It was raining. Again.
Penguin didn't like Gotham. Every major defeat, every single loss of money, every drug smuggling route uncovered, every operation sent crashing down in flames…it all happened here, courtesy of the bloody Batman. And it had been raining then too. Ever since he'd been released from confinement on parole, he'd come to realise he had no more than two coins to rub together – evidence of which included that his temporary base was a draughty museum in the old site of Arkham City. There wasn't even a toilet. And when you were about to form an organization full of super criminals and escaped psychopaths who could pull out a gun and shoot you just for kicks, you needed to empty your bladder at worryingly frequent intervals. Just when he was wondering whether he could sneak a quick one into a potted plant (assuming that a dusty old dungeon like this even had a potted plant), he could hear Joker running his mouth as usual in the large main exhibit hall and decided he'd better intervene before it was someone else dictating the meeting. He walked as fast as he could without looking demented, tightening his tie and fur coat around him as he waddled towards the ebony doors.
"So I walk into a bar. And the guy behind the bar's all like, hey man, we don't serve clowns in here. Get rid of the makeup or get lost. Now obviously, he needs to learn a little respect, so I get my knife, and stick right up his-"
Penguin shoved them forward with the tip of his ornate umbrella in time to see the green-haired weirdo halfway through some sort of jig. He'd been in this dying excuse for a city long enough to recognise everybody there, so when he saw the oddest collection of people he'd most likely ever see in his life, it was only via past experience that he managed to avoid suffering a heart attack.
Leaning against the propped up corpses of Joker's old goons from the gang war with a superior smirk on his face was Edward Nigma, the ex-GCPD data handler who was now a raving egomaniac who never bothered washing. Standing in a strict, upright position in front of the remains of the dinosaur bone exhibit was the similar burned remains of Two Face, flipping the coin as per usual. The stern helmet-headed mercenary Deathstroke sat with his arms folded, obviously expecting an attack at any moment. And finally, the Joker skipped around grinning while the Mad Hatter looked on as if he'd never seen anything as mesmerising. It was almost as if he as about to wet himself. While Penguin had originally debated to have people as mentally unstable as those two on board, risk was sometimes all you had. Plus, Joker was wanted in several other surrounding countries, states and cities, meaning he basically had nobody else to turn to. His old gang wasn't up to its usual strength, and even the self-proclaimed Clown Prince of Crime knew he couldn't match the Cobblepot empire just yet. When a big enemy was desperate enough to become an ally, Penguin decided it was alright to trust him. For the meantime.
"Gentlemen." Penguin began, standing before them. He said nothing else in ways of greeting. Commending people you utterly despised most of the time was a waste of words. "I thank you all for being here. "
He wanted added "you wankers" but decided against it.
"I am here because I'm curious." Came a snarky interruption from the corner, to which Penguin turned, glaring. Nigma. Of course it was Nigma. Who else? "I never gave permission to be an underling in your band of thugs, Cobblepot. I'll let you indulge the fantasy for a while, but why should I bother be here any longer?"
"Excuse me?" barked the dangerous growl of Two Face. "I broke you out of Arkham for this, specs. You owe me! You owe us all!"
"I owe the technical wonder of dynamite and gasoline, but to you, my physically divided friend, I owe absolutely nothing."
"Not to mention the fact that one of us is only here for the money" interjected Joker, clearly trying to irk Deathstroke.
"I come for the glory too, clown." Responded the mercenary, his arms still folded. "I do it for honour and respect in the world, whereas you do it just because you're bored."
"Well that's just upsetting."
"You're a dirty little toreag Joker, do you know that? If I'd known from the start that you were here and not someone I respect like Deadshot, I would have left right then and there."
"I'm a lot more than that."
"Enough!" shouted Penguin, so loud that his cigar fell from his mouth in a trail of smoke and ash. Joker paused halfway through drawing out his pop gun, Deathstroke, his two blades. Hatter even jumped. "You want to fight each other, gentlemen? Why do that for no reward when we can all unite against a common enemy? It's a pretty cliché idea, but as old grandad Cobblepot used to say, simple is best."
Penguin's grandfather was a gun runner who'd been killed after the American navy torpedoed and sunk his transport ship. It had happened just two weeks after Penguin himself had been born.
"An idea like this has been tried before." Deathstroke murmured in monotone. "Suicide Squad was a group that tried to tackle the Bat. It failed. Lex Luthor, a man even richer than Bruce Wayne from Metropolis attempted to tackle the Bat too. That failed. A common goal isn't always a good thing, Cobblepot."
Penguin frowned. His grand scheme was being undermined by a military veteran in coloured spandex. "I don't mean we just want to kill the Batman. I mean, why do we want to kill the Batman? What does it achieve for us? You, even?"
He had to give himself some gratitude for making such a lie in such a short time.
"This is where we differ, gentlemen. What we want after the ruddy bastard's history is entirely varied. Mr Wilson, you want money. You want respect. And I've got both. You'll be bloody rich by the time the day is through when the geezer's head's on the chopping block."
Deathstroke didn't seem to move an inch, but Penguin decided to take this as an agreement. He turned to Hatter.
"You, Mr Tetch, want your…girl, am I right?"
"My Alice, my poor, poor Alice." Cried out Hatter, breaking into genuine tears. "All I want to find her and bring her home. It's all I want."
"Right…well, you'll be free to search for as many…ah…Alices as you want if we win this."
He slowly turned back to the others. "The same goes for each of you. The Batman will not be able to stop us once he's six feet under. We kill him, we run this town. So my plan is this: gentlemen, we're going to steal the Doomsday device."
Four men smiled. One looked confused.
"What's a Doomsday Device?" asked Hatter.
"Not a, but the Doomsday Device. It's a bomb. Developed by the hairless alien inferior Brainiac." Riddler spat with undisguised hatred. "A monument to the arrogant notion that money is everything. There's no bang or explosion, just a flash of light and the instant destruction of everything for fifty miles around."
"Well, trashing the evidence at GCPD for the thing will ensure Batman arrives to stopus. But that's just the beginning. We ransom him, the government the entire bloody world in exchange for their lives…it will reach the price, people for an early retirement."
Silence. The effect was good.
"Picture it: this stinking country a desolate wasteland as a warning for everyone who wants to try crossing us again. The skies unbreathable, the dirty little citizens dried out corpses we walk over. We'll be wealthy, feared and above all, untouchable."
"I've got a question." Broke in Two Face.
"No questions."
"You say we just stroll on in and take the Device from the lockup, just like that. My question is-"
"No questions." Snapped Penguin.
"If the thing's as powerful as you say it is-"
"No questions, you old sod."
"- the police are obviously going to put it under high security. It'll be incredibly hard, most likely impossible to take the damn thing."
"Well first of all," began Penguin, chewing the end of his cigar to keep the temper in check. "I said no questions. It's a rule I established just right there. Secondly, it's no accident I chose you specifically, gentlemen. We each have our own dubious abilities that will be taking candy from babies."
"Being doing that sort of thing lately, have you Cobblepot?" purred Joker from the corner, his grin so large he looked ready to eat his own face. "Oh, how the mighty family legacy has fallen."
"It's an expression, you intellectually barren numbskull!" snapped Nigma, sparing Penguin the task of a cuss-filled lecture.
"Well when you're finished acting like prats and are ready to listen up, I'll go into more depth. Paying attention now, are we? Good. Let's begin."