#bennett brant

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Bennett was a man of a few habits. Or as some might say, a few peculiar, little weaknesses. Every person has some of those. So he wouldn’t go as far as to pretend, like he was an exception. He was just a human, at the end of the day. There was no harm in allowing himself some vincibility from time to time. 

It wasn’t like someone was here to judge him. This specific part of the building was generally reserved just for him and his son. Not even the most of his devoted minions had an access here. Bennett, who was raised by his mother and growing up along with his younger sister, had adopted a habit of cleaning after himself fairly early on. So no maid was needed. He didn’t see anything too horrible in taking a mope in hand, or going around dusting the shelves while humming one of Frank Sinatra’s songs. 

His mother didn’t always have time for him or even Betty, — too busy with working two jobs to keep the lights inside the house — so he took it upon himself to learn how to cook some simple meals and how to do other mundane tasks, which at times proved to be a bit challenging for a ten years old boy. But there was a certain pride in being the one, who used to iron Betty’s dresses and school uniform and who had ironed his own clothes and later on, ironed his working suits by himself as an adult. 

Perhaps, it was too ‘feminine’ for some recent, modern men, but oh, Bennett was never scared of getting his hands dirty. Besides, before getting into college and then, landing himself a decent enough position as a local lawyer, he had a feeling like he needed to help his mother somehow, her health was getting worse and worse by the year. 

Until she was put into hospital and he got himself into quite a pickle with the mob, all to try and get money to cover the bills they were getting. It was rather stupid, thinking back to it. Risky and most of all, even an idiot knew that the game rigged against him from the start.  

Yet, he ever the secret idealist at heart had hoped, that somehow, by some miracle he’d see it through. But then — 

Well, everybody knew what happened then. 

He sighed, eyes narrowing slightly. It was useless to think about it now. Those last years of his life as Bennett Brant weren’t exactly something that he was looking back on with any fondness, if anything, he had deeply despised the man he used to be. 

All those niceties and memories about life with his mother and sister aside, he was ready to admit, that he was quite a loser. A man, who tried too hard to follow the rules, which in reality were never set in stone. He tried to play along, then he tried to cheat his way out of it and then he died. Leaving Betty and mother all alone with yet another family gravestone to visit and put flowers on. 

So yes, those weren’t his proudest moments, as one would say. 

He kept tabs on both of his relatives, but it wasn’t like he could just come out of hiding and insert himself back into their lives, as if nothing happened. So he watched out of the shadows, while busying himself with his empire and raising his newly ‘adopted’ child. 

Part of him came to feel regretful, that he wasn’t able to be there, when his mother had died. That he wasn’t able to be at her funeral. And that Betty had to organize yet another goodbye event for a person she was close with, most likely feeling like she had no one left at her side. 

However, it wasn’t the time to get hung up on it, was it? He didn’t even have his morning coffee yet. And this just wasn’t right. He always needed a couple of quiet morning hours to really get his head back into business. He had so many things, that he will have to do today. He and Betty will eventually reunite again, so all that he had to do was to focus on the present for now. He’ll have time to idle about the past and future a bit later. 

But as he was thinking about this, his eyes landed onto the chair opposite of him, which was suspiciously empty. He watched it intently as he took a sip from his mug. 

While it wasn’t fully out of character for Jack to be late or even oversleeping, usually, he seemed to be rather enthusiastic about this little routine of theirs. He could count on fingers of one hand the occasions, when Jack failed to show up at all. 

So it was fair to say that his absence had sat wrong with Bennett. Maybe, it was one of those mysterious parental six senses, that some books had written about? When you feel that something was off with your kid, before even seeing them in person? 

Bennett smirked to himself faintly, before unhurriedly getting up from his chair. If Jack needed to be reminded, that he was expected to have a proper breakfast — the most important meal of the day, mind you — with his good ole dad, then he didn’t mind to go and get him himself. 

It was a short walk anyways. 

And naturally, like any good parent, he didn’t forget to take Jack’s plate with him, since the kid needed his daily level of nutrition. Scrambled eggs, toast and a few pieces of bacon, which he made sure always formed a smiling face. 

It had almost reminded him of the times, when he had to go down the basement in order to feed his son. Even if back then, Jack reacted to him in a way, a child would react to a masked stranger, who had (technically) kidnapped him, after dosing him with wasp poison no less. 

So he could forgive the kid for his wariness at first. It was to be expected. Besides, he didn’t need a dumb child, who would trust everyone easily, and as time proved, Jack happened to be far from a stupid. In fact, there were a few occasions, when the Crime Master had severely underestimated him, and had nearly paid for it dearly. 

It was all in the past, of course. 

Jack was a well-behaved boy nowadays. The kind, which never would disappoint his father on purpose. 

