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.: UNBOUND [Ch5] :.

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UNBOUND

Chapter 5: Glass Cannon



The drug bust had surprisingly gone according to plan. Undercover agent Isabelle Spicer was able to intercept the dealers before they reached the rendezvous point, swipe the goods, and leave the two opposing gangs to stare at each other with no idea of what was going on. Words were thrown around and eventually guns came out, and magically the police appeared right on cue - however, instead of the drugs they were counting on, they found only a handful of amateur thugs with pricey fire power. Afterwards, she was contacted by another agent who gave her a drop location, and the package was passed over to someone working within the GCPD who would then plant the drugs within the officers' personal lockers for Falcone's informants to find.

If she could drive enough tension and distrust between Falcone and the corrupt police, it would be one hell of a step closer to taking down the infected political system that ran Gotham City. Falcone was a glass cannon - as powerful and influential as he may be, he could break like anyone else. And it was only a matter of time before he was broken.



It seemed like Belle had merely blinked and two weeks had rushed right on by. Working for Fish Mooney was inexplicably effortless, and she couldn't help but admire the beautifully vicious crime boss. Whether she was serving as a waitress during the nightclub's regular hours, or serving as a soldier in Mooney's crew, every day was exciting and lavish. There was a certain romanticism to working at Mooney's, and while actively reminding herself she was merely playing a role, the undercover agent couldn't help but feel just a little bit more lively than usual. Since the other servers were only employees of the club and not a part of the crew, she would often have to switch shifts with a coworker in order to discreetly take a baseball bat to someone's mailbox or track down some sleazy money launderer to liquidate some stolen goods. Her evenings were filled with serving delicious food to upper-middle-class citizens and delivering nasty blows to the face of whoever owed Mooney the most money.

Then, she had to report to Falcone on Mooney's movements and decisions - though she found herself leaving out small details here and there, if she thought they might particularly upset him. She somehow felt a fierce loyalty to her new boss, and despite having come to her under the condition of reporting her operations to Falcone, she couldn't bring herself to include anything she knew he wouldn't like. But she gave just enough detail to keep him happy. And of course, she also wrote weekly reports for her case handler, Agent McCall, including all of the activities and transactions - illegal and otherwise - that she'd participated in or known about, as well as any collected intel - new contacts, expanding territories, that sort of thing. McCall would give the reports to their captain, who would then brief the other handful of agents about any updates so they could continue to monitor bugs, surveillance, etc.

This didn't leave Belle with much free time, but it didn't matter - she felt like she was on top of the world. Ever since her welcoming party, Mooney's crew had opened up to her and made her feel like she was part of the family. She'd even declined a couple of proposed meets with McCall to hang with the boys instead. It's all part of the role, she told herself. She was merely settling into character.

They all crowded around a small fold-up table in the break lounge, shuffling cards and arranging small stacks of plastic chips for a round of Texas Hold 'Em.

"You get any new numbers tonight, chiquita?" Juan joked, grinning at Belle as he passed out cards to everyone.

With a dismissive groan, she peeked at her cards for a moment, leaving them face down in front of her. "Ugh, none that I plan on calling any time soon."

"Oh? So how many then?"

"Why?"

"Tiu and I have a be-" he stopped as he was roughly elbowed in the ribs by his friend, "err, kidding. It's just funny."

She raised a brow as she flicked a chip into the center of the table. "Funny? How is that funny?"

"The way you react is funny," Gilzean chimed in with a smirk, throwing his starting chip in, "how you casually blow off anyone who looks your way."

"Hey," she responded with a defensive huff, "most of the guys flirting with me are here with dates and girlfriends, it's awkward as hell. And even if they aren't, it's not like I ask for their number, it's just given to me." With an exaggerated shudder, she added, "I feel so violated."

"Aww, don't take it like that, Belles," Tiu quietly grunted as he leaned forward to reveal the three initially face-down cards - the flop - and waved his arm towards her, "you're pretty, you look interesting, you have a cool job, guys are just wantin' to know you."

"Yeah I know what they wanna do," she muttered as she gently rapped her knuckle against the table to skip betting.

"And what, that's a bad thing?" Juan asked, tapping his own knuckle to pass.

"Well... no, I... guess not. I'm just not lo-"

"Two chips~" Oswald piped in with a sly grin spreading across his face as he tossed two of his chips into the pile. The rest of the group replied with an orchestra of groans.

"Shit, I'm out."

"Yeah, I fold."

Juan and Gilzean both pushed their cards aside with a heavy sigh.

"What? You guys always fold when he raises a bet."

"Yeah, it means the little shit has something good."

Belle watched him closely, narrowing her eyes as she scrutinized his behavior and body language like some strange analyzing computer. She could always tell when Oswald thought he had a decent hand, he always made this subtle little half-smirk before sitting back and watching the others for their reactions. He hadn't done that this time around, and in fact, he hadn't had much of a reaction at all until just now. Was he just messing with them? No, he would have been able to come across more convincingly. Or... did he do it to distract the others from that increasingly uncomfortable conversation?

