Chapter Text
Although it was May and the sun outside the window has already risen, it was chilly this morning. A cold wind, completely unsuitable for this time of year, blew through the open roof of the abandoned warehouse and easily got under Zsasz's tight-fitting t-shirt, reminding him that he should have taken a jacket. The air was filled with the salty and muddy river smell, resulting from its proximity to the docks, mixed with the metallic, strong scent of blood, resembling paint spilled in disarray, was covering much of the dirty warehouse concrete floor right now. When one of Roman's men closed the trunk with a loud clang and got into the car, the driver took off right after, leaving behind only dust and the sound of the vehicle moving away. And Zsasz. He was standing there, alone, gazing at the horizon. His breath had already calmed down and his excitement, shortlasting, started to fade, leaving him in his neutral, jovial state. For a while more, there could be heard noises of the engine rattling and the wheels bouncing on the rough road, but in time they completely disappeared.
Avoiding the blood stains on the floor, Zsasz headed into one of the rooms that now served as a bathroom, since it had a sink. It got quiet, the recent screams and whimpers became only a memory that wasn't going to last long. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the abandoned warehouse, punctuated from time to time by the howling of the wind. Finding himself in the “bathroom”, Zsasz walked over to the tap and, smudging it with red fluid, turned on the water. Under the running, unfortunately cold water, he washed the traces of crimson, partially already dried blood from his hands, face, the tap, and started to rinse his knife. The blade shone proudly with its brilliance, having emerged its silver face from under the dark red clotted layer. Victor reached then for a cloth lying on a makeshift metal table and with surgical diligence, began cleaning his knife. He rubbed the tool for so long, looking at it carefully until he could see his own reflection in the sheet. As Victor was looking through the blade as if in a mirror and noticed a few dots of blood on his cheek, he washed them off with his thumb.
The squawking sound of seagulls, making noise on the shore, came from the distance. It had something calming about it. Fishermans starting their shift, launching boats, just typical Tuesday. That's why when Victor suddenly heard a loud female voice close by telling him to raise his hands, he was slightly surprised.
“GCPD, you're under arrest! Drop your weapon and put your hands where I can see them!”
Zsasz turned his head toward the door where now was standing a small, blonde woman dressed in a police uniform and pointing a gun at him. He lazily wrapped his eyes around her and stopped at the barrel pointed at his chest. It had to be a Glock 38, a 45 would have been too big for the officer’s petite hands. One of the typical weapons in the GCPD arsenal. It wasn't bad, but Zsasz didn't like its simple, even simplistic design.
The woman reached his shoulders, but she must have been trying to make up for her physiognomic limitations with her temperament and verve. She stared at him in full concentration, a pair of determined blue eyes glared at him from under her drawn-down eyebrows. It was almost unnoticeable that she was afraid. Zsasz found this amusing and smirked out of the corner of his mouth, not stopping to wipe his knife.
Only when several more policemen appeared behind the woman, each of them aiming at him, Zsasz's smirk changed to a small grimace. Reluctantly, he dropped the knife he just cleaned to the ground and raised his hands to the air. As soon as the blade hit the ground with a metallic clang, GCPD officers rushed into the room and like one living organism, began their activities. The petite officer he saw first approached him and pulled out the handcuffs. She efficiently fastened them on his wrists, not at all as gently as he had expected. Meanwhile, she started to deliver her procedural monologue.
“Mr. Zsasz, you are being accused of the murder of Alfred Gibbs. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can be used against you...”
Zsasz didn’t protest, the warm body of the blonde officer was a nice change on this chilly morning and to the cold steel of the handcuffs. Next, with nothing but professionalism, she proceeded with the searching procedure. Quickly yet thoroughly she inspected his legs, shoes, back. From his back pockets she pulled out his wallet and phone which immediately got seized by another officer wearing latex gloves and tucked into a transparent ziplock bag, intended for personal belongings. Meanwhile another of her colleagues was carefully picking up the knife from the ground, that Zsasz dropped, to pack it in another, identical bag. Others were looking around the rooms, mostly interested in the red blood stains on the floor, which until some time ago had been inside the body of Alfred what was his name Gibbs.
