<div class="floatleft">(https://imageshack.us/a/img836/268/7802227226124f60b165803.jpg)</div><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><strong>Real Name</strong>: Jason "Hendricks" Hendrickson / The Demolisher<br/><strong>Pseudonym</strong>: Mikhail "Misha" Pilkin / The Russian<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Outside The Iceberg Lounge in a Mercedes Benz<br/><strong>Music</strong>: Libiamo Ne' Lieti Calici (http://youtu.be/yOhQlWFdiik)<br/><strong>Tags</strong>: The Penguin<br/><br/><hr/><br/><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;">“I no understand tovareesh. Why Americans keeljoys? We have party, and zen boom. Chaos,” The Russian wondered aloud as he and The Penguin slid into the velvet seats of a black Mercedes Benz – only the best for the Lord of the Gotham Zoo, heh. While humming a pleasant tune, Misha fastened his seatbelt and reached over to the radio to cut on some pleasant music.<br/><br/>“Mm, raveetsya,” The Russian said with a pleased smile.<br/><br/>As he was sliding the keys into the ignition, The Penguin, clutching his umbrella apprehensively glanced about at the vehicle’s interior, realizing that this hadn’t been the car he arrived in. It was different. Grinding his teeth, he grinned as he stared at the back of The Russian’s head. One hand released his umbrella to dig into his coat and remove a black pistol that he tried to silently cock. He carefully pulled back on the slide and said, “Yes, Misha, it is quite unfortunate that some of us don’t know how to have a little <em>fun</em> around here. Unfortunately...” He aimed the pistol at the back of the headrest. “I no longer have any use of your services.”<br/><br/>Releasing the steering wheel, The Russian pulled up the seat lever and leaned back so abruptly that the pistol was knocked downwards as The Penguin fired a round off through the vehicle’s floor. Jumping in startle and spreading his feet on a short delay, Pots had feared for a second that he near shot a hole through his foot. His eyes then darted to the face that was grinning at him upside down. The Russian’s face appeared to be on fire. His skin was as black as coal and his eyes and teeth burned like a furnace. The Penguin gasped in fright and sat back as far as he could in his seat.<br/><br/>“Is zat so tovareesh? Vhy don’t you sit back and enjoy the music zen? You shoot me, and zis car vill explode and only one of us vill leave. Me, kahnyeshna. But by all means, shoot. Makes my job easier.”<br/><br/>Righting in his chair, The Penguin turned to the door, his flipper reaching for the door handle until the door sounded with an automatic lock.<br/><br/>Hissing, The Penguin glanced at the burning eyes in the rear view mirror and demanded on a trembling and panicky breath, “Who are you? Where are you taking me? You work for Black Mask, don’t you?”<br/><br/>He had wasted enough time. Starting up the car, Misha replied impishly, desiring only to make The Penguin’s blood run cold, “<em>Ma~ybe.</em>”<br/><br/>The Mercedes pulled away from the curb.</span>