"Or he could have crap," she spat playfully, deciding to play along with his game.

"So what'll it be then?" He leaned forward, his crystal eyes locking with hers. "Gonna call it?"

Without breaking their eye contact, she reached down and grabbed three of her chips, dropping them one at a time into the pile. "Ante up."

"Damn, guys. I hate betting on the first round." Tiu pushed his cards away, leaving only Belle and Oswald in the game.

The two were unable to continue their overly dramatic face-off when the break-room's door suddenly swung open and a none-too-pleased Fish Mooney rushed in. Her eyes were ice cold, her jaws clenched, her posture stiff. Instinctively, the three brutes quickly stood up to join her.

"What's going on...?" Belle asked with rising concern.

Mooney looked from her to the boys before pursing her lips together. "There's been a kidnapping." An instant, palpable tension filled the air as everyone else exchanged glances, waiting for more information - but no additional comment was given. Gilzean finally gave a firm nod to Mooney, but before they could move out, Belle shot up from her chair.

"Wait! Miss Mooney, I... I mean no disrespect but..." her lips remained parted as she struggled to find the right words to convey her opinion without stepping on anyone's toes, "uh.. well, a kidnapping is a serious and delicate matter, it's... not exactly, um, something to solve with strong-arming. Don't you have any more information?"

The crime boss zoned in on Belle, narrowing her eyes and standing up as straight as she could; the reaction of a challenged alpha. Belle had perhaps come off too strongly, but in this case she felt it was worth it. After all, if Mooney was this upset over it, the hostage must have great significance to her in one way or the other. "A high-school boy," she finally spoke, as if deciding to humor her with details, "was snatched right off the street walking home today. They want a ransom, or the boy dies."

Belle still wasn't sure why Mooney was so particularly tense, but she saw a golden opportunity to take the lead and earn some major cred - and of course to save a valuable life. "So what do you think these 'nappers are gonna do when they see a few guys coming after them? Whether this was done as a message or for money, they'll cut the rope if they think they're about to lose."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Each word was slowly enunciated in a sharp, venomous tone.

"Well, I..." She quickly scanned her brain for any relevant knowledge; four years earning a criminology degree, three years in FBI training, one year of experience in the field - there had to be something. A piece of advice from an instructor, a conversation between professors, an excerpt from a textbook, a page of notes, any information that seemed so trivial at the time but was suddenly so very vital. "Taking back a hostage requires a tactical approach, you've gotta outsmart the kidnappers and stay three steps ahead of them at all times. As long as they have something important to you, they have control of the situation, and if they become afraid of losing that control, they typically won't hesitate to pull the trigger on the hostage."

"Oh, well in that case let's call the goddamn FBI."

"I..." It was almost physically painful for Belle not to reveal the irony of that statement. "I can do it. Find them, find the kid." Her eyes widened slightly at Mooney's crushing leer and she quickly tried to back herself up. "I, I mean, wh-when I worked for Falcone, we did a couple ransom gigs, you know? So I know the general process, all the rules and cheats- I'll know what to look for, I mean-"

"You?" With a slow breath, Mooney's eyes flickered to the side; she was losing the last of her patience. "Belle, I like you but if you mess this up-"

"I won't, ma'am," she said with as much false confidence as she could muster, "but either way, I'm your best shot."

"And you're doing all this alone~?" she asked, her eyes rolling all the way back to Belle.

"Y-" she started to answer but froze; Mooney had made a valid point. This wasn't exactly a one-man operation, but what was she gonna do, go and mysteriously employ the help of an FBI agent? She and McCall could surely crack apart something like this with relative ease, especially since he'd had a couple years of experience on her. He probably knew the most effective way of handling things, but unfortunately she couldn't rely on his partnership. For this one, she was on her own- wait. An idea suddenly surfaced, and Belle's gaze slowly made its way over to Oswald, who had been silently watching from the sidelines. Maybe it was time to put the benched player into the game. "Oz will go with me."

"Wh-what?"

She couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt for pulling him into the lion's den when she saw his expression. The poor guy looked like a deer in the headlights, completely caught off-guard, and rightfully so. But she knew he was much more clever than the others realized, maybe even more than he himself realized, and he was remarkably perceptive. Plus, his participation would give her the cover she needed to be able to use government resources.

"Osw- that's your plan?"

"Fish, I wouldn't intervene like this if I didn't- ... look, I know how they'll be thinking. That means I can plan ahead of them, that I can beat them. You know I'm right. I promise you, I'll bring the kid back alive."

