"-sources say there is no one claiming the apparent vanishing of the factory yet. No one knows where the real factory has gone but there have been many theories such as teleportation, alien camouflage, and even it was never there at all. I'm Vicky Vale signing-off,"
"What is this town turning into," my Mom sighed, looking dead on her feet.
"Gotham's been weird for a while," I recalled as Liam and Gabby chatted excitedly about the event. Meta, aliens, Batman, and even trading cards were all hot topics for recess gossip.
Returning to my room, I waited until everyone was out of the apartment before I asked Lab to shift around under my bed, bringing forth the suitcase. Lab was still going strong on energy, I hadn't asked him to do too much and unlike my other monsters he existed in a slightly different dimension and would bleed over if I stayed in one spot too long.
The suitcase was thick and made of metal and when I flipped it open, stacks of cash were laid in front of me. Dozens of bills still with that weird white band around them.
I remember grabbing it and stuffing it into Lab before I turned the entire factory into a prop, but... I was hoping for documents or some big evil stamped with a penguin mark.
The bills were all in 100 dollar notes which meant exchanging them casually was out of the damn question...
"I could just go about donating all of it to random different charities or leaving the case near an orphanage or something," I mused.
Thinking hard, what I managed to do last night was noticeable, but it hardly caused the plan to drive the rent up across these buildings to stop. No, the Penguin was still safe and I didn't have too long before we were screwed.
Putting the money away, I felt my power flex, presenting more packs as I thought about what to do.
The Giant Rat sounded great, but I didn't feel like summoning a monster, hoping it gets destroyed soon rather than later. The spell card Toll was interesting and I eyed the other card in my hand.
Prohibition.
Tax and ban.
I was pretty sure those two things were terms Mr Cobblepot didn't like.
"You know, I'll hitch a ride to the outskirts be that ass who uses $100 to pay for a can of coke and quit my job. That case has enough cash per night to last me months," I said and nearby, Lab turned some of my bedroom wall into mosaic colours resembling a smiling face.
I think I was going to visit the Iceberg Lounge tonight, check if their pipes were up to code...
Oswald Cobblepot leaned back in his office chair, his unobstructed view of his lounge behind bulletproof and one-way glass windows let him feel rather big over all the idiots flocking to his club to buy overpriced vodka.
He chuckled around a fat cigar as the girl on the arm of the chair giggled as he pinched her thigh. Her black and white suit mixed with fishnets was the uniform for the ladies here and Oswald loved it.
His office was a round affair with an expensive aquarium and massive sitting area for guests. He has two different emergency exits and no air vent bigger than his fist going in and out.
Tonight, he had a collection of potential buyers from Italy and even a Korean interested in setting up a 'fish market' with the Cobblepot name. It was always good to see the market was healthy if nothing else.
He was just bringing the subject around to sales and items of interest when a light flashed on his desk, unseen by the men.
"Help yourself to the drinks, gentlemen. I'm going to check on the club before we get down to business. Ensure no undesirables are lurking," he smiled at them and no one smiled back, some avoiding his face.
Oswald had that effect on people.
Barely restraining a snarl at their disrespect, he shuffled out of the office and down to the team he hired to watch all purchases and goings of the club.
"What?" he demanded of the team of ten in shirts and headsets. Their office was at the back of the club and had nothing in it but pure tech and screens to monitor the club. Oswald poured a pretty penny into giving them all the fastest updating numbers and security tech.
"Sir, in the last thirty minutes, every purchase done electronically has been exactly 50% lower than it should be. Every card, machine, or swipe device to any account is registering only half of the cash we're supposed to have earned," a man said briskly and Oswald stared for a moment.
"Sir, we're getting close to losing almost six thousand dollars already," the man said and another jumped up.
"Its affecting food orders now!" he added.
Oswald thought quickly.
"Make it happy hour, free drinks then raise the price once we cut this little thief out of our system," he commanded them.
A woman near the back, a sallow faced woman with a somber expression looked confused as she touched her headset then her face drained of all colour.
"Mister Cobblepot, s-sir," she began and Oswald turned, hands gripping his umbrella tightly, the inner mechanism for firing a pistol like round rather tempting right now, but he resisted since it wasn't his people fucking him over.
"The supplies, anything that's not on the bars... it's all empty," she whispered. He felt dizzy, his mind trying to make the words form.
"That's nearly 100 grand worth of stockpiled drinks. Crates of imported beer, crafts, expensive wines... what do you mean it's all gone?!" he screamed.
