Somebody Sure As Hell Messed Up (Part 4)
(In which Music Meister, nee Dennis Prowell, and The Toyman, rarely known as Winslow Schott, have a revealing conversation over board games.)
"I like to know as much information as I can. It helps things run smoothly." said the Toyman.
Dennis took a deep breath in, then out. No theatrics this time. "Fine. You want the real story. Here it is.”
“...This was a team effort: I was showing her a night on the town. After that whole 2000 scare I just thought a day to celebrate the New Year was what she needed. What I said about breaking in was true. We were stealing ... miscellaneous goods when your bowl arrived. It wasn't until the building started to crumble apart when she pushed me into the hand though. So there it is. Are you happy?"
"Really? She actually pushed you? That's something I'd expect her to do to me, not you. You two were supposedly pretty chummy." Winslow leaned in. "Goes to show you, she's a dangerous one."
"Well I would've expected Lyle to be more of the type to do such a thing. But I softened him up. I suppose I just didn't have enough time to get close to Darci. At least not to the point of being as chummy as you'd think." Dennis made a meek attempt to whistle to fill in the silence, but the mic on him kept making the pitch off key and weird. Definitely something he stopped a few seconds in. "I doubt she'll come over for some tea. You got no use keeping me around if that's the case."
"Oh she'll come. I've got my best man on it right now. And you'll be staying for a while. I can't help but be a little suspicious, you know? And we can keep each other company until our little reunion!" said Winslow, failing to hide the excitement in his voice.
"Suspicious? Me? Perish the thought." Shit. You blew it, Prowell. Dennis bared a smile that was more than a little ingenuine. "So. We're going to 'keep each other company?'"
"Naturally! I haven't had a guest over in a very long time. Tell me, do you like board games?"
A very long time, huh? "Board games are fun." Dennis tried to match Winslow's energy. In truth, Dennis was much more fond of scrapbooking news articles about crime than he had been about board games when he was a child. The only board game he's truly interested in is D&D, but that was neither here nor there.
"I have quite a few, but be warned! I've had a lot of time to practice." One of the doors to the room slid open to reveal a tall shelf full of colorful boxes.
"Ah, well! It looks like you've got a lot of things to keep us occupied. Ha." God. I wish Hartley were here...
"How about Battleship? Or Chutes and Ladders?" Winslow hopped down off of his chair and went to the shelf to peruse the collection. "Or maybe Connect Four?"
Yeah... Hart's just the person I'd want to see right about now. "Now, Battleship's something I know haha!"
"Oh boy! Sounds good to me!" He grabbed the box from the shelf and took his seat again, pulling the screens out of the box and sliding one down to Dennis. Winslow began setting up his side.
Dennis followed suit. "So you haven't had a friend over in a long time?"
"No, not since Peter. And I can't even remember the time before that. Mostly, it's just me and the friends I make myself. Uh, just say when you are ready."
He gave a thumbs-up in response. "G7. Merkel? Oh! He's been over at Sel's a couple of times. Very fond of Twister I've heard." Dennis then stopped for a moment. "Wait, then how did you meet Darci? Was it a henchgirl for hire gig gone to pot?"
"M-miss; J4" Toyman’s voice stammered as he placed a piece in his water. "You... you don't know do you? That's... kinda funny actually. You haven't noticed anything, well, peculiar about her, have you?"
"Hit. B2. No, nothing that would warrant suspicion. But that's coming from a Gotham resident. Maybe that sort of stuff flies past me." He stopped, just for a moment. "Then she's got something wrong with her, huh?"
"Oh no, she's perfect." He paused. "Well, correction: she was a little bit more rebellious than I expected. Hit! J5."
"Miss. B3" Rebellious, he says. Rebellious. Sure you can call a student or criminal rebellious. But a lover? Not unless you got something wrong with your own methods... "Is that so?"
"Hmmm, Hit. You sunk my destroyer! J3?" said Toyman, considering his move. "You think you've got someone figured out, and they go and manage to turn your life topsy-turvy. I just don't know how she did it, but oh boy, did she."
