capeandcowllogs | we're no strangers to love

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we're no strangers to love

WHO: ANDY BERNARD and BLACK MASK
WHERE: Roman's house in the Bronx
WHEN: Valentine's Day evening
WARNINGS: Uh... violence... death...
SUMMARY: It looks like that last Valentine... broke his heart. (Yeaaaaahhhhh)
FORMAT: Quick!

[ It was his last assignment, and Andy was glad for that. Good money as it was, singing telegrams were tiring work considering how little appreciation his recipients ever showed. Even when he went out of his way to pick up costumes. Well, this costume didn't fit too well and he was looking forward to getting to take it off later. Tight leather (it was leather, right?) was really unflattering on his legs.

He knocked on the door, cleared his throat, and as soon as it opened he'd launch right into the first verse of Never Gonna Give You Up. ]

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[The noise at the door stirred Roman. He groaned and raised his head groggily, looking through bleary eyes at the living room. He couldn't remember how he'd spent the afternoon, or why he was sleeping on the couch in the middle of the day in a now wrinkled suit jacket.]

What the hell...

[He rubbed his eyes and stood up. His hand skimming along the wall as he went. He was still so tired--what had happened?! When he reached the door, he looked through the peephole.

A figure in a black...catsuit? Shaking his head and believing himself to be asleep still, he opened the door with a heavy sigh, not bothering to put on a false face.]

What do you wa--

[He blinked several times in succession as the man--man--began singing. Were those cat ears and goggles? And was that...?

That was definitely Rick Astley.

He stared with dead, dull eyes at Andy.]

Never gonna gii— ⁱⁱⁱⁱ— ve you up, never gonna let you doooo_{— oooown}, never gonna run around and—

[ He sashays a little nervously, for flair and presentation. ]

[And that was definitely the Nard Dog. After the dread Porter Room ABBA Incident, Roman would recognize that obnoxious singing anywhere. Song choice aside, this was not accident; the costume made it clear enough. Someone knew where he lived.

His eyeballs slowly rolled from side to side, taking stock of the street and neighboring windows. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

In the next moment, Black Mask's hand had shot out to grab Andy by the neck to drag him into the house.]

Desert y— eep! [ Andy's pitch broke and he abruptly stopped singing when Black Mask grabbed him and hauled him inside. His eyes widened and he pull the goggles over them in a futile next layer of defense. ]

Errrrr... happy Valentine's day? [ He adds, nervously. He lost his place in the song but, a gig's a gig. ]

[Roman had kicked the door closed after Andy was inside. He roughly let go of his neck, folding his arms across his chest and maneuvering so that he stood between Andy and the door. His tone was irritable.]

Start talking, Bernard.

Okay, well, what should we talk about? Since we're already... we already know each other. [ Andy shrinks against the door. ] This is a really nice part of the city, like, surprisingly, since I've never been up here before, I've mostly just been sticking with Manhattan because it's way more convenient and don't even get me started on the subways... uh, was I interrupting something?

[Roman ground his teeth. Narrowing his eyes, he unfolded his arms and swung a fist at Andy's stomach, his words coming out in an angry hiss.]

Who sent you?

[ Andy bent at the knees a little, trying to curl so that he could protect his body but it's incredibly ineffectual. He pants and stammers: ]

It's supposed to be anonym-- [ No, fuck that. Shielding his face... ] Mr. E, it was um, Edward. Oh God, all right?

[Roman's hand returned to Andy's throat as he moved his skull face close. His eyes locked on Andy's.]

Edward Nygma?

Um, y-yep, that's the one, I'm really just the messenger. [ Andy tried to turn his head away from Roman's terrifying skull face. He settled on just closing his eyes and adjusting his goggles again. ] And you know what you're not supposed to do with those.

[His hand squeezed tighter.]

I'm not going to shoot you, Bernard. You're going to send him a message from me.

[ Andy moved his hands to try and pry Black Mask's off, but very fumbly. His voice is strained between breaths. ]

I can do that. On me, too, no charge, I'll get, how about I just go do that.

[Roman brought his other hand up and, with a sneer, dug his thumbs into the hollow of Andy's throat as he choked him.]

All you need to do is relax, Bernard, and let me do all the work.

[ That only inspires him to squirm and kick and claw more, but he's not really very strong so it's not long before his panicked noises and stammered pleas -- "Do you like money because I have money!" fade and then stop. ]

[Once Andy is out, Roman wasted no time in dragging his limp body to the basement and securing him to gurney. He slipped on a pair of gloves and an apron, wheeled his tray of tools close, then gently slapped Andy's face to rouse him.

He was in much better spirits already.]

[ Andy jerked awake with a yelp, and then he yelped again. He didn't say anything for a while that wasn't useless babbling, just stared at Black Mask in perplexed terror. ]

Er -- ah... um -- God, um, uh... can we talk about this?

Of course, we can.

[Roman leaned over the gurney and unzipped the front of the catsuit to Andy's navel, tilting his head to the side as he looked at the bare skin as if judging it.]

Did he say why?

