Two days after the interrogation, Jude came back to work.
Per Philip's suggestion after the wheelchair incident, he'd picked up a replacement—second modified wheelchair, same specs, same LED strips, minus the cup holder he'd decided was bad luck. When he rolled into the Red Dragon, the visible relief on his coworkers' faces was almost enough to make him feel good about showing up.
Santos actually exhaled.
The Death Car remained parked at Drake's building. Everyone agreed this was the better arrangement.
"Jude." Santos flagged him over with a folded newspaper. "Have you seen this?"
Jude glanced at the headline. "The Richard Daniel thing? Already know about it."
Santos's enthusiasm deflated. "What? How?"
"I was driving back from the shooting range when it happened. Caught the tail end of it from about thirty feet away. GCPD dragged me in for a statement at midnight, didn't get home until two." Jude hung up his jacket. "That's how I learned the man's name. Bank president, apparently."
"You actually saw it?" Santos perked back up—always interested in primary sources. "What did you see?"
"I'd rather I hadn't." Jude shook his head. "Half a submachine gun out a car window. Black sedan, tinted windows, no plates. That's everything. Anyone confident enough to do an assassination in the middle of a Burnley evening isn't someone I want to develop curiosity about."
"Fair."
Castro, who had clearly already absorbed everything she wanted to know about the assassination, leaned against the counter. "Can we talk about something more fun? It's almost Halloween."
"Right, my party." Rick straightened up. "Anyone want to come? Saturday night, no Philip, no Donald, actual fun."
Castro's hand went up immediately.
Jude had never been to an American-style gang member party, but he had a working imagination and a reasonable grasp of how those evenings tended to go. The guest list wouldn't run heavily toward people who went home early. The refreshments would extend past beer into territory that occupied various levels of controlled-substance scheduling.
"I'll pass," he said. "I'm working Halloween."
"We have Halloween off," Rick said. "We just talked about this."
"I got a side job." Jude produced a sigh from somewhere. "I need the money. As you all know, I just bought a car."
"Oh." Casey paused. "Right."
All three of them went briefly still when he mentioned the car. The same involuntary stillness, the same shared memory of what that car was, suppressed back down in the span of about two seconds.
Entertaining. They'd spent the last five minutes hyping a Halloween party, enthusiastic about ghost stories and haunted attractions, and the moment someone mentioned an actual cursed vehicle they'd personally heard of, the enthusiasm became something more like careful neutrality. The difference between enjoying horror from a seat in a theater and encountering it in the parking lot afterward.
Working Halloween wasn't a lie, though. The system had landed three side jobs in his notification queue, all of them timed for tonight.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
Halloween Pumpkin Lantern
Task Description: Don't overthink it. A customer needs a jack-o'-lantern. Do a good job, receive a reward. Do a bad job, receive nothing.
Note: Low risk, high reward. This job is reserved for you.
Status: INCOMPLETE (0/1)
Reward: Small portable pumpkin lantern (never goes out). Effective against minor demons and general supernatural nuisances. Not a magic item from this world—no payment required.
Halloween Heart Arsonist
Task Description: Mr. Harvey has some unplanned work tonight and won't be spending Halloween with his family. Perhaps you can handle this job for him?
Note: In Gotham, some jobs require guts to make money. Do you want to be a nobody? Or do you want to make a name for yourself?
Status: INCOMPLETE (0%)
Reward: Based on completion percentage. Each 20% converts to $2,000 asset points. Maximum: $20,000.
Halloween Takeaway Service
Task Description: You may not believe it, but in Gotham City, there are people who have it worse than Gordon, Harvey, or even Batman. For such unfortunate souls, an extra-large Burger King order is like Christmas morning.
Note: Born on Monday, baptized on Tuesday, married on Wednesday, fell ill on Thursday, critically ill on Friday, passed away on Saturday, buried on Sunday—this will be their whole life. Remember to wear a gas mask.
Status: INCOMPLETE (0/1)
Reward: Intermediate Culinary Mastery + one client's eternal friendship.
Three jobs in a single night. Even Gotham's criminal infrastructure had weekends.
The rewards were serious, though. A demon-repelling lantern that never went dark. Up to twenty thousand dollars in asset points. And Intermediate Culinary Mastery—which went for three thousand in the system shop—available for the price of a burger delivery.
One takeout job pays half a month of waiting tables, Jude thought, studying the notifications. The pay gap in this city is genuinely insulting.
He was going to do all three anyway. Resisting these rewards would require a self-discipline he didn't have and an alternative income he definitely didn't have.
During the lunch break, his coworkers found him in the corner of the staff cafeteria with a pumpkin and a carving knife.
Santos sat down with an apple and stared. "Where did that come from?"
"Bought it." Jude didn't look up. The knife moved in short strokes, peeling away orange skin to expose pale flesh beneath. "You know we're not allowed to take ingredients from the kitchen."
"You're... carving a jack-o'-lantern."
"Thought I'd make a few, sell them on the street tonight. It's Halloween. Someone might want one."
"Huh."
Rick passed the table and slowed to a stop. He watched the knife work for a moment. A face was emerging from the pumpkin—technically a face, in the sense that it had the standard components in the standard locations. In every other sense, it was something else entirely. The expression carved into the gourd suggested emotions that didn't have simple names. There was suffering in it, but also something that might have been inquiry. Art students would have described it as challenging. Normal people would have backed up a step.
"Is this your first time?"
"You don't think it looks good?" Jude held it up and considered it from several angles. "I think it's decent."
"That," Rick said, with the honesty of someone who had decided honesty was the only appropriate response, "is the ugliest jack-o'-lantern I have ever seen in my life."
"Perfect." Jude set it down and went back to refining a detail near the left eye. "There are thousands of cute Halloween pumpkins out there. Standing out requires commitment. Anyone can carve a normal one."
Rick thought about it. "I mean—there's definitely no shortage of people in this city who'd pay for something that looks like it has unresolved issues. You ever consider making a wearable version? Full-size pumpkin head, face like that on it? That would actually be terrifying."
"Good idea." Jude looked up. "I could wear it and steal candy from children."
"That's the spirit," Rick said, and went to get his lunch.