"Find the thief! Find them and bring them to me so I can play hopscotch in his fucking ribs!" The penguin screamed, squawking in rage.
"I found the alcohol!" another of the security team said in surprise. Oswald inhaled, trying his best not to shoot someone.
"Good work, where?" he asked, forcing calm.
The answer made him shoot the screens in rage.
I was just another face in the crowd, watching with awe as dozens of bottles, crates, wine bottles, and more just floated out to sea. A few brave souls were diving for them, coming back with either cheap beer or a bottle of wine worth a small house.
I looked around, finding people clapping and cheering somewhat... but it felt different than the usual antics of the meta community or such. The people who could only watch the Iceberg Lounge from a distance were all excited, laughing and pointing at the gobsmacked upper class waiting in line as the 'peasants' stole their nightcaps.
It could be so easy to get addicted to this feeling but I remembered that nutjob a while back. Anarky. I tried not to curl a lip in disgust. He was the one who tried to force a business on the port to shut down by threat of terrorist bombing...
Yeah, I didn't want to go that far either. To be fair, I have options Anarky very likely didn't.
Moving away from the crowd, I wanted to go home and shower. I had to use Lab to get me close enough in the damn sewers to the basement of the Iceberg Lounge. Not an easy feat without flooding the tunnel, but I eventually found one of the building's foundations to tap into for my cards.
Sirens were incoming and I smiled as I vanished into the darkness of Gotham. I kind of liked watching things go to hell for the Penguin from the shadows. Made me feel all sneaky.
"It's closer to magic than is not," the aged man said, putting his top hat back on after a moment of feeling about. Batman didn't exactly feel comfortable standing about, but the invisibility spell Giovanni cast ensured some privacy.
"Closer? Should it not be either or?" Batman asked, raising a brow and Giovanni Zatara gave a small scoff.
"Just as accurate as saying green is closer to blue than red, technically it's true, but the difference is quite important," the magician explained before he pulled his cape around him.
"The 'magic' has flavours of magi, but it doesn't. It has feelings of hell, but it's far less aggressive, it has feelings of shadow, but lacks corruption. I'm sensing nature, techno, and more. The only distinction is the formations the curses are taking now," Giovanni admitted before he gestured Batman to retreat with him. The Penguin's shrill voice could be heard from around the building demanding heads for his stolen stock.
Batman would send Cobblepot a $100 check in sympathy.
"Conditional curses and magic. It's a sort of hard magic to work since very rarely do you have time to make strong enough magic to suit the conditions on the fly. Most common application is protection on ancient tombs or old secrets. The sort of 'touch and get a boulder chasing you' idea," the resident magic expert explained as they entered Giovanni's car and drove off. Batman left the Batmobile parked outside the Zatara home.
"As much as I would like to place Penguin in a museum or in a box in a warehouse, he's hardly a treasure worth cursing," Batman said evenly.
"The magic is odd, more a sort of... peel and apply from what I sense. Very much a copy and paste job, so the caster likely didn't need to work very hard once the original spell was crafted," Giovanni admitted, stroking his goatee.
"Just what I need... every bank and criminal being robbed blind," Batman sighed, but even as he said this, he was sure that wouldn't be happening.
This grudge? This battle?
The 'almost' magician had a debt to settle with Cobblepot.
Not that the idea of disliking Cobblepot reduced the number of suspects, but it was a start.
I was back in my secret base later that night, too energized to go home and chill. The crappy rundown place I first summoned my monsters. The water pump building was a bit odd since Lab kept changing its insides to be spherical, rectangle, and more.
I looked down at the map I bought of Gotham.
It was one of those proper ones that didn't bother treating you like a tourist. It was printed last year so I was pretty confident in its reliability.
"I forget how big this city is," I admitted to Lab who was nearby. I reached over and tapped once of the bricks and Lab flipped it to reveal a white circle, after a moment, his choice of a white cross appeared in another corner.
It turned out Lab really liked Tic-Tac-Toe.
I scratched my chin, trying to recall what I remember about the city from old Mrs Chamber's class, but beyond recalling Judge Solomon Wayne and his partner... Pinkney, I didn't really know why Gotham City was so gothic and dark.
I tapped the map, deciding to see if I could see any places that Penguin might own or have a hand in. At the very north of the map was Crest Hill, across Kane Bridge. I heard money grew on trees there apparently.
