

Flip the coin

Good side: let him go

Bad side: slice his belly open and see how full of shit he really is

The coin sailed gracefully through the air and landed in Harvey's hand. He walked up behind Lorne, who was like a beetle flipped onto its back. He was howling and pleading for his life. Given the circumstances, most men would act the same way.

Slowly, Two-Face took his time strolling up to Lorne with not a care in the world. Outside people were dying in droves and nobody could stop it; Two-Face was having the time of his life.

Lorne's begging was like white noise; Harvey didn't even hear it. He'd heard begging and pleading so much now that it had become passé. Nobody had listened to him those years ago when the Joker mutilated him and murdered his wife; why should he listen to anybody else's pleas.

Unlike most people, Dent didn't attribute his survival to overwhelming strength or skill. It had been luck that he survived the joker on the night that he became Two-Face. Luck was what it all came down to. No matter how strong a man or woman was; they had to choose from the options hat luck laid out for them. Self-determination was a lie; an illusion to let the slobs think that they had a chance of improving their lives. It was all a coin toss.

Two-Face stood over Lorne. Dispassionately he glared down at the merc with the same disinterest as a scientist examining a petri dish full of paramecium. The man struggled and made noise that had no meaning.

Two-Face snapped open his switch blade—

And sliced off the ropes holding his captive in place.

Freed of the constraints, Lorne jumped back and cowered before Two-Face like a herd animal cornered by a predator.

"You're free to go," said Harvey. Unlike his previous rage, his voice was full of apathy now. The coin toss had decided and he would abide by it without a word of protest.

In the light, the good side of the coin glittered while the bad side, sarred and pitted; seemed to suck up all light from around it.

"You'd better go," said Harvey, with the same apathy, "unless you want to make it best out of three." He held out the coin threateningly.

Lorne had no intention of staying around and giving Two-Face an excuse to disembowel him; as if he needed an excuse in the first place. Lorne tried to run but was stopped by his broken leg; his scream of pain had no impact whatsoever on Two-Face.

He casually observed the man try to hobble away, naked, bleeding and most definitely suffering from internal injuries. He wouldn't survive long on the streets of Gotham, but that wasn't Two-Face's problem. The guy could survive if he could avoid being seen; the rest of it was in the hands of Lady Luck.

Turning around, Two-Face bent over and grabbed his crowbar. With care, he folded up his knife and pulled out his handgun again. Walking out of the building, Two-Face grabbed the automatic weapon he'd been carrying with him when he came in.

Around him, two people were shot and killed but he paid it no mind. He was above it all. Even at a time like this, people knew who he was and what he was capable of. In a city full of psychopaths, Harvey Dent had managed to make a name for himself as somebody who should not be messed with under the best of circumstances.

Grabbing his cellphone with the ease borne of a lawyer's life of phone calls and meetings; Two-Face dialled in the number of one of his greatest allies.

General Ivan was in town. Lorne and the other mercenaries didn't know who was hiring them but Two-Face had an idea.

As the person on the other end of the line picked up, Harvey told that person that he had important news.

General Ivan was in town. Lorne and the other mercenaries didn't know who was hiring them but Two-Face had an idea.

Major Zero needed to be warned that Ocelot was in Gotham.

God, I know it's been a long time since I updated this story but it's good to be back :) My Partner EZB has been absent so I moved ahead without him. Hopefully he won't be too mad and if he is I'll make it up to him. Hopefully this chapter won't dissapoint . . . I think it's good but the readers are the final arbiters of all my work. So fingers crossed ;)

And now the Patriots are getting involved :D What will happen next?

And thank you for reading and thank you for tolerating this long absence of metal Ger Wayne. Next chapter features what the Joker is up to, Ocelot runs into Poison Ivy and at City Hall Gaston hosts a kegger.

This is the Master of the Boot and I say . . TA ;)