milliways_bar | (no subject)

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alexander knox

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Knox's interview with Commissioner Gordon ran two days ago. By this morning, to his surprise and delight, PM had received over 500 letters commenting on the story. In point of fact, most of them renewed the decade-long debate over Gordon's ability, attitude and honesty and said nothing about his writing skills or his conclusions about Gordon or the GCPD. But this still served to confirm his sense that people like reading about cops as much as he likes writing about them.

Which means he's getting ideas. And jotting them down from time to time. Even as he sips his coffee and reads some of those letters (which he is only borrowing, so he's being really careful with that cup).

Come say hi.

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Remember these two? Probably--they are rather hard to forget, after all.

"Good coffee?" asks Croup, from three inches behind Knox's ear.

"Smells good," adds Vandemar, from three inches behind his other ear.

Oh, good. His day was going so well.

"Then stick with the coffee." He's really worried they might try to eat him.

"I suppose we could do that." Croup is now in front of him, despite having not appeared to move.

Then he's gone. He returns with two cups of coffee.

"It is good coffee." Vandemar grins.

"And how is your day going? Delightfully, I hope."

"Er, yeah. Just catching up on some letters. Things are good." No point in adding "things were great till two really creepy guys who eat people arrived." It's not accurate, anyway. He thinks only one of them eats people. The other is just creepy.

The other one prefers to torture people.

"Quite a lot of them, by the look of things."

"Yeah, I wrote about the police commissioner. That gets people going." He can't help brag a little to anyone who asks. Heck, even sociopaths read newspapers.

"Yes, I suppose it would. People tend to get overexited about things like 'safety'. A tad silly, that. The whole planet could be destroyed at any time, but the masses want their delusions."

"Coppers, eh?" Vandemar grins. "I like coppers."

Croup sighs. "You like breaking them, that's not the same thing."

"Into little wet pieces," agrees Vandemar happily.

"You guys," he notes warily, "would do well in Gotham.

"And for the record, no one in Gotham ever feels that safe. Even with a good boss cop and a vigilante." Who might be the only man on Earth that V&C wouldn't creep out.

"Ah, good. That shows some small degree of intellect, one which is generally lacking in human beings."

"Gotham does sound fun." Vandemar grins. "We should go."

"Indubitably we should. We could have a lot of fun." Croup grins as well. "Bring the thumbscrews. And the Spanish tickler. And the Pear of Angiush."

"I'm not going to ask.

"But if you do come, you might want to get a job with the local mobs." Where, with any luck, Batman will spot them fast. "They're always hiring."

It might destroy the Gotham mob. They get irritated easily, and they collect their debts with meat hooks.

"I imagine they would be. That's one of the delightful things about the Mafia."

"And all the corpses they leave behind." Vandemar licks his lips.

"Now now, don't you get on that subject. You have a bloody one-track mind you know that?"

"Yeah, food."

"The Mob doesn't like people eating the corpses, I think. They like to leave something for the cops or the other branches of the Mob. Sends a better message." And yes, Vandemar really thinks about food too much, and Knox conversely is not thinking about it at all.

"Shame, that."

"Get to torture people, though," says Croup happily.

"Yeah, that's fun." Vandemar brightens.

"Absolutely wonderful. Nothing brightens up my day like someone on the rack."

"The Mob doesn't use the rack. Too old world." And he suspects that using it requiring knowing what it is. The crooks in Gotham were never that smart.

No, they aren't.

"Oh, that's alright. We have plenty of other little toys."

"Er, yeah. You probably do." He hopes this is a subtle enough invitation to not tell him about them.

Sorry, Knox. Croup is searching through his pockets for examples.

"Thumbscrews . . . heretic's fork . . . more thumbscrews . . . witch's spider . . . iron collar . . . pear of anguish."

He drops the mentioned items on the table.

Well, there goes any chance of sleep tonight without a beer or two first. "I know I am gonna regret this...pear of anguish?"

Croup holds up a pear-shaped piece of metal. He turns a screw, and it opens up into a sharp-tipped flower.

"Put into someone's mouth and turn the screw . . ." He smiles delightedly. "Not just their mouths, either. All sorts of painful things you can do with it."

Knox's face goes pale as his imagination comes alive for just long enough to make him wish he'd never, ever asked. "I so do not want to know that."

"You shouldn't have asked, then." Croup smirks at him.

"Yeah, I'm starting to learn that." And he decides it's time to ignore the creepy creepy men and hope they go away.

Not going to happen, sorry.

"Heretic's fork isn't so bad," Croup continues, helpfully. "One end against your sternum, the other against your chin. Forces the head all the way back, which is somewhat painful and leaves you delightfully exposed."

"Makes it harder to fight the torturer," adds Vandemar.

"Thumbscrews are classic, of course. Break your fingers or even tear them off. Iron collars have spikes on the inside, hang the person up by them and it'll kill them eventually."

"Like the witch's spider," adds Vandemar, holding up a thing like a cross between a pair of salad tongs and a wicked set of claws.

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