Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Reflection of Love
Per Oswald's request, she kept Victor informed on her coming and goings whilst outside of the Cobblepot Mansion's perimeter.
"You don't sound like yourself," Victor said over the phone.
"I'm not myself," Sylvia confirmed. "My brother and his GCPD pals came to the club for a raid."
"Are you okay?"
"Physically, yes."
"Did they find anything?"
"Damn, Victor," Sylvia sighed. "Now I feel a little offended. If you think they found anything, we are clearly not operating on the same level of respect."
"You know I like to tweak that sense of humor of yours," Victor said slyly. He let out a cruel chuckle over the phone that made Sylvia roll her eyes.
"I'm coming up to the mansion," Sylvia informed.
"We'll be waiting," Victor returned, his tone was back to being business-like.
Sylvia did a double take around herself, making sure she wasn't followed. Seeing nothing to the contrary, she flipped the switch, pulled the welcome mat aside, and descended down the stairs; once she was underground, she flicked the twin's switch, and watched the stairs move back inside the slender concrete wall behind her.
"I never get tired of that," she muttered.
Currently, in the room she resided, there was no one. However, she followed the dulcet tones through the tunnel, walking inside. Sensing the oppressing presence of someone new, Gabe, Dagger, Chilly, and a few others that had gathered to partake in the evening's event, readied their weapons, cocked their guns, and aimed it at her.
"False alarm," Gabe told everyone.
"One hell of a greeting," Sylvia greeted, smirking at them. "Hi, Gabriel."
Gabe moved towards her, and he wrapped his arms around her. She looked at him curiously.
"I figured you needed it," Gabe explained; his droopy face transfixed into one of a sympathetic smile.
"Thanks, but I'm fine."
"Well, in our defense, Miss Sylvia—you don't really look like it." Henry's voice spoke from behind Dagger.
When Sylvia heard it, she glared; Dagger quickly moved aside to dodge her temper.
"Henry!" Sylvia scolded. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Freda and Marcy said—whoa!" Henry stopped talking once Sylvia grabbed him by the loose collar of his polo and shoved him against the nearest pillar.
"I told you to stay at the club," Sylvia growled. "Are you fucking deaf!"
"Sylvia, I—"
"I SAID 'ARE YOU DEAF'!"
"N-no…." Henry stammered.
It was admittedly the first time that Sylvia saw him scared of her. Most of the time, he was smirking or playing it cool. Now, he legitimately looked afraid of his boss.
"So volume ain't an issue," Sylvia growled. "So that makes you a disobedient little shit!"
Dagger and Chilly moved to touch her.
"BACK OFF!" Sylvia ordered, pointing the finger of her free hand at them.
They held up their hands and did as they were told. Gabe and Mr. Bell looked at each other curiously. It wasn't a shock to them that Sylvia would behave this way; both of them had told Henry—advised against it actually—not to come to the mansion because this is exactly how she would react.
She'd lost one of her own—Joshua—to Galavan. She was furious that Henry had disobeyed her orders and had come anyway.
"I knew you were in trouble," Henry quickly stammered out. "I-I knew you were going to need help, so I decided to come and try and help!"
Sylvia pushed him further up the pillar, joining her free hand with the other to do so; his feet started to dangle.
Gabe raised his eyebrows in surprise; he had no idea that she was so strong.
"Henry, I told you to stay the hell back at the club—I gave you one goddamn job to do!" Sylvia bellowed. "ONE FUCKING THING! And what did you do—you deliberately disobeyed me, you little shit!"
She dropped him and he crumpled against the pillar, hunkering down and attempting to get away from her.
"Miss Sylvia, please...I just wanted to help." Henry said weakly.
"You wanted to help," Sylvia responded sardonically. "You could have helped by staying where I told you to stay, by doing what I asked you to do. Before I left, I specifically requested that you all save each other—to protect one another, and you fucking leave!"
"I thought you'd be happy!" Henry squeaked.
"DO I LOOK FUCKING HAPPY TO YOU!" Sylvia screamed.
"N-no, you d-don't, but Sylvia—"
"Sylvia," Gabe began. "Give the kid a break—he just came to help out."
"Stay the fuck out of this, Gabriel," Sylvia snapped. "This doesn't concern you."
