Sorta AU, but only in the beginning. I don't own Gotham. Bruno Heller owns this just like he owned The Mentalist (and apparently still does)/
In Gotham, Cobblepot's mother has been kidnapped and killed under Galavan's hands, and Nygma has accidentally killed Kristen Kringle. In the DC area, Lance Sweets has been dead for a month; he has a secret hidden beneath all the bureaucratic mess. Zack Addy is still serving out his lengthy sentence in the asylum, only being let out for two reasons. Last month, it was to attend Lance's funeral. Now, it is to deal with his and Lance's secret. The secret is twelve-year-old Corrin Smaylor Addy-Sweets. In Lance's will, Corrin goes to his half-brother Ed; while in Zack's will, Corrin goes to his cousin Oswald. After looking up both men, it seems they are both affiliated with the Gotham City Police Department and now, Corrin will be living with both men they just don't know it yet.

Corrin sneaks into the club through the air vents, expertly climbing out backstage. She adds lifts to her knee-high boots, making her seem two feet taller and wearing ankle boots. She lets her hair down; then adds black lipstick and a layer of mascara. Strutting out like she owns the place, she runs into the last person she wants to see: Oswald Cobblepot. Faking a British accent on the spot, she bows her head and takes his hand.

"Delighted to see you, Oswald, Dear. We must catch up soon."

He grasps her hand as she attempts to make a break for it, twirling her into a cuddle as if they were dancing the meringue. "Did Zack tell you where I live?"

"How?" She pouts.

"You look like Honey Boo-Boo gone goth." He scoffs. "Go see Butch, you remember Butch, right?"

She glances up fearfully. "The one with Fish?"

"She's gone, Sweetie. Butch works for me, now. Go see him and get my address. I have work to attend to. I'll see you for dinner at six."

After a strange and awkward conversation between the boss's kid and the man who assaulted her with a knife in a water bottle, Corrin gets Oswald's address and heads to the GCPD. On the way, she ditches the shoes and grabs an old, holey pair by the sewer. She ties her hair up and half-zips her hoodie. She wipes off the mascara but forgets about the lipstick and makes shortcuts through alleys. A small group of six rough teenagers stop her by some dumpsters, demanding to know what she is doing on their turf.

"Just shopping for trash." She answers automatically, glancing around each of them. "Looks like I hit the jackpot."

The leader advances on her but she proficiently dodges him, knocking him into another. She grabs a chunk of his hair, slamming him into the dumpster and half-runs up the side to kick another's head. The leader stands up again with the other four. Corrin charges at one, stopping short to dive beneath his legs and give a proper heeled kick to his groin. Like parkour, she jumps from his back to reach the ladder to the fire escape, which gets stuck halfway. She starts climbing and the smallest grabs her ankle. She messes with the screws on the stuck edge and makes a leap as the ladder detaches and crashes into him. He knocks down onto the leader, with the spike slicing into both. There are two left and they are looking for another way up while Corrin makes it to the roof. Just as she starts sliding, a hand shoots out to help. Corrin takes it gladly and the two run to a safer distance. Corrin catches her breath and gets a good look at who saved her.

"Thanks."

"No worries. What're you doing out here?"

"Stuff." She shrugs. "You live here?"

"What?" The other girl sounds defensive. "Just because I'm hanging out on rooftops, I'm a street kid?"

Corrin stares at her for a moment. "I meant Gotham. You live in Gotham?"

"Oh. Yeah. You?"

"Might be moving here."

"Why?"

"My papa died."

"What about your mom?" She scrunches her face as if she shouldn't have said that.

Corrin shrugs. "There is no mom. Just papa and dad. Dad's in the asylum back in DC. He was supposed to have gone to jail for killing all those people and building a full skeleton with pieces of their bones caramelized in chrome. But he wouldn't last well in prison. So he went to the asylum instead."

"Damn. I'm Cat."

"Condor."
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