novacid
word hustler
The city smog was thick, as usual, but today he practically had to push through it. Hands in pockets, black hat on red hair, green scarf hiding mouth and nose, he walked briskly. His destination was a tiny hole in the wall. A doughnut shop, the best in town, and he enjoyed telling people so. Inside, he could breathe. Pulling down his face covering, he took a deep, happy breath in.
“Ah, Joseph, it smells more heavenly than usual in here,” he pressed his palms together and brought his fingertips to his smiling mouth, looking smitten. His hazel eyes circled the quaint dining area, where he recognized several people and gave them a small wave, “Robert. Hope to see you at the party?”
“Wouldn't miss it, Jack.”
Jack expressed his gratitude, then politely returned his attention to Joseph, giving him a little grin, “I have no beginning, middle or end, what am I?” Joseph laughed and clapped his massive, meaty hands together. How did those hands ever manage to do anything without breaking everything?
“A doughnut!”
“Too smart for me, I see,” Jack said, dropping his head in mock shame. “I need to make an order, a big one, to be ready by Saturday. Doable?” He leaned an arm on the counter, pushing his long ponytail over his shoulder so it did not touch the surface. His smile stretched ear to ear, with a large dose of wickedness, and he slapped the counter so loudly that several patrons jumped, “No other doughnuts will do, Joe, gotta be these.”
The beaming shop owner sucked in a proud breath and glanced around the room, hoping someone noticed the high compliment he'd received from Jack Nygma himself. He cleared his throat, then returned to his standard humble stature, “More than doable, Mr. Nygma.”
Jack shuddered slightly, “Please,” he said gently, “Mr. Nygma was my father and that is not the name I inherited from him.”
“Sure, sure, of course, no problem,” he replied, confusion in his voice, but regardless, he respected the man's wishes, “Mr. Jack.”
“Perfect,” he said, dipping forward and lowering his voice to a whisper, “I need twelve dozen, the first raspberry filled, dusted with powdered sugar – obviously. Second...”
He continued prattling off decadent doughnut flavors until Joseph's face paled, “...you...ginger...and what?” he gaped at the other man, but slowly, his jaw wound shut and his expression turned childish. He burst into raucous laughter and began nodding and smiling while he finished writing down the order for Mr. Jack. Jack was still surprised the pencil did not break.
The evening had been planned to perfection.
Well, not by him.
No, he skipped the planning portion of events, leaving that to those who knew him better than himself. He was dressed in his favorite black – or...was it green...either way, the suit was perfectly tailored and his shoes were custom made. His tie was not too thick, not too thin, in a beautiful, grasping green, made of a delicate velvet. All the finest things for one who kept the world in chaos. He brushed through his solemnly dark but somehow still vibrantly red hair with a thick pearl comb – one he had been told was his mother's, but no doubt just another lie from his father.
“Don't misunderstand, I love my father,” he told his reflection in the ornate mirror, “but he did know how to lie,” he continued combing, gradually draping all of his hair down his back. He pushed the strays out of his light, deep set eyes, “And so do I.”
Downstairs, people flooded through the open doors to his home.
In his later years, Edward had acquired quite a bit of wealth. Then proceeded to hoard it until death. Jack was unaware of the fortune until he inherited it at seventeen. Five years turned him into a name as big as Bruce Wayne. When Bruce Wayne wasn't an old bat, that is. Jack chuckled at his own joke as he walked down the stairs into the receiving room. He was greeted by good cheer and drink, which he took, delightfully. And another, but not a third. He knew to be the smartest man in the room, you had to have the most wits about you.
Jack Nygma led his associates through to his, what he called, mock ballroom. Smaller in size, but no less luxurious, it boasted chandeliers and chocolate fountains and every kind of decadence you could imagine. He melted into the crowd and let the night carry itself, hoping trouble might find him.