"He's just trying to help—let the kid help," Dagger offered.
"I've already lost one kid tonight," Sylvia said, turning on Dagger and Gabe. "I can't lose anyone else."
Henry slowly stood to his feet.
"Sylvia, I can help in anything. I'm capable—all we want is to prove ourselves and—"
Sylvia's eyes flickered with dismay, turning back to him.
"'We'?"
Henry gulped.
Sylvia looked above him, and stepped back. She leaned over him, and turned up the switch to the other lights; with a clatter, the lights turned on to reveal Marcy, Freda, and Tiffany all hanging back, standing together behind a pillar.
Henry had been the fall-guy, the one who had dared to speak first. But it had been one idea, decided amongst the rest of them.
"Are you fucking kidding me!" Sylvia shouted.
"Can't blame the kids for wanting to help," Dagger offered. "They see you're miserable, you don't tell them nothing, so you can't blame them for coming to help out their boss."
Sylvia seethed, "Do any of you—ANY OF YOU—know what it means to obey fucking orders!"
Gabe raised his hand.
"Put your fucking hand down, Gabe—goddamn it." Sylvia hissed.
"Vee-Vee," began Marcy and Freda.
"Don't 'Vee-Vee' me," Sylvia snapped. "Not now."
"But we just want to help," Marcy piped up, standing next to Henry. "It's like what Stagger said—"
"—Dagger—" Dagger corrected.
"—Whatever," Marcy dismissed, waving him away. "We knew you were in trouble, Vee-Vee. We just wanted to help!"
Sylvia rubbed her temples.
"You're all bunch of little children, aren't you?" Sylvia mumbled.
She turned to Tiffany, who slowly approached her, ready to receive whatever anger that could be thrown at her.
"We—" Tiffany began, but Sylvia shook her hands violently.
"I know," Sylvia said irritably. "You 'wanted to help'." (She rubbed the bridge of her nose.)"I get it, you want to help. Much appreciated, but if you all are here, then who the fuck is running the club?"
"Forget about the club," scoffed Marcy. "The club handles itself."
"Yeah," Freda added. "Plus, Chilly's there."
"No," said Sylvia darkly. "He's right here." (She pointed to where Chilly was standing, looking innocent as his name was brought up.)
"Oh..." Freda muttered.
"So not only did you all disobey my instructions," she seethed, "you also left the business unattended. So, you know...people can just break down the door and steal whatever the fuck they want."
"Well, Strike Force already did that," Freda reminded.
Marcy nudged her in the ribs, saying, "Shut up! You're not helping."
Sylvia held two fingers to the bridge of her nose, like she was trying to not spontaneously combust.
"Victor!" Sylvia shouted.
Her voice echoed through the tunnels. And sure enough, Victor appeared, looking more or less content but curious as he approached her.
"You shrieked?" Victor said, smirking at her.
"Please," said Sylvia tiredly. "Escort the kids back to the club, would you kindly?"
"Sure."
"We're not going anywhere," Freda argued.
"We're staying right here," said Marcy.
"We want to help," Henry insisted. "And we're going to help, no matter what you say."
Victor raised his eyebrows at Sylvia, waiting for her reaction to the insubordination.
"Do you still want me to escort these children back to the shoe?" Victor asked.
A beat of silence passed, and Oswald entered the room, looking at them all incredulously.
"You do realize we're supposed to be in hiding?" Oswald reminded them coolly. "That means using 'inside' voices, and not trying to alert everyone to our location?"
Sylvia gave him a look: "I can't deal with these kids today. I just can't. Victor—"
"Got it," Victor returned, stepping towards the teenagers.
"Hey, we came here on our own initiative!" Henry snapped, dodging Victor's lurching height. "We want to help—and we're more than willing to die trying."
Freda and Marcy nodded bravely.
Tiffany looked as though she might have started a war just by bringing all these people back to the mansion without her boss' say-so. But she looked at Sylvia just as bravely.
"You all may be willing to sacrifice yourselves," Sylvia told them. "But I'm not. I don't want any of you here, or going after Galavan.""
