There was just something satisfying about seeing a party slowly come to life.
The noise and music gradually ramped up as more and more people poured in.
It wouldn't do for the grand opening of Goonion HQ to be lackluster, so I'd gone all out. Floors ninety through ninety-nine had been transformed into the most decadent party zone imaginable.
Floors ninety through ninety-eight were packed with open bars, massive buffets, and stages hosting live music, dancers, magicians, and other entertainment. Each floor had its own theme, with enough food, booze, and shows to keep everyone busy until morning.
Floor ninety-nine, though, was a little more exclusive.
That was reserved for the important guests.
"Bruce!" I smiled as I greeted him. "I'm glad you could make it."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Bruce smiled as we shook hands. He gestured toward the man standing beside him. "I'm sure you remember my friend. Clark."
"Of course." I smiled and shook Clark's hand. "How could I forget the man who's going to give me my first interview?"
Honestly, I was pretty excited about that. Me, getting interviewed by an actual reporter.
"I'm honored," Clark said with a half-smile, though strangely enough, the guy looked a little tired.
"No, no, no." I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "The honor's all mine! Don't worry, I'll give it my absolute best."
"Uh, there's really no need for—"
Bruce laughed as he patted Clark on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Clark's one of the best in the business. Make sure you give him a story, Jean."
"You bet!" I grinned and shot Bruce a thumbs-up.
Clark just had a distant look on his face. No doubt he was already hyped to hear my story.
Unfortunately, I couldn't stay and chat with Bruce as much as I wanted. After giving them a quick farewell, I went about greeting the rest of the guests. Most were either heads of gangs who had joined the Goonion or various "businessmen" associated with us.
I didn't do much beyond saying hello to most of them. Thankfully, my reputation seemed to keep anyone from taking it as a slight, so the beginning of the party went pretty smoothly.
Of course, there were a few guests I made sure to give a more personal welcome.
"I hope you have a wonderful night, Ms. Vanaver." I gave the blonde woman across from me a polite smile.
"Of course." Samantha Vanaver tittered. "I think tonight will truly be an eye-opening experience."
"On that, we agree."
We shared a round of polite laughter before she headed off.
I had to give it to her. She was a phenomenal actress, playing the part of a harmless ditz almost perfectly.
Still, I couldn't help but grin when I spotted the little white feather tucked into her hat.
Simmy truly was the gift that kept on giving.
Now that was most of the guests I needed to greet. If only—
"Jean." My earpiece crackled to life as Red Hood's voice came through. "Falcone and his cronies are here."
Perfect.
I waved my hand, and a beautifully designed tarot card appeared between my fingers.
[I - The Magician]
|Elite Item|
Tarot Card - Increase the rarity of an ability, trait, or familiar temporarily for one hour. 360-hour cooldown.
"Plan is a go," I said.
"Gotcha." Red Hood replied.
The Tarot Card lit up with stars as I used it to upgrade Fortune Lover.
Let's fucking party.
—
Black Mask didn't scowl. No, he was too good an actor for that. Still, he was man enough to admit that being here pissed him the hell off.
Even with all that anger simmering beneath the surface, the social mask of an ordinary business tycoon never slipped. He waved off some random mook he'd been talking to for the last ten minutes.
The man was a blabbering shitstain, but he'd also been the perfect distraction. Jean Valjean had finally left the party floor without so much as looking his way.
Just the way Black Mask liked it.
This entire fucking gig was a gigantic risk, and he would've loved to be anywhere but here.
His own crew had been leaking men like water because of the Goon Union. Their organizations hadn't even clashed directly, yet Black Mask's operation had nearly evaporated in the span of a few weeks.
No one else in Gotham had as many connections to the various gangs as he did.
That network was the foundation of his power, which meant precisely fuck all when every gang in the city started joining the damn Goonion.
It was enough to make him want to rip his hair out. Thankfully, luck seemed to be on his side. An invitation sent to one of his shell identities had given him the perfect opportunity to end this.
Casually picking up a glass of champagne, Black Mask made his way through the party. He stopped to grab a few hors d'oeuvres, occasionally sat down on one of the couches, and wandered from conversation to conversation.
To everyone else, it looked perfectly natural.
Meanwhile, he quietly planted miniature sound devices throughout the floor. Barely larger than buttons, they were some nifty new gadgets he'd bought from the Mad Hatter. Once activated, the hypnotic devices were supposedly capable of sending everyone within earshot into a violent trance.
But that was only the first step of his plan.
Black Mask wasn't stupid enough to rely on one little gimmick to ruin the night. He'd heard the rumors about all the absurd shit Valjean had at his disposal, so he wasn't betting everything on actually killing the bastard.
It had nearly bankrupted him, but Black Mask had made damn sure to hire enough heavy hitters to tear this place apart.
Even if killing Valjean was off the table, a big enough disaster could destabilize the Goonion and give Black Mask the opening he needed to pull those crews back under his thumb.
Satisfied with the devices he'd already planted, he continued moving between floors, making damn sure to look as normal as possible.
Eventually, he spotted a storage closet tucked away from the main party.
Black Mask glanced around to make sure no one was watching before casually opening the door.
"Harley, don't fucking drop those! I don't want lamb balls on my shoes."
"I'm not gonna drop 'em! Quit yelling!"
Red Hood and Harley Quinn stood inside, arguing over what appeared to be a bucket filled with bloody chunks of meat. Several more buckets were scattered around them, along with what looked disturbingly like piles of dicks sitting further back.
He simply stood there, staring at the scene in complete silence.
What the fuck?
Hurriedly closing the door, Black Mask power-walked the hell away from there.
Screw planting any more devices!
Doing his best to look normal, Black Mask hurried toward the bathroom on the ninety-second floor. Shade was a professional he'd hired beforehand, and with his shadow powers, getting Black Mask out of the building should've been easy.
Black Mask pushed into the bathroom and headed straight for the stalls.
Fifth one. Right there.
He reached for the handle just as the door opened.
Black Mask did his absolute best not to scream.
Jean Valjean stepped out.
"Oh, sorry. This one's occupied."
"MMMMGH!"
Black Mask could only stare past him.
What appeared to be a tiny doll of Shade was currently spinning headfirst inside the toilet and screaming.
"Are you all right?" Jean asked. "You look a little pale."
"Fine!" Black Mask immediately raised both hands. "Just surprised to see the big man himself. Well, gotta fly…"
He didn't even wait for a response.
Black Mask rigidly power-walked out of the bathroom as fast as social conduct allowed.
Had he been made?
Was this some kind of sick fucking game?
No longer caring about appearances, Black Mask broke into a sprint. His head whipped around as he searched for another way out.
Main stairs? Elevators?
Both were too easy to trap him.
Then he spotted a fire exit.
Black Mask shoved through the door and sprinted down the concrete steps. He had no idea how many floors he descended before finally stopping, gasping for breath.
He looked back up the stairwell.
Nobody.
No one was following him.
…It was all in his fucking head.
"Haha…"
Black Mask shook his head. He'd let the paranoia get to him. Fine. Whatever. Best to leave while the going was good.
He turned around and—
Something hard blocked his path.
Black Mask slowly looked up.
A towering man in some kind of bizarre owl costume stared back at him. Several more stood behind him, ranging from hulking brutes to thin, almost inhuman shapes.
His face went pale.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me…"
***
Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.
I have advanced chapters on Pa tre on/daisyberry if you wanna read ahead.
Sorry for the crazy post schedule. Life is rough rn.
As always thanks for the support folks!