Therefore, it was a wonder what had kept him from attending the kitchen this morning. He knew that it always made Bennett happy, when they ate together. And typically, Jack was more than ready to do practically anything, as long as it pleased him. So what was the hold up now? Was he wounded or perhaps, sick? 

But if so, he should have just told him, honestly. It wasn’t odd for a boy to get wounded on the ‘job’. Bennett knew what kind of missions he sent him on. It wasn’t a problem, if Jack had merely needed some extra rest, but it would have been good to be informed about this. 

Once, he stopped next to his son’s room, he stared at the door for a moment, listening closely, if someone was moving on the other side or not. But so far, it was deadly quiet. His brows furrowed slightly. 

“Jack? Are you there, boy?” 

No answer, which he came to suspect wasn’t a very good sign. 

It was a tad irritating, that he might have to deal with whatever was waiting for him on the other side first thing in the morning, but such was the life of a single father. You have to be always prepared for extra tasks, which would simply land onto you, out of the blue. 

Bennett let out an exaggeratedly loud exhale, “Well, ready or not, I’m coming in!” 

He could only hope, that the younger man was decent this time. As during Jack’s puberty, that one accident with a sock had almost made Bennett want to never set foot into his son’s room ever again. But tiring time and all that… 

Inwardly steeling himself for what he might witness — and realistically it could have been anything from nothing to a literal mained corpse of some stranger laying on the floor — he turned the knob, while balancing Jack’s plate with the other and entered the room. 

To his inner relief, Jack was there and he was, from what he could see, somewhat clothed. At least his pants and boots were still on, which was good. The rest of him was covered with a dark blanket. He was pretty much huddled up in it like in a cocoon. 

Bennett watched the scene in front of him a bit longer, before carefully setting the plate onto one of the tables, briefly catching himself looking at a pair of long gloves, which were seemingly ripped off in a great hurry. Paths of dry blood were clinging to the leathery surface, while the rest of it splattered across the wood in uneven fashion. 

Biting back a need to click his tongue, his eyes focused back on the younger man as he walked closer to him. 

“Rough night?” he asked good-naturedly, before noticing that Jack’s body language was tense and closed off. Wired up like he couldn’t force himself to relax. Ah. Well, this wasn’t good, was it? He itched even closer. “What’s the matter? Did you get hurt?” 

It didn’t go unnoticed to him how hard Jack twitched upon hearing his voice, as if he only now realized that there was someone else in a room with him. And if a startled look in those big, grey eyes was anything to go by, he indeed had no idea that Bennett had walked in at all. 

His son usually wasn’t that unaware of his surroundings. He had taught him better than this. 

So it meant only one thing. 

Admittingly, this wasn’t his favorite part of being a parent, but he kind of brought it upon himself, when he had abducted a mentally ill child. Try as he might, he couldn’t really hold it against Jack, as he always knew that the other male was as they used to say during his youth, ‘touched in the head’. 

But to his credit, Jack didn’t have those ‘episodes’ for quite some time now, making Bennett believe that he might have finally figured out how to balance out chemicals inside his child’s brain properly. Even if said goal was obtained via feeding him ‘vitamins’ and small portions of experimental drugs, which he put into Jack’s usual poison of choice. 

Apparently, he was a bit too optimistic. 

“Jack?” he called out, wanting to make sure, that the other understood the situation at least to some extent. He had learned his lesson a few years ago, when he nearly got stabbed in the eye with a fork, since Jack’s brain seemed to fail and recognize who he was for a short moment. 

(Which made sense, since Jack rarely saw him without a mask during that time. He clearly didn’t put two and two together, thinking that it was some unknown man standing over him instead of his own father.) 

This time, he patiently waited for a signal, that it was alright to approach. Once again, maskless. No weapons on him. Only his home attire and pair of comfy slippers. He only ever allowed his family to see him as. Both in the past and now. 

Jack blinked. Slow and hard like the world suddenly came into proper focus, only when he looked at him. They stared at one another for a bit, before his son finally slurred his acknowledgement, “...’ey, pops.” 

Bennett’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as he placed himself onto the edge of Jack’s bed. It was nice knowing, that the younger male wasn’t completely delirious. Only mildly disoriented by the looks of it. 

“You missed breakfast, you know.” he stated simply. 

Jack hummed, stirring the blanket more tightly around his frame, so that the upper half of it had nearly fully obscured his sunk, pale face from Bennett’s view. 

“Your absence made me worry, that something might have happened.” the Crime Master continued, keeping his face plastered with soft concern, “You didn’t report anything from last night, either. So imagine what I was thinking, boy.” 

In actuality, he wasn’t really thinking of any ‘possible horrors’ this morning, but it suited him well to make the other just a little bit guilty for spiking his son’s duties today. As there seemingly was no urgent reason for it, after all. 

