Alibi | Zucco + Joker
Blinking smoke from his eyes, Nolan watched bills dangle from eager fingers in an array of lights. Flashes of dancers on stage in his peripheral synced almost too well with the bass line that thumped through his ribs. Zucco was at the edge of the amphetamines he’d consumed earlier. The tide was pulling away from him & his head was just beginning to clear. Perfect timing. He’d have applauded himself if he’d felt even vaguely in the mood to move.
Why the fuck was the clown changing focus? As it stood, Nolan Zucco in his Gucci suit & Ray Bans sat at the top. He’d only use the word luck in an inner monologue, anyone else would recognize that he’d become far more ruthless in his approach in the last four years. He wasn’t the acting Don of the Sicilian Mafia, but he was damn near close. His Uncle Tony, unfortunately, still held the title & you could ask anyone & they’d tell you his days were numbered. Rolling his head back to listen to a whisper being spoken to the back of his head, Zucco’s eyes never left the stripper twisting in front of him. Had she been there the whole time? He couldn’t remember & he didn’t seem to care what was being said to him either as he raised his hand to roll his wrist. Hurry up. The point was eventually gotten to, but Zucco didn’t make a proper reply until he had a sweating glass of liquor in his hand.
Was there such a thing as a mutually beneficial deal that involved the Joker? That was the question Nolan had spent the last twelve hours mulling over. Despite the overwhelming thread count, he hadn’t slept.
Nolan Zucco was not in the business of handouts & Gotham was the city known to chew & swallow someone whole. The city suited Zucco & his capacity to share was already tested by the assorted gangs that he was at a standstill with. They were predictable. They looked at numbers, they followed rules, they utilized strategy & favored relationships – Joker was chaos to their predictability. Why the fuck was the clown back?
‘I am undefeated in this city-wide escapade.’
Joker’s words echoed in his head. Similarly, Zucco’s reign reflected the same number of L’s: zero. Frown etched into his face, a voice interrupted his cyclical thoughts: “Y’know, I’ve never seen him before.” The scantly clad woman laid delicately on her stomach now, elbows on the edge of the stage. The top of it came to the middle of Zucco’s chest when he sat, & he looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, head falling this way then that. “Don’t get excited.” Zucco warned. “Why? Is he cute?” Zucco rolled his eyes. Mildly disturbed by the idea & the fact that she seemed to forget he was a mass murderer; the line of Zucco’s mouth tightened. “No one told you to stop.” Zucco said stiffly – a warning that appeared to be lessened by him languidly stretching out his legs. The girl smiled at him, reaching forward to touch his nose with her index finger before she slid back to her knees & onto her feet in one motion. Zucco mumbled an obscenity & shook his head. He nearly always operated somewhere between dangerous: do not touch & Baby Zucco. It was a ridiculous line to tread, but he didn’t have the stamina to be a raging asshole at all times like the others that bore his last name. If anyone was gonna know you were a softy, it might as well have been a prostitute.
He caught sight of him as a white light flashed overhead making the man’s skin flash in turn. Like a ghost, he disappeared as the light turned red. Zucco looked away, face hardening before he could see the shock of green hair again. Behind his sunglasses, Zucco inclined his head, made a motion with his hand & the girl he was just speaking to was escorted elsewhere, another girl taking her place just as Nolan’s guest arrived to his right. An empty chair waited for the man. Zucco stayed put. “Glad you remembered where the place was.” A smirk crept over his features as he turned to acknowledge Joker’s presence. “Have a seat.” Tapping his nose as discrete as a Lamborghini at a stoplight, he asked point-blank: “How was the stuff?” He didn’t care, he knew it was prime shit, but it was an easy way to gauge J’s mood. A barometer that could mean so little & so much at the drop of a dime.