"Hit. A1. You could say that about anybody though. Everybody's kinda got layers to them you know. Like tree rings. Or cake."
"Miss. J2. I suppose that's true, but she really isn't just anybody."
"Hit. A5. Then who is she?"
"She is mine." said Toyman, pointedly, before clearing his throat. “Ahem. Miss. H3."
... Noted. "I'll rephrase the question. What was she like to you? Miss. F6."
"At the start, she was my perfect doll. Then a switch was flipped, and she fled. Eventually, that Big Blue Bully got jealous when I tried to get her back, but we fled together. I thought it would be different, or rather back to the way things were, but she was just as manipulative as she was when she left. Hit. J1."
"Hit. The ship has sunk. F5." ... This bitch is lonely. If I connect the pieces together, then he's probably been wallowing in his misery ever since. "That sure sounds rough. I totally get it. Is there anything you've done for yourself since she left?"
"Oh, you know. Just a lot of work around here. Trying to stay busy. I started my blog, but that didn't really pan out...Miss. E7?"
"Hit. C9." Bingo. "Maybe you could benefit from getting out more. I mean more than just a blog. Get some friends with different perspectives. Live a little. You discover more about yourself that way."
"I don't know where to begin with something like that.” replied Toyman plainly. “It's not like someone like me can just go out and try to chat with random people. People would take one look at me and want to run. It might be different over in Gotham, but over here, they would never. Miss. F6."
"You started off with your blog. And that got Peter to talk to you. That was a good starting point.
Maybe you could do the same thing. But you know. Without any alias or villain names. Then you wouldn't limit the people who share your niche interests to just rogues. Hit. C4"
"Miss, G7, And I don't think I can. I'm not much else but "The Toyman" anymore. I've devoted my entire life to get revenge on one man, and some alien takes him out before I got to try again. I'm not sure I am who I was anymore because I've been me for so very long."
"Hit. You sunk my ship. G1." Maybe that's why Darci ran off. Tch. "Then... Let's start off even smaller. Yeah. Bake the layers of your cake before you make the frosting! We'll just have to find some hobbies that click. Then we can go from there."
"Well, obviously I like toys. Uhhh, mechanical engineering? And movies.” He seemed curious, despite the mask. “Miss. C3"
"I'm sure there's plenty of other people out there who like movies and engineering too. Ever thought about joining a STEM group? Miss. F7."
"Hit. C9? There probably are, but what if they don't like me, or they find out who I am?"
"Hit. F8. If they're really your friends they wouldn't care, would they?" replied Dennis easily, although as his words settled in, he couldn’t help but wonder… I'm sure there's going to be someone to get me out of here. Hopefully not Darci… What if they've already forgotten about me? Or that they wanted me gone this whole time and they're celebrating my death as the minutes pass by? ...But that couldn't be the case. Almost everybody loves me!...Right?
"Hit. C10...I'm... not sure I want to talk about this anymore." murmured Toyman, presumably glancing away. "Do... do you like any movies?"
"Hit. F9." It's your funeral. "Oh, sure I like movies." Dennis smiled.
"Hehehe! Miss! C8? Do you have a favorite movie? O-or maybe a favorite genre?"
"Hit. E9, and… I only ever liked Quentin Tarantino flicks." he replied, with a blissful smile to accompany his lie. "I've always been enamored by the harsh reality of crime. It's just so intoxicating. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Miss. C7? Really? That's quite an interesting revelation about you, Mr. Prowell. I would have pegged you as just a musical fan, but that's what I get for assuming. I must admit it might not completely be my cup of tea, but I did enjoy Pulp Fiction."
"Hit. G9. Oh yeah! Crime's always been a big part of my life. My folks have always been a big inspiration for me when it comes to that."
"Miss. C6. Really? Your parents were criminals, then?"
"Hit. E5. Of course. Fine upstanding people they are. Looong before Big Blue came to town. Their old names were Songbird and Fireball. That ring any bells?"