It felt as if Mooney were glaring straight into Belle's soul, her jaw set as she reeled over the decision. After a moment, she sighed and gave a slow nod. Belle glanced over her shoulder to her new partner as he sheepishly stood and followed her. As they passed Mooney, those perfectly manicured fingernails lashed out and wrapped around Belle's upper arm, pulling her close as Mooney leaned over. "This is Falcone's nephew," she uttered in a low staccato, and the full weight of her tension was finally dumped onto the younger female's shoulders. She now understood the situation. If this didn't turn out well, they'd all be on the chopping block.

"Yes ma'am," she replied quietly as Mooney released her grip, and caught up with Oswald who waited just outside the door. This was going to be fun.



"S-So..." Oswald laughed nervously, following after Belle as they crossed the street to a public parking garage where she kept her car parked, "you have a plan, then, right?"

She looked over to him for a moment, overcome with the urge to just hug him and giggle profusely at his nervousness - this must be what it was like for agents to take rookies out for their first case. "Well... sort of."

What little color he held in his face seemed to wash away. "Sort- Sort of?!"

Taking a deep breath, she spun around to face him while continuing to walk backwards. "Relax, I'll figure something out- err, we will."

"With... all due respect, Belle, I..." he was becoming fidgety, pursing his lips before smiling for just a moment, "I mean, are you sure this isn't... maybe above our heads? I've never even-"

"Hey hey!" She threw up a hand defensively. "You're doing that thing again, where you psyche yourself out. Look, I said I didn't have a plan but I do have resources. Besides... this is our chance, Oz! To show them we can handle ourselves, be reliable and competent, to impress them. We get to be the heroes, right?"

"You... really think you can do this?"

"I think we can, if we work together~ after all, I didn't choose you for no reason. I need tactical support, and you're the only one smart enough to handle that kind of thing." Reaching into her messenger bag, she fished out her keys and approached her small silver car.

Oswald grew quiet as he rounded the car to hover at the passenger door, a soft and calm smile replacing his nervous one. "Well... maybe it is a good opportunity. Say, what did Mooney... tell you before we left?"

After unlocking the car, she swung the door open and clicked the button on the inside handle to unlock the other doors. "The kid that got taken," she quietly cleared her throat as they both got into their seats, "is Falcone's nephew."

Her words hit him like a sack of bricks as he fumbled with his seat belt. "F-Falcone's- oh, well. Great. So, we mess this up and we're dead."

"Relaaax~" she repeated, "I mean we could always run to Oklahoma. Start a farm, grow marijuana or something... do they have a mafia in Oklahoma? Do they even have cities in Oklahoma...?" Belle was momentarily disturbed by her lack of knowledge about an entire state as she pulled out of the parking garage. Noticing Oswald's increasingly nervous behavior, she sighed. "Hey, seriously though, we've got this. I just need to make a call."

As she drove out onto the streets, she pulled her cell from her pocket and flipped it open, her thumb dancing across the keypad as she punched in a string of numbers before raising the phone to her ear. A moment later, McCall's voice hastily greeted her from the other side of the line. "Hey, Jackson!" - the name she used to let him know her cover was active - "Listen, we've got a situation. Falcone's nephew was kidnapped earlier today, picked up near Gotham High after school let out... yeah... Johnny Viti... wait, seriously? Yeah, fax everything you got, I'll be at my place soon... let me know what else you find!"

Oswald curiously eyed her as she hung up and slipped her phone into the center console. "That... one of your resources?"

"Yeah, Jackson has connections to the government," she explained, surprised at how truthful she was able to spin that, "and he's running information through the federal database now. Said there's been a couple citizen reports the past few days, a couple of strange men in a dark car looming outside the school. Every day for the past week, but the police never got around to looking into it."

"Those must be the kidnappers! But... how are we gonna find them? We don't know anything about them."

"You'd be surprised how much you can figure out for yourself. That's why he's sending me the reports, there may be some gold piece of information somewhere." Her fingers drummed against the leather steering wheel as they stopped at a red light. "Hey Oz, do you happen to know of a gardening store nearby?"

"A-Already planning our new life of farming?" He asked with an uneasy voice as he gazed out the window.

"I just need to pick up a few things." It was hard for her to watch him work himself up, but she couldn't just blurt out 'calm down, I'm a trained professional'. In fact, she hadn't really come up with a solid excuse as to how she would know about the things she was about to do... so instead of running her mouth about some elaborate backstory, she would just do it.

"There's... one just two blocks from here. Make a left at the light, it's got a bright green awning."



They had almost reached Belle's apartment complex when she suddenly pulled up in front of a small family-owned pharmacy. Glancing between her and the backseat full of plastic bags from the gardening store, Oswald laughed uneasily. "D-Do we really have time for this? I mean, shouldn't we be focused?"

"Of course! I'll just be a sec, keep the car running!" Jumping out, she shut the door and nearly skipped into the pharmacy. It filled her with excitement to plan out what they would need to do, but she still felt guilty for leaving her partner in the dark. But that would resolve itself soon enough, when he'd see first-hand she was on a whole different level of criminal activity. After making her purchases, she returned to the car and gently added her bag to the rest in the backseat. "See? I wasn't long, and my place is just up ahead."

