Iceberg Lounge
Oswald Cobblepot was seated snugly in the comfort of his own office at the Iceberg Lounge. Business was running smoothly as ever, going as swimmingly as could be. He was in one of his better moods. Which... could sour at any moment, he was unpredictable in the sense that one moment he could be all well and dandy and the next, if ticked off enough, he'd be absolutely livid.
He hadn't been up to any organised crime as of lately, none that he'd participated in first-handedly, he'd had a clean slate! Lucky for him, the good ol' Bat had noticed that, and had been courteous enough to allow him to reside peacefully in his Lounge without dropping in to give him a rough time
Killer Croc was having his own fun out in the city, killing off some random civilians and eating them. While stumbling upon someone his size he killed him and took off his clothes.
He decided to visit the iceberg lounge as he wanted to see why people spoke highly of it. He was wearing big leather boots, jeans and a hoodie with the hood up.
He stepped into the bar area and sniffed the air and instantly smelt the alcohol, Keeping his head low as he simply ordered a random drink.
Of course Croc had the money. But he didn't think anyone was stupid enough to ask him for money. He did scare off a booth full of teenagers who thought that Croc was some random bum who wandered in.
But they were so wrong, one look from Croc and they took off running. Croc didn't drink much, so he simply downed the drink and ate the glass afterwards, sitting at the bar with his head down.
Oswald sniffed the air. Something smelt off. Like... sewage and metal. Had someone been crawling through the sewers? He scowled in disgust at the thought of a person coming into his lounge after a trip in the sewage, but only one person... the creature came to mind, he shook the thought away.
Penguin was not so much of a fan of him, he wouldn't admit it aloud but he was shaken by the Croc. The beast was monstrous. Getting up, he picked up his umbrella from where it was sat, begrudgingly walking out of the comforts of his homely office.
His attention was instantly drawn to the giant of the man dressed inconspicuously, and sat at the bar. He began to approach him, smelling the air around him. Oh boy, he was the one.
"Apologies for my interruption, sir. If you hadn't noticed, you smell like sewage. And you're scaring off other guests. It would be in your best interest to leave, find someplace else, say... two blocks down the road?" Oswald spoke as cool and collectively as he could, unable to help the passive aggressive edge to his tone. He was blunt, admittedly, but he was a stranger, an honest disturbance of peace. He had brought over two, in case this was one of the stubborn ones.
Croc growled as he heard some people whispering. As soon as he heard Penguin's voice, he slowly turned his head to him, only showing half of his face.
He stood up and looked down at Penguin, being a lot taller than him and much taller than most people here. He would sniff the air to get Cobblepot's scent.
"if you have a problem with me, penguin... then too bad. i'm in a partially good mood so i won't kill all of your workers and you included.." Croc didn't feel like debating.
For the most part he was passive and didn't even try to communicate, but he had enough already and simply started stretching his finger like claws. "now... you know that bullets don't work on me... and my teeth do work on people's necks... so go back to your lounge." he said as he grabbed another drink from the bar.
He just ate the entire glass again, this time with the liquid inside, looking back down at Cobblepot "now leave me alone.. before i get hungry again."
Oswald did his best not to jump in fear, able to mask it as best he could. Well, this was not something he'd expected to see today.
"Croc, what a delight." He spoke with a mask of saccharine and warmth to his tone, gritting his teeth and trying to focus on not panicking. Any fear that might've been shown was covered up by a feigned toothy smile. "I have no problems with you."
One thing he didn't like was when other people ordered him around in his lounge, if Croc was any normal person he'd be long deceased in some alleyway by now for the GCPD or Batman to pick up. But Croc was no average person. Oswald visibly swallowed at the show of Croc eating his glass.
"But... it's quite a disturbance among my patrons that you stink of sewage. Might it be better for you to go someplace more... private?" He gestured to one of the private booths, secluded further to the back of the club. "For a fellow villain, it'll be free." Negotiating with Croc wouldn't be an easy task, but Cobblepot was a man with guts.
Croc listened to the Penguin and tsked as he walked past him "croc will be back..." he said as he left the bar. It was a confusing sight to see. That Croc left without killing someone
It took about 5 minutes before Croc walked back in, this time. He didn't smell like sewage, he smelled like a normal person. Croc had actually broke into someone's house and took a quick shower in those 5 minutes.
