Why do I call myself the Penguin? Well aside from my love of formal wear and marine biology, your first clue would be my short stature and loping gait. I was born with a condition known as achondroplasia, which is a form of genetic dwarfism causing shortness of bones. As you might have conjectured, it was a name assumed to me by those who find my condition amusing and wish to slight me for it. So why take on the moniker myself, if it was meant to be demeaning? It seems counterintuitive does it not? Most of those with my condition wish only to be treated equally by others and would never draw attention to it in such a, if you'll pardon the pun, belittling way. To explain I must first go back to the circumstances which brought about my birth.
My parents were none other than Natalie and Carver Cobblepot, of the famous Cobblepot dynasty which has lived in and around Gotham for over a century. My conception occurred under tense conditions for my parents. Already having two adolescent boys under their charge, the news of my arrival came as a shock to my parents, though not in the reason you may think. The shock came because my mother and father had not engaged in voluptuaries for several years. News of my conception came from a young erotic dancer from a seedy dive known as "Mini Skirts" down on the Gotham docks, a burlesque house which employed only women with dwarfism. The news of my father's infidelity, combined with my conception and the embarrassing nature of my father's sexual inclinations, created quite the tumult in the Cobblepot home. With my birth mother threatening to go public with the embarrassing situation, an agreement had to be reached. She would receive regular payments to ensure her nondisclosure and immediate departure from Gotham. My father had wanted me to be given up for adoption, but his wife insisted I be raised in their household instead. This was not an act of compassion for me, you understand, but rather a constant reminder to my father of his past mistakes. I was my mother's personal revenge against my father and a guarantee that his adulterous ways would cease. I was given the name Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot and raised as a member of the famous Cobblepot family. This would be considered a blessing by most. I had avoided a life of squalor and shame with my promiscuous mother, and a confused and transitory life within foster homes and orphanages, to be raised with money, power, and opportunity. I never considered my life to be blessed, but I acknowledge the advantages given to me, despite the cruelties I would endure.
Being my mother's personal revenge against my father made the relationship between he and I strained to say the least. He was distant, dismissive, and at times vindictive. My older brothers had a similar relationship with me, although they enjoyed being vindictive more than being dismissive. Being older, larger, and more normally proportioned than I, they regularly visited childish cruelties upon me from a young age. The only one of my family to show me any compassion was my mother. Despite the vindictive nature of my presence in her home, I believe she took pity on me. She was by no means a kind and nurturing mother, but she never derided me or harmed me in any way, which was about as close to kindness I was likely to receive in those times. You may think I am bitter toward my family for their treatment of me, that I resent them and carry the anger with me to this day. That is not so. I hated them with a great passion at the time of course, but in retrospect they did me a kindness they never intended. I learned independence, humility, patience, and determination. Being subjected to cruelties regularly made the cruelties success and failure might inflict less intimidating. The two things that threaten the human spirit more than anything else are wealth and admirations. You can find countless stories about people of great potential being corrupted and destroyed by sudden affluence and esteem. Being treated the way I had, I was allowed to use both wealth and power without it using me. Malice had inoculated me against the hubris of mammon. Because of their unkindness I was immune to the common dangers to one's character that being born into wealth and title presents to any child. One need only look to the current state of my brothers to see the pitfalls I avoided. They are both drug addicts, hedonists, and financial failures who were far too busy enjoying their life of privilege to learn anything about business or conduct. The only way they can continue their frivolity is by making spectacles of themselves in the media, trading dignity for funding, not unlike what my birth mother had done before having me.
I cannot remember ever feeling the way a child is expected to feel while in childhood. To the best of my recollections I have always felt I was the person I feel I am today. I saw things with a clarity and maturity that at times was almost painful, even when I was considered young and naive. This detached maturity made it easier to cope with the challenges of someone in my situation. For example, upon entering school, I was, of course, the target of ridicule and violence by my larger peers. As I endured their vicious attacks I began to study them and experiment. I tried retaliating, at first mildly, and gauging their reaction. There seemed to be a threshold at which my retaliation warranted more severe treatment from them. If I retaliated mildly, they would laugh. If I applied more force, out maneuvered them or fooled them, they would redouble their efforts to cause me suffering. Then I found there was a point, if my retaliation was severe enough, their resolve would break. In my charter school, there were three older boys who had targeted me and regularly visited cruelties upon me, until one day I had lead them to the back room of the commissary. Boys like them were quick to anger and they let it control them. My anger was cold and steady, giving me more control instead of robbing me of it. Once there I sprang my trap. The school custodian had agreed to aid me in my task and with proper financial compensation had no qualms with smashing the first boy's knee in with an aluminum bat and knocking the second unconscious. With the door locked behind us, the third boy began to apologize and plead with me. I could have accepted that and let them go, but I had learned by that point that breaking a man's bones was not enough to truly defeat him. They would limp home, lick their wounds, and set out to avenge their injuries on me two-fold. If I was to be rid of these rivals, I would have to defeat them not only that day, but each and every day that would follow. I had learned through years of pain and fear that if someone challenges you, you're obligated to destroy them completely. The human spirit accepts nothing less than total obliteration before considering itself defeated. You see, I am not a killer, I simply win – thoroughly. So I gave the custodian permission to continue and he began to bludgeon the fallen boys without mercy as their terrified compatriot watched. I believe one of them made a full recovery while the other spent his life in a wheel chair. The message was received and I never crossed paths with them again.
