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The following morning, you found yourself procrastinating as you waited for your suit to air dry. You’d given it that thorough washing that it desperately needed, and as a result, the amount of sleep you achieved was less than ideal. Oh, well. At least you could sneak in a nap between your meeting with Matt, and your meeting with Tombstone.
That’s right. Against your better judgment, you decided to meet up with the big albino cheese. Alone.
You had a lot of time to think about it while you were scrubbing sweat out of your suit. You were gonna have to acquire a specialized washing machine for the sole purpose of cleaning your suits. Or maybe you’d just buy a Cleaners’ shop and use it as a cover for money laundering. Decisions, decisions…
Anywho, you didn’t hate your odds if it came down to you mixing it up with Tombstone. Sure, he was big, and he had a lot of guns on his side, but when has that ever stopped you? You escaped the Vulture’s trap at your old hideout and got away with all of your bits intact. Hell, you beat Typhoid fucking Mary!
Even if you couldn’t beat him and his goons in a straight up fight, running was always an option. And you’ve always been good at that.
Ironically you were far more nervous about meeting Matt than you were about meeting one of the most ruthless gangsters in New York. IN the past, you never truly car4ed wha6t other people thought about you. It was easy enough to try and convince yourself that your parent’s clear contempt for your lifestyle didn’t bug you at all, but you weren’t about to get into that.
Over the years, Flint was one of the only ones that you could reliably call a true friend. In your line of work, trust was a luxury that all the paychecks in the world just couldn’t afford you. You had friends and contacts that you were on good terms with, but very few of them were within your circle of trust. You’d been considering revealing your face to Felicia and Prowler. Mostly because you were getting tired of wearing it around your warehouse. These days, it felt like you saw that mask more than you saw your own face.
You’d once considered letting Matt and Angela in on your secret. But if you were being terribly honest, that would get messy real fast.
You shook your head and pulled your costume on. It’d dried enough for you to wear it comfortably. It should air dry on your way to the meet-up. Might as well stop worrying about trivial nonsense and get this over with.
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By the time you’d arrived at the location that Matt designated in his text, your costume had more or less dried to a point where you barely paid attention to the few damp spots that were left on your back. The fur took the longest to dry and required the most maintenance.
(Cont.)
