Chapter Thirteen: Blood and Carnage

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Here's a chapter for you. Please note that this chapter is full of gore so if some of my readers are squeamish, please be aware of that. Love ya!


After all the planning that had taken place where Victor Zsasz had done background checks and interrogations on their people shortly after Demetri and Delilah conspired to destroy them, Oswald reconsidered, at this point, that maybe their current staff should have been included in that embargo.

How Gabe had acted out this sort of mutiny was more disarming, considering Oswald always thought Sylvia credited the man's skill much too generously. Who knew (other than Sylvia, perhaps) that Gabe had a brain?

Five men arrived in a car, joining Gabe inside. This, according to him, was his 'sales force'. Oswald's death was going to be auctioned to the highest bidder. The going price was allegedly $50,000.

Gabe sat across from Oswald, who, to his chagrin, was bound by ropes; they restrained his wrists and ankles, and were tied across his chest, proving this to be an inescapable situation—at least without help. This, of course, had been done after he'd been knocked out. Shortly after, Ivy joined him in bonds after being discovered.

She sat in the chair next to him, just as restrained as he.

"I told you there was something off about him," She said, annoyed, "but no one ever listens to Ivy. What does she know?"

"How many times are you going to say that?" Oswald questioned irately.

"Just proving a point."

"Your point has been proven—now you're just beating a dead horse."

"The horse would've been alive if you'd have just listened to me," Ivy reminded again.

All five of Gabe's men were walking around the greenhouse-like building, checking the perimeter for more intruders or eaves droppers.

Oswald rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

Gabe sat back in his chair, gun in hand, as he gestured to Ivy pointedly.

"Don't take it so personally," He said comfortingly. "Penguin ain't too bright about giving people credit where credit is due. A major character flaw if you ask me."

Oswald said sarcastically, "Seriously? 'Don't take it personal'? I'd say this is as 'personal' as it gets."

"Really, Mr. Penguin, you brought this on yourself. You never thought I had it in me to do any of this—especially something like this."

"Is that what this is about? No one gave you a gold star for thuggery. Well, boo-hoo."

"Not 'no one'. Lark did. She respected her people. Yours too. You didn't ever care about what happened to us, just as long as your agenda got settled," Gabe said honestly, his frown deepening.

"And how do you repay her?" Oswald questioned curtly. "By doing this?" He gestured to the room and the situation with his eyes. "Not exactly a show of loyalty."

"Oh, I'm loyal. To her." Gabe said coarsely.

"And you prove that by killing me? What will happen, do you think, when she finds out what you're doing? That isn't something she'll really approve of—I figure you would know that more than anyone."

"Not for nothing, but I spent more time with her than you did." Gabe said, gesturing to him. "You were always too busy being Mayor, being the King of Gotham, and you always took her for granted. You and Nygma alike. Anyway, I'm not going to be the one who kills you."

"A technicality that I guarantee she won't overlook," Oswald acknowledged coldly.

"She already thinks you're dead. She thinks Nygma killed you. Who really kills you ain't gonna say anything to her—if they're smart enough."

"You're sending pictures of me to everyone who might be interested. Including the people who transpired with Nygma to kill me. And word of mouth travels fastest in the Underworld."

Gabe smiled widely: "Yeah, that's why the auction ain't happening in Gotham itself. My boy, Charlie—he only sent your pictures to the Mainland Gangs. They've been getting small change for years under Falcone, under you; and none of them ain't saying a word to Sylvia about killing you so they can keep operating under her…Well, technically, I guess it's still Barbara that's in charge, but Lark's the go-between."

Oswald shifted uncomfortably in his chair: "Seems like you thought this through."

"Yeah." Gabe said proudly. "I did."

Four guys returned to the greenhouse, all talking about what they might do with the pot of money once it'd been split evenly amongst themselves.

Gabe stood, rubbing his hands on his lap as he said victoriously, "Auction's going to make us rich: We'll be able to get out of Gotham and live as kings. No Underworld needed."

He stepped away, including himself on this hypothetical stance that the money will be split evenly. When did that ever happen without inevitable feuding amongst co-conspirators?

Ivy leaned to the side and asked curiously, "Got a plan, by any chance?"

"I'm working on it," Oswald muttered. "You?"

"Maybe."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, your Fate is pretty much sealed, but I'll be fine."

