Disclaimers - The Sinclair sisters are my OCs. They were previously named Erica and Erin, but they are now Josephine (Josie) and Jocelyn (Joce).
AlternateUniverse - could be considered a future!fic. Oswald is the undisputed King of Gotham (so far). Edward has embraced his role as Riddler. Jerome is the Joker (and never died).
A/N- The end of the chapter has been alerted from its original state.
Booking a play at Vauxhall would normally cost much more money than a struggling acting trope could afford. However, a fallout during a recent opera had ended in gunfire and rather than close its doors entirely, Vauxhall remained open during remodeling with a steep drop in stage fees. For Josephine Sinclair, performing at Vauxhall was something of a dream come true. Her tawny hair flowed in waves against her neckline, her hazel eyes held flecks of blue, her skin naturally tanned. Josephine would be a famous singer someday, there was no doubt in her mind. For now, however, she had settled on acting. It didn't matter how small the audiences were. It didn't matter that she hadn't bonded with anyone in her acting trope. And it didn't matter that her twin sister Jocelyn, only believed in Josephine's craft when it suited her. The day would come when Josie would be a renown performer. Vauxhall was only the beginning.
Ten minutes before showtime, Josephine glimpsed her co-stars whispering excitedly beside the curtain. Despite a twinge of anxiety coaxing at her heartstrings, Josie approached them without hesitation. "What's going on?" she asked softly, raking her palm over the gaudy bracelet of her costume.
The duo barely glanced at her, although one was courteous enough to answer. "Oswald Cobblepot is in the audience.."
"The Penguin?!" Josephine murmured in hushed excitement, peeking beyond the curtain for herself. One of Josie's co-stars made a snarky retort, but it fell upon deaf ears.
Oswald sat in the middle of the fifth row, his tailored suit flaunted his broad shoulders. Despite a cool expression, his sea-blue eyes displayed his impatience.
"Hm wonder why..." Josephine trailed off mid-sentence, as a tall lanky man sat down next to Oswald. His thick ginger hair was slicked back, except for a lock of green-streaked hair which arched over his left brow. He wore a royal purple blazer atop forest-green slacks, his black sneakers which he propped atop headrest of the seat below his, matched the tight undershirt. The gloves he wore were custom-made, purple silk with black-leather underlay, perfectly visible as he stretched his arms. "Who is that Oswald's talking to?" Josephine blurted aloud. Unlike Oswald, this man made no attempt to hide his boredom.
"A lackie probably." replied one of her co-stars.
"Doesn't look like a lackie...too...impressionable." Josephine argued lightly.
"Whatever, doubt they're here to watch the play..Maybe Junior's in debt again.." scoffed her co-star.
The dark eyes of Oswald's companion, revolved onto Josephine, and the displeasure on his face, slowly evaporated into a maniacal grin. Hurriedly closing the curtain, Josephine ignored how her heart began to abruptly rattle in her ribcage.
Josephine was in the midst of delivering dialogue, when it happened. Oswald's friend, leapt upon the stage as if he were a pivotal part of the play. Taking a leisurely stroll across the grand center of Vauxhall, he addressed Josephine with a wide, welcoming, smile. "Gooooood evening Girly. How would you like a better gig?"
Josephine broke character instantly. "Who are you?"
"Name's Jerome. And my finely-feathered friend out there, has a job offering just for you." Jerome said, pointing astutely at Oswald.
"Josie!" hissed the director, from his position offstage. "Get that freak off the stage, NOW!"
With a laugh, Jerome swerved on his heels, following the source of the voice. "Who said that? Ah the director of this dreaaaad-ful debacle, why don't you join us? C'mon c'mon!" Jerome reached out with his long arms, his gloved hands ensnarling the director's arm, as he tugged the aging man onstage.
"What-do-you-want?!" the director seethed.
His giddy face smoothed out in thought, as Jerome wrapped an arm around the director's shoulders, and stared into thin air. "Hm what do I want? What does any man in Gotham want, deep deep down?" Tilting his head, Jerome focused his dark eyes on the director's face, a smile as wide as a Cheshire cat spreading across his lips. "Death, villainy and the pursuit of laughter." he declared with a deliciously delirious snicker. Jerome's free palm rapt against the director's chest, causing the poor man to seize up and shake uncontrollably. There was an electronic buzzer within Jerome's gloves, racked to a voltage far higher than a mere zap. Jerome continued to laugh admit gasps from the audience. The director's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and it was then that Jerome uncoiled his arm from around the man's shoulders. The director fell flat on his back, shuddered once, then remained deathly still. Grinning down at the director, Jerome's gaze darted to one of Josephine's fear-striken co-stars. Swiftly, he stepped over the director's body, extending the same hand. "Hey there, I'm Jerome." he introduced eagerly.
"That's enough." Oswald said, standing.