Downwards, Kane Bridge neared and emptied out basically into Amusement Mile. I heard it wasn't a half-bad place to go now that the rides didn't kill you anymore and the Clown was...
Well, the less said, the better.
Down there was Gotham Village.
"Go to the village and you're lucky to come back with just your kidneys missing," I told Lab who grinded another game up.
Then was the Narrows. I found my building on the thinning line between the Narrows and Gotham Heights. The Narrows were the poor folk and the Heights were the poor folk who inherited nice houses.
I didn't see the Penguin having anything obvious about these places. Sure, he was involved in the building rents, but that was never going to be clear unless you saw it for yourself. No, I was more interested in the west of Heights, towards the Coral District.
It was a massive import and export off the Gotham River... which may or may not be currently filled with drifting booze.
As I waited, I felt my power surge.
Another day, another card! I drew, looking over his selections.
Another Labyrinth Wall? I could feel it was selectable as another card or as... energy? Yeah, energy to fed into my current Lab to restore its power.
"So, that's how I keep you all around," I mused aloud, but Lab was still above half. He hadn't done too much strenuous work beyond shifting a few walls. When I actually used him to trap foes or transform a building, then I'd worry.
I selected the Black Pendant, a bit curious at what it meant by increasing attack power. One I had it, I used it, the thing appearing with a ripple of dark shadows before I plucked it. Turning it over, showed a massive black gemstone set into a golden frame.
"Something else I wish I could sell, but I'd get ripped off," I admitted and tried it on, feeling a bit weird as I wasn't a necklace or ring kind of person.
Who'd want to wear heavy gold jewelry while playing with cards? It was a neck killer.
The moment the necklace was on, flashes of energy filled my body and my eyes opened wide as I felt not only amazing... I felt incredible. I flex a hand open and closed for a moment, feeling power I had never possessed before course through my veins.
I felt like I could run a marathon and when I held out a hand, tiny flickers of black fire appeared in my palm, flickering.
Did... I just make magic?"
I could feel the pendant dip ever so slightly in energy as I made a fireball then put it out.
"Right, don't let it go to my head. I'm on a strict magic budget," I muttered to myself.
I asked Lab to help and a moment later, my map was on the wall, slightly absorbed by the wall to avoid me needing nails.
The pendant felt cool against my skin as I left.
"They're somewhere in Gotham," he said, leaning against his bike as it was parked across the river, keeping Bristol and Gotham separated. The city ahead was like a crouched demon, waiting for him to come closer.
The voice on the phone asked something.
"No, I'm not mistaking it for another two-bit hedge mage," he growled, pulling off his sunglasses to stare at the city.
There was a pause and another question.
"No... not exactly. The city kind of has this tar aura about it. It's like looking through a grimy window. He chose well to hide here," he admitted, unzipping his jacket to reveal a sprawling tattoo across his barrel chest.
A plunging sword with two wings coming off its pommel.
He put the phone on speaker and a woman's voice came through.
"Logain... make it simple. I don't want this being a spectacle," she warned and he scoffed as he patted his bike, the illusion of the normal metal shifting. The visage shifted to a demonic skull bike with glowing red eyes that seemed snarl.
"Yeah, yeah, behave. Dokurorider already gave me permission, you hunk of junk," Logain growled back.
"Don't fail," the woman said and disconnected.
"You think she spent her afternoons listening to shitty cartoon villains talking," Logain sighed as he kicked the demonic bike into throttle and drove off, the faintest whiff of sulphur in the air.
Two of them faced each other, a simplest table between them. He was relaxed and calm, she was tense and in chains.
He moved a black piece forward, it was a piece depicting a skull wearing a helmet. The woman's only white piece remained as it was, its image unformed.
"Why is it always chess? What's wrong with a good match of poker? Or perhaps dice?" the black being mused and she narrowed her eyes before looking down at her only piece.
"Mortals consider the game to be a symbol of advance planning and tactics," she finally said and the man snorted with derision
"They have created far more interesting games; but alas... your move," he offered and she raised her hands, the chains pulling tightly, her fingers missing the piece by inches.
"You are frustrated, but not afraid, odd," the being said as he watched her. This time, she smiled a cold smile.
"You are bored but agitated. It must be sad to be forced to play by the very rules you detest, no? You may bind me, but I have already given my piece what he needs..." she said, sweeping her eyes across him.
"Freewill."
The white piece wobbled all by itself.