He had the hoodie back on as he sat down by the bar and ordered another drink. Something was off with Croc. He didn't usually follow orders like this and would actually kill the person giving them.
Was it his mood? Was it a change of heart? No, because Croc made a promise to one of his people down in the sewer, which was to be nice for a day. Croc didn't know the first step of being nice, so he kept the threats and understood it as following orders.
He drank the drink and held the glass in his hand. The glass seemed a lot smaller in his hand "hm.. mad hatter… penguin... harley quinn... joker… poison ivy...two-face... catwoman..." he was naming the villains for some reason.
Cobblepot was very weary when Croc had left, he assumed the beast would return with a weapon or group of sorts, he'd made sure all his men were prepared to fire if that were the case. What was unexpected was that Croc would genuinely... wash himself, since now he smelt of nothing.
It made Cobblepot all the more distrustful of him, and he furrowed a brow. He would let the creature stay for now, with a close eye on him. He eyed Croc up and down in suspicion, before finally giving up with a defeated sigh.
"Alright, Croc. You can stay, but if I see you pull anything, you'll be escorted out." He spoke in spite, calling over one of his goons and ordering for them to keep watch on the Croc.
When he'd begun citing the titles of other familiar villains, Oswald cocked a brow. How peculiar. He went to one of his other goons further away and gave them the orders in a hushed tone to note what the Croc said, before retiring to his own office.
Croc glanced at penguin, sending a glare that simply said 'I am going to eat you' as he didn't say a word to him, he would simply sit up and keep his head down as he watched the goon stay
"you know... Bullets don't work on me... you shot at me, you'll have a slow and painful death, and I can ensure you... getting eaten alive isn't a good thing... considering all the screams I've heard." Croc said before eating a glass again. Something even more strange happened next, a little girl rushed in and grabbed crocs hoodie and started yanking on it, whispering something to him.
The goon could see that Croc's fist would ball up as he slammed it against the table, making a crack as he picked up the grill and ran out of the lounge
What followed next, was just brutal. The streets were painted in blood, cars on fire and tipped over. Why? They entered Croc's sewer, his home, his territory. So they paid their price.
Croc slowly walked back in, significantly more angry as his hands and mouth were covered in blood. His clothes were blood stained and had multiple bullet holes, anyone who dared to look at him, got met with a death glare.
He took his previous spot and just sat down, holding his head as he started silently speaking "kill...eat...kill... them... all..." it was unknown who or what he was talking about, but it seemed to be someone in a bad position. Now Croc didn't care if Penguin came or not, he was just trying to think.
Oswald did his best throughout Croc's threat not to allow any fear to seep through his mask, being eaten alive didn't sound like a pleasant experience, rather one he preferred not to have to experience.
Oswald had been relaxed, lounging in the peacefulness of his office. Here there was no ruckus, unlike the outside. Suddenly, a goon had bursted into his office, interrupting his peace.
"This better be important, speak." Scowled Cobblepot at the measly goon, who looked beyond frightened and panicked as he stuttered out his words. "T-the Croc- he's covered in..." The Penguin got up in a rush. He'd heard enough to know Croc had done something, storming out of his office, umbrella fixed in his hand. "CROC!" He roared, gesturing to the bloodied mess that had become of him.
He knew this wouldn't do well on his reputation, a new scandal per say. Luckily, most things that went on inside the lounge were no news to the outside world. But rumour would undoubtedly be spread. "Look at you! What have you done now?" *His eyes were narrowed in distrust and his hand was braced on his umbrella, prepared for any attacks.
As Cobblepot came out and started to scream at him, he snapped. The already angry Croc simply stood up and grabbed Penguin by the shoulders and slammed him onto the bar as he looked him in the eyes.
"do not yell at me, you pathetic excuse for a man... you're lucky I haven't killed you or you men again" the blood only made his image a lot scarier, some dropping on top of Cobblepot as Croc dragged him off the floor and let go, letting him fall to the ground.