He nodded, but still looked like he was sick to his stomach.

She pulled into the small lot for the apartment complex and parked in front of her building. As they got out, she grabbed her bags from the back and danced up the steps to the third floor with Oswald following behind. Unlocking her door, she fluttered into the dark and empty apartment, flicking on the lights as she crossed the open living room and went into the kitchen where she set everything down. He shuffled in behind her, looking around the room. There was a small, comfortably worn red couch facing a large flat-screen television and a cherrywood desk with a duel-monitor computer in the corner. On the walls, where one might expect a photo or painting to hang, were sheets of normal white printer paper with quickly-doodled versions of famous artworks - an oddity that caught him off guard and made him smile.

"You've got impeccable taste in art," he said playfully as he joined her in the kitchen, trying not to nag her about priorities as she pulled a half-gallon of milk out of her pharmacy bag and put it in the fridge.

"What? Oh! Yeah, haha, thanks... those are just temporary, until I manage to get the real deal!" Kneeling down, she opened a lower cabinet and fished out her coffee grinder, setting it on the counter and plugging it in. "But please, make yourself at home. Uh, hungry? Or thirsty?"

"Oh, that's very kind but no thank you. I think we should try and-" Oswald abruptly fell silent, his mouth agape, his brow slowly furrowing with realization as he watched Belle empty the rest of the bags onto the counter. Fertilizer, strange unmarked powders, coils of wire... "-Belle are... are you making a bomb?!"

"What? No, it's... well... eh. Kind of, I guess." Running over to her desk area, she pulled out a box of envelopes and returned to the kitchen to grab tape, scissors, and a box of aluminum foil from a drawer. "Like I said earlier, these kinds of operations require more tactical approaches. The best plan is the one that no one will see coming." Cutting an envelope down to half size and re-taping the opened edges, she let out a sudden laugh. "It's funny, because these are flash grenades~ so they... literally won't see."

What came from Oswald could only be described as a half laugh, half whimper, and he made no moves to get any closer; though as he watched, he couldn't help but begin to feel slightly mesmerized.

Folding up a small sheet of foil, she carefully fed it through the coffee grinder along with a few packets of ingredients from the pharmacy. With the crackling hum of the grinder, she was left with a clump of powdered metals and minerals, and using a measuring spoon scooped them out and into the half-sized envelopes before sliding in a fuse cut from wire and sealing them up.

"So that... that's a flash grenade?"

"Mhm! This should be enough... I can't see needing more than one, but this way we'll have a back up." Moving to the fridge, she pulled out a can of Wild Cherry Pepsi and popped it open, walking back over to her desk. "Now let's see what our reports say..." Reaching for the face-down papers fresh out of her fax/printer, she flipped them over and started to scan through them.

"Anything useful?" he asked, scuttling closer to look over her shoulder.

"I... don't know yet," she said, tilting her head a bit as she read through, "but it definitely sounds like these are our guys. They must have been watching the school and maybe even Johnny all week. They knew the schedule, the traffic flow, where the teachers would be... they definitely did their homework."

"You're uh, on a role with puns tonight," he joked, though he couldn't suppress his laughter when she gave him a confused look before suddenly realizing what she'd said.

"They're unintentional, I swear!" With a sigh, she continued to thumb through the rest of the reports. "But it looks like that's the gist of it. Oh, in this one, a student managed to snap a picture on her phone... it's kind of blurry though, and I can't make out any identifiable characteristics..."

"Would you mind if I looked at that?"

"Oh, of course!" Handing him the paper with the included photo, she grinned. "Remember, we're partners on this. You don't have to ask. Actually you can look at all the reports, I've got more goods to bake~" Sipping on her soda, she went back to her assortment of questionable products on the counter. Pulling out a gallon-sized ziploc bag, she grabbed a large packet of reddish powder and cut it open, pouring it into the bag. Taking the rest of the powdered aluminum mixture, she added it to the bag, sealed it up, and gently shook it around to get it all mixed together.

"What's that for?"

"This, my dear Oz, is thermite - it'll turn nearly any surface into melted butter. We don't know if these guys are holding out in a residency or shacked up behind stainless steel reinforced doors, so this stuff will get us through whatever kind of-" Her phone suddenly began to ring from her pocket, and she quickly pulled it out and saw it was McCall. "Jackson!" she answered, putting him on speakerphone and setting the phone on the counter so she could continue with her thermite concoction. "You're on speaker," she casually warned, "so what did you find?"

"You get the reports?"

"Yeah, we were just skimming through 'em." She paused to take a long drink of her soda. "Did you dig anything else up?"

