Case Report 4: Staying On Target

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Peter and Conroy travelled down to the more isolated cell blocks. Walking up to the door, and slamming his fist on the heavy metal door.

"What do you want? It ain't yard time already, is it?" The voice on the other side asked, gruff with the accent of Gotham dripping through.

"No sir, Mr. Lawton. I actually wanted to have a chat with you personally," Peter said as out from his prisoner outfit was a set of keys, one of the security guard sets. Conroy is surprised by the fact that Peter has one of these, then remembered when Peter bumped one of the guards in Quinzel's cell. Peter begins finagling with the keys and the lock, trying to find the one that corresponds to Floyd's cell. The large metallic clang indicating that the lock had been undone as he yanks back against the thick door.

The grinding of steel against the floor echoes throughout the block, as Peter slips himself through the door into the cell with the man who never misses. Peter sees that Floyd turned his pillow into a makeshift boxing dummy as Floyd stands ready to throw down should the moment call.

"What do you want, kid?" Deadshot asked.

"We've been given an opportunity, one that can potentially get us all out of here," Peter explained, giving Deadshot the rundown on what Amanda Waller is suggesting they do.

"So she wants a hit squad to handle all of her off the books shit? What's in it for us?" Deadshot asked.

"She claims that for every mission we do successfully will cleave off half of our sentence. I though am not one who wants to blindly follow the words of someone, so I'll be trying some behind the scenes things to get us all out of this," Peter muttered.

"So what are you thinking up?" Floyd asked. Peter shrugged nonchalantly with a determined look on his face.

"Not sure, it depends on whatever mission we're sent on first. I just know that we're going to have eyes on us for the entirety of it. Should we show any sign of resistance, our heads will take a permanent vacation from our shoulders. Which would make things difficult for your daughter," Peter explained, trying to show one of his cards. The mentioning of his daughter caught Deadshot's attention, in the potentially wrong way.

"What about my daughter, crawler?" He asked with a threatening tone to his voice. Not the voice of a hardened hitman, but a dad who just heard a bully badmouthing about his child.

"You know I have people in dark places. My little web of information, so to speak. Some of the members of my web in Gotham have heard and seen how you and your wife argue. How your custody of your daughter is up in the air, and how your daughter is being forced to grow up because her mother is an alcoholic who throws herself at any man with a pulse. What I'm saying is that if you help play along, and I can pull off my background shit. I will personally give your daughter one of the best tutors in the world," Peter offered, making Deadshot relax a bit.

"Who would you get?" Floyd asked, now beginning to entertain what the spidery teenager was insinuating. Peter simply smirked, like a cat who swallowed the canary and put his own hand to his chest.

"Me. I would tutor your daughter. I'm a genius Floyd, so you know I'm going to give her a headstart compared to others," Peter said confidently. Deadshot paused and had to think about it for a solid minute.

"You really would do that for me? Even after that stunt I pulled against one of your targets?" Floyd asked, amazed at Peter's generosity.

"Assassin's rule is first come first serve when it comes to clients and targets. You shot first, so you get the payday. Although, tutoring is never free. So when we get to that point, I want 5% of whatever you get paid on your fifth job," Peter said with a smug grin.

"Why so specific, buggy?" Floyd asked with a head tilt.

"Since it means whatever money I get out of that is clean and legitimate since you're paying me for a service. I've been looking for a way to clean up the money I get from my lines of work. Being a freelance journalist can only do so much, and even then the Bugle cheaps me out on a lot of my checks anyways. A tutoring job in Gotham of all places might be the thing I need. Plus, with how many of my fucking clients wanting to send me to Gotham anyways. It saves me that money on flights, and it saves me the brainpower on making up excuses," Peter replied.  Floyd nodded, respecting the way Peter had seemingly embraced the double life he created for himself.

"Gotta admit, I respect the hustle kid. Alright, I'm in," Floyd nods, shaking Peter's hand.

"I'm glad I can trust on your steady hands," Peter said as he walked out of Floyd's cell, rejoining Conroy outside.

"So what now? Killer Croc?" Conroy asked.

"Only option left, so yep," Peter said as he walked off with Conroy.

"Did you think about what I said?" Peter asked, Conroy looked worried but remembered his offer.

"I did...and I think I do have one thing. One thing you might be able to help me with," Conroy said. Peter gave a sly side eye look, anticipation building on his face.

"The reason I'm in this job is because my father got too close with some dangerous people. Owed money, so those people retaliated with hitmen and threats. I have this job because it pays well, but it also gives my family protection from anyone who might do them harm. If you can clear the debt, or otherwise get these people off my family's back...then I'll be willing to help however I can," Conroy explained.

"I can and will help to the extent of my abilities. Just give me the name of who your father is indebted to, and I'll get my web to catch whatever it can," Peter explained, as they got to the large underwater bunker that housed Killer Croc.

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