[ Andy shook his head quickly, sucking in his gut slightly and greatly regretting the nipple tape he used to prevent chafing -- but they were sensitive -- no one was supposed to see under the suit. ]

No. I just figured it was like, you know, an inside joke or something.

[He glared.]

He hired you to dress up as my arch nemesis and antagonize me. Despite appearances, this isn't a smile.

[Beat.]

What's with the tape?

Catwoman's your arch nemesis? I thought everyone liked her. Except maybe the police. Or... well I don't know, maybe if her arch nemesis was "Dog dude" or something. [ Not that he really knows anything about Catwoman except some vague pop-culture awareness. ]

Um. Nothing, I just have sensitive nipples and I didn't want the costume chafing them. It isn't pretty.

[Silently, he simply stared at Andy.

Then, in two swift movements, he ripped the tape from each of Andy's nipples.]

[ They bleed right away and Andy shrieks. ]

Look -- look -- gah, God, just stop it already! Please? [ His voice is frantic and panicky, his face beginning to get blotchy and red. ] Please?

[There was a hint of a snicker in Black Mask's voice.]

Wow. You really weren't kidding about your sensitivity.

[He pulled up the goggles, looking at Andy while his other hand reached behind him to pick up a power drill.]

The begging's nice, don't get me wrong, but it's not going to get you anywhere. Unfortunately for you, Edward Nygma has sent you to your death.

[He squeezed the trigger, enjoying the whirring noise.]

Edward Nygma is laughing at you, Andy Bernard.

[ Andy's eyes went giant! And he laughed a little, overwhelmed by fear and the sheer unreality of the situation. It was impossible. Flagrantly impossible, his mind couldn't even wrap around the idea. ]

Well that's -- no, he -- we're friends [ not really ] and he totally wouldn't... [ He laughed a little again, thinly and nervously. The only consolation is that as soon as the drill turned on, Andy fainted. ]

[Roman sighed. This was barely even fun. The end result would be well worth the tedium now, however, and there was no time to waste.

He pressed the whirring drill bit to Andy's torso and began writing out his message, careful not to drill too deeply.]

[ The pain was enough to snap Andy out of it again, and all pretense of articulation was lost -- really, he just was screaming until his already-strained throat began giving out. When he could he offered vague pleas but they were raspy and inarticulate. ]

Music to my ears, Bernard! Scream as much as you want!

[He called out over the noise of the drill. His art was looking good already: Riddle me tits only needed a smiley face to top it off. He began the circle on Andy's abdomen.]

This isn't personal, by the way, Bernard. Sure, you irritated the hell out of me in the Porter room with your ABBA impressions, but I wouldn't torture a guy over that--

[He paused, then chuckled.]

--well, I would, but that's certainly not why I'm using your torso as a canvas.

[ He could barely think, let alone formulate in his mind words to say beyond the monosyllabic. Maybe it would be something about negotiating in a much less violent sort of way, talking things over, or maybe just complaining about the vast unfairness of the situation. But he just manages to get out: ]

Not -- isn't -- totally -- but -- then why--

[ And screams more. ]

[When the smiley face was finished, he released the drill's trigger and inspected his work.]

You look as pretty as a picture, Andy. Now, if you just hold tight--

[He picked up a plastic Guy Fawkes mask from among his tools.]

--all that's left is the finishing touch.

Oh Godddddddddd. OhGodohGodohGodohGod.

[ All Andy could do, really, was scream and gasp and sob and say "Oh God" over and over. His body at that point was shaking and convulsing with pain, but weakly. He stared blearily and miserably forward, his mouth bleeding from biting through his tongue. ]

[Roman paused.]

Any last words? Because what's next is going to kill you. And probably slowly.

[ Andy blinked and tried to breathe steadily. He spent a few moments trying to calm himself down to the best of his ability so that he could at least speak. ]

N-no, not really, except once again urging you to reconsider. Which would be a request a lot more strongly worded had I not-- [ Slow breath, stumbling on his words again. ] aced Anger Management, I-- look, what's the-- what's the point?

The point is--

[He set the mask over Andy's face, then picked up a screw and placed the tip of it on the mask's chin and the tip of the drill bit on the screw.]

--when Nygma decides to play games, innocent people get hurt.

[Then he squeezed the trigger.]

[ Andy's body convulsed, blood gushing and spurting from the drill down his neck, spattering his chest. His screams were strained and disjointed from his throat giving out and the placement of the first screw, but they made the effort. ]

There you go, Bernard. Let it all out...

[He placed the second screw at Andy's right temple. While he drilled he imagined the horror on the Mayor's face once the body was discovered.

This would be like striking at two birds with one stone. The thought was uplifting, or as much as it could be, through the continued haze (had someone drugged him? someone had definitely drugged him).]

[ Andy shrieked again once more, loud and shrill, before the screw pierced his temple, spurted more blood, and he rather abruptly stopped. His body convulsed once more before stopping as well. ]

[He drilled the third and final screw to the opposite temple, then paused to admire his work.]

Hm. That was riveting.

[He laughed to himself as he peeled off his gloves and apron. One quick phone call for a dumping crew, and another for a moving crew. This house was compromised and no longer safe, if Nygma had known where to send Andy.]

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