***I would like to apologize in advance for posting a short, filler chapter, but I think it's still kinda important for our protagonists anyway.
"Oswald! Pick up your damn phone!" It was the ninth time I had called him and it was the ninth time it had gone straight to voice mail. He had left ridiculously early in the morning without a word, but he normally always told me where he was. I went to dial his number again, but instead picked a different number.
"Hello," a smooth voice answered on the other end.
"Victor," I sighed in relief. At least somebody knew how voicemails worked.
In the background, I could hear a man screaming. "I always enjoy talking to you, but I am quite busy at the moment."
"Oswald's missing," I explained. "Do you know whom I should be killing?"
He clicked his tongue. "Last I heard he was with Maroni." A pause. "And Melissa, don't do anything I wouldn't do." He hung up.
It was terrible news. I couldn't kill Maroni; not yet. Gotham only operated because there was a balance. With no one to balance Falcone, the city would quickly fall into a dictatorship. Instead, I would have to wait and pray Oswald could talk his way out of any trouble he might find himself in.
I sat with my feet up on the dining room table, leaning back in my chair. I was cleaning out the dirt from under my nails with a switchblade when I heard a knock at the door. Waiting for me was a small, black piece of paper with "Oswald's" inscribed in white script on the front. "Glad to fucking know you're alive," I muttered under my breath. It had been days since I asked him to move in with me. In response, all I got was an invitation to the reopening of Fish Mooney's place. I decided I would go, even if it was just to stab the poor son of a bitch.
At 8 o'clock I was walking out the door of my apartment in a tight black dress, sky high heels, and a dagger strapped to my thigh. It was different walking down the Gotham streets after announcing myself as an assassin, just as Oswald said it would be. I felt empowered, even the riff-raff wouldn't mess with me; not seriously anyway.
"Where you goin', darlin'?" A couple men hollered.
"Oswald's," I replied with a grin. "They're reopening Fish's place." One wink, and I had a sizeable group following me down the city streets. The rain had held off so far and I had it hoped I would continue that way; I had deigned not to put on a jacket or bring an umbrella. My foot hit a crack in the sidewalk and I stumbled, surprised that my phone buzzed. PLEASE DON'T COME. A text from Oswald. Too late, asshole. I thought. Maybe you should have called to let me know you were back in town. I tucked my phone back in my bra as we arrived. It was a dingy, hole-in-the-wall type building and in the one window was a blue neon sign in the shape of an umbrella.
The inside of the club had been completely redone. The atmosphere was cooler, but there were only a handful of people, not including the band. I pulled the knife from under my dress, Maroni was there with an arm around Oswald and it didn't look friendly. I kicked the back of his knee and he went down, my knife at his throat. "Maybe you forgot what I told you earlier about not touching Oswald," I hissed. "So here's my new proposal: when Falcone goes, so do you." I removed my blade and allowed him to stand up. Without a word, he brushed off his suit and left.
"I thought I asked you not to come," Oswald blushed, clearly embarrassed by the turn out of his grand opening.
"Actually, you told me. No, you texted me," I corrected him.
He put down his glass of champagne and actually began wringing his hands. "Darling, I-I understand that you are upset with me. B-but I nearly died. Surely you can-"
"But you're not dead," I interrupted him. You had time to gut and rebuild this club, but not enough to call your girlfriend." I waved the knife in his face.
Oswald gripped my hand. "Why are you here?"
I yanked free. "Relax." I sheathed my weapon. "I brought people." As if on command, the underlings began filling up the space.
"What are these riff-raff doing here?" He whispered, only an inch from my face.
"Who cares? They're gonna buy drinks." And I kissed him. I didn't realize that his hands were on my hips. As we kissed they glided upwards and I suddenly didn't care that he had disappeared for a few days, I just wanted him to rip off my dress.
I stayed until last call, without stabbing anyone. Or causing any noticeable trouble for that matter. "I guess it turned out okay," Oswald said as he was locking up. "Can we go home now?"
I nodded and took his hand. He didn't need to know I was leaving in a few hours for a job across the Atlantic.