"Traffic light camera caught the suspect's car, clear enough to make out the plate. Ran it and got an unlisted number, no name or anything except for a single credit card transaction. Rental of a storage unit, first thing this morning."

"That must be where they're held up."

Emptying the rest of her soda, she set the can down and grabbed a funnel from the cabinet above her, using it to pour the thermite powder into the can. Feeding a wire fuse through a straw, she stuck it down into the can and duct taped the top to seal it as best as she could.

"I'll text you the address, but it looks like the storage facility is out near the industrial warehouses. Looks grimy, be safe."

"Sure thing." She clicked a button and ended the call, then gave Oswald a grin. "See? We have an address."

He returned her grin, before letting out a soft laugh. "We.. have an address."

"Told you we could do this! There was no need to get jittery, right? Now, all that's left is the fun part." A low grumble croaked out from her stomach and her shoulders slumped. "But first, I'm starving. You sure you aren't hungry?"

"No, I- ..." Oswald stopped himself, taking a moment to settle his nerves. It was difficult to read her most of the time, and he'd become unsettled by her casual and even silly behavior in the midst of such a serious situation. But she had connections to the FBI and knowledge of homemade explosives and had managed to piece together a plan of action from almost nothing. She'd already demonstrated her general competence during her two weeks at Mooney's, and had come from Falcone with high praise - she must have been doing something right. Perhaps he had no reason to worry after all, and decided to push away his doubts. Worst case scenario, they moved to Oklahoma. "Actually, I am getting kind of hungry."



An ominous darkness had settled over the city of Gotham, its towering buildings now casting deep shadows. Belle's car slowly crawled to a halt about a block away from the storage facility, and after a moment its idle hum died down into silence. She and Oswald quietly left the car and she made sure to lock it before they strolled down towards the facility. As they passed a small pub, she spotted an empty beer bottle laying against the corner and picked it up, gently brushing off the dirt with her hand.

"What's that for?" Oswald asked, trying not to look disgusted.

"We may need an excuse for snooping around," she answered, holding the bottle in one hand as her other arm wrapped around his, pulling them closer together. "So in case we're spotted, we're just a drunk couple trying to stumble on home."

His cheeks reddening, his gaze quickly flickered to the side as he tried not to think about her gentle touch. He knew very little of such affection, and it stung like a sharp jab to his gut how much he was affected by such a casual gesture, something that she most likely thought nothing of.

Reaching the facility's front, they rounded the corner and made their way towards the rows of storage units with slow, quiet, calculated footsteps. With every passing row, they would survey their surroundings. When it was deemed clear, they proceeded to the next clump of shadows, though the sound of another's footsteps made Belle pull him extra quickly into cover. Carefully peeking around the corner, she saw a man on patrol, complete with an MP7 submachine gun in his hands as he kept watch. With an automatic weapon, he was no storage security - it was the piece of confirmation she was looking for. This was the place... but unfortunately, there was still some narrowing down to do.

Turning to Oswald, she handed him the beer bottle. "Listen carefully," she spoke just above a whisper, "take this and stumble over to that guard."

His eyes glanced down to the bottle before returning to her, and his hands reeled back, as if touching it would be a death sentence. "What? Me? H-He's got a gun."

"Shh, he's not just gonna open fire on you. Remember that night at My Alibi, when we got pretty hammered and fell all over the place like giggling idiots? That's all you have to do. Just bug him, distract him... just for a moment."

"I... I don't know..."

"You'll be great," she said with a confident grin, reaching out to loosen and mess with his tie before tugging at the lapels of his jacket to make them more askew, "trust me, it's strangely fun. I'll do the hard part, then you knock him unconscious."

"Wait, you want me to-"

"I'll make it super easy! This is newbie-level stuff. Don't sweat it, okay?"

He slowly exhaled before nodding and taking the bottle from her. "And if I get shot?"

"Then I'll pay like, half the medical bills, promise."

Pressing his tongue against his cheek, he thought for a moment before nodding and rounding the corner, stepping into the dim illumination of moonlight. The armed man quickly turned to face a swaying Oswald, who grinned and snickered to himself as he walked unevenly down the aisle of units.

"Hey, you! What are you doing here?!"

His shoulders bounched, teeth clenching as Oswald tried to muffle his chuckles. Waving his bottle around, he continued to approach the gunman. "Wh-what am I doing here? Pfft- what's anyone doing here? Place is a, uh... a trash heap... so dirty, god, when did it become so dirty out here?"

"Get outta here," the male replied dismissively after a groan, lowering his gun. Before he could react, an arm reached around his neck and jerked him backwards. He flailed his arms before struggling to reach back, though his blood flow was quickly cut off as Belle's arm squeezed against his jugular. Oswald took that as his cue and spun the bottle around in his hand to grip the neck of it like a baseball bat, and brought it crashing against the side of the gunman's head. His body quickly fell limp, and Belle lowered him to the concrete as slowly as she could before smiling up to her partner, but it soon faded when she saw his expression. His lip quivered ever so slightly with a dark excitement, his eyes drinking in his results, his muscles calm, his breathing slow and nearly silent... His typical personality was such a contrast to this predator before her, and when those animalistic eyes flickered up to meet hers, her stomach fluttered with a rush of her own dark excitement.