"Miss. C6. They sound familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it."
"You already played C6. Tch...They were part of an underground gang way back when. But they quit that sort of work before I came along. Never told me why though. Which is strange..."
"Oh, silly me. I meant to say C5. Hmmm... Where were they out of?"
"Hit. You sunk my ship. A8, and...The Intergang, I think. That place used to be big on recruiting metas back in the day. I know that for sure."
"They were INTERGANG? I don't blame them for leaving. Miss. D10."
"Yeah it had something to do with a mix up that led to members getting killed. Least that's what my Pop told me. But my kidnapping was when my folks were especially put off by the business. The first one. Miss. D1"
"'Mix-up?' I wouldn't be surprised if that's just what Mannheim said to cover his tuchus. I still wish I could have been the one to finally stop that bully. Miss. B10"
"Wait, you were after Manheim? Which one?"
"Bruno. That awful devil sent my father to prison and ruined my entire life."
"I was fucked over by Moxie Manheim! Damn old coot must be in his grave by now... Anyways! You know how there's an initiation to join?"
"Ha! Well, it's a small world after all! I think I heard something about it somewhere. Why?"
"Yeah, well... Moxie didn't really enjoy that Songbird and Fireball ditched the Intergang to start a family, so he decided to keep tabs on them. Their weaknesses and all that. Now, Moxie also had some new recruits lined up waiting to be official members." Dennis leaned in, conspiratorial.."He's got a big criminal brain as you know, so he thought it'd be real wise to make me a part of the initiation. Killing two birds with one stone, as they say."
"D-did they do it?" asked Toyman, on the edge of his seat.
"Of course they did it! Stole me away while my folks were vulnerable! Nothing much I could've done, figuring this was back in 1977." Dennis collected himself. "But they weren't having it! This was the last straw, Winslow!" He held up his index finger rather righteously. "And you know what happened?"
Winslow leaned closer in anticipation. "What?"
"They snuck in there and took me back! But not without a musical number first!" said Dennis proudly. Plain as day, he looked up to his parents: it showed in the glow of his smile.
"That must have been an absolute delight to see. So, you inherited your powers from a parent? Songbird, I presume? What could Fireball do?"
"She shoots a flare gun." he grinned.
"Truly fascinating! Um, also, it's still your turn. B10. Was that the last they heard from Mannheim and company?"
"Miss. B10. Oh no. not at all. A bunch of failed attempts were made afterwards. And well, since Moxie's departure, Bruno was the guy looking out to see if they were any trouble. But now that Bruno's dead and Vito doesn't really care. There's some peace." Something, just then, just clicked into Dennis' mind. And oh how ironic it was. "Until now."
"Miss. B5.” sighed Toyman. "If you are referring to me, please don't be so dramatic. I mean you no harm, unless you mean it to me. I only want a little incentive for Darci to come here. And if she pushed you into my robot's clutches like you said, perhaps her final capture will be something you can relish as well."
"Miss, B5...Hmmmm.” thought Dennis, smiling a bit. "Well... I just find it hilarious that out of all the villains who I fall into the clutches of, it had to be the one that happens to despise the Manheims the most." He started fidgeting with a red piece in his hand. "Call it a hunch, but this seems a lot like destiny."
"It was quite the coincidence! As I said earlier, it's a small world. I might not say destiny, but who knows? Miss, D5?"
"Miss. E2. Well, nothing's impossible, kid."
"Miss. I8...Perhaps." Winslow fell silent, awkward.
"Miss. H1...For someone called the Toyman, you're not much of an optimist are you?"
"Miss. H8. For someone named Music Meister, you're not much of a musical film fan."
"It's not my fault that musicals are better on the stage." He smirked. “Miss. J6. Much more of an experience, you know? To go out and see something like that live and in the present."
"Miss. I9. I... see your point. But you're right, optimism isn't my strong suit anymore..."