Jerome flexed his fingers, then curled them inward; the sound of his knuckles crackling against the circuity of his gloves, resembled a stifled laugh. "I decide what's enough bird-brain. We're partners, remember?" he replied, his tone listless and humorless. Jerome turned to face the approaching security, a smile resurfacing on his grim mug. "I know, I know - the show must go on!" Jerome slammed both his palms upon the security guard's chest, then watched candidly as the man twitched violently beneath his touch.
Unbeknown to Jerome, a smirk shadowed across Oswald's mouth. Oswald had stood up, not to halt Jerome, but to study Josie, who had remained rooted to the spot. Her hazel eyes were wide with alarm, her mouth ajar in awe. Yet, compared to everyone else in Vauxhall, Josephine scarcely looked terrified. In fact, Oswald couldn't help thinking she looked enthralled.
Josephine's gaze flashed from the blueness of Oswald's orbitals, to the darkness of Jerome's. Her heart was hammering in her chest with such velocity that she felt like a giddy child. Oswald Cobblepot was the king of Gotham, after all. Had her date with destiny, finally arrived at last? Was she about to become famous?
A long-time columnist of the Gotham Gazette, Jocelyn Sinclair shared her sister's ambition to be famous. She worked late hours, toiling over every word. She covered crime stories often proclaimed as 'too grizzly to be printed'. She had a way of exploiting her boss's weakness for women without demeaning herself. Jocelyn had all the flair of a cutthroat columnist, without the payoff of infamy. It was becoming annoying.
Her polished nails tapped rapidly against her keyboard as Jocelyn revised the final draft of her latest article. Reclining, Jocelyn sighed contently, tucking a loose strand of her tawny hair back into the ponytail at the back of her neck. Her other co-workers had left for the day, and Jocelyn was basking in the silence of solitude. She closed her hazel eyes and relaxed her arms behind her head. The sudden sound of a male clearing his throat, startled Jocelyn out of her revere. His confident yet hollow voice clouded the air. "Some try to hide, some try to cheat - regardless time will show we shall always meet - do you know who it is you will greet?"
Jocelyn's rosy lips creased into a frown as she turned in her seat to inspect the intruder. The stranger was tall with rimless glasses in the midst of his angular face. His black hair was parted, the crisp black suit he wore was pinstriped. His dress shirt was lime-green, a silver tie secured with a question-mark pin, that matched his cufflinks. Jocelyn didn't say his name aloud, but she recognized him instantly from the police reports.
"..Death." Jocelyn answered listlessly.
He ticked his head in approval, a slow smile seeping across his mouth. "Very good Miss Sinclair. Perhaps Penguin was right about you after all.."
"Penguin?" Jocelyn repeated, hoping that her voice wasn't swelling with excitement.
"If you have it, you want to share it - if you share it, you don't have it - what am I talking about?" Ed countered.
"A secret. That was a simple one." Jocelyn responded, resting her neck in the nape of her palm.
"As simple as the secret you refrain from your boss, Miss Sinclair. Yet where he to find out, I imagine your free-reign as a columnist would come to an abrupt end. Your career too, perhaps." Ed replied, his dark eyes flashing, his polite smile hardening into smugness.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Lies are a poor way to start a partnership Miss Sinclair?"
"A partnership?" Jocelyn murmured, pushing herself to her feet, oblivious to her stilettos screeching in protest. "I wonder what have I done, to garner the attention of Mister Cobblepot? Why would he send the Riddler to exploit me?" she asked haughtily.
There was an edge to the smile Ed gave her. "I was not 'sent' Miss Sinclair, I volunteered. Sufficient to say, your aspiration has intrigued us."
"How so?" Jocelyn pressed.
Ed waved his hand dismissively. "Please Miss Sinclair, such questions can be answered once we arrive at our destination - a car is awaiting us outside."
"To take us where?"
"The Iceberg Lounge."
Any native of Gotham, knew The Iceberg Lounge was the cozy empire of Oswald Cobblepott. True to its name, The Iceberg Lounge had glistering ice sculptures spread throughout, its floors and columns were made of white marble streaked with grey. The ceiling was midnight blue, with spotlights of varying colors highlighting the stage, that would occasionally dart towards the luxurious bar. Each server was dressed in a tux, and held little eye contact with the patrons. Jocelyn made mental note of all of this, while following Ed past the VIP section.
Above a wooden door, a blue neon sign read 'Management' with a black umbrella tilted over the M. Ed held open this door for Jocelyn, with a polite smile on his face. Jocelyn, grateful to be spared from any more riddles, entered promptly. She had barely taken three steps in, when she came face-to-face with a lanky individual with an insincere grin. "Well look at you." he greeted in a sly tone, his dark eyes combing her up and down. "Name's Jerome, Girly."
"Jocelyn." Jocelyn introduced stiffly, sensing Ed looming behind her.
"Mm..I've already met your twin. I see you're the serious one." Jerome remarked, in a mocking tone, standing straighter with his gloved hands hugging his blazer.
