Denouement [3] - | J |

02 | roman's holiday

||

THE fluorescent blue marquee outside of Roman Sionis' lounge was enough to make Joker roll his eyes in agitation. The flashy blue letters could be seen by a blind person from down the block, as if that were even possible.

His leg shook vigorously, his eyes darting to the flamboyant sign, to the entrance, and then to the street in front of him. Twitch sat still beside him in the drivers seat of the van, his eyes never leaving the entrance of the lounge. It was early morning, around three a.m to be more specific.

The streets were vacant beside the lousy peddler or two, along with the sporadic placement of the city's working girls. Otherwise, the once bubbling city was now a dead zone. It was too quiet for comfort. It made Joker uneasy. He hated to admit it.

"Ready, Boss?"

Joker replied with a low whistle that dipped in octaves the more he held the note. He muttered a few curses to himself before opening the van with frustration and exiting. Twitch and two of his henchman followed closely, their footsteps echoing against the dark, wet pavement of the street.

Twitch reached the door first, entering first as usual. He was greeted with two burly looking men, dressed in fitted burgundy velvet suits. The group of four had stopped upon entering the establishment, waiting for only a minute before the men opened the ornate gold doors into the lounge. With a nod of his head, Twitch continued forward.

The group hadn't even touched the black marble floor after stepping down the four steps as Roman's men greeted them with rough hands. Twitch gave a groan, letting his hands up slowly as two men searched him for weapons. The henchman were void of weapons as well, but that didn't mean everyone was empty handed.

Joker had smacked the hands away from one of the men, who had looked at him in confusion. No one had ever denied a search. They obviously hadn't met The Joker before now.

"Ya know, Romy—I come all the way from west bubble fuck and this..." he points to the weary bodyguards who wore nervous looks.

"—is how ya treat me?"

Roman Sionis was a man of grandiosity. He loved the grandeur of life and anything that remotely glittered and gleamed. He was a handsome man, with a dangerous streak. Any girls dream, he would often joke. He sat comfortably on a blue leather couch, dressed in a navy pinstripe ensemble that would made any female drop to their knees. His white gloved hands gripped a bowl of what seemed to be popcorn, as he chomped away with his eyes cast on the stage in front of him.

A picturesque female stood tall, her skin a beautiful caramel tone that shined under the stage lights. She stopped her singing as soon as Roman threw a fistful of popcorn towards her and the stage.

"This is all wrong, wrong, wrong. You need to work on the chorus and half of the bridge. People don't want to hear you cry about your problems, okay? They want to have fun and get blackout drunk. Yes? Right, so fix that."