#gothamopen

[leadinglois]

“Make sure to keep an eye out for my latest publication, titled ‘Coffee After Hangovers: Getting High After Hitting a Low.’  It’s an autobio.”

[flyinggraysonofgotham-blog]

…fuck.

[hrlqnd-blog]

“When has Gotham City become so boring? Come on, I wanna paint the town, let’s make some smiles! I’m ready to go!”

[flyinggraysonofgotham-blog]

Really? That’s the best you could come up with?

[nolanzucco-blog]

Bad Blood Blues | Zucco + open

It was four-fifteen in the afternoon. Four-fifteen or twelve-twenty. He’d have to look at the hands on the analog clock on the dash again to be sure. His initial glance, however, was true enough. & like at any time that neared five o’clock in Gotham, traffic was abundant. This was a fact. Like that your grandmother would die or that the sun would set or that Starbucks would be out of whatever you intended to order. It was a diamond absolute, but what perturbed Nolan Zucco more than the monotonous was the fact that he’d thought he’d found a way around it. A less congested way back from Jersey that involved heavy downtown navigation versus the highway that was sure to be at a standstill. 

Why he’d gone to a shithole like Jersey was beyond him now. Nothing had come of it. Another log on the fire that was Zucco’s mounting annoyance. He was too tired to be anxious. At this point a well crafted, & curiously dangerous, cocktail of Xanax & whiskey would serve only as a nightcap. I wonderful way to black the fuck out, finally get some sleep & wake up with the past firmly behind him. Instead, in the rearview of his Fisker, he so only more cars. Ahead, a stream of red lights. More immediate was the back of a dusty mini van. Zucco’s lip nearly curled at the sight of it. It looked as if it might have been red at one point but now had more in common with the color of brick dust. Propping his head up with his knuckle, elbow hitched against the car door & the window, Zucco stared his frayed nerves into it. On the tired bumper a sticker caught his eye. ABORTION STOPS HERE. Everything stops here, he thought to himself. Literally every car sat not bothering to even inch forward. All but one, as Zucco’s black automobile rolled slightly forward as his interest had been piqued. In the middle of the bumper was an all-to-expected Trump 2016 sticker. Nolan rolled his eyes, but then there was movement in the backseat of the minivan & four or six miniature arms waved around wildly before a kid pressed his ugly face against the back windshield to wave at the still man in the car behind them. 

The car behind them in all its sharp lines & sleek details, Zucco knew, was a site to behold. A corner of Zucco’s mouth turned up in a grin. The arms continued waving. The minivan probably could’ve been avoided if they hadn’t had such an ardent stance on abortion. Zucco’s grin widened. Flicking his attention away, he read the last bumper sticker: I TRUST IN JESUS. Zucco muttered something obscene to himself & let out a loud sigh. “Jesus Christ.” He murmured, aggravation evident. His better nature could be pacified by pulling out jokes for only so long before he was right back to think about every agonizing detail of the day. 

“Fuck!” 

He pounded his fist on the steering wheel, emitting a quick honk that spurred the kids on. They waved furiously above their parents’ statements. The ones they thought were so important that they need to be embossed & stock onto the back of a moving car. Billboards for the unimpressive. Zucco flipped the kids off. A ruckus followed. A girl looked back; Zucco’s middle finger was still up even as the light turned green. The minivan & the Fisker, however, didn’t make it through; they’d have to wait for the next one. 

Again the traffic squatted on its hind legs, but as soon as the light was red, the door to the minivan was swinging open. Zucco’s eyes moved lazily from his phone to the traffic, vision interrupted by two angry faces coming towards the car. For good measure Zucco flipped them off too. Then he sat back into his seat, but the onslaught didn’t stop & the parents of the kids in the backseat were at the driver’s side door in a matter of seconds. Nolan nodded at them, not entirely sure they could see in with the tint but he breathed. These people had no idea he had a gun in the glove compartment, they only knew some dick just messed with their precious kids & bumper stickers. 

Nolan breathed, looking straight ahead. 

The man shouted & Nolan felt a bare thread of his nerves singe. “Hey!” The guy called again but Nolan looked forward. They didn’t exist. He could flip the kids off again but he stayed put. 

Breathe in breathe out. Namasfuckingwhatever.

Then a fist pounded on the window & Nolan felt himself slipping. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “You’ve got some nerve, guy!” They were both shouting now & Zucco’s brows knitted together. A retort was swallowed as his lips turned into a thin line. The man pounded on the car window again but stopped as the window began to drop. -- “Yes?” Zucco asked, bleeding innocence through the three inch gap in the car window. “You little bas-” He didn’t have time to finish the insult because Zucco was already reaching for him. Successfully grabbing the man by the collar, Zucco snagged him & yanked him forward. The sharp ‘thunk’ of the man’s head hitting the top of the car was a satisfactory sort. Dazed the man doubled forward as he stumbled back. His wife rushed to his aid kneeling, beside her husband’s bleeding head. She looked up at the window, but it was already closed. Unluckily for her, she was still standing close enough to the car that when Zucco opened the door, she was hit with it & promptly put on her ass before the door was pulled shut again. “Fucking cunt.” His malice was gone again in the sealed silence of the car. The light was green for the third time & this time, just as a car pulled away from a meter on his right, Zucco followed it, his path impeded by the mini van that certainly wasn’t going anywhere. 