"You have a way out of this?" Oswald hissed.

She uttered passive-aggressively, "Perfectly fine."

"If you have a plan, let me in on it! Come on! What, you want me to beg, is that it?"

"I want you to be nice to me!" Ivy snapped hurtfully.

"Nice to you?"

"Yes! Is that so much to ask!" Her voice raised an octave.

To quiet her down, Oswald promised, "Okay, okay, fine, fine. I'll be nice. I swear. Now, what's your plan? Lay it on me."

Before Ivy spoke, Gabe looked around and asked no one in particular, "Hey, has anyone seen Charlie?"

One of the four men that accompanied him looked around, bewildered, and said, "Nah, he was right behind us though."

Oswald and Ivy glanced at each other uncertainly when they heard a high-pitched male scream coming from the front of the building.

"Tell me this is part of your plan," Oswald whispered.

Ivy quietly answered, "No! I don't even know what that was."

Gabe and his 'sales force' glanced at each other before they all took out their guns and cocked their weapons readily.

"Someone—you—go out and see what—" Gabe began to order but that order fell silent when Charlie's body was chucked through the window, shattering the glass.

His eyes were torn out of his skull and part of his throat was missing.

"Oh shit! Oh, fuck!" Gabe's compadres shrieked and whimpered.

"What did that!"

"What was that!"

"Who the fuck is out there!"

Ivy whimpered, "I'm so scared right now."

"Shh!" Oswald hissed.

"What if it comes for us!" She squeaked, closing her eyes tightly.

"Just stop talking!" He ordered.

"Okay. Not talking."

"You're still doing it."

"You're doing it too!" Ivy said, frightened.

"Just shhh."

Meanwhile, Gabe and his four remaining friends all held out their weapons, ready to pull the trigger. One stepped forward, heading towards the door.

The moment he did, a blur of black clothes and red hair entered the building before it jumped onto his shoulders and ripped his head clear off his body; it was dropped, rolling to the middle of the floor; seeing it, Ivy squeaked in terror and pinched her eyes shut.

"JESUS CHRIST! SHOOT HER!"

She moved forward, dodging bullets, and grabbed one of the men, taking one of their arms in particular. She tore it off in a single yank; the man who was now missing a limb shrieked and screamed in pain, writhing on the floor. That was until she stomped her foot down and squished his head into jelly.

With the limb in her hand, this figure shoved the limb down the next target's throat until he looked like a snake that had gulped down an animal that was much too large for its gullet, and choked on it.

Oswald's eyes widened when he realized it was Sylvia.

The last target that stood next to Gabe had his body ripped in half; blood painted her face and body, and splattered on Gabe, who stepped back with his hands up to deflect and protect himself from the onslaught.

Sylvia grabbed him by the throat, lifting him up before slamming him into the ground, much in the same way she'd done with Tabitha. His mass and her strength vibrated the plants and chairs and tables around them and he groaned.

Her words were spoken in the same ferocity as that of a tiger as she growled, "STAY DOWN!"

Gabe shook where he lain, his eyes widened at her appearance.

Not only did the blood covering her face intimidate him, it was her completely blackened eyes and the odd little black veins that seemed to crawl just beneath her skin. Her clothes, although slim and ebony, were notably covered in blood as she stared him down.

"Pigeon…" Oswald whispered in shock.

Sylvia straightened, and she carefully pulled her glare from Gabe and looked at Oswald stoically. She stepped towards him and wordlessly pulled off his bonds as if they'd been loose strings. After, she barely touched him except to untie his middle and his legs while she sent a calculating gaze towards Ivy.

After, Sylvia moved away and picked Gabe up and forced him to his feet.

"Do you want him dead?" She uttered in a guttural growl.

Oswald stood slowly, glancing between a terrified Gabriel and what appeared to be a demonic entity that controlled her.

"What do you want to do?" He offered—if anything, just to see where her mindset was currently.

"It's not up to me." She mumbled. Her right eye twitched, as did the hand that didn't hold Gabe's shirt by the neck. It was as if her blood lust was now being restrained by Oswald's pending order alone.

Ivy offered with a small smile, "Well, he did say he was loyal to her. Also, do you care to, you know, let me go?"

Oswald nodded before he moved over to her and untied her bindings.

