Chapter Text
“I gotta say D-Boy, I didn’t expect you to pull through. I officially declare you cured. At least you won’t shoot up your workplace for having a bad day anytime soon. Enjoy your clean bill of health.”
With those final words Harley— Dr. Quinzell takes her leave from Vince’s apartment, but not before grabbing herself a biscuit on the way out.
These past few months have been quite eventful for Vince and the GPC: his relationship with Mary has gotten less one-standly, Blackfire now announces when she’s going to show up, his relationship with his father has improved astoundingly and best of all Amnesty Bay Psychiatric Hospital has reported his mother no longer needs to be in a medically-induced come (although she’ll remain there for the almost two years of mental damage).
It's not getting over it, it’s one step at a time.
Tuesday, the best of the week that is not the weekend. A day where he goes to work like he always does and gets to meet the people he always does, as usual. Because routine is boring and routine is comforting.
That day must be a good day, because this one is not.
Jackson, Todd and Sanjay are around the counter because the latter’s office is inhabited by the Feds, as evidenced by the soldiers on both sides of the door.
Vince can only sigh “Let me guess, Uncle Sam is waving his dick again.”
Jackson nods.
“And he wants me to do his dirty job.”
Todd nods.
“And-“
“And she is waiting for you at the office we’ve commandeered. Deliverer” Vince gets interrupted by one of the soldiers who got out of the office for wasting his time. This one, unlike the others, looks noticeable older and wears a yellow shirt with short sleeves.
“Flag.” Vince narrows his eyes.
“Ramsay.” He nods back. “You're keeping her waiting.” And just grabs Vince and takes him to the office, where Amanda Waller is waiting with three more folders.
“Don’t tell me it was traffic; we made all lights from your building to here green just for you.” She then slides the folders towards him “Get to it.”
“if you stop planting bombs in my apartment.” Vince retorts.
Waller raises and eyebrow and leans forward to meet him eye to eye. She then leans back into the seat and smirks “You’ve got guts, kid. If you weren’t more useful here, I’d have you under Colonel Flag’s wing.” Her smirk disappears “Since you’ve proven yourself, I’ll consider it.”
With a nod a soldier opens the door and Flag grabs Vince by the back of the shirt and hurls him out of the office, throwing the files at him and closing the door shut.
Diego helps him up “Man who did you piss off?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” He replies. “Better go before she gets mad again.”
At the Afternoon Office, Vince starts browsing through the files given to him: The Carpenter, his old pal Jenna Duffy, who he now knows may or may not actually be a supervillain but she works for them by making their bases on the ‘cheap’. She’s also been the one restoring his apartment whenever Harley or Blackfire pay him a visit.
Keeping the other two on hold he toiletports to her location, a workshop whose floors are covered in sawdust, where machinery of unknown make and model litter the walls and the lady of the hour, who for some reason looks like Harley Quinn in short overalls, is at a table muttering to herself while moving a ruler all over a blueprint.
Vince waits until she’s done but it’s taking too long so he takes the bold decision to tap her on the back, something he regrets when Jenna instantly turns around with a spinning drill in her hand.
“Vince!” she turns off the drill and sets it on her tool belt “You know better than to sneak behind a supervillain.”
“Sorry about that, it’s just I’m in a hurry.” He then clears his throat “Uncle Sam wants you to… do his dirty work.” He tries making an imposing voice but deflates halfway through.
It is then she notices he has a folder in his hands instead of his usual clipboard, in a flash she snatches it from his hands and skims through it.
“What did I even do to deserve this?” Her eyes then bulge at what she just read “Woah, why would they even want me? I just build shit, not kill foreign leaders.”
Vince can only shrug “Beats me, Jenna.” It’s only fair since she called him by his name earlier. “Say, are you still part of those Wonderland morons?”
She snorts at this “Hell no, I’m a free agent. Besides, most of them are in jail and Hatter has gone even madder since you and Harley Quinn paid him a visit. He even tried to make me his new Alice.” She shudders at the thought.
With a final sigh she concedes “Alright, just for you buddy. Tell the government I’ll do it.”
Vince nods and smiles. “Alright, thank you Jenna.”
She gives him a smile back. “Anytime pal.”
Returning to GPC Vince checks the second file of the three: Roxanne Sutton, better known as Roxy Rocket. Based on the what the file says he’s gonna need blood pressure medication, assuming he survives.
Getting into her base it’s clear she also hired the services of The Carpenter. The place is massive, and it should be considering the number of rockets in here would put NASA to shame.
Speaking of, the owner of all this is underneath one, in her glorious pinup aviator getup, getting ready to fire them at the buildings or whatever she does with them. Also taking too long Vince knocks on the rocket causing her to jump and slam her head on its base.
“Ow!” She then stands up rubbing her head. She too aims at him with a weapon, a sci-fi-looking gun straight out of the 1950s. “Ah, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of Penguin’s.”
“Um, technically speaking I work for Lex Luthor now. He bought us out.”
Roxy just shrugs and puts her gun away “It takes one to know one, kid.” She then looks at his folder and extends her hand “I assume that’s for me.”
Vince then nods and hands her the file. As she begins reading, she begins to smile and at the end of the file she looks like she’s taking a hit of Joker Gas.
“So exciting! The thrill of a lifetime!” She then grabs Vince and kisses him on the lips “I won’t make it out of this one. And I’ll have you to thank for.” She then goes back to re-read the file. “You know your way out.”
And for the third and final file of the day—this has to be a joke. The photo and all information belong to none other than Bruce Wayne. Sure, the man is mysterious and very private but there’s absolutely no way he’s a supervillain.