"You wanted a good crew," Henry said harshly. "You wanted people who could take care of each other so you didn't have to worry about us. Well, we've been doing that. We have literally done everything you've ever asked us to do and the one time when we can actually give something back, you're not going to let us to do it. We've got this, Sylvia! Let us prove ourselves!"
"You are not going to this party," Sylvia ordered. "You are not going to prove yourself tonight. I went over this with you before, and I'm honestly surprised that I have to go through this again. You are not going—"
Oswald said lightly, "If they want to help, Pigeon, let them."
"I lost Josh," said Sylvia, looking at him. "I can't lose my other kiddos too."
"We're not your kids," Henry reminded. "We're your employees. Josh wasn't your kid either—he was able to go with you, and he wanted to. Sure, he got himself shot, but he would have wanted it to go no other way."
"What the hell is happening right now?" Victor asked Gabe.
Gabe shrugged.
"We're rallying," insisted Marcy. "You have a choice. You can either have us work for you, and have some help getting this Galavan fucker—which I'm sure you want to do, right—or we can be babysat by this guy" (she gave Victor a leery glare) "and do fuck-all."
"I like this kid," Victor chuckled, gesturing to Marcy.
Sylvia looked at them, all of them. She was torn, clearly.
"Help us help you," Freda insisted. "Let us do something for you for a change, Vee-Vee."
Sylvia pursed her lips together for a moment and with much reservation, she said reluctantly, "Fine."
Henry, Freda, and Marcy cheered while Tiffany smiled gratefully. Sylvia glanced at them all and she walked away, rubbing her temples. The heels of her boots clicked the damp concrete as she sought out solace in the moment.
After a while, Sylvia heard a second pair of footsteps. A hand touched her shoulder. She turned to see Oswald.
"I'm making a mistake," Sylvia uttered softly. "Sending them to the gala with the rest of them. I'm making a huge, and terrible, mistake. They're not ready. They never were. And Josh—"
Oswald lifted his hand to her face, his slender fingers running parallel along her jaw line while his thumb rested over her lips, silencing her. Sylvia looked at him reprovingly.
"They'll prove themselves to you," Oswald reassured. "You just have to place your confidence in them."
"I can't—they're kids."
"Then that begs the question as to why you employed them in the first place," Oswald returned.
"Because they needed to belong somewhere," Sylvia said. "They needed a home. But in the beginning, they were just my employees. When I see them now, all I see are my kids."
Oswald took her hands in his.
"When all this is over," said Oswald gently. "We may have to go over our options as to why we never considered child-bearing."
Sylvia smiled sadly at him, saying, "Ozzie, doing what you're about to do—you may very well die tonight."
"Maybe," he considered aloud. "Then again, there's the chance that I might not. In either scenario, your people will be fine. Gabe will be keeping tabs on them the entire time."
"That won't be necessary," said Sylvia calmly. "I'll be with them."
Oswald suddenly had a change of tune. He looked at her with much concern and alarm.
"You are not going to—" Oswald began.
"Oh, I most certainly am," Sylvia reassured strongly.
"You aren't serious."
"Do I sound like I'm joking?"
"Sylvia, I forbid you to—"
Sylvia smirked at him saying, "Do you even remember who you're talking to?"
Oswald scowled, "It doesn't surprise me why all your people are insubordinate. Look at their leader."
Sylvia chuckled when she realized her own hypocrisy.
"Don't worry about me," she reassured. "I'll lag behind in the back, keep a far-away distance. Anyway, I'm only going to be shadowing the ground; the others will be going into the building itself. Galavan's eventually going to come out with an escape route; the GCPD can be incompetent, but an escape route is going to be in place to get Galavan out of that mess."
"Pigeon, whether you stand in the front, the middle, or the back," said Oswald, "your hair is a dead giveaway."
"It is, isn't it?" Sylvia noted, touching her copper locks.
"I'm going to brief the troops. Please reconsider. At least, think about it."
"I can reconsider and re-think everything you've told me, but you already know when I've made up my mind, there's no going back."
"I'm very aware."
He touched her face again, then brushed his lips against hers. Sylvia responded, smiling at him endearingly.
Oswald approached the rest of the crew, looking at them all, arms crossed.
"No one is to kill Galavan but me. Understand?" Oswald told them.