She thanked him happily while Sylvia watched the two of them, curtly evaluating this interesting friendship between her newly alive husband and this mysterious, but familiar-looking, redhead.

After Ivy was freed, Oswald stood in front of Gabe.

"I trusted you," He said coolly. "And how did you repay that loyalty? Betrayal."

Gabe winced when Sylvia shoved him to his knees.

The act alone was heavy-handed, and he hadn't forgotten how his men had been slaughtered.

Even now, he glanced at the torn halves of one comrade; the dismembered head of a second; the torn limb of one who had died from heavy blood loss (and his head having been pulverized into jelly) and the last of whom suffocated due to said limb being stuffed down his throat.

He couldn't imagine what horror would be bestowed upon him if Oswald gave Sylvia the 'go-head'.

He said bravely, "Not for the nothing. But I was there after your mother was killed when no one else was. And how did you repay me? By passing me over for someone like Butch Gilzean. Liv gave me work to do, made me feel useful. You didn't care about any of us. You still don't."

Oswald chuckled, "Wow. A valid point. Perhaps we forget that loyalty must be extended before it can be returned."

"Yeah." Gabe agreed.

"You were loyal to me once, Gabe. I wonder, could you be again?"

"Yes!" He said dramatically, crawling towards him. "Oh, boss, I swear on the oath of my dead mother's grave right now. God rest her soul!"

"No need to be so dramatic. Ivy," Oswald instructed. "Would you mind ensuring that Gabe's oath of loyalty is noble and true?"

Sylvia glanced at the redhead surprisingly, her eyebrows risen. But she didn't say anything.

Ivy, on the other hand, stepped forward, uttering, "If what is what now?"

Oswald inwardly rolled his eyes and muttered, "Make him smell your perfume."

"Right, okay." Ivy held her wrist to Gabe's face, palm facing up.

Sylvia once again glanced between her and Oswald as if she was still calculating the substance of their relationship before Gabe seemed to slacken with reduced fear; she glanced down to see that he wasn't as terrified or tense under her grip and she owed that to whatever 'perfume' Gabe inhaled.

"Uh, raise your right hand." Ivy ordered.

Gabe did so. Sylvia smiled inwardly at how easily he obeyed.

"Do you swear to be loyal and true to Penguin?"

Gabe answered flatly, "No."

Ivy winced, "Oof. Ouch."

Oswald frowned and said indignantly, "I don't understand. Why not? Why can't he be loyal?"

"Go on. Answer him." Ivy directed.

"I never was," Gabe answered dryly. "None of us were. I only followed you out of fear. We all did."

Ivy asked curiously, "Well, did you follow Lark out of fear?"

"No…We respected her. Craved her approval, her leadership, her strength."

Sylvia bent down and uttered ominously in Gabe's ear as she peered up at Oswald, "Not telling me that Oswald was alive and choosing to kill him is an odd way to repay that respect, Gabriel."

Gabe slowly looked up at her: "And I'm sorry."

"Ah, see!" Ivy said with a small, happy giggle (everyone looked at her), "He's sorry. He has to tell the truth. He's honestly sorry. Imagine that!"

"Do you promise to be loyal if I don't kill you where you fucking stand?" Sylvia threatened lowly.

Gabe was silent, glancing at Ivy expectantly.

"I'd answer her if I were you." She offered pleasantly.

"Yes. I promise."

Sylvia glanced at Oswald readily as she straightened: "He was going to literally sell your life to the highest bidder." The veins on her face seemed to darken. "You decide what to do with him."

Oswald offered half-heartedly, "You don't want to weigh in on this?"

An eerie but beautiful smile crossed her face despite her appearance as she softly answered: "I only want your happiness, darling. You tell me what you want, and I'll happily give that to you."

He considered her words. The way she said it, however, perhaps was more of a blanket statement. But he wondered if she commanded this, or if whatever was currently fueled by her emotions that did.

"He promises to be loyal." Oswald decided. "And I need to build my army against Nygma and Barbara, and the others. He'll live…at least for now."

Gabe let out a broken sigh of relief which was muffled by the ground as he lied on his stomach. Oswald muttered something to Ivy about burying the bodies to which she suggested planting roses to cover the smell.

Gabe scrambled to his feet. Sylvia caught him by the scruff of his neck, pulling him back. He looked at her wistfully, ready to thank her for sparing him; however, her voice didn't signify any forgiving mood.