His officer continued the procedure with encyclopedic thoroughness. She searched the left front pocket of Zsasz's pants, which turned out to be empty, while in the right pocket she found a bunch of keys, including car keys. Zsasz was surprised when, after pulling out the keys, her hand slid back into the same pocket. He knew he didn't have anything else on him.
Before she realized what she was actually touching, her fingers tightened on the elongated bulge in his pants for a moment. Victor glanced at her from under raised eyebrows as her hand undeniably grabbed his dick. As soon as the woman realized what turned out to be the contents of Zsasz's pocket, she shook her eyes and immediately withdrew her hand in fright, breaking her hitherto unwavering professionalism. No one else seemed to notice this minor incident, but the officer was very abashed by her mistake. Her face quickly reddened, which she wasn't able to hide until the end of the procedure. Looking in a completely different direction but Zsasz, she ordered him to move and began leading him to the police car. Zsasz stared at her shamelessly, and although she completely avoided looking at him, she felt his gaze on her, as burning as the embarrassing flush on her face.
As Zsasz passed a dozen officers panning around the warehouse, doing their ant work, he changed the object of his attention and began to wonder how they got here so quickly. And who gave them a heads-up? If they would have arrived only a few minutes earlier, and they would find him in a very awkward situation with Alfred Gibbs still alive. Although, the police might have had a problem recognizing the victim, since it's hard to recognize a man with his face missing. Not that Zsasz was concerned about being apprehended, he knew full well that even if they would find him with his hand in Gibbs' guts, declaring that yes, indeed, he just killed him, Gotham's blind justice by some sudden miracle would find his guilt ambiguous, and a few witnesses who would show up unexpectedly would shed quite a different light on the whole case, dismissing it completely. This “miracle” actually had a simple explanation, and his name was Roman Sionis. Since he worked for Roman, he didn't have to worry about such impediments to his work as GCPD. What he was concerned about was if by chance there was a snitch among Roman’s loyalists.
When they left the building, his personal officer tilted his head, not at all gently, while pushing him into the back seat of one of the police cars. She herself took the passenger seat next to the driver and closed the door. What was a nice change, inside the car was warmer than outside. Zsasz stretched out comfortably, as much as his tightly fastened cuffs allowed him to.
The car took off. Zsasz ran his eyes over the interior; it had been some time since he found himself in a police car, but he knew it well. He gazed forward, at the officer's bright ponytail, which bounced now slightly on the verges of the road. Her and her colleague were talking about something, but Zsasz couldn't hear any words, the noise of the vehicle was drowning everything out. His mind began to drift off into fantasies, awakened by the recent feeling of insatiability.
He was convinced that he could handle the blonde officer easily if he were alone with her. It would be enough to press her against the car when getting out and put the handcuffs chain around her neck. She would clench her fingers on the metal, while squirming in place before he would strangle her. Her reddened face would turn purple and her body would slide down on the side of the vehicle and fall inertly to the ground, neck adorned with the bloody necklace. Or if she would lean over, he would grab the knife she carried at her belt.... Her bright eyes wouldn’t hide the surprise as he would be cutting her throat. She wouldn't have time to feel fear either, just staring at him dully, not processings what was happening. Hm, Zsasz was not entirely satisfied with this quick ending of both visions, he liked when his victims showed terror. Unfortunately, for lack of time, he would have to let go of this satisfying part.
He immersed himself in his imagination, running with his thoughts further, to the GCPD police station. Being surrounded by other officers would make the job harder, but not impossible. Maybe if he stayed with her alone, for example in the elevator or in the interrogation room. He wouldn't need much time. Her body must have been soft and warm, like her hands with which she fleetingly touched him. Yes, he was sure of it. Even though she used weapons on a daily basis, her hands didn’t get rough. He wondered how long she would remain so warm and soft as she would be bleeding in his arms.
A sudden, strong thought, like a cockblock, stopped him from exploring this exciting fantasy further. Roman wouldn't be thrilled to find out that Zsasz murdered one of the GCPD policemen at the police station. Reluctantly, he had to let go of the pleasant fantasies, which began to warm him more than the warm interior of the police car. He spent the rest of the journey staring out the window in boredom.