Chapter Text
A child sat at one of the Black Mask’s tables.
It was still early enough in the day that there wasn’t a little boy sitting in a busy nightclub. Roman knew why he was there. He’d put the boy at that specific seat, had told the little brat to not even think of moving, was just watching as the kid fidgeted in his bright red oversized hoodie, drummed his dirty little shoes against the bottom of the booth.
He’s not sure what Dent sees. For one, the boy is tiny, claims to be eleven when he can’t be older than nine, has bruises lining his jaw, had scowled when Roman had gripped his face and asked him who gave him those marks, had answered with a sharp little ‘who the fuck do you think?’ in a ridiculous little East End accent.
Roman had to give it to him. The boy had been trembling, his gaze darting back and forth between Roman and Harvey like he wasn’t sure who he should be more afraid of, had finally settled on Two-Face because Two-Face, the freak, had been holding the coin that decided his fate. Which was still a ballsy choice on the boy’s part, because Roman had been the one pointing a gun at him.
“Do you know who I am?” Harvey asked. The boy gave a nod, tried to press himself further into the corner he locked himself into, away from them, two towering monsters, only trapping himself further in their hold.
“Mister Two-Face.” He said, that accent bleeding out even as his lips quivered in fear.
“That’s right.” Dent’s twisted side said, some sick type of pleasure coming into his tone. Not one to be outdone, Roman leaned forward, baring his teeth under his mask.
“What about me? You know who I am?” Roman asked. The boy gave him a once over, tilted his head.
“The Black Mask,” He said, no mister, no respect, a cheeky little brat to his core, scowled a little. “You came asking about my dad that one time.”
Roman had a memory of a woman with brown skin and dilated pupils and wild curly red hair trying to clutch a brat to her chest as they both screamed as Roman dragged the child by his leg. He pulled the boy up to dangle him, kept his gun pinned to her head.
“You got such a pretty mommy,” he had said as the boy held himself impressively still in case Roman got bored and dropped him, as he cocked his gun. “I would hate to do something to either of you cause your old man can’t pay up.” He had reveled in the fear that made the kid’s green eyes burn bright, trying to be strong for his moms even as tears dripped from his eyes.
The brat’s piece of shit father eventually arrived in time with the money, looking to the world like he had been doing his own family a favor. There never was a second time. No, now Roman had the boy, the mom was gone and Willis Todd was in the wind, with their fucking money.
Somehow the boy had managed to gather all of Roman’s bottle girls around him. Was holding court with them as they leaned over the table to get a better look at him, pinching his round brown cheeks between their fingers, their tight skirts riding up, uncaring and their sequins tops dull in the house lights of the dead club.
It was still too early for real patrons, but early enough for them to come in looking cute. They were cooing as the boy looked up at them with pouting pink lips and those big ass green eyes, running their fingers through his filthy curls. He thought about snapping at them to get the fuck to work, but it was interesting watching the way bitches softened the moment they came into contact with some needy brat.
“My name’s Jason,” The boy was saying, looking down to avoid looking in the made-up faces of Roman’s dolls. “Mister Two-Face told me to stay with Mister Sionis till they find my dad.” And that made it sound like Harvey and Roman were doing Jason a favor, just holding him until the fucker came around to collect him and Roman found himself laughing.
No, Roman was sure the moment Willis came within five feet of that boy he was done. They were going to make it clear that there was no way anyone could ever get one over on the False Facers and the Two-Face gang.
He glanced over at the child who met his eyes, that flash of fear that crossed his face all too obvious. Maybe they should make the kid be the one to pull the trigger when Slick Willy came back around, really cementing their connection in the blood of his father.
“Get to work.” He barked, watched his girls quickly scurry away, going to make themselves busy. One planted a kiss on Jason’s cheek before she walked away but then they’re all gone, leaving Jason all by lonesome in the booth, those bright green eyes full of fear as he pressed himself back and away from Roman as he walked closer to the boy.
“Mister Two-Face said you can’t hurt me,” Bold little twerp refused to make a sound as Roman took his dirty curly hair in his gloved hand and pulled hard, baring his scrawny little neck.
“He said I couldn’t sell you,” He hissed into his ear. “He didn’t say shit about not beating your ass.” He wanted to see him cry, wondered if he could make the bruises on his cheek darker.
“Listen here,” Jason bit at his lip, was trying to look away from him and Roman held him tighter. “You belong to me.” Just like everything else in this club. “Harv gave you to me because your piece of shit father couldn’t pay up and ran away. He left you behind.”
So what if the kid didn’t know that Harvey had growled at Roman about letting Willis get away, that he was keeping Jason as a punishment for not killing Willis when they had the chance. Once they killed the man, who knew what Harvey would do with him. He just laughed as unshed tears brimmed in Jason’s eyes.
“You’re going to have to make yourself useful to me if you want to stay alive. Understand?” The boy tried to nod, and Roman just held his face in place with a steel grip, reveled in the tears as the boy cried. “Say it.”
“Yes,” He said, straining now with Roman’s grip on his head. “yes,”
“Yes, what?” Jason blinked those green eyes up at him, confusion and then acknowledgment, anger.
“Yes, sir.” He bit out. Roman gentled his hand in his hair, rubbed along the kid’s scalp, watched the kid melt, wiped away some of his tears.
“Good boy,” He said as Jason sniffled. “Stay like that, I don’t like yelling at kids.” Not true. “Now when’s the last time you ate?” The boy blinked at him, unsure of what to do with Roman’s sudden tone change. “You go back in the kitchen and ask Marge to make you something, tell her Mister Sionis sent you.” A small nod, sliding from the booth, keeping his body away from Roman as he did so. “And Jason,” A flinch as Roman said his name. Did he think he didn’t know it? “You try to run away and I’ll make what I just did to you look like a picnic. I just have to keep you alive, you don’t have to be in one piece.”
“Yes,” A pause, a dip of his head. “sir.” And Roman smiled as the brat scampered away.