Oswald was sitting in the living room, facing the door when I walked into the apartment. "Where have you been?" he asked.

Killing. "Out," I said as I walked to the kitchen to get something to drink.

He emerged from the darkness and trapped me between himself and the counter. "Liar," he hissed and pressed his lips to mine.

Startled, I pulled back. He kissed me again and forced himself between my legs. The kiss was not passionate, just simply rough. He pushed me along until we were in the bedroom where he threw me on the bed and crawled on top of me. He pulled my dress over my head as I clawed at his shirt. His kisses trailed down my neck and to my chest, stopping once in a while to bite and suck. Oswald's lips found their way between my thighs. I gasped in pleasure when I felt his tongue. I came. Oswald forced his lips onto mine and entered me. I moaned loud enough to wake the neighbors.

"Shut up," he ordered and he a hand to cover my mouth.

I bit back my next scream as he rammed himself into me over and over again. I peeled his hand away and grabbed onto his hips.

"Don't pull out," I gasped.

He came inside of me like I asked and then rested his head on my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to catch my breath.

"Did you finish?" He asked.

"Twice," I grinned.

A few moments of silence passed and I spoke up again. "Oswald?"

He didn't answer because he had fallen asleep. The only sound was a snore so light you would have thought it was from a puppy and not a man.

In the morning, I couldn't help but look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Across my chest were hickeys of various sizes along with teeth marks. Looks like a collared shirt today, I thought and got dressed before making coffee. I returned to the bedroom with my mug and my shirt unbuttoned so he could see the damage he did, just as Oswald was waking up.

"Good morning. Did I do that?" he asked pulling my shirt open. "I hope I did not hurt you too much."

"It's fine, but I have been thinking: if you want Maroni dead why not ask me to do it?" I took a sip of my coffee.

He leaned forward, gave me a quick peck on the cheek and rolled out of bed enthusiastically. "You're the person to hire when you want something done right."

Before the club opened, Oswald and I met with Conner. We sat on one side of a small table with the hit man on the other. "You're sure the guns ah there?" he asked.

"Butch placed them himself," the Penguin assured him. "Do you remember what to say to Maroni before you do the deed?"

I sat in silence, the gears in my head turning. If Oswald didn't want Maroni dead, what did he want?

"I never saw the point in telling a man something right before you're gonna whack 'em, but you're not the first to ask for it."

Penguin smiled gently. "I appreciate you humoring me."

Conner had a point. A message was obsolete, however, sometimes I showed my face just so my target died with the knowledge knowing who it was that took them down.

"So how do you know Maroni is going to be in this exact bar on this exact day?" Conner asked.

"I follow current events," Oswald slide the newspaper he had been pretending to read across the table. The headline declared the release of Tommy Bones, one of the hitmen who worked for Maroni.

The band was loud and the club was more packed than I had ever seen it. "Bourbon and ginger," I ordered and sat next to Oswald at the bar. "I figured it out," I told him. "I figured out why you wanted Conner for the job."

Butch walked up to Oswald, looking distressed. "Maroni's still alive," he whispered.

"This is flat," Oswald hissed at the bartender and handed back his drink.

"Did you not hear me?" Butch demanded. "Maroni is still alive. You gotta get outta town."

I put a hand on Oswald's shoulder and leaned into their conversation. "And miss all the fun?"

"You knew!" Butch gasped. "You set him up."

Oswald's smile spread all the way across his face. "I took the firing pins out of the guns before you hid them," he boasted. "A spin on a trick I learned from Maroni."

"But you could have had Maroni dead!" Butch growled.

"True," admitted Oswald. "But I still would have been under Falcone's thumb and that has grown intolerable. No, I'd much rather Maroni be alive and out for blood."

I threw today's newspaper on the table in front of Oswald. He was sipping red wine and appeared to have been waiting for me. Articles about the mob war littered the front page and several pages in the middle. Maroni was taking guns to Falcone.

"You're going to tear this city apart," I told him.

"I'm going to save this city," he laughed hysterically.