"you now have 2 choices: cobblepot, attack me and hope that your men can give you enough time to escape... or go back to your office and be the rich snob you are" crocs fingers started moving as he was ready to rip his throat right out.
Croc was not going to get yelled at. Especially from someone like Cobblepot "now..." he growled loudly as he looked penguin in the eyes "what will it be penguin... death... or mercy..." he made the two options quite clear.
Cobblepot's eyes had widened in fear, stunned by the sudden show of such aggression, although he couldn't say he was too surprised. He blinked a few times in his moment of shock, before it washed over and his unfriendly, indifferent mask set back into place.
He scowled in disdain at Croc, his expression only souring at the blood dripping onto his freshly pressed suit jacket and vest. He grumbled to himself about who out of the pair of them was the 'pathetic excuse for a man,' eyeing Croc's monstrous self.
He recovered well enough, although still considerably shaken by the hostility. How could he not be? Croc was... not the sort you'd want to get on the bad side of.
He got up, dusting himself off and straightening his suit jacket to at least maintain some level of his dignity. He cleared his throat, fetching his discarded umbrella before facing Croc again.
"My sincere apologies for my rudeness, my friend. I have a reputation to uphold is all, you're welcome here, honest." He feigned another friendly smile, that didn't quite reach his eyes. His fingers flexed on the handle of his umbrella. He would typically offer a handshake but Croc was currently... soaked in blood.
Croc was looking penguin in the face, reading some of the hatred now aimed towards Croc. But nonetheless, Croc wasn't going to end Penguins career nor anyone's career. Unless they are a cop, then he will end it.
"you lie...quite a lot penguin... i'm not as dumb as I look.." he walked past him, his hands going in his hoodies pocket as he lowly growled "ill keep out of here... But make sure to keep your men away from the sewer system... Otherwise... You'll be some men short"
With that, Croc walked out into the street. As he made his way to the sewer he took his hoodie off and threw it aside, along with the boots, he wasn't a fan of much clothing. But he had to wear it to hide his identity.
He crawled into the sewers and got in his usual spot, the water. Keeping only his eyes and nose poking out as he closed his eyes and started to drift asleep. Coming down into the sewer was a bad idea.
Even if you make it past the angry Croc, then you'd have to deal with his people. And God forbid if you kill one of his people, the man who did would get wiped off the face of the earth and get a slow and brutal death from Croc.
Cobblepot had no clue why he would be having his men poking around in the wretched sewers of all places.
"You can count on it," He shot back nonetheless. But now he knew if a single one of his goons decided to pop down into the sewers, for whatever odd reason they would have in the first place, they would become crocodile dinner, and more importantly it would start a gang war.
And Oswald wasn't quite keen on a war, especially not against Croc, not during the absence of the Bat. Wars left significant scars on all parties, no matter who was victorious. This was a time of relaxation, a time he could thrive in business affairs. But it looked like he would have to have a more hands-on approach to his operations after all.
He had decided to take time off from involving himself directly in any crime after only recently breaking out of Arkham a couple weeks ago. It would be beneficial for him, a time to take advantage of now that there were no signs of the Bat around, no vigilantes to interrupt him in his operations.
Construction Site
Croc came out of a manhole, walking into the construction site. He wore the same hoodie and jeans along with the heavy boots, it made him seem human from some angles.
He was going to use this small site as a base of operations, he had already sent some people here to get armed up. Croc wasn't being quiet for all Thai time for nothing, he was getting ready.
He walked onto the top of the construction site where there were multiple lined up people, all heavily armed with rifles, pistols and some even with lmgs. They had grenades and some plastic explosives. On the table there was a rpg with some rockets.
Croc needed his people to be safe, he taught them how to shoot, deep down in the sewers, because he wasn't always on the spot.
Outside of the construction site were some police cars. All spray painted differently so they didn't look like cops. Main question is, how did Croc get this gear?
From the frequent attacks from the gcpd, he had been killing every person quickly. Afterwards. His people took the items and ammunition
Croc looked at all of them before saying "the sewer... Is the safest place... Take the weapons and armor and bring them to the rest... I had supplied food already."
The people began to run around, grabbing guns and ammo, stuffing them in boxes along with armor, then slowly putting them in the sewers.
