Chapter 75
I arrive at Fish Mooney's to find Timothy manning the front desk.
"Evening Trixie, say, I've been thinking about something we could do up on the stage, and I came up with this dance number in my head-"
"You dance too? I thought you just sang," I chuckle, "you're quite the triple threat."
He shakes his head, "No, my acting is terrible. Anyway, I could show you the number now if you want."
I nod, and he steps out from the front desk. We go to the side of the entry hall where he starts tapping with both of his feet.
"Right two, three. Left, two, three. Turn and twist, turn and twist. And do the Charlest...oooh!" he trips, stumbling toward the ground.
I catch him just as he's about to fall to his knees. We both laugh as I help him up. He scratches the back of his head, "Well, I guess it needs a little work."
"And what are we working on? Hmm?" We turn around and, standing at the front doorway is Oswald, umbrella in one hand and surrounded by two of Maroni's henchmen, including Eel. He drops his umbrella into the umbrella can by the door before hobbling toward us. He takes one look at Timothy, and his expression becomes a sour sneer.
"Oswald, wh-what are you doing here?" I stutter, standing up to greet him.
He chuckles, "I have some business with your boss, Fish Mooney. Is she here?"
"Ms. Mooney's in her office, I'll fetch her-" Timothy turns around and starts walking out, but Oswald holds up his hand to stop him.
He chuckles, "It can wait," he limps toward me, making a point to stand above me so that he can look down. A wide, predatory grin stretches across his face, "Trixie...how are we this evening?"
I remain silent for a couple of seconds, taking a breath, and getting a whiff of seafood that makes me want to gag.
"Fine...and yourself?"
He takes his time before responding, licking his lower lip and placing his hands on my shoulders. His eyes weighed down by dark bags, he starts shaking his head, "Good...very good."
I look down and notice he's holding a black box in his hand. What could that be? From the corner of my eye I spot Timothy standing to the side, twice as nervous as I am. Oswald senses this, and turns around, his hands tightening their grip on me.
"And who are you...exactly?" he snaps.
"You'll find that out soon enough, and hands off the girl, unless you wanna pay," Fish Mooney counters, walking into the room accompanied by her own set of henchmen including Gilzean.
Taking his hands off of me, Oswald clasps them together and puts on his most insincere smile, "Ms. Mooney, a lovely sight as always. I was just chatting up your employees," he runs his hand down my arm, and I can't help but shiver.
Looking over at Fish, I notice that she's hiding just a hint of a smile. She knows she can use me against Oswald, but the question is: who's side am I on?
"Well, you can touch the girls later. We have business to discuss," she informs, turning around and walking back to the restaurant area.
"Yes, yes we do," Oswald kisses me on the forehead, "till next time my love."
Timothy drifts to my side as Oswald begins hobbling into the restaurant area, "So that creep was your boyfriend? I can see why you broke it off, what were you thinking?"
"You ever hear the phrase: 'look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it'? Well, he was the serpent...in more ways than one," I admit, cringing and gritting with my teeth.
Timothy looks around, glancing the area for anyone else, "Hey, wanna spy on them? I know a cool little trick."
He walks over to the front desk, and presses a hidden button under the desk. A door panel in the wall behind the desk slides open, revealing a hidden staircase.
"This staircase leads to the second floor, where we'll easily be able to easily overhear them."
I follow Timothy into the dark passageway, and I giggle a little bit, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're some sort of spy yourself."
"Hey, you never know, maybe I'm some sort of secret agent from a mysterious organization looking to be rid of humanity," he snickers, changing his voice to that of a cartoonish villain.
The secret passageway goes up a narrow staircase, and once we reach the end, Timothy pulls a lever to the side, another panel sliding back to reveal the second floor.
"Timothy! Where are you? Come here child," Fish calls.
He turns to me, "Gotta jet. Enjoy the show."
He dashes back down the stairs to the first floor as I exit the secret passageway. To the right of me, I notice that the lamp light is bent downwards. I grab ahold of its handle and push back, putting it back in place. The secret passageway slides close, and I turn to the second floor balcony to see Fish, Oswald, and their henchmen in the center table of the restaurant.
Timothy walks out from the first floor to meet Fish, standing by her side.
"Timothy, did you know this fellow use to have your job?" Fish asks, leaning back in her chair, "Carried my umbrella, and thought it an honor. Now look at him...has a seat at the table."
"Things change, eh? ...I've been blessed," he confesses, looking down.