He didn’t even bother to drive two blocks before he found another meter for himself, parked & got out. Inspecting the car door for damage, his lower lip pouted out as he rounded the hood making his way to the sidewalk. “Some traffic huh?” He asked pulling the door open for the person approaching. The smell of toasted rye drifted from inside the sandwich shop. Plenty of others had evidently given up on their commute & come inside for refuge & a bite.

[the-dianaprince-blog]

After the events that had happened, Diana felt that if Bruce Wayne was able to connect her so easily to her past and her ‘superhero’ persona, she should make more of an investment in trying to keep her identity a secret, thinking on how to do this the most obvious and simple thing to add to her usual sleek elegance was a pair of glasses. They seemed to work well enough for Clark Kent, who was to say they wouldn’t have the same effect for her, walking into the shop she was scanning the different frames and lenses and having a difficult time when she noticed someone’s presence behind her. “Are you going to be there the whole time I’m in this store?” she asked, sarcastically before turning and crossing her arms over her chest looking at her new companion as if expecting an explanation or something to come out of their lips. 

[nolanzucco-blog]

Sinister Kid | open

“Goddamit.” His fist hit the table. The glass of water bounced & threatened to topple but it wouldn’t dare. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” The man tossed his hands out in frustration.  “He’s not going to talk.” The man seated tried to reassure his boss. “I don’t care if he talks.” Nolan sneered. “No one’s going to believe him, what I care about is that this is the third truck we’ve lost in the last six months thanks to these overbearing Arkham assholes.” Nolan removed the glasses from his face & shoved them into the deep pocket of his coat. He ran an anxious hand through his tidy hair before realizing the boob was still staring at him. “What?” He demanded. “What ‘chu wear those for if you always takin’ ‘em off?” The man grumbled his question. “What the fuck does it matter to you?” The agitation was never clearer in his voice & without hesitation he reached into the opposite pocket of his coat & withdrew a PPK handgun equipped with a silencer from his pocket. He looked over his shoulder, held out his arm & fired before the man now bleeding into the carped could protest. “I’m farsighted.” He remarked quietly this time before he shoved the gun back into his pocket. He looked at the body crumpled on the floor & shook his head as if it someone had just brought him an overcooked steak. His fingers flitted to his forehead where he touched before bringing it to his chest & the across his body in the formation of the Sign of the Cross. “And of the Holy Spirit.” Was the only bit he uttered aloud before he dropped his hand in a bored fashion & stared up at the ceiling. An elongated sigh escaped him before he pulled open the door to the construction trailer & stepped out.

Outside you could smell the river. It wasn’t particularly pleasant but neither was the scene inside. Dull lamps cast vague warm light over the small collection of warehouse buildings owned either by the city or shipping mandates. Two men in Valentino suits waited for him on either side of the door. Nolan stepped down the few steps & pointed over his shoulder at the door. “I hope he wasn’t a friend.” He said nonchalantly knowing all too well that these men had no idea who the fuck the driver inside was. He heard the door shut as one of the suited men went inside while the other followed him to the shipping container the car was parked beside. “I’m going home but don’t tell my uncle about this. I’ll sort it out myself.” He managed to say before sliding into the back seat of the Rolls Royce. “Good evening, Mr. Zucco.” Nolan’s eyebrows raised in half a greeting to the driver before he let his head fall back against the headrest & his lids close. "Anywhere with a good sandwich." Nolan said, eyes still closed before the driver could politely ask 'where to?' When Nolan did finally open his eyes again, buildings stretched up on either side of the car. Break lights bounced on & off as the light changed & the car pulled forward only to pull off at a meter. Nolan looked out his window & smiled. "Good choice." His inflection was genuine. The joint, Mike's Deli, was one of the best kept secrets of this town. When his door was opened, Nolan stepped out, his stomach growling as he made his way to the establishments door. His presence was met with the tinkling of a tiny bell above the door. Reaching into his back pocket, Nolan with drew his wallet as he stepped up to the counter. His attention was fully on the messy board of sandwiches despite the fact that he already knew exactly what he'd order. Inside, the place only had five or six tables but only two of them were open now. Beside the meat counter & cash register was a wall devoted entirely to case after case of every beverage known to man, outside of those that contained alcohol. Falling in line behind the only other person at the register, Nolan waited patiently, hand fiddling absently with his AmEx card as he finally took the time to look around at the other patrons.