When the night is dark
Chapter 2
Voices in the dark
Victor didn't move, his fists clenched his teeth biting his lip very hard, he was shaking a little – but not of the all filling, sneaky cold, but the anger he felt. "Why you ask?", he repeated Gordon in a pressed tone. "Because of people like you."
Gordon didn't understand what Zsasz meant by this, and shrugged it off. "I'm only a copper, doing my job, Victor. It's been only a matter of time, that he'd take his life. He's always been unstable and-" Jim immediately aborted his little speech, as he stared into the barrel of a gun.
"Please. Go on. Give me a reason to shoot your bloody brains out.", Victor asked the captain of the GCPD in a very quiet and polite voice. Jim raised his hands in a defensive manner.
"Wow, Victor, calm down. You don't want to shoot me in front of the whole GCPD. Do you? Do you even realise what big of a favour to Oswald it is, that I got that many men out here, on the search for his corpse? He's Gothams major crime-lord not the mayor, at least not any more. Normally nobody would be searching that large of an area for the corpse of a gangster."
Victor slowly released the safety catch of his gun.
"Yeah, I think compared to your search-party last time Oswald went missing, WHEN HE WAS SHOT", he shouted angrily, "this is quite an extensive search. One might think you're more interested to make sure he's really dead than you were keen to rescue our mayor, after a night of havoc and terror. This may just throw a slightly bad light at the GCPD, Jim. One may think your actions aren't as pure as you're trying to sell them." In Victors voice resonated some dangerous accusation.
"Watch your words, Victor.", Gordon answered, grabbing the barrel to pull the gun down.
"What...? Are we afraid of the truth? Wouldn't be the first time, would it, Gordon? - but maybe you just have a thing for dead mayors – if former, or freshly elected."
Gordon immediately pulled his own gun. "What did you just say?"
"I said that if you and your cops would have done your god damn job, Oswald pretty sure would still be mayor. And maybe we now wouldn't stand here."
"Watch your mouth, Victor, I'm warning you."
"Oh, fuck you Gordon.", he relocked his gun and put it away. "You're so full of shit. I kinda regret not finishing the job, before Falcone pulled it off.", Victor mentioned in a very dry voice as he turned away from Gordon. But enough was enough. Jim pushed the hitman down, and fixated him in a wristlock.
"Victor Zsasz you're arrested on the suspicion of the murder of Oswald Cobblepot."
"WHAT? You got to be kidding me, Jim!"
"You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.", the captain went on.
"You're not seriously arresting me now!? You're wasting my precious time to save Oswald, Gordon. What ever Nygma's planning..."
"You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."
"Are you even listening!?"
Jim pushed Victors face in the mud.
"I can hear you pretty well, Victor. But at this given time – you're the only witness, to a suicide without a body." Gordon pulled the hitman up and pushed him into a car.
"Don't worry, if your friend really is still alive us - the police will find him. That's what we do. If not he'll be washed ashore someday. And from what I heard: I wouldn't waste much thoughts on Nygma. Cause he hasn't many of his own any more. At least not brilliant ones."
As if that was comforting Victor in any way. His answer was a sneery hissing at the stupid words.
Jim slammed the door shut, and took Oswalds personal killer back to the station. He just had enough with all that gangster playing the rulers of Gotham – and acting as if they were superior to the GCPD. The hitman surely hit a nerve, after the debacle with Harvey. And it was true: With Oswald he wasn't on good terms right now. But wasn't that how it was supposed to be? After all Jim was a cop – more so, the captain of the GCPD – and Penguin a dangerous criminal that managed to control the whole city, including the police. Jim sighed. But after all, Oswald did him many favours – and Jim believed in the good of him, which he knew existed. Which he saw. He knew Cobblepot. The psychopathic murderer and crime boss – but also the kind, loving and emotional man that would do everything for the people near to him. His eyes wandered to the rear-view mirror, to find Victor staring out of the window, with a very tense body language. That's when Gordon stopped the car. "Tell me more about that huge dog-like-human, you claimed you saw next to Nygma."
Oswald slowly lifted his way to heavy eyelids, narrowly blinking. Blazing light blinded him, as he awoke. A pain filled groan left his dry, bursted lips. Strands of his hair fell over his eyes, which he tried to blow away. Where was he? Did he die? Wherever he was: he lay there in total silence. What had happened? It took him a second to remember, but finally his memories returned short after. The bridge. Right... he tried to commit suicide. Did Victor manage to stop him? No. He couldn't. Oswald remembered losing his hitmans grasp. He remembered falling, when his body went limp and numb, because of the medication. He even remembered hitting the roaring surface of Gotham River – and sinking below. He remembered water filling his mouth, nose and finally his lungs... It took him way to long to lose his consciousness. But that's it, after that: Only darkness. Cold. Pain. Silence. And then nothing. He had to be dead. Because now Oswald felt completely dry and warm. He wasn't sweating like after any other nightmare he awoke of, so – was this heaven? Or more likely hell? But why did it feel so comfortable just lying here? Was he in... a bed? When he suddenly recognized music being played. He knew that sound. And that voice which sang along.
