Chapter Ten: The Galavan-Gordon Deal

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews, SilverIce523. C.S. Allen, thanks again! Here's another chapter 😊


Sylvia sat in the driver's seat of her car. Her passenger was Victor Zsasz, who idly gave her a once-over. They'd been sitting in silence for ten minutes. The original plan was to head to the Sirens, get Barbara Kean to give them any information on Nygma's current whereabouts, then go visit him to tie off some loose ends.

"Have you heard anything from Benson?" Sylvia asked suddenly.

Victor peered at her inquisitively, "No. Should I have?"

"He's been dealing with the gangs on the Mainland, getting them coordinated on my behalf."

"If he's working for you, shouldn't you get that update?"

Sylvia side-glanced him with a sly smile (the first smile he'd seen since getting in the car with her).

"He knows you're with me," She reminded. "If I don't pick up the phone, he knows to contact you instead."

"I'm not your secretary." Victor uttered, a disgruntled edge to his tone.

"No one said you were. Has he contacted you?"

"Nope."

Sylvia nodded: "Interesting."

"What business does Benson have off this island anyway? I thought he served as Paddock's old accountant," Victor questioned, crossing his arms comfortably over his chest after he reclined his seat back.

"He was the connection between the Paddock Family—ergo, Gotham—and the Mainland's gangs. Money from the island to the mainland ebb and flow like water in the riverbed," said Sylvia softly. "Isaac was a conduit between Gotham and the Mainland's resources. Benson was—and is—still the go-between."

"You're saying he's a pack mule?" Victor joked.

"A pack mule is a transport."

"Fine. Benson is the one controlling the pack mules."

"Crude, but accurate," Sylvia muttered.

"That has to be a boring life, being the human equivalent of a cargo ship."

"Benson is good at what he does. When Isaac died, the mainland gangs assumed no one would collect old debts—just like they all did when Oswald took over after Falcone retired. Now, Barbara may not care about what Isaac stood for, but I do. And she's too stupid to realize how dependent she should be on the Paddock Family."

"Guess she should have taken a leaf out of your book…" Victor said flatly, closing his eyes.

"What leaf is that?"

"The same leaf Penguin took out of Falcone's."

"And that is?"

"Gotta know the business before you try to run it." Victor said lazily. "If you ask me, Barbara Kean's management would have been the equivalent of what would have happened if Maroni had taken charge."

"Maroni was a hothead."

"Yep, and he didn't care about cooperation. Don Falcone's way was better."

"You're biased because you used to work for him."

"Penguin observes and follows Don Falcone's business strategy. You might want to check your own bias at the door."

"If Barbara is Maroni and Oswald is Falcone, whose strategy would mine resemble?"

"If I had to guess—Fish Mooney."

Sylvia rolled her eyes: "I love how every single guy in this city compares me to that woman."

"Well, you worked for her long enough. I guess some of it rubbed off. It's not a bad thing."

"Aside from the fact that Fish ended up betraying Falcone in the end."

"Yeah," said Victor, opening his eyes as he surveyed the car's roof with disappointment. "That's true."

"Oswald is 'Falcone' and I'm 'Fish Mooney'. You basically implied that I would betray him for the throne. Thanks a lot. That's a real good comparison. So flattering."

The car came to a standstill when the light turned red. She peered up at it with a hint of annoyance. Victor noticed.

"I thought you'd be in a far better mood, considering you're a mother again."

"I'm exceptionally happy," Sylvia responded, turning her head to look at him. "I've just got other things on my mind."

The light changed to a fluorescent green. When it did, the car started forward; they were on the move again.

Victor clicked his tongue, "Do you really think after what you did to Barbara, she's going to tell you where Nygma is? They're practically working together."

"Barbara won't. Our friendship ended when she stole my club…"

"And when you dislocated her shoulder."

"May the punishment fit the crime," Sylvia returned apathetically, turning her eyes from Victor. "I only gave her a taste of the pain she caused me."

"And I approve," Victor chuckled. "I'm not saying I'm disappointed. But it does narrow down your sources."

"Just because Barbara won't tell me where he is doesn't mean my sources have been tapped out."

"How's that now?"

The car stopped in front of the Sirens club. Victor got out before Sylvia had put it in 'park' and moved around the front to open her door. As she climbed out, she grinned up at him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Ooh, public displays of affection. I'm embarrassed." He kidded.

Sylvia rolled her eyes playfully before she left his side, entering the club. The club itself was alive with music, drinking, and plenty of guests just as it had been before.

Barbara Kean and Tabitha Galavan were sitting at the bar, casually drinking. When Sylvia approached, Tabitha moved slightly in front of Barbara as if to protect her; with her, five other bodyguards stepped forward to do the same.

"What are you doing here?" asked Barbara harshly.

"I'm here on business." Sylvia offered. She held out her hand.