"Anymore? Then that means there was a point in time where you were an optimist!" There's still hope!
"When I was a kid, sure. But after my father was sent away, well, it hasn't been very easy."
"Have you been to therapy for that?"
"No, my foster families never wanted to pay for something like that."
"But your foster families don't control you anymore, you're a free man! If you're able to afford it, at least give it a try."
Winslow buries his masked head into his hands. "But can a wanted man like myself just waltz into some therapist's office without a dozen people calling the police on him?"
"People wouldn't recognize you without...the mask, would they?" asked Dennis, curious.
He looks up with a shrug. "I'm 4' 10", and have a rather distinct voice. They might not know my face, but they still might know me. If I'm lucky, then everything would be fine, but if I'm not, then I might be in a lot of trouble.”
"Jeez, Metropolis has got some shit health care, doesn't it? If that's what's keeping you from healing... Hmm." Dennis tried to come up with an appropriate counter argument.
“I9. Being a supervillain isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"...But being an actor is! I've got it! And it's brilliant! Maybe we can't do much about your height, but you can do something about your voice and movement!...Oh. Sorry. Miss. H3."
"C-come again?" Toyman was genuinely surprised. "I don't... I'm not really... um...Miss. G2."
"Yeah, okay. You'd have to practice speaking from your diaphragm, but that's gonna be a sinch cause you got a performer around!" Dennis pondered. "Maybe change the names a bit for this new persona... That'd work so you wouldn't have to lie in therapy per se. We all know that goes nowhere."
Dennis made a square with his index fingers and thumbs to frame Winslow.
"I can totally see your persona now Winn! Hit! I10!"
"I'm not... sure... what you're talking about? I.....?" flustered the Toyman before sighing. "Miss. F2."
"You seem so deadset on people hating you, right? And the inability to socialize and get proper therapy is what's holding you back from being a healthy and paranoid free individual, right?
So, we just need to make you a persona so people won't know you're the Toyman! So people won't ‘hate’ you! It's a genius plan! I swear!" smiles Dennis, putting heavy finger quotes on the word hate, as he genuinely didn't believe that everyone everyone hates him. “Oh! Hit! F10."
"I don't think... Let me just say: I don't want to be anyone else. I am me, no matter how awful my life has been, I can't really change it. If I try to make a new me, that can only take me so far before I just go back to being me. I can't make people stop disliking or fearing me. But I have been trying to change the way I go about what I do. I wanted to stop Mannheim from ruining any more families' lives, and I want to help make sure no more families are robbed of their lives because of some self-centered sneak!" Winslow’s voice slowly rose to a shriek, before he finally settles back down into his chair with another sigh. "Miss. H2."
After a brief pause, Dennis gently pat Winslow in the shoulder. "You're gonna lose your voice if you keep yelling like that." sighed Dennis kindly. "I get that you're trying to be noble and save families and whatnot, but if you keep going about this like a self-deprecating martyr, then soon there won't be much left of you to save any families. Hit. I4."
He shrinks away from the first pat, but eases on the following. "...Yeah, I suppose. But at least I did help, right? Miss. I2."
"Yeah. Yeah you did. Hit. H2."
There was a pause as Winslow looked down at the table. Without looking up, he muttered “Hit. E2...and...thanks."
There's the ticket. Actually, this time… "No! Noo! It's just what friends do." A warm, glowing smile swept across Dennis’ face. "If you really think people won't like you, then I won't push it anymore. But I like you. I like your motives too. So don't stress about it that much."
"Y-you like me? I'm your friend?" said Winslow, genuinely taken aback.
"Of course!" Dennis said, minimizing the situation.
"I... I've always wanted a... a real friend..."
"If you wanted a friend, then why didn't you just ask?" Dennis gave Winslow that same warm glowing smile as he stood up.
Winslow sat still for a couple seconds before his emotions did finally catch up to him. He sobbed slightly but collected himself quickly. "Thank you so much!" he said, much happier than he'd sounded before. "So...E2?"