A closer look at the profile shows his real name is Dr. Thomas Elliot and he performed surgery on himself to look like Bruce Wayne, for some reason.
Regardless, once at his lair, an abandoned building somewhere in the old city where he can even see the old courthouse from a boarded-up window. His admiration gets interrupted by the third weapon of the day being pointed at his face.
In front of him is what can only be described as a mummy wearing a trench coat.
“Well well well, if it isn’t the Deliverer himself.” Says the armed male in a voice Vince is sure he’s heard before, the practiced cadence of someone imitating a celebrity they've seen on tv.
“Doctor—” before Vince can finish his sentence the mummy man pressed his index finger against his own lips and shushes him.
“That’s not my name, boy.” He then presses his gun against Vince’s face “Try again.”
Quickly glancing down at the folder, which he notices the assailant also noticed, he looks back at him. “M-My apologies, Mr. Wayne.” He then extends the folder to him “Here’s a message for you, courtesy of Uncle Sam.”
Unbeknownst to him, ‘Bruce Wayne’ was inspecting every inch of his face to determine if Vince has the necessary characteristics for his ends. Fortunately for The Deliverer, he doesn’t resemble the object of his assailant’s obsession one bit. Putting his gun away he snatches the folder with his name.
“Idiots. All of them. Can you believe this?” ‘Wayne’ begins laughing “They sent me someone else’s file!” His laughter ends the more he reads the file. Pulling his gun back out again he begins counting backwards from ten. Vince returns back to GPC before the other man reaches seven.
Back at GPC, it’s lunch time. Vince, Jackson and Todd are at the usual table eating their meal, ham sandwiches, while discussing their respective happenings.
“So, a homeless guy just barged in here. Again. Man, security in this place has gone to the dogs.” And before Todd can say more Jackson punches in the arm hard.
She then turns her attention to the other person at the table. “How was doing the dirty work of the US Government?”
Vince shrugs “Not the worst. I got weapons pointed at my face three times.”
“They say if you get four in a day you unlock the mystical powers of luck.” Todd chimes in before he instinctively covers his bruised arm after Jackson glares at him.
Vince scratches his chin “So there’s a pattern I’ve noticed regarding these jobs I’ve done for the Feds.”
Both Jackson and Todd turn to and nod at him.
“Hit me.” Says Todd before rubbing his arm again. “Metaphorically speaking that is.”
“Well, I’ve delivered them to the following people: A pyromaniac, a cold assassin, a mad doctor, a base builder, someone with more rockets than NASA and a mummy who claims his file doesn’t match his identity.”
Now Jackson looks positively confused while Todd looks at Vince with a knowing look. “Ah, yes. It seems someone up above likes it when water evaporates.”
Now it’s Vince’s turn to look just as confused.
“Watch out for a loudmouth, someone who carries a big gun and an explosion addict. Then again, I don’t know any of our local scum that matches those descriptions.”
Soon enough lunchtime ended and everyone went back to their stations. Vince’s always wondered who takes over his routes whenever he’s forced to use his superpowers in the morning.
Finally at the Afternoon Office like his contract stipulates, there’s only one package to deliver. It seems like it’s steaming and when he touches it Vince expects it to be very hot yet it is instead extremely cold.
Grabbing two mittens and a jacket from the PPE box he takes the package to its owner.
He really should’ve brought more clothes. The place he gets transported to can only be called a giant walk-in freezer— No, a piece of the Antarctic is a more appropriate moniker for the place. Nothing but ice and snow and where there’s none there’s all sorts of machines.
Walking through the artificial blizzard he stumbles upon a glass tank. Trying to remove the frost from it almost gets his hand frozen off by a blast of ice.
“Step away. Slowly.” Vince overhears an emotionless voice filled with burning hatred towards anyone near his tank. He complies and finds a metallic suit. If it wasn’t for the crystal dome showing the blue face and red lenses for eyes he’d assume he was dealing with a robot.
Vince is face to face with Mr. Freeze in his element and home while he’s only wearing a jacket and two oven mitts.
Before making him one with the scenery Mr. Freeze notices the logo on his hat. “Follow me. Deliverer.” Vince has no other option but to comply.
Eventually they reach an area with no blizzard and less cold, a proper laboratory for the doctor to work on his suit and gun or whatever he does.
“H-Here’s your package, Dr. Fries.” Vince tries to be polite even if he’s freezing his balls off and sets on a nearby table.
Mr. Freeze raises his hand “It’s Mr. Freeze.” He then sighs “How can I call myself a doctor if I fail to cure the one I actually care for the most?” There’s some hint of emotion in that last sentence.
Slowly but surely the dots begin connecting in Vince’s head “W-Wait, so the glass tank back there—”
“It is indeed my wife, yes. But you already knew that, the media won’t stop repeating it every time I leave this place.” Sighing once more his voice gets that robotic voice “There’s a toilet on the other side of that door. You’ll get hypothermia in less than a minute in your current state of dress.“
Now it’s closing time and he, Jackson and Todd are drinking the day away at the bar and usual table.
“Hey Vince, you’re not gonna believe who visited us at work.“ Todd breaks the ice.
“Let me guess, another homeless man?” Jackson glares at him.
“I swear a girl can’t have some me time in the bathroom without everything going to hell. But no, it was Bruce Wayne.”
“He even used the bathroom before leaving. I wonder how much I’ll get for a toilet seat with the butt print of Gotham’s richest man.”
The hours pass and the trio return home.
In a frozen wasteland not too far from the city, its sole conscious inhabitant musters up enough courage to open that which he got sent to hours ago.
In the box are two vials filled with a glowing blue liquid.
“So you did deliver after all. Batman.”