Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
“Don’t worry about it, don’t worry about it,” the Chechen repeated into his cell phone, waving his hand in a dismissive fashion at the person on the other end of the line. As he did, ashes from the cigarette he held flickered to the ground. He made his way out of a nightclub that he owned. With the deaths of Maroni and Gambol, business was quite lucrative. At the moment, with a few drinks in him and his security detail out of sight, the Chechen was feeling rather invulnerable. It was a dangerous feeling. Before he could enjoy it or remember that he should take precautions, the barrel of a gun was being pressed into his back and a hand squeezed his neck with a vise grip.
“Don’t fucking move,” Harvey Dent rasped.
The Chechen was momentarily confused as Dent pushed him back toward the alley where the former DA had been lying in wait. By the time the Chechen started to struggle against Dent, it was too late. He was up against a wall with the gun pressed against his chest.
“Dent,” he managed.
“Surprised?” Harvey’s smile was almost maniacal.
“I’d heard rumors,” the Chechen said.
“Rumors of what?” Harvey wanted to know, “That I was dead? That I was alive but might as well be dead? What?” He grabbed the Chechen’s collar, knocking the man’s head against the brick wall.
“That you were alive,” the Chechen’s words were almost slurred as he recovered from the blow to his head. He looked around, his gaze unfocused, trying not to look at Dent's face.
“The face too much for you?” Harvey grabbed the other man’s chin and forced the Chechen to look at him. “You like that? You did this, you son of a bitch. You and those other cowards!”
The Chechen stared back, flinching as he was forced to study the twisted, discolored scars.
“How does it feel to take a man’s life?” Harvey sneered, his face closer to the Chechen’s. “To take everything from him-his work, his family-his fucking face?!” Forgetting about the reason he’d come to see the Chechen in the first place, Harvey reached for his coin. “Now you’re gonna know what it’s like to have everything taken from you.” He shoved the coin in the Chechen’s face. “Heads you live, tails you die.”
“Wait!” The Chechen did not like the odds. He’d had a risky time of it lately, especially with the Joker running wild. “What do you want? You’re-you’re right. We did that to you. The Bat got out of hand. You were collateral damage. What do you need? Money? Protection?”
“Money, for starters,” Harvey said, remembering why he was there. He named a figure. “Cash. Delivered at the place of my choosing. That’s monthly payments, not one lump sum.”
The Chechen nodded.
“You screw it up, you lie to me-just remember I know how you move your money and how you operate,” Harvey said, “I remember everything we had on you and what I don’t remember, I can still access. Building blueprints, financials, which of your men would turn on you for a shot at some extra money.”
“And if I decide it would be easier to kill you?” The Chechen wasn’t planning on it, in fact had already decided that Dent could be useful to him, but asked anyway.
The man they were calling Two-Face grinned. “You can try to kill me, but you already failed once. And this time I’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Don’t fucking move,” Harvey Dent rasped.
The Chechen was momentarily confused as Dent pushed him back toward the alley where the former DA had been lying in wait. By the time the Chechen started to struggle against Dent, it was too late. He was up against a wall with the gun pressed against his chest.
“Dent,” he managed.
“Surprised?” Harvey’s smile was almost maniacal.
“I’d heard rumors,” the Chechen said.
“Rumors of what?” Harvey wanted to know, “That I was dead? That I was alive but might as well be dead? What?” He grabbed the Chechen’s collar, knocking the man’s head against the brick wall.
“That you were alive,” the Chechen’s words were almost slurred as he recovered from the blow to his head. He looked around, his gaze unfocused, trying not to look at Dent's face.
“The face too much for you?” Harvey grabbed the other man’s chin and forced the Chechen to look at him. “You like that? You did this, you son of a bitch. You and those other cowards!”
The Chechen stared back, flinching as he was forced to study the twisted, discolored scars.
“How does it feel to take a man’s life?” Harvey sneered, his face closer to the Chechen’s. “To take everything from him-his work, his family-his fucking face?!” Forgetting about the reason he’d come to see the Chechen in the first place, Harvey reached for his coin. “Now you’re gonna know what it’s like to have everything taken from you.” He shoved the coin in the Chechen’s face. “Heads you live, tails you die.”
“Wait!” The Chechen did not like the odds. He’d had a risky time of it lately, especially with the Joker running wild. “What do you want? You’re-you’re right. We did that to you. The Bat got out of hand. You were collateral damage. What do you need? Money? Protection?”
“Money, for starters,” Harvey said, remembering why he was there. He named a figure. “Cash. Delivered at the place of my choosing. That’s monthly payments, not one lump sum.”
The Chechen nodded.
“You screw it up, you lie to me-just remember I know how you move your money and how you operate,” Harvey said, “I remember everything we had on you and what I don’t remember, I can still access. Building blueprints, financials, which of your men would turn on you for a shot at some extra money.”
“And if I decide it would be easier to kill you?” The Chechen wasn’t planning on it, in fact had already decided that Dent could be useful to him, but asked anyway.
The man they were calling Two-Face grinned. “You can try to kill me, but you already failed once. And this time I’ve got nothing to lose.”