The gunman's wrists were tightly fastened together with a plastic zip-tie, the first thing he noticed when he came to. His vision was still burred and his head was pounding, the plastic cutting into his skin as he struggled to tug his hands apart.

"Easy there~" Belle cooed, grabbing him by the shoulders to sit him up against the cold wall and kneeling in front of him. "We just want to ask you a few questions."

"Fuck off," he muttered before spitting at the ground.

"Hey now, that's not necessary. Besides," she held up his SMG, inspecting it for a moment before playfully aiming it at his face, "if you play nice, we won't have to make a mess."

He flinched under the gun's aim. "W-watch it, bitch, that thing's loaded!"

"I know! It's a beautiful piece. The trigger spring was a little loose, I fixed that for ya. Makes the trigger a bit more... sensitive." As she spoke, her index finger slowly caressed the trigger, and he began to squirm and fidget.

"Alright alright! What the fuck do you want?!"

"Just the kid."

"Shit, you one of Falcone's, then?!"

"Not exactly," she said, tilting her head to the side as she glanced up to Oswald, who stood quietly behind her, watching with intense interest. "I'm just... hired help. And him? Ha... well, let's just say he's pretty good with a blade. But time's ticking, dear~ tell us where to find the boy and we'll be on our merry little way."

He sneered, leaning forward as much as he could. "Cut me loose and I'll show you what I'm good with."

As his jaws parted to laugh, she suddenly shoved the tip of the gun in between his teeth. He immediately stopped and froze, helpless as she pushed the gun into his mouth. "Tsk tsk, I told you... play nice and we won't have problems. You keep being hostile, and..." Slowly she turned the gun, so that it began to push out against his cheek. "Well, I guarantee the first few holes won't kill you."

His lips stretched and moved around the gun as he tried to muffle out a panicked answer, and she withdrew the gun. "Fifty-four! Th-they're in fifty-four!"

"They?"

"T- ... two guys, and the kid..."

"Armed?"

"Yeah, n-nothin' too fancy though!"

"Alright then. See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Reaching out the pat his cheek, she grinned before standing up. Using the bottom of her shirt, she wiped off the end of the gun and turned to Oswald. He watched her with widened, fascinated eyes, and again her stomach fluttered. "Okay... Unit fifty-four..." Suddenly feeling embarrassed, she quickly turned her head and began walking, and he followed after her. Flipping out her phone again, she dialed McCall's number and held it to her ear. "Jackson, yeah... We got it. Bring the clean-up crew, I left you a present... no, alive... but there's two to go. If someone goes down... yeah... got it." She wasn't sure if these two men would be so cooperative, and if a mess was made, the FBI needed to be there before the Gotham PD. Besides, the captured gunman may have some valuable intel on his clients that he could provide in exchange for a plea bargain; no doubt his prints would come up with a match on some unsolved crime.

As they approached the unit, she stopped and handed Oswald the MP7. "Here, hold onto this. You may end up needing it." He nodded and took it, and she reached into her bag to carefully pull out the thermite-packed soda can and a roll of duct tape. Kneeling down, she quietly taped the can against the door of the unit, then stood up as she pulled out a lighter. "You wanna do the honors?"

His face lit up like a child on Christmas, though he quickly afterwards tried to hide his utter excitement. "Yeah! Uh- yeah... m-may I? I just... light it?" He took the lighter from her and anxiously flicked on its flame, holding it against the fuse. After a moment it lit, and he backed up to stand next to her. As the light drifted down into the can, there was suddenly a bright pop followed by an even brighter and louder bang. It was sure to catch the immediate attention of anyone and everyone inside.

The next thing they knew, there was a large hole in the wall and Belle quickly stepped forward, lighting up the enveloped flash powder and tossing it through. There was another small pop and a bright fizzling flash of light. With a quick "you stay out here", she pulled out her own gun and kicked through the door, charging in. The two men were yelling to each other as they squinted and haphazardly pointed their guns, and before their vision returned she flew by and cracked one in the head with her pistol before spinning on her heel to send her boot up and against the other's face. Bodies and guns clammored to the floor and as the smoke began to thin out, she saw Johnny standing ahead of her with a bewildered look.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Don't worry," she said, "I work with your uncle, I- ..." Her voice trailed off as something struck her as being... off. The boy seemed angry more than anything, and he wasn't restrained or injured in the slightest. He only glared at her before glancing over to the other men.

"Fuckin' useless idiots! You said this place was secure!"