"The fire has gone out, wet from snow above...
But nothing will warm me more, than my, my mother's love.
I light another candle, dry the tears from my face."
Oswald tried to raise a hand to his eyes, to cover them from the light to see what's going on around him. But he noticed immediately that he couldn't. His hands were chained down, next to him, with very few space left to move. His eyes widened in panic. He started to struggle.
„Nothing can protect me more than my mother's warm embrace...
The path ahead is dark, so dark I cannot see..."
This was bad. This was really bad. Oswald tried to sit up, he fought the chains, which pinned him down, but he didn't stand a chance. The light still was too bright, he only saw white... His eyes narrowed as he raised his head to search the room...
"But I will not fear 'cause my mother looks over me."
That was when his eyes met with Nygmas. He stood at the end of the bed, bent over him, hands pressed into the bed, next to Oswalds legs to support himself. He was way to close. On those lips, beneath the dark brown, eyes of a killer formed an evil smirk.
"Hello, Oswald."
Edward greeted him in his well known, manner.
Something of pure darkness rested in his voice. Oswalds ice blue eyes stared at him in disbelieve – and panic. Even his pupils were shaking at the sight in front of him. Dressed all in green, in his eyes a more demonic look than ever. And cold. That deep, warm brown eyes radiated nothing but cold, even so his lips were entangled into that weird and creepy smile. Even if he wanted to, not a single sound left Oswalds dry throat. He was completely paralysed, as he pulled his eyes away from Nygma, to have a look around. The room looked astonishingly similar to Edwards old flat, in which he once nursed him back to life. With some small differences: The room had no windows. None ate all. Only concrete. This wasn't a real room, but some strange kind of replica. Was this supposed to be a prison? Or a torture-room? Ed really did hit that rebuilding. He didn't miss a detail. Some flat version of the green billboard, which stood in front of his window, illuminating one half of the room in a deep green. The piano, that Zelda-Plate next to it, with the lights on. Everything was exactly the same, narrowed down to even the slightest details, like the bedsheets. Those sheets were exactly the same as those, under which he awoke in the original room. Okay, this now started to utterly freak him out. Has he now gone totally nuts?
It took Oswald a while to start speaking. His voice was coarse, his mouth dry, as he started:
"What the hell, Ed?"
The Riddler seemed pretty much gleeful about this, clapping his hands in joy, laughing weirdly as ever. "Isn't this pretty, Oswald? This is your new home.
"Wait, what? You're not all there, are you, Ed?", Penguin doubted the sanity of his former best friend – who immediately grabbed his jaw, in a very firm grip.
"Don't be such an ungrateful, spoiled brat, Oswald.", the Riddler hissed against his face. "You could as well be dead right now."
He was too close. Oswald felt Eds breath on his lips, who slowly stroke his right cheek in a very weird manner. Edward enjoyed seeing the panic in his counterparts blue eyes. He just loved the way Penguin looked as if he would burst into tears any second now.
"Relax, it's for your own safety, if you don't struggle. You have been grievously injured.", Ed now nearly murmured, causing the other man to try to get as far away from him as possible. Which wasn't very far. Only as far as his arms reached, then he was stopped by the chains. Which meant, me more or less was lying again. The crime-boss shut his eyes, as hard as possible. In hope, that when he opened them again Nygma was gone... but he wasn't. On the contrary: Ed had climbed above him, Staring down at his face. Again: Way too close. But now Oswald couldn't flee any further. He just pressed down his head into the pillow, trying to at least escape a little.
"You are as rude as always, Oswald. How about a 'thank you, for saving me, Ed?' No? Nothing? Really? Okay." That's when he suddenly slapped Cobbplepots right cheek with brutal force. Leaving a bloody stain on his lips. A surprised yelp had left the prisoners mouth, followed by a suppressed whimper. Just to find his jaw once again wedged between Edwards fingers. "I don't want to hurt you, Oswald. Don't make me punish you for your behaviour.", his words nearly were as soft as Penguin remembered them to be. A long time ago, in the mansion, when they lived together. A single tear left the corner of his eye and met the fingers, holding him vice-like. For a second this seemed to irritate his captor, but he very quickly returned to his routin:
"Don't ignore me, Oswald."
"...Why...?", he asked with a crackled voice.