I learned a valuable lesson then that has been key to every success I have enjoyed since. True strength isn't about size, or muscle, or looks. It's about strategy, delay of gratification, and the long term plan. It's about determination, perseverance, and getting up every single damned time they kick you down. Once my physical being was no longer in peril, I was able to turn my focus to studying business and finance. My father had been a brilliant financial tactician and I learned from him as much as I could, not directly of course. In an ironic twist, as I began to master business and accounting, my father began to fail at it. He had begun making poor business choices and investments which not only embarrassed but nearly bankrupted him. He became a sort of laughing stock among the Gotham elite. If one were to trace the origins of his financial mistakes, one might be surprised to find they began around the time of my birth. Those that knew him claimed he had changed after that event, became more anxious and unsure. They thought he might have just lost his nerve, or that his success up to that point had been pure luck. As much as I resented my father, I, like any boy, wanted more than anything for him to accept and love me. I thought if I could succeed in business and finance I could earn his respect. This pushed me and focused my efforts. I was quickly positioned at the top of every class and had more awards and honors than any of my brothers. My father, however, took my success and achievement as an offence. Seeing the bastard child who had brought misery and ruin to his life succeed beyond even his legitimate sons was almost unbearable for him. It seemed no matter what I did, I could never earn his love, and upon realizing this, my father turned from a role model and mentor, into just another obstacle in my life.
I began planning the week before I would graduate from the Gotham University with top honors in the field of business. The opportunity came when news of a murdered girl appeared in the media. This woman had been sexually assaulted and stabbed to death on a university campus north of Gotham. The police had apprehended a homeless teenager and connected him with the murder by camera footage and finding items belonging to the murdered girl in his possession. The police and community seemed content to believe this random runaway had committed the murder and left it at that. However, when I heard the girl in question was born with dwarfism, I began to draw the connections. The homeless kid had no history of murder or sexual assault and had in fact only recently been brought into town by someone he claimed had been a cop. My own research uncovered that the boy had been brought to the campus and promised free items which someone claimed they were donating to him. The cameras which had captured him in the area when the girl had been found, merely saw him going to the designated place he was told he could pick up the items. It was clear to me that whoever gave this kid the items had been the true killer and that he was being set up to take the fall. He was the perfect match for it, a young runaway with a history of mental problems and assault. When the identity of the girl came out, the family resemblance was unmistakable. It took only my name and a few well-placed investments to find out who the killer was and who had arranged it. My father had apparently grown tired of paying for my birth mother's silence. Perhaps it was due to stress, resentment toward me, or simply his current financial woes, whatever the case, he had decided to cut himself free of this liability for good. Now I had my ace in the hole and I came to him with my proposal.
Given our strained relationship, I knew he would never include me in a will or trust fund. In order for me to enact my financial plans I would need startup money. The last day I spoke with my father I went into his office and handed him my offer. My offer was in fact a press release detailing the ill-fated circumstances of my conception, the false documents and certificates created to cover up said circumstances, and the untimely demise of my birth mother, including the suspicious circumstances surrounding her death. He was justifiably distressed. However, I offered a solution which would benefit us both. He was to put me on the payroll of his company as an outside consultant. In exchange for my salary my job would be to simply never send out this distressing document. I assured him this job would not require me to contact him ever again and in the event of my death or a breach of our contract, this information would be placed in the hands of members of the press and his career would be forfeit. He went into the predictable hysterics, throwing himself around the room, cursing the day I was born, even going so far as to attack me with his cane. Laughing through the blood and pain, I told him he could hit me as much as he wanted, by all means. We both knew he couldn't kill me and we both knew he would be signing the contract in the end. Something seemed to break inside his eyes at that. I saw the moment my father's spirit broke. He signed the contract and had security remove me from the building. I received my first paycheck the very next day.
So why call myself the Penguin? Because I learned how to take a detriment and turn it into an advantage. I took what my tormentors used to disparage me and used it to control them. I have been in business in this town for a long time now, both above board and under the table business. The one advantage I have over every other privileged banker and shrewd con-man is they all see me as a joke. They underestimate me. They all look at my success as either a miracle or a mistake, but to me it was just habit. Just like the older boys at school or my own family, everyone either hates me or disregards me. What am I to do? Hide myself away? Kiss everyone's ass until they love me? I've found only one way to change that, and that is to be so successful and powerful that they can't ignore me. They look at me and all they see is a midget in a penguin suit, right up until I snatch their business out from under them, cut the brakes in their parent's car, and syphon away their inheritance, leaving them with nothing. That's when they realize what I really am; a ruthless, vindictive, calculating, inventive, and dangerous man. In short, better than them.