"Mark my words, Gabriel." She said icily. "If you even look like you might betray Oswald again, so much as breathe the wrong way, I'll make sure you pay for it. And trust me. There won't be any bidders to compete for that right."

Oswald watched Sylvia speak lowly to him before she walked out of the greenhouse. When she did, Oswald quickly followed—if anything, just to make sure she didn't go on another killing spree too early, and other reasons.

He saw her outside. With her back to him, he couldn't see her face, but he noticed how clenched her fists were as if she still held back a great deal of punishment that she felt Gabe deserved. He called her name a few times, but she didn't react as if she heard him.

He touched her shoulder and instantly flinched back when she suddenly turned around, glaring at him.

"What!" She snapped.

After a moment of trying to conjure an array of questions he wanted to ask or things he wanted to say, he gestured to her appearance.

"What…happened to you?" He asked carefully.

She didn't answer. It was as if she couldn't. She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her. Oswald first touched her forearms, and she looked at him as if he was a dream, an apparition, that might disappear the moment she believed him to be real, despite having spoken to him and touched him briefly after freeing him from his restraints earlier. Her bottom lip quivered, staring at him as if she were both afraid and happy to see him.

"Pigeon, talk to me."

"Are you…Are you actually here? With me?" She asked timidly.

"I am." He promised.

Her eyes slowly reverted to their soft blue; they were swimming in happy tears. Her face relaxed.

He wiped the blood from her face with his sleeve. Some of it smeared, but most of it was gone. She took his hands, stopping them in their gentle movements.

Sylvia smiled happily and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, pulling him to her. He did the same, rubbing her lower back.

"I've missed you so much…" Her words were caught between a half-sob and a half-laugh.

"And I, you."

"No more near-death experiences." She mumbled against his shoulder. "I don't think I can handle you dying a third time."

"No near-death experiences. Noted." He kissed her cheek and he gave her a once-over, adding, "Can you tell me what happened to make you look…Well…"

"Oh, that." She smiled guiltily. "Long story short? Some shit happened and I went to Strange, got injected with an anti-depressant that contains some of Alice Tetch's blood, got my club back, killed Lucas for hurting Charleen, and made myself a barrier between Barbara and what's left of the Five Families."

Oswald stared at her, still.

"I also ran into Ed before I was shortly interrupted," Sylvia added, gesturing to him. "I left him alive for your killing pleasure after I found out you were here."

He parted his lips to speak before he finally uttered, impressed, "Wow, you've stayed busy."

"Don't I always?"

He grinned at her modesty and asked curiously, "Who's Lucas?"

Sylvia rolled her eyes disparagingly and said with the same tone of voice, "This creep that Barbara put in charge of the Fences. Charleen tried telling him that he was fucking up the works and he dislocated her shoulder…So, naturally, I killed him."

"Oh, and how did that go?"

"I ripped his jaw open."

Oswald waited for her to say that she was joking, but considering the carnage that had just taken place, he doubted she was being humorous. Breezing past that overkill, he asked, "How is she? Charleen?"

"She's fine." Sylvia said with a smile. "She's been living with me, per the usual. She's taken up an alias, though—likes to be called 'The White Rabbit'. Guess she's learned something from us."

"She's better off learning more practical lessons at a school."

"She's going to school."

Oswald chuckled, "How did you manage that?"

"Simple. I…" Sylvia smiled guiltily before she answered, "Well, I adopted her." He raised his eyebrows in surprise. She added softly, "It's not like you were around for me to ask your opinion before I did. Anyway, you knew it was bound to happen."

"I suppose it was." He paused and reverted to an earlier stated development.

He asked gently, "Did you say you were injected with the Tetch Virus?"

"Yeah, but it's nothing I can't handle." Sylvia uttered.

Oswald recalled what had been her most disarming appearance with the transformative eyes and veins and asked skeptically, "Are you sure about that?"

"It's only made me incredibly strong and focused."

"And exceptionally blood thirsty."

"Gabe and his friends were going to spill your blood for fifty-grand," Sylvia reminded, kissing his cheek. "Seemed only fitting that I do the same to save the love of my life."

"I'm not discounting the effort to save my life. Trust me: I'm grateful for your intervention. I'm more concerned about you."