After some time, the only person there was Croc. He sat on top of the construction site, sitting on some planks as he held his hands together and stared across the city.
"alright gotham... croc is back.." he slightly grinned and started to move around the construction site. This was a small beginning for Croc. As he would kill anyone in his way without mercy. It was unclear what he wanted to do.
Iceberg Lounge
Oswald Cobblepot had made the decision to contact an ally. The events of his run in with the Croc would undoubtedly pose a problem for him.
His goons, if not Croc himself, would more than likely make attempts on Oswald's life. And it was in a matter of hours that Cobblepot's paranoia had reached him. The reality of the situation was, Croc's people would come after him.
They would pose no challenge to wipe out, wouldn't leave a single scratch on Oswald, nor his reputation. However, that would then attract Croc. And that was precisely what he was afraid of. It was similar to a domino effect, one he did not intend to set off.
Conveniently, he had gotten news that a particular business associate of his had recently gained more power. Black Mask. And so, Oswald gave him a ring.
Black Mask was sitting in his little office, finished looking at reports from all over the city. He took out some entertainment; the Diary of Stephanie Brown, whose house he ransacked after she died from the brutal injuries he gave her.
He read it in a mocking tone
"Dear diary today I saw Robin again, he's sooo cute!"
"Bleh teenagers." He said to himself. "On the other hand I could have had her impersonated- Selfish brat just had to die in a hospital, eh? Though I suppose Huntress was a better option when I need a hit done."
Suddenly he heard a ring. Cobblepot? He hadn't been in the game for a while. Got scared of the big bad bat. But it's no shock he's getting back in the game.
He picked up the phone.
"Oswald- or Penguin- what brings you here?"
"It's Oswald to you, old friend." Oswald knew they weren't anything over business partners, but Oswald was a capable liar and manipulator. Two traits that had aided him in successfully getting to where he was now.
"I've called with a preposition I would like to discuss. Involving a certain Croc." He spoke his words with blatant spite, allowing venom to seep through into his tone. "You see, he came into the lounge, and we had quite an unpleasant run in. If I am to protect myself from his people, he will be coming after me. I'll need protection."
'Old friend'. Pengy was still putting a personable facade.
That's all he was, thought Black Mask. "Oswald fancies himself a gentleman, but deep down he was vicious and rotten- why his true face would look very similar to mine. His 'Iceberg Lounge' was a classy high-class nightclub, but it was only to hide the true intentions of Cobblepot- and how corrupt and sleazy Gotham is. Not unlike the Raccoon's den. A true representation of the face of Gotham.
Roman smirked. He could put on a facade as well.
"It is nice to hear from you again. Lots of my men were saying you were going soft, but I didn't believe them for a second."
"As for the protection. Well as businessmen we know that nothing comes for free- friend or not. And since you've been laying low, I'm not entirely sure of what you have to offer. But it does sound like this Croc guy would require a hefty sum to deal with.
Oswald scoffed at even the thought of it. Him? Soft? "I am glad you are not as incompetent as those men of yours. Soft is no word to describe me." He grit out, "But I'm sure you were able to put them back in their places." His facade was set back in place, allowing any real emotion to slip would be a sign of weakness. That in itself was dangerous, Oswald had learnt that from his past mistakes.
"Of course, friend. I would never expect your services without a fee. Well, then, what's your charge?"
"Absolutely- they all got a sock in the face from me- they know their place." Black Mask paused for a moment.
"Well I usually charge, money, goons, information. And if you have that, I'm good. I'm going to need a lot of people who are specialized in espionage, safecracking, and -"
"Spelunking."
Oswald was glad to hear that Mask's goons had been put back into order. Any rumours that might've been spread about Cobblepot going soft would be damaging to his reputation, make him seem vulnerable, and would cause a spur, encouraging his enemies to go after him.
And he would have to make an example out of them.
"I'm well equipped with such instruments." He agreed. "Very well, I will send you some of my people. But I must ask— spelunking?" Oswald furrowed a brow, bemused as to why Roman would desire people with such skills.
"I have no intent to be invasive on your operations, only curious as to why you would require people with skills of the sort." He was curious as to what Mask's objective might be.