"Ignore him, Miss Sinclair." Ed advised, resting a palm against her waist as he urged her forward.
"Ignore me? HA!" Jerome retorted laughing in Ed's face, before reverting his attention onto Jocelyn. "Josie couldn't take her eyes off me, and you aren't faring much better are ya Joce?" he jeered giddily. Jocelyn opened her mouth but Jerome placed a single finger against her lips. "Shh-shh. You don't have to say it - I'm a show-stealer just like Ma." Jerome pressed the remainder of his fingers into his palm, shocking Jocelyn with a zap of electricity. She recoiled in surprise, bumping into Ed amid Jerome's giggles. "I'll be seeing ya Joce." he said with a wink, shouldering past Ed. "I know Josie is just dying to see me again." he chortled to himself, loud enough for her to hear.
Jocelyn glanced over her shoulder at Jerome, but immediately met Ed's gaze. "Please Miss Sinclair. We've wasted enough time." he hinted.
Jocelyn proceeded forward, trying to ignore the antsy feeling gnawing at her neck. The office of Oswald Cobblepott consisted of a lavish fireplace, a highly polished desk, and an excessive amount of bookshelves. Oswald sat at his desk accordingly, a smile pressing across his face at the sight of his visitor. "Joceyln, welcome. I hope Jerome didn't give you too much trouble, or Edward for that matter. They're both easily excitable, as you no doubt noticed. Please, take a seat." Oswald greeted.
As Jocelyn sat down, she noticed Ed continued to stand beside the doorway, his hands clasped over one another. "So, let me guess, you're unhappy with one of my articles..?" Jocelyn mused, crossing one ankle over the other.
A silent laugh escaped Oswald's mouth. "Not at all, quite the contrary in fact. I actually consider myself to be somewhat of a fan." he told her.
"Really?" Jocelyn said flatly, her disbelief obvious.
"Is that so hard to believe? Don't you take pride in your work?" Oswald challenged.
"Of course I do!" Jocelyn said, frowning at her own outburst. Oswald however, was unfazed.
"Edward mentioned a secret of yours, one that might jeopardize your livelihood?" Oswald baited.
"Yes. Do you exploit everyone you're a fan of, Mister Cobblepot?" Jocelyn responded.
"I have no intention of exploiting you Jocelyn, unless you're truly uninterested in a partnership." Oswald replied.
"A partnership?" Jocelyn echoed, her pulse quickening.
"Of sorts."
"What exactly are you purposing Mister Cobblepott?"
"Please, call me Oswald." Oswald said, interlocking his fingers. "Firstly, the GCPD's new commissioner has began cracking down more harshly It's began to stifle business...the exact details are unimportant."
"Every detail is important to a reporter Mister..Oswald." Jocelyn replied.
Oswald smirked. "Indeed."Oswald glanced briefly at Edward. "Ed, if you would.." he instructed, reclining in his seat.
"Correspondence in and out of Gotham has become increasingly unreliable, Miss Sinclair. It's affecting our business - without guns, explosives and other necessities, the Penguin's empire would cease to exist."
"Isn't that something you'd want?" Jocelyn marveled, wishing she had brought a notebook with her.
"Me myself, not at this juncture. Jerome is also in agreement currently, as he pointed out, even if Penguin became dethroned, the problem would remain." Ed said. "That is why your help is required Miss Sinclair. Clean correspondence can be conducted using your column in the Gotham Gazette. From now on, I will write a riddle that you will conceal within the margins of your articles."
Jocelyn perked an eyebrow. "Is that all?" she blurted.
"You act as though that won't be challenging." Ed noted with a twinge of annoyance.
Jocelyn ignored him, her attention on Oswald. "Where does my sister factor into this? Your threat of blackmail does nothing to put her career in jeopardy."
"Pardon me for saying this, but truth be told Josephine doesn't have much of a career to be jeopardized." Oswald said. "I aim to change that."
"How?" Jocelyn pressed.
Josephine's voice rained down on Jocelyn from behind. "By believing in my voice." she answered.
Oswald enjoyed the expression on Jocelyn's face. Confusion morphed into contempt so flawlessly, that he couldn't help thinking Jocelyn would've made a superior actress than her twin. When Jocelyn's eyes met Oswald's again, the subtle curiosity had been replaced with cautious disbelief. "Josephine Sinclair will be singing center-stage in my humble abode for the foreseeable future." he confirmed. "She has an excellent voice."
"Thank you Oswald." Josephine beamed.
Jocelyn's eyes rolled to the back of her head, her agitated fingers rubbing her temple. When her eyes fluttered open, she glanced astutely at Ed. "I guess we should start writing." she relented.
A/N - I had debated rewriting the whole thing, but I decided the only part I was really unhappy with was the arrangement discussion. It felt forced and awkward, didn't transition well from my imagination. So I focused on the persona of the twins, and now I think it has improved.