Shit, this isn't good, she thought, her mind racing as it tried to catch up and reanalyze the situation. Stumbling back a step, her spidey senses tingled and she spun to the side to avoid the butt of a semi-automatic against her head. While his guard was down, she rushed him, pulling his shoulders forward as her knee collided up against his gut, and the back of her elbow against his skull. He dropped quickly but strong arms wrapped around her and threw her hard against the ground, her gun clattering away from her reach as she kicked and headbutted her way back to dominance. Managing to pin the guy, she kneed him several times in the ribs but he simply tossed her off like she was weightless; before she could get up, he was over top of her, straddling her so she couldn't squirm away. Large, rough hands clenched around her neck and she couldn't breathe - after a moment of clawing at his solid grip, her arm reached out to try and snag her gun, but it lay helplessly away from her outstretched fingers. Wiggling her hips, she felt like she could get a leg free, or work out enough room to knee him in the groin, and continued to scratch and pull at his hands. But before she could make any progress or come up with a new plan, one of his hands tightened around her neck, nearly crushing her windpipe completely as the other moved to the side of his hip. As soon as she saw the metal of his gun, adrenaline surged through her body. She squirmed and struggled frantically, flailing any part of her body that could move, her fingernails digging into the back of his hand as her lungs twitched in their desperate need for air. His other hand, armed with his own pistol, seemed to move in slow-motion up towards her. Every molecule in her body wanted to fight, to move, to scream and bite... but she couldn't do anything. Her chest burned without the oxygen she needed, her lips beginning to tingle with numbness, and she felt the cold barrel of his gun press down against her forehead. She couldn't even whimper.

BANG.

The gunshot echoed loudly within the tight walls of the storage unit.

Air rushed into her lungs as the grip on her neck released, and she sat up to gasp and cough, her heart pounding in her ears as the man over her slumped lifelessly to the ground. A bloody, gaping hole just below his eye oozed and spurted warm blood and she looked up to see a white-faced Oswald standing just in the doorway. Hearing the click of another gun behind her, she suddenly flipped over, grabbing her gun from the floor and shooting the second man just as he aimed at Oswald, twice into the shoulder until he dropped for the final time.

Her body still heaving to consume air, she rose from the floor and turned her aim to Johnny, who took a step back and threw his hands up.

"Whoa!" Oswald quickly joined her side, lowering his gun now that both men were dead. "That's the kid!"

"He orchestrated... the whole thing," she spoke in between deep breaths, her voice still rough. "This wasn't a kidnapping."

"L-L-Look, I just needed the money, okay? My uncle's loaded, I just needed a couple grand, I thought he'd just pay the ransom and it would be over with!"

"With a solid plan like that, I'm surprised things went awry," Oswald cheeked, "but I wonder what your uncle will think."

"What? No! He, he can't find out! He'd kill me!"

Without looking away from the kid, Belle held her hand out toward Oswald. "Zip-ties." Pulling more from the inside of his suit jacket, he placed them in her hand and she put her gun away, walking forward and grabbing Johnny before tying his wrists together as tight as she could make them. "That's between you and him, now." Standing behind him, she pushed him forward and led him out of the room, passing Oswald as if he weren't even there. He took another glance around the room, wondering how she'd managed to get connections that caused the government to come clean up her personal messes, then left to catch up with them.

She'd already loaded him in the backseat of her car, slamming the door to muffle his constant begging and bargaining, when Oswald approached her.

"You were right, Belle! Heh, look at us... we actually did it!"

Her hand rested against the closed car door for a second as her eyes gazed aimlessly through the window. "Yeah..." she'd almost whispered, her face blank and expressionless as she turned to open the driver's door.

Before he realized what he was doing, he reached out to gently grab her arm. Once he did, his face flushed with heat, but he couldn't bare her stoicism and refusal to look at him. "Belle, are... are you okay?"

She stopped, but didn't make any efforts to face him. In fact, her head turned away from his direction before she finally spoke again. "Yes, I'm... fine. Let's just go."

He wasn't sure what to say, but he couldn't bring himself to let go. He knew she'd told him to stay outside the unit, and he had no qualms with that - in fact, he preferred to be way out of the line of flying bullets and she seemed to bloom in such violence. But when he heard the scuffle, and heard it continue, without a single time hearing her voice, he felt the sudden need to check on her. He couldn't even see her when he looked into the unit, just the back of the muscular male pinning her down, and the bottom of her boots as she kicked and squirmed. He wasn't even entirely sure how to shoot an MP7, but it seemed that he had decided to try at just the right moment. Who ever thought he'd be the one saving her from a fight?

There was an awkward silence between them, Belle refusing to turn around and Oswald refusing to let go.

After a moment, she finally submitted to his persistence and slowly turned to him, though her eyes couldn't yet meet his. He started to ask her again but stopped as her brow twitched, her lip quivering. All at once the fear and panic seemed to wash over her, and she jumped forward, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck and her face burying into him. His eyes widened, but he quickly put his arms around her, feeling every tremble under his fingertips.

