Chapter 67: Unlucky Andre #67
Author's note: I couldn't bring myself to just sleep my ass off all day and do nothing so I tried to get back to writing yesterday, but I only managed to write half a chapter before I ran out of fuel.
I finished it today, and here's an update. I'll try to post every two days until I fully recover since I'm already feeling better every day, but I can't say for sure.
Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy the chapter.
....
Lucky Andre wasn't feeling so lucky.
He got the nickname because of one royal fuck up back in his younger days as an enforcer for the Falcone crime family. The fuck up was so big that it even got Don Carmine's attention.
Andre's mistake exposed one of the most prominent Falcone gang safe houses to the GCPD and the Batman, and Don Falcone himself was ready to put a bullet between his eyebrows for the blunder.
The crime boss had the gun drawn and pointed it at Andre's forehead and only needed to ever so slightly twitch the muscles of his index finger to put an end to Andre's life.
However, it was at this exact moment that the infamous coalition of Gotham's masked villains decided to take out Falcone and put an end to the biggest, most successful crime syndicate the city has ever known.
Andre would never forget the day. Two-Face, The Mad Hatter, Solomon Grundy, The Joker, Catwoman, The Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, and The Penguin all gathered in one room.
They'd had enough of Carmine Falcone controlling the city and were there to enact the same fate upon the crime that he would on Andre, saving the gangster's life in the process.
Andre would never forget the Joker's demented smile as the latter shot Carmine Falcone dead and turned, nor the manic chuckle as the clown turned to him, claiming it was the gangster's lucky day.
The villains needed someone to live and tell the tale, and who better than the man Carmine Falcone was about to put down?
From that point onward, things just went Andrew's way. Despite the severe fuck up that warranted the now-dead crime boss to execute him personally, no one could deny his luck.
And gangsters of that time were nothing if not a bunch of superstitious folks, more than willing to take Andre under their wings, hoping his luck would rub off on them.
If the man could survive Don Falcone wanting him dead and coming face to face with Gotham's most notorious freaks, then who is to say his mere presence in the gang wouldn't bring success to their syndicates?
Andre then joined several gangs, all of which the Batman dismantled one after the other, and he would steer out of harm's way every time, further cementing his reputation as one lucky motherfucker.
He learned from his mistakes and never repeated such a royal fuck like the one that almost got him killed, and every time he moved to a new gang, he'd move higher and higher.
However, Andre's luck ended when a flood of international gangs began flooding Gotham, taking over Gotham, cartels, triads, and even yakuza, all of whom would not bother giving him a second glance.
That's when The Black Mask emerged to take control over Gotham and bring it back under the local rule, and Andre was one of the first thugs to rally to his banner.
However, Black Mask and his top lieutenants didn't give a damn about Andre's so-called luck. People gradually began forgetting about him, the reputation he'd been working so hard to build fading into oblivion.
Andre slowly reverted to the nameless, low-life thug he'd always been before Don Falcone attempted to execute him. Still, things weren't all bad, and even though he missed the respect he once commanded, Andre still made enough money to survive and even thrive in the city.
Racketeering, robberies, extortion, he did it all under Black Mask's and then some, keeping away from anything high profile to avoid attracting the Bat's attention.
Life went on, and Andre was satisfied with his lot in life, until one day, some punk decided to pickpocket him and steal his wallet and watch in the middle of the day.
The punk was good, Andre had to admit, but it wasn't the first time someone pickpocketed him or stole something from him, and whenever that happened, the gangster would always welcome it with open arms. The better the thief, the better.
It was one of the easiest ways to make money in Gotham, granted that you were ruthless and resourceful enough to pull it off.
Finding the thief wouldn't be difficult since he'd need to sell the watch he'd stolen, and there were only so much independent fencers willing to buy that kind of stuff without asking too many questions in Gotham.
He'd pass the word to several of his gangster buddies with a general description of the thief, and they'd take turns patrolling the areas near said fencers' shops until the pickpocket showed up.
But why would other gangsters waste their time helping Andra make money, you might ask? It's because they'd have a share, and Andre would do the same for them.
They had a mutual understanding and repeated the same song and dance countless times.
It didn't take long for the pickpocket to show up, and Andre quickly cornered him into an alley near Old Jack's pawn shop. From there, it was a simple routine.
Exaggerate the value of what was stolen, make some threats, look menacing and shoot the punk to make a point and make the target understand the consequences of disobeying.
And it all went as well as Andre expected, except for the small fact that the boy wonder happened to be there, kicked his ass, and sent him straight to Black Gate.
Andre thought that would be the end of his career as a criminal and cursed at his luck for a very long time. However, people didn't call him Lucky Andre for nothing, and he didn't have to stay long in prison, no longer than a week actually.
He didn't know how, why or who, but someone staged a mass breakout at the high-security facility, and he was one of the lucky ones to escape during the event.
Andre felt overjoyed at this turn of events, and thought his luck finally returned in full glory. It was finally old Andre's time to shine again after suffering in obscurity for so long.
He quickly made his move.
It was business as usual. Andre was meeting with a couple of old acquaintances to have a beer in one of Black Mask's fronts, a quaint bar that no one but the shadiest of people visited.
He intended to plan a score to ride the wave of chaos and crime plaguing Gotham and put his now-restored luck to good use. However, he was only halfway through when the freak broke into the bar, guns blazing.
The vigilante took one look at him and proceeded to ignore everything and everyone else, and that's when Andre knew he was well and truly fucked.
Lucky Andre wasn't feeling so lucky right now.
In fact, he couldn't help but curse his luck as he sprinted through the dark alley at full speed, one of Gotham's newest vigilante freaks hot on his trail.
Andre didn't know much about the freak currently pursuing him as if he had a grudge, but people called him the Wraith, and the gangster found why the hard way.
The freak was toying with him. He'd been chasing him for fifteen minutes now, and Andre had no doubt that the vigilante would have already caught him if he wanted to.
However, the bastard was content with chasing him around like a cat hunting a mouse, disappearing and appearing in front of Andre out of thin air, dodging everything the gangster threw at him.
Andre tried everything, from shooting the vigilante to stabbing at him and trying to punch him. But he'd casually avoid everything with the utmost disregard, only delivering the occasional slap or kick to the rear.
The worst thing was that the man said nothing as he toyed with Andre, and despite the vigilante's silence, Andre didn't need his luck to tell him the vigilante was enjoying it.
Andre didn't know what he did to warrant such actions. However, the gangster knew he had done something and that the vigilante probably had a grudge, a deep personal one he was acting on.
"Alright, freak! I don't know who you are and what you want, but do your worst!" Andre exclaimed, gritting his teeth as he stopped running, having had enough of being tormented.
"Go ahead and send me back to Black Gate. See if I fucking care!" Andre shouted, vigilantly inspecting the area. There was no sign of the so-called Wraith chasing him around for so long. But Andre, he was still there.
"Giving up already? Well, I suppose that's just who you are..."
Andre flinched as a deep, clearly altered voice came from behind him. He turned around, only to recoil again as he found the vigilante standing right behind him, staring directly into the gangster's eyes through the dark red glowing eyes on his helmet.
"But what in god's green earth makes you think I'll send you back to Black Gate...?" The vigilante spoke, the amusement in his voice audible as he conjured a gun from thin air and leveled it at Andre's forehead.
...
Author's note: Andre's POV got a bit longer than I'd intended and it took up all of the chapter, but I couldn't bring myself to half-ass it and make it shorter.
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