"Well, I admit, infecting myself with the Virus wasn't the smartest move, but it's useful—clearly. There aren't exactly any disadvantages."

Oswald said with continued skepticism, "Aside from the fact that you're infected and it's slowly going to drive you insane?"

"'Insane' is a little over-the-top, don't you think?"

"After what we've seen happen to Captain Barnes and allegedly where it drove Falcone's son, what on earth would possess you to—"

"Don't worry."

"How could I not worry?"

"Because headaches, fatigue, exhaustion aside—I'm the perfect weapon if I ever was one. I'm stronger, faster, and more focused than I've ever been." Sylvia insisted.

She brushed her lips against his, pulling him into a kiss. He involuntarily moaned as she sucked on his bottom lip for a lasting impression. This sort of power that radiated off her was almost enough to persuade him to drop the topic.

She whispered, "Not even you can disagree with that after seeing what I can do."

Oswald's concern didn't leave his eyes as she walked back into the greenhouse. He followed her shortly after. The conversation wasn't over, but for now, it was put in abeyance.

Ivy was in the middle of burying the bodies with Gabe, who looked awkward when Sylvia entered the room.

"So, who are you?" Sylvia questioned, gesturing to Ivy. She sounded more tired as if her blood thirsty display had usurped most of her energy, like she was about to crash. "You look familiar. Have we met?"

"Well, a couple of times."

"Once, I remember. At Oswald's Mayoral party. You were wearing a green dress, right? Came to the party with a couple of dates."

Ivy beamed: "You do remember."

"Can't forget a pretty face. Why are you here? And with Oswald?" Sylvia questioned.

"Ooh, that must be your protective wife tone." Ivy snickered. "Don't be too worried about me. Oswald and I are just friends. I saved his life."

Sylvia glanced behind her at Oswald as if to confirm; he nodded once, and she looked at Ivy readily.

"What's your name?" She asked warily.

"Don't you remember? It's Ivy Pepper."

Sylvia stared at her.

"You're not going to get all crazy-eyed and veiny again, are you?" Ivy asked hesitantly.

"Ivy Pepper was a kid."

"Yeah. I was that kid. But one of Strange's puppies got me and I grew into this."

Sylvia stared at her, still. It was an unblinking stare and it made Ivy extremely nervous. She fumbled with her hands.

To gain rapport, Ivy added, "I have something that might convince you…"

"I'm not going to smell your wrist, if that's what you're planning."

"No, no!" She nervously laughed. "I just…Wait here."

Ivy quickly left the room. Gabe, Oswald, and Sylvia watched after her. When Ivy came back, she held a necklace; attached to it was the pendant where a paper-like rose was encased inside. She held it out to Sylvia, who took it with reminisce.

"You gave this to me." Ivy explained. "For spying on Delilah."

Sylvia looked at her, perplexed. She gave the necklace a once-over then slowly lifted her eyes to Ivy. Familiarity crept to her face as she did.

Softly, she asked, "You've kept it this entire time?"

"Well, of course. Duh."

She stepped towards her. Ivy let out a heightened anxious giggle when Sylvia wrapped her arms around her tightly, pulling her into a hug.

"Oh!" Ivy gasped.

"I've been worried sick about you! Why didn't you say anything at the party!" Sylvia chastised after she let her go. "Where the fuck have you been? What is this place anyway? You had me worried sick! You better not try that shit again!"

Gabe and Oswald glanced at each other while Ivy nodded and apologized during Sylvia's scolding. Once the reprimanding had finished, Ivy offered to give Sylvia new clothes since her other ones were bloody. Sylvia left to change clothes and lie down for a quick power nap. Perhaps it was for the best—since her slaughter of Gabe's men, she steadily appeared more exhausted, and it seemed like her headaches post-massacre had reared its ugly head.

Ivy returned, smiling at Oswald.

"You know, as great as it is having Lark and Gabe on our side," She offered, "You can still build an army that's more than a match for your enemies."

"Where would I find an army like that? From the sound of it," He uttered darkly, "Barbara has most of the captains locked in."

"Selina told me about her time when she went to Indian Hill, about some of the things she ran into while she was there. Like monsters and that kind of thing. You said you wanted to build an army. Well, what about an army of freaks?"

Oswald half-smiled: "Really? What kind of freaks?"