(no subject)
Bastard.
He'd gone in good faith, discharging his responsibility to Dent, to help get him out of Arkham. He'd ended up being accessory to the breakouts of at least one, if not two others. Which wasn't that much of a problem, Nygma was smart enough to keep his distance from Floyd, lest he wind up with a new and unplanned hole in his forehead. No, the real problem was that while he was planning a vast distraction by blowing up the Arkham motor pool, Dent scampered off into the night and left him.
No, not Dent. Two-Face. He was pretty sure Harvey wasn't driving the bus this time. After all, Harvey had to know that leaving him would get him shot.
Still, it was a damn miracle that he'd made it off the Arkham grounds not lashed to the front of the Batmobile like a goddamned war trophy. He knew staying in Gotham was pressing his luck. Plus, Zoe was back in Metropolis, but he'd made arrangements to have the old neighbor couple keep an eye on her. The real problem was, if he let Dent Two-Face get away with leaving him behind, what it would do to his rep. Everyone would think that they could get away with taking Deadshot off on a job. That's the kind of thing that winds you up dead at the hands of a third-rater like the Spook or Magpie.
On the other side of it, he was presumed dead. And Floyd Lawton's face was pretty well known in Gotham. So was Deadshot's. This little caper had to be handled delicately, and delicate work was never his strong suit. So, he'd holed up in a little no-tell motel off of Crime Alley for now, to figure out his next move.
He was really strongly considering kidnapping someone close to Dent and putting the word out that he'd send them back to Harvey's alter ego with more lead in them than your average tacklebox. That was just the anger talking. Enough cheap beer and that would move out of the way and give him about two hours of clear thinking before he passed out. Where the hell were Rick Flag or the Wall when he needed someone to draw up a plan, anyway?
He'd gone in good faith, discharging his responsibility to Dent, to help get him out of Arkham. He'd ended up being accessory to the breakouts of at least one, if not two others. Which wasn't that much of a problem, Nygma was smart enough to keep his distance from Floyd, lest he wind up with a new and unplanned hole in his forehead. No, the real problem was that while he was planning a vast distraction by blowing up the Arkham motor pool, Dent scampered off into the night and left him.
No, not Dent. Two-Face. He was pretty sure Harvey wasn't driving the bus this time. After all, Harvey had to know that leaving him would get him shot.
Still, it was a damn miracle that he'd made it off the Arkham grounds not lashed to the front of the Batmobile like a goddamned war trophy. He knew staying in Gotham was pressing his luck. Plus, Zoe was back in Metropolis, but he'd made arrangements to have the old neighbor couple keep an eye on her. The real problem was, if he let Dent Two-Face get away with leaving him behind, what it would do to his rep. Everyone would think that they could get away with taking Deadshot off on a job. That's the kind of thing that winds you up dead at the hands of a third-rater like the Spook or Magpie.
On the other side of it, he was presumed dead. And Floyd Lawton's face was pretty well known in Gotham. So was Deadshot's. This little caper had to be handled delicately, and delicate work was never his strong suit. So, he'd holed up in a little no-tell motel off of Crime Alley for now, to figure out his next move.
He was really strongly considering kidnapping someone close to Dent and putting the word out that he'd send them back to Harvey's alter ego with more lead in them than your average tacklebox. That was just the anger talking. Enough cheap beer and that would move out of the way and give him about two hours of clear thinking before he passed out. Where the hell were Rick Flag or the Wall when he needed someone to draw up a plan, anyway?