Besides, if the blood on his gloves was an indicator of anything, it was implying that Jack had gone out and murder someone without any good reason again. And if there was one thing, which tended to genuinely irritate him — and also slightly put him on edge — about his child, it was this insatiable need for violence and gore, that he had. 

It was a bit annoying to constantly go and clean up his messes. But such a role of a parent. You had to look after your youth and make sure, that they stayed out of serious troubles. His own dad never bothered to do that. 

Or well, be around at all, for that matter. 

“Sorry. I’m jus’ not hungry, I guess…” 

“Is that so?” 

A jerky nod. “Feelin’...weird again…” 

Bennett leaned a bit closer, “Weird how, exactly?” 

“In my head.” Jack said after a fairly long pause, “Like, a bad trip sort of stuff. I can’t…I can’t go outside the room. Everything there is…moving. Kind of like it warped a bit. Almost like I’m inside some large moving worm or somethin’. It freaks me out.” 

Taking in a vague description wasn’t anything new, but it also didn’t give Bennett much to work with. “I see.” 

Over the years, he had come to a conclusion, that among a few things, which he clearly didn’t do quite right, while raising Jack, was that he never bothered in making the kid learn how to explain his own condition to him in common terms. Instead, all that he got was those engrossed, personal experiences, which were still a tad too nebulous for him to make much sense of. 

It wasn’t too important in the grand scheme of things, of course. But it was nonetheless something, that Bennett wished he had paid just a bit more attention to in the past. It would have saved them a lot of time. 

“Who did you kill last night?” 

Jack let out a gruff, low chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as if the question was genuinely funny to him, “Dunno, jus’ some random guy.” 

“Are you sure, that it wasn’t someone from a rival group or a well-known figure?” 

“Pretty sure. I mean, he — he, uh, didn’ look like anyone important or like he’d be missed.” Jack mused, the skin of his pale torso peeking shyly between the joined ends of the blanket, “Probably was on his way of getting evicted from some shithole he was renting too. I mean, he said somethin’ about gambling an’ such, I think.” 

Bennett made a low, thoughtful noise, “Where did you find him?” 

“At the bar. I — ah, I don’t really remember much. Things got kind of hazy somewhere in the middle of it.” Jack said, and judging by his tone, it didn’t seem to bother him too greatly, “I wasn’ even gonna kill him at first. I thought, we’d do the line and then shag quickly in some corner, but I ended up gutting him somehow. Felt nice, though. Better than sex with him would have been, anyways.” 

“I see.” Bennett repeated once more, all too familiar with his boy’s habit of disposing of his one-night stands. He supposed, that he might have contributed to this issue as well. Jack’s outlook on certain things was rather interesting and utterly warped to put it mildly. “Well, at least you had your fun.” 

“Kind of. I didn’t even do my signature move.” Jack lamented with some distant longing, “Everyone would think, that it was a robbery goin’ wrong. That was a shitty part of town too. People drop dead there like flies. Cops don’t care to investigate anythin’ there, unless it’s some underage brat who ended up dead.” 

“It’s better this way for us.” Bennett reminded him calmly, “I’m not exactly planning on making our stay here known just yet.” 

There were a couple of things he needed to set up and get ready first. It would suit them nicely to keep their main operations hidden for now. A great amount of influence or not, the Crime Master wasn’t delusional. He was just one man, he knew better than to instantly clash with giants like Kingpin or even Hammer-Head. He had overpowered a lot of ‘business’ rivals, including leaders of cartels, but you can never be too careless with those things. 

“Why not?” Jack tilted his head a bit, “Ain’t we like the big fish now?” 

“Indeed, we are. But we still have some bigger fish here too. And it would be foolish to just bash heads with them for no reason, other than pride.” 

His son stayed quiet, seemingly accepting the logic behind his words without much of a fight. Not that he had ever questioned Bennett’s choices. At least, not directly. 

“Better tell me, do I need to get your medicine for you?” he offered, placing his hand onto bony knee and rubbing it lightly. 

Jack stiffened, but he knew it wasn’t from the contact. He stopped attempting to cringe away from it a very long time ago, around when he turned ten or so. But there was clearly something else, which was clearly gnawing at his mind. 

He could see the other man chewing on his lower lip just like he did, when he was a little, scared boy, who wanted to ask something of him, but was afraid to say the ‘wrong thing’ to his captor. 

It was an oddly endearing imagery. Granted, Bennett did grow to be somewhat fond of the kid over the time they spent together, despite it never being part of the original plan. But it was hard not to get attached, even if partially because he was missing his little sister and it felt somewhat natural to care for someone, who looked up for his guidance, even without realizing it at the time. 

Funny how things had turned out. 