"Well. This may sound crazy at start.", Ed made a wide gesture with his hands, as he started telling. "But I thought about what happened, and about all our time together. And well: You're right, I need to finish things in the exact same fashion as I started them.", he smirked. "So I decided to do this all over again. Grant us a new start. For our friendships sake. And... to once again become the man I was meant to be. That man I only ever was..." he closed in even more. Their lips were nearly touching, when Ed whispered: "When I was with you."
Then he immediately jumped the bed, leaving Oswald completely confused, with his heart racing and beating as if it wanted to leave his chest.
"I knew that you wouldn't be as excited about this, as I am – at the start. - But I know the idea will grow to you. And if you ever try to flee I'll let my friend Grundy here, crush your skull.", Edward laughed way to expansive about what he said, as he revealed some... what was this? Strange monster-man? Wait a second, was this Butch Gilzean? Painted in green with a new haircut? The hell was this thing!?
"Butch!?", blurted the question over his lips. A question that seemed to anger the Riddler.
"Grundy, may you please leave us alone and wait outside, thank you my friend."
"BUTCH!? What's he done to you!?", Oswald shouted, as the big, monster-double of Butch left the room without any further hesitation. "The hell, Ed? I mean he's always been… mouldable, but to make monster out of Butch? Seriously!?"
"Would you please shut up, Oswald.", Eds harsh voice stopped Oswald from going on, "I didn't turn him into a monster. I merely found him, And.. helped him through a hard time. Because that's what friends do. They help each other and don't go off, killing their girlfriends." Ed started to nearly spit the words, near the end.
Penguin only rolled his eyes. "Not this again."
"Oh no, it IS this again. You killed her, Oswald!"
"So much for a 'new start'" He tried to make some quotes along, but ended up doing them into the covers.
"Why can't you even try, to be a decent human being, Oswald? Why needs everything be commented by a dismissive eye-roll?" Nygma seemed to be a little angry, Penguin thought. As he turned his eyes from him. "You'll never change, will you?"
"Oh I changed. And you too as it seems: into some weird, totally nuts psychopath. Probably still dumb as a stump, cause you didn't throw me any crazy riddles yet and – well – who in his right mind - would think of something like that?", Oswald laughed. But not for long, as Edward jumped over and grabbed him by the collar. His eyes now filled with hate.
"Maybe I should just finally end your life.", Ed hissed, as he slid his fingers around Oswalds neck.
"That, what ever crazy scenario this is, looks like a lot of effort to pull off, for just killing me now, doesn't... it...?", Penguin slightly smiled in a provoking way, as he started to struggle for breath, coughing the last words more pressed and troubled.
/Come on Eddie. Just do it already./, Ed's imaginary doppelgänger did not yet stand next to him, but his voice returned to his head. /Break that stupid birds neck already./ Nygma shook the thought off, as he released Oswalds neck again. His lips already coloured in a slightly blue touch – the small man started to cough heavily and gasp for breath. Without any further words, Edward took a water bottle from the nightstand, opened it and downright forced the water down Oswalds throat. "Dehydration is dangerous.", was the only thing Edward noted, as he pulled a syringe out of the drawer, preparing it for injection.
Cobblepot still tried to swallowed the water, as he noticed what Edward was doing.
"Wait, no! Don't! You're not yourself, this might be dang-"
Nygma put his hand over Oswalds mouth, pushing his head to the side, as he injected a calming drug in his veins.
"Don't worry... I feel like the man I lost is coming back for you, Oswald.", Ed smiled as he stroke the swollen cheek he hit before. "So maybe you'd have been better off, with freezing 'not even Ed Nygma', when you had the chance."
Penguin struggled to keep his eyes opened, as he became dizzy.
"What... 've u done..."
"With a little help from our all time favourite Doctor, Lee Thompkins and some trigger events... I'm becoming myself again. And you – Mr. Penguin – are a significant key indicator in all of these scenarios..." Edward just sat there. Next to him, watching his former friend doze off. "I may just have to push a little harder."
/It'll be my pleasure to crush that bird, with my own hands, once I'm back in charge, Eddie. Don't worry. It will be horrific./, the hallucinated voice laughed. /What is based on previous actions and feels relieving for one, but horrible for another?/ - "Revenge."
Oswald was fast asleep, as Ed started to talk to himself, as he once used to do... Chuckling, talking, discussing, They started to get along very fast. Edward hated that stupid version of himself. He was supposed to be the smartest person. And he was supposed to be smarter than Oswald, yet he always outsmarted him. This was nagging on his ego. Something that had to stop. He had to become himself again. He had to take revenge. But something in him threw a more longing and way more softer look over to sleeping Oswald. Something he forbade himself immediately, when he turned off the lights.
End of Chapter 2