"Boss, I get what you're feeling," said Gabe sympathetically. "A mother's love—it's the most beautiful, the most simple—"
"GABE!" Oswald snapped. If Gabe kept it up, he was going to fall apart and he didn't need that to happen just now.
"Cops aren't gonna let you within a hundred feet of Galavan," Gabe said logically. "Let us whack him for you. Please?"
"No," Oswald refused. "He's mine."
He took a deep breath, fixed his suit and said calmly, "Now...let's get dressed. We have a party to attend."
Henry, Freda, Marcy, and Tiffany all helped each other into one of Penguin's expensive suits. It wasn't exactly a one-size-fits-all deal, but by happenstance, all of them were pretty slim and it only required a few stitches here and some inches taken in to make the suits work.
Some of Penguin's men (almost all of them) were tailored and suited. The hair was probably the most difficult part. Marcy was already halfway there; she only needed the other half of her hair spray-painted to look the part.
Within an hour, give or take, anyone who had shown up (minus Mr. Bell, Victor, and Gabe) were dressed the part. It didn't take long to practice Oswald's characteristic limp; Henry seemed to already know it all too well as though he had mimicked Oswald in the past.
Oswald looked at them all, smiling. Despite everything, he was proud as to how well all of this was slowly producing. No one would be able to pick him out of a line-up.
"Where's Sylvia?" asked Henry, looking around and narrowing his eyes to get a more close-up of everyone in the room.
Oswald felt a little relief, hoping that she had reconsidered his words and decided to stay out of the plot. He couldn't risk losing her. Not her.
"I'm here."
Oswald turned to see Sylvia, dressed exactly like him. Her copper locks were hidden under ebony dye. And what's more, she'd chopped off her waist-length hair, all the way up to her neck; the rest of her locks had been tied up with bands and bobby pins, her bangs spiked and plastered with gel and hairspray across her forehead.
In many ways, Oswald was certain he'd been looking at a direct reflection of himself—her bright blue eyes were the only slighted difference...that, and she was a woman.
"You look..." Oswald began.
"Fabulous," Sylvia answered, grinning broadly at him. "I know."
"You're seriously going with us?" Henry asked unhappily. "What happened to us proving ourselves to you?"
"Well, my little ducklings, if I can't keep you out of harm's way by locking you in my club," said Sylvia dutifully, "then I'll have to do my part in making sure you live through this massacre. Because that's exactly what it's going to be."
"Sylvia," Oswald said, taking her arm and pulling her to him.
"Oz, you can't talk me out of this."
"I know I can't."
"Are you still going to try?" Sylvia asked knowingly. "You'll be wasting your breath. Honestly, you shouldn't really be surprised. We've been together almost two years—seriously, that's almost a fucking lifetime by Gotham standards."
"No, no," Oswald said quickly. "I'm not going to talk you out of it. Odds are, you'd ignore me anyway."
"The odds are high," she agreed.
"I just…" Oswald started again, but he was at a loss for words.
Perhaps it was seeing the extent Sylvia would go to ensure his success. First, there was becoming the King of Gotham, how well she just rolled with the punches. And now, here she was, doing whatever was necessary to make sure that he got his revenge on Galavan, as well as avenging the mother she never had.
And not to mention the fact that was dressed just like him in a suit and had changed her entire appearance.
It was all a ploy to distract the Strike Force as well as the rest of the GCPD so Oswald could catch Galavan outside the perimeter. Technically, she was sacrificing herself.
For him.
'For better, for worse...for richer, for poorer...in sickness and health, til death to us part', indeed.
"Oswald?" Sylvia spoke his name, becoming more concerned for the fact that he had yet said anything.
He glanced at the team, noticing that they were still fixing each other up. He took her hands in his once more, his mouth open but words unable to come out.
"Ozzie, what is it?" Sylvia asked.
Oswald smiled at her as he finally spoke: "I love you so fucking much."
Sylvia grinned broadly at his statement: "Look at you, baby. Cursing and not even in the bedroom. I fucking love you too, sweetheart."
He kissed her and she returned it.
"Does this mean we all get guns?" Marcy piped up, looking at everyone.
Oswald raised his eyebrows at Sylvia, who shrugged carelessly.