Black Mask decided to drop the mask a little further. He needed allies, and what better way to get one than to work on this particular mission.
"As a big shot businessman- you heard of Bruce Wayne. Tabloids are running stories about him partying in Switzerland, but I got a feeling he's- gone"
"I plan to raid and secure his mansion- and the caves underneath. Should be a lot of wealth hidden there- as well as potential routes for smuggling" And a secret superhero base, he thought to himself "though the mansion likely has a very secure system. But it's not just about the money. There's nostalgia to it. You see, Bruce and I go back- I knew him since we both were in diapers."
Oswald quirked a brow again. "So you're planning to rob him." It was more a statement than a question. Although, he understood the nostalgia aspect to it. He'd been there before himself.
But there was something... off, for Black to be simply robbing Bruce Wayne, next to the detail of nostalgia even it was odd. But with the theory that Bruce Wayne was gone, entirely, it could somewhat make sense.
"I'll send my people, sure, but I'd like to settle this deal face to face. What do you say? We shake on it?" He spoke with feigned friendliness.
"He he, yep. Brucey and I drifted apart over the years as we became rivals, so part of it is payback. But I would like to return and get some keepsakes. I miss the time I spent with him, when things were simpler and I didn't realize how rotten this society could be." Black Mask said the last part with absolute sincerity. He called his bodyguards to head to meet Penguin in the Iceberg Lounge in person, wearing another mask to hide his identity.
Black Mask entered the building. It was as fake as he remembered. He told them he had an appointment with Mr. Cobblepot and went into his office
Now revenge was a more understandable motive for Mask to be raiding Wayne manor. Raiding it for valuable goods made sense as well to an extent, but considering Mask himself was already quite wealthy, and some decorations he could sell didn't seem like much. But money was money. "Ah, I see. I'll be looking forward to seeing you, old friend."
Upon Mask entering his office, he'd greeted him with a firm nod and a feigned pleasant smile. "Roman, how pleasant to be seeing you in person." He stood up from his armchair, umbrella in hand. "You've been well, I suppose?" Best to get the pleasantries out of the way first.
Roman? He hasn't gone by that name for a long time. It was a mask he shed off years ago.
"Of course. Recently acquired a chunk of new Gotham after Stefano Mandragora was killed by freaks, bless his heart."
"My condolences to him and his loved ones." He spoke in a drawl, he could care less about Stefano. "My compliments to you on that, my friend. Considering the Bat has disappeared there have been quite a number of turf wars going on. Have you had any problems recently?"
Oswald himself hadn't, luckily, most people were too afraid. And the one's insane enough to do so were, well, more than likely deceased from causing problems for other big-shots.
"It's been difficult maintaining peace for sure. I'm often left picking up the remains of such turf wars. But other than that, it's been going good. A little deal here and there, and ta-da!"
Black Mask wanted to get down to business "But onto your Croc infestation, and my little project"
"Ah, I'm pleased to hear that." Oswald chuckled faintly at his comment on deals, from the perspective of one businessman to another, it was no foreign thing.
The change into a formal setting was abrupt, but expected. If Black hadn't switched their too-casual conversation into business mode, Oswald would've. "Indeed. You can expect my people by tomorrow afternoon. And on your end?"
"I'll send security to beef up the place. Croc is known to have thick skin and muscles so they will be carrying armor-piercing bullets."
Croc was a dangerous foe for sure. He wasn't sure if he could be relied on for future plans. If he was around, his goons would be in danger of being eaten
"Of course, we might have to deal with him in a more permanent manner if he continues to be a problem. "
"I'm glad we see eye to eye on that." Oswald shone him a menacing grin, and if a grin could be described as venomous, that would be a fitting term for Oswald's.
"Deal. When's the earliest you are able to send your people?" He wants to check for confirmation, offering his hand to shake on it.
Mask shook the hand "They will arrive here by tomorrow. Pleasure to meet you face to face Oswald."
"The pleasure is mine, my friend. Always a pleasure to do business with you." Oswald spoke surprisingly genuinely, retracting his hand.
"Hope to see you again old friend"
Mask left the area, and headed back to his bunker, satisfied with his deal.