“You can tell me what bothers you.” he urged softly, looking at Jack with all the patience in the world as he took his hand back, allowing the other some space, “You know, that I dislike it when you keep secrets from me.” 

Jack hesitated. Even without seeing his face fully, he knew that his eyes had that tense, bright look in them. 

Then, his throat jerked as he swallowed, before voicing unsure, “Daddy?”

It had always pleased Bennett, when Jack used this title. A bit more child-like, than his usual ‘daddy-o’ and ‘pops’ and rather rare ‘dad’ or ‘father’. It felt like there was something special in this term for both of them. 

He recalled the first time, when Jack called him this, seemingly out of nowhere, following some kind of instinct. A truly touching moment, because from that point on, he knew that he had him exactly where he wanted to. 

“Yes, boy?” 

“Can you put on your mask?” 

The request made Bennet quirk a brow, unable to help himself, he chuckled, “It still comforts you, I take it?” 

He didn’t take off his mask in front of Jack till way later, when he was sure, that the time was right and that there was no need to keep himself as enigmatic as he did in the beginning. He and the mask were all the same in the end. 

(At least, he himself couldn’t find the seams separating one from the other anymore.)

Jack’s eyes peer at him from behind his little ‘blanket’ curtain and this too was painfully familiar. He used to do it, when he was a kid too. Expression flat with tiredness, which ran as deep as one’s bones and joints do. 

Sometimes, it made Bennett wonder just how much Jack actually remembered from their time together. The part of it, which wasn’t all fun and games. But in the end, he supposed, that it didn’t truly matter anymore. It wasn’t like Jack was about to go anywhere. He loved Bennett like any good son would love their dear doting father. 

“I can’t see why not.” 

He always carried his mask with him. You can never be too prepared for those things. A sudden ambush, a simple fancy striking you, or a wayward henchman going, where they didn’t belong. It was important to save ‘face’ in any given situation. 

Slowly, he put his hand into the pocket of his home robe and pulled out a piece of black fabric with one white strip in the middle. The mask, which was worn by many, but Bennett couldn’t help yet imagine, that it was always waiting for him, even before he could ever conceptualize the need to wear one at all. 

What to some was a mere piece of elastic, rich fabric was way more in reality. 

Once he put it on, the world was changing. As if it was rearranging around him. And perhaps, it made sense, that Jack’s own world eventually had fixed onto what this mask had represented for (to) him too. 

He knew, his son was deeply attached to his own haunting, halloween visage, which too came from his childhood. As when Bennett took him under his care that fateful night, he was dressed as Headless Horseman. A lot of things for Jack seemed to both end and begin during that time. 

“There you go.” 

If he closed his eyes, he could almost envision it all over again. The good ole times, frozen as an old family photo. As a poster asking ‘have you seen this child?’ plastered all over local billboards along with other missing posters of people, who were to never be seen again. 

“Come here.” he beckoned, waiting for Jack to move toward him. He was as tall as Bennett now — perhaps, even a bit taller — but he was thin and scrawny, nothing but skin and bones and tight muscle. It made him feel more fragile and sickly, easier to handle with a strong hand. 

Affection of such kind wasn’t exactly rare between them, but it also wasn’t as frequent as when Jack was a mere boy. Still, Bennett did take enjoyment in those instances. Jack always fit so easily against his side and his chest, all narrow angles and slightly jittery movements. His long and bony fingers pressed themselves into his back, all the while his face remained distant, pale with sickness and ghostly emotion, which Bennett struggled to fully identify. 

It was given, that amidst the ever changing surroundings and breathing walls, he stayed Jack’s main anchor. Something to cling to, when there was nothing else, which felt stable and safe. After all, he had raised him this way, training the kid to have those reactions and be dependent on him in all ways one person could depend on another. 

And what kind of power it was to wrap his arms around a notorious serial killer, knowing that when it came to him, he was just a little boy seeking reassurance from his father. Cruel, sadistic, always faux cheerful, yet deadly for others, but small and brittle for him. 

Bennett allowed a light, peaceful smile to curl the corners of his mouth under the mask, as he put his head on top of Jack’s own. “Good boy.”

Jack made a small noise, which in another lifetime could have been a sniff of a crying child. Now, it was a dry, itchy chortle. And in that very same other lifetime something inside Bennett’s chest would have pulled all wrong, like the old bullet wound had somehow been reopened by accident. Now, he merely hummed in agreement. 

It was like they shared a joke only both of them knew the gist of. 

Because the moment, when he saw the child from the missing person’s poster finally vanish for good, leaving a vacant moldable brain instead, he felt like the last remaining piece of old Bennett Brant had died along with it too. And somehow, it felt like there was no bond thicker than this. 

“Don’t worry, boy. Daddy is here with you.”