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I stared down at my bloodied hand and the dead limp lifeless body in front of me. It looked pathetic, with its body twisted in all sorts of ways. I lifted up my black dress shirt and got out a sharp silver shimmering craft knife. It was as if it was winking at me, seducing me to cut into my skin. You killed someone, well done. Carve it in. I applied force onto the forearm creating a neat tally mark of crimson red ooze flowing out.
“Zsasz!” A familiar voice shouted.
I smirked and turned my attention away from the limp body to the police officer. “Well, well if it isn’t Detective James Gordon.”
“You are under arrest for killing an innocent civilian.” Jim asserted dominantly as he held the gun up pointing it at me.
I let out a laugh. “Arrested? Me?” I said as I placed my hand on my chest attempting to look offended. “Awh, Jiiiimmmmm. Don’t be like that.” I said with a playful tone, throwing my arms down the side of me. But that cheeky smile of mine suddenly turned into a frown and a low stern voice escaped. My face became emotionless and my eyes stared intently at Jim. “You know you can’t arrest me. I am the right-hand man for Don Falcone. The very man who runs the underworld of Gotham. If you take me in you’ve got a mob boss chasing up your ass.”
Straight after another police car butted in with its blue and red light flashing and its annoying loud siren. I stuck a finger in my ear to block the aggravating sound.
“Jim!” Another police officer came in. It was Harvey Bullock, the drunken flirtatious partner of Jim. Always wearing a leather jacket and must I add, he reeks of alcohol, specifically whiskey.
“Jim, you cannot interfere with Zsasz,” Harvey told Jim.
I smirked. “Mmhm,” I nodded. “That’s right, teach Jimbo over there a few lessons would you. Must be quite hard, working with the new intern.”
Not going to lie, I felt quite bad for Jimbo over there. You could see his frustration, his face turning red with anger, and his teeth gritted with restraint.
“You’re not going to get away with this, Zsasz,” Jim shouted from across the warehouse.
I rolled my eyes. I just wish that I could shoot a bullet straight between those two eyeballs of his and watch him flop to the ground with his lifeless body hitting the cold hardened concrete floor.
“Must be hard being a policeman with the idea of justification,” I said in an irritated voice. “Guess what, Jim? Justice is non-existent in Gotham. The bad guys will always run and have Gotham.” I walked closer to the two policemen, both of them lifted up their guns but I just smirked cockily. They knew they couldn’t harm me, but, oh, I could harm them. The corners of my mouth just crept up a bit more with the thought. I came up to Jim with his black cop gun touching my chest gently. I pushed towards him as the gun started to sink into my skin. “You see Jim, Gotham belongs to people...” I moved closer. “Like.” Closer. “Me.” I was up at Jim’s face, he looked at me straight dead in my eyes trying to act tough but it was filled with terror and despair. I moved out of his face with a slight unnerving cackle. “Give it up Jim. Stop being that goody-two-shoes. This is Gotham after all. Relax. Take it easy. Wouldn’t it be so much easier to let your basic human nature be free?”