"Hey... it's okay," he mumbled weakly, wishing he had some clue as to what he should say, "I mean, that... couldn't have been your first close call, right?" There was no response from her, she just continued to cling to him like he was her lifeline. Her fingers tightened their grip on the collar of his jacket. "Sometimes..." he decided to try again, "it's okay to be reminded... that we're not invincible, you know? So we don't lose sight of the edge."

Slowly, her face lifted towards his, silent tears streaming down her cheeks as she wiped them away with the back of her hand. "I just... I thought I was better than that. Stronger... More careful..."

"But why would you be?" He asked, his lips twitching into a playful smirk. "When you've got me to patch you up?"

She watched him for a moment, her eyes gazing into his, taking in those beautiful sapphire hues. A soft chuckle suddenly bubbled out at his words, and the light returned in her eyes. Again her hand wiped away fresh tears as she continued to laugh, and to his surprise her arms returned to their lock around him and she pulled him into a close hug. "Thank you," she quietly uttered, hearing Johnny kicking at the car window with his foot. "We... we should go, before the FBI gets here."

Releasing him, she gave him a sheepish smile before getting into her car, and he rounded to the passenger side to get in. "So... what now?"

"We take the little fucker to his uncle," she masked her bitter tone with a smirk, before starting up her car and driving off.



It was both thrilling and somewhat uncomfortable for Oswald to watch from the car as Belle escorted the troublesome high school senior into the half-constructed parking garage near Falcone's business. She'd called him on their way and he gave her the instruction to go there, to assure the highest discretion. A couple of his goons were on standby, and approached her when they saw her walking up. They exchanged a few words, then gave Johnny some mean and less-than-pleasant looks, then after another brief bit of conversation, they nodded and took the boy with them, and she returned to the car.

The drive back to Mooney's was fairly silent. Both felt as if a thousand words lie at the tip of their tongues, but neither made a peep. They quietly parked and walked back across the street to the nightclub, entering through the back door. Fish Mooney stood waiting for them in her office.

"I just got off the phone with Falcone," she spoke in that characteristic smooth tone as they entered, "and it seems his nephew was safely returned." Zoning in on Belle, she sauntered over with long graceful steps and placed her hands on her shoulders. "You did it again, Miss Spicer~" Her lips cracked into a wide grin and she let out a laugh. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you? And... as for you," her head slowly craned to peek curiously at the young male, "color me impressed, little Oswald."

Leaving out the bit about having a mysterious connection to the government, Belle filled her boss in on what had happened, and found herself emphasizing Oswald's participation. She left out the ending though, about how he'd saved her, and she wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe she wasn't ready to admit to anyone else that she had needed saving, that she wasn't as strong and invincible as she sometimes imagined. No, she was human, helplessly regretfully human, and no matter how powerful or influential she was, she could be broken just like anyone else.

Belle was a glass cannon.
:bulletgreen::bulletblack: author's note :bulletgreen::bulletblack:
Oh my gosh. This chapter killed me. It came in like a shreking ball, I got fkn rekt m8... no-scoped by literartue. BUT it's super long, like 8.5k words, full of things that happen, so hopefully it was worth the wait!

Belle can't pull out her full government-agent-of-badassery artillery since she's getting the assistance of the lovely Oswald, so she makes SPLODEY things while her FBI partner does the high tech digital footwork. And often times when you do badass things for a living, you start to feel like you're a bit invincible, and even as a writer of Belle's character, sometimes even I feel like she has this capability of somehow pulling through and saving the day with some eccentric, quirky, unpredictable action. So... things happen. Reality came in like a wrecking ball, and now we'll see her mentality slowly start to... well, shift.

:bulletgreen::bulletblack: next chapter :bulletgreen::bulletblack:
Akahara decides to redeem his free favor from Belle when Yakuza and Triad members keep showing up dead throughout Gotham's alleyways. She meets with the detectives assigned to the case and decides to use her covert advantages to "guide" their investigation.

:bulletgreen::bulletblack: table of contents :bulletgreen::bulletblack:
:bulletpurple: .: UNBOUND [Prologue] :.
:bulletpurple: .: UNBOUND [Ch1] :.
:bulletpurple: .: UNBOUND [Ch2] :.
:bulletpurple: .: UNBOUND [Ch3] :.
:bulletpurple: .: UNBOUND [Ch4] :.
:bulletblue: Chapter 5: Glass Cannon



I do not own Gotham or any of the canon characters.
I do own the character Isabelle Spicer.
For the purposes of imagination, Belle's playby in this story is Susan Coffey.

Story is also hosted on Fanfiction.net HERE

Preview image (c) Susan Coffey

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Comments14
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CalyxRose's avatar
Awesome story! Is it really possible to make your own bombs like that?