Victor reached inside the innermost pocket of his vest and handed her a rather large clip of money which Sylvia placed on the bar counter, sliding it in Barbara's direction. She and Tabitha exchanged meaningful glances.

"What is this?" The latter demanded.

"It's money, obviously. I thought you'd be able to tell." Sylvia said sarcastically.

"No shit. Who is it from?" Tabitha questioned.

"The Fences. It's what Lucas was withholding from your share. Five-thousand dollars. Some interesting characters you hired, Babs. I'm kind of disappointed that you didn't do your research before hiring them." Sylvia shrugged half-heartedly, adding, "But I guess I could see why he thought he would've made a worthy candidate. Big strong man, ego the size of Mexico: anyone could have been fooled."

Barbara placed a hand on the counter, her fingers slipped around the neck of a martini glass.

"How's your shoulder?" Sylvia asked gently.

"Better. Thanks for asking. It still hurts." Barbara said unhappily.

"What's your business here?" Tabitha demanded curtly. "Why are you here?"

Sylvia looked at her: "Right to the point. Got it. Well, I'll just do the same. I'm here for Nygma. He and I had a small chat before he left but it was a very one-sided discussion, as I'm sure you're aware."

"Nygma isn't anywhere to be found," Barbara stated airily. "Police can't find him, you know."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Wow. Won't Jim be disappointed in your lack of faith."

"Considering he already knows, I don't think he really cares," said Sylvia cynically. "And you can stop trying to protect Nygma. I know you know where he is. You two were awfully chummy enough to get on my bad side—what are you willing to do to make sure I don't fuck up your other shoulder?"

"Go 'head and try it," Tabitha dared. She pulled out the whip.

Sylvia turned to her, grinning from ear-to-ear: "I'm surprised you're protecting him too, considering what he did to your hand."

Barbara scoffed, "We're done here." She walked away.

Tabitha watched after her. There was a certain troubled look in the way she watched after her, a hidden bitter resentment that swam in her soft brown eyes.

"You want him dead."

Tabitha startled, glancing at Sylvia again.

Sylvia smiled knowingly: "Don't you? I know you hate me, but after he cut off your hand, I bet you just really want him gone. I hear he electrocuted Butch too, trying to find out why you and him allegedly killed Isabella. I'm guessing not being able to kill Nygma must be eating away at you."

Tabitha frowned, saying, "You're the person he needed to electrocute. Your hand should have been the one he cut off."

"Maybe. Let me ask you this though, Tabby." Sylvia stepped towards her, and Tabitha subconsciously stepped back as if she remembered the strength and ferocity by which Sylvia could operate when she was at her angriest.

"What?"

"If Barbara won't let you kill Nygma, wouldn't the next best thing be someone else going after him?"

"Are we negotiating?"

Sylvia said with a tight smile, "Maybe. If you tell me where Nygma is, maybe there's something I can do for you."

Tabitha calculated the offer. After, she said with resolve, "You must really want him dead if you're willing to do a favor for me."

"Well, how I see it: You killed Oswald's mother, and that was cruel. And you deserve to die because of it. I've been able to live with it this long. However, Nygma killed Oswald and that's been unbearable."

"Are you trying to appeal to my humanity?" Tabitha asked ironically.

"No." Sylvia shook her head. "But I do think that despite your cunt of a personality and all the bullshit you've done either with your brother or with Barbara, I find it hard to believe that if someone killed Butch, you wouldn't be hard pressed to find and kill his murderer."

Tabitha frowned as she turned her head, glancing behind her to see if Barbara was around. When she looked back at Sylvia, she muttered, "Ridgeway Gallery."

Sylvia genuinely smiled.

"Thank you." She uttered gratefully.

"You're welcome."

"What would you like in return? A promise to spare your life or—"

"I'm not too worried about that," Tabitha said half-heartedly. "Even if you made the deal not to kill me, I know you: You hold grudges. And killing your mother-in-law is a grudge I know you'll never let go. So don't try to pretend that you could keep that promise."

"Wow. That's some wise shit that just came out of your mouth. If I didn't despise you so much, I'd admire the hell out of you for saying that," Sylvia said honestly.

"Just…" Tabitha sighed. "When you see Nygma, make him suffer before you give the final blow. And, hey, chop off his hand if you have the time."

Sylvia smirked, saying, "I hate you and all, but if you and I were ever on different timelines, I'd like to think that we could have been friends."

"Ew." Tabitha said, rolling her eyes. "Just go."

Sylvia headed out. She smiled at Victor, who grinned at her.

"I honestly forgot that you were here." She said with a genuine laugh.

"I didn't mind. It was a nice show," said Victor humorously, walking with her out of the club.

Tabitha watched them before she looked down at the bar counter thoughtfully. Despite her dismissive response, she agreed. If she and Sylvia had met each other in other circumstances, perhaps they would have been friends in a different life.