"Perhaps I should open your gift," Fish suggests, pulling the black box on the table toward her.
Oswald huddles closer as she opens the box. Looking inside, she gasps, "My goodness…"
I lean against the railing to get a better look. It's a very large brooch, a coat-of-arms with a pin striking through it. Fish removes the pin, "...that is beautiful. Now I feel awful, I didn't get you anything."
He shakes it off as she places her hand on his, "...thank you."
Gripping her hand down, she stabs him with the pin. Oswald leaps up, his shaking arms and hands rattling the table. I gasp, but I quickly slap my hand against my mouth and shrink back into the darkness of the unlit second floor, hopefully no one heard that. But as I glance back down at the restaurant, I notice Eel and Oswald's other bodyguard attempt to advance on Fish, but Oswald holds his good hand up in protest, before she yanks the pin right out of him. He's still shaking as he clasps his hand onto the wound, but his expression remains determined, and unmoved. He's getting stronger.
Meanwhile, Fish licks the blood off of the pin, almost in mockery, "Mmm...sweet."
"That...was uncalled for," Oswald spits.
"I brought you into my family and I treated you like a son! And you betrayed me."
"For which I suffered-"
"Not enough," she interrupts, "when I order some fool killed I expect him to stay that way."
It doesn't seem like Oswald can get a word in edgewise, but he keeps trying, "Your boss Don Falcone expressly said-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, he wants peace. He's the only reason why your ass is still alive, and if I were you, I would pray for his good health."
My eyes widen. She doesn't realize that Oswald works for Don Falcone. She thinks he works for Maroni.
He sees this as well, and a wide grin grows across his face as a chuckle escapes him. Giving a slight nod, "Oh, I do. I do."
"Good...because remember...things change."
He leans forward, "Convey my respects to your Don."
"Likewise. Peace...friend," she finishes.
Oswald grabs the black box and begins hobbling out of the restaurant. Trailing my hand along the edge, I watch Oswald and his men disappear from view. Is Oswald really trying to do damage control, repairing relations with Fish? No, no there's something more here, he's smart enough to know that forgiveness is not an option for him. So what's he playing? Oswald...I reach out with my hand, letting it reach over the railing and into the light. We certainly aren't as close as we once were, and that's exactly what I wanted. He's becoming more dangerous as he climbs the ladder, it was right to get out while I could. But still...there's something so...alluring about him. Maybe it's the fact that I know it's wrong to be with him, or maybe...because I know it's right.
"Hands up, lady," a clear, sharp voice commands.
I put my hands behind my back and turn around. Eel, one of Oswald's henchmen, is standing mere feet away, his pistol drawn. Impressive, I didn't even hear him coming.
"Were you spying on the boss from up here?" despite his slang, his voice is straight, clean of any sort of local accent unlike Gabe.
I raise an eyebrow, "So Oswald's the boss, huh? Not Don Maroni?"
"My boss is none of your business, lady. I work for whoever pays the highest bid, and at the end of the day, that's all that matter," he thrusts his gun forward, as if he's about to shoot, but something's off about him. There's an insincerity in his words, his actions.
"Your name's Eel, right? Or is that not your real name?" I ask, keeping my hands behind me.
"It...it's Patrick...look, why do you care?!" he leans his head out into the stairway, "Hey boss, looks like you've got an admirer!"
"You don't like doing this...do you Patrick? There might be some crazies in this town who enjoy being thugs and criminals but not you...no, you'd leave it all behind if you could...wouldn't you?"
With some difficulty, Oswald stammers up the stairs. Once he reaches the top, he immediately spots me, and smirks.
"Oh...Trixie. You never could just let alone, could you?" he waves away his men, and they scurry back down the stairs.
I lower my arms, and cross them in front of me, "So...are you going to let me help you patch up that hand or do you have to try to kill me first?"
He smiles, placing his hand on the banister, "Believe me...I'm fine-"
"You're bleeding on the railing," I point to his hand on the banister, blood slowly beginning to drip from the handle.
He looks down in surprise, "Well, I guess I do need a little patching up."
I grab him by his good hand, and pull him into the nearest private room, locking the door behind me.
"The girls all keep emergency medical kits hidden under the beds. From what I've heard, things can get pretty rough in these rooms," I get down at my knees and crawl under the plush double bed, reaching until I feel the cold plastic of the kit.
Pulling the kit from out under the bed, I place it on the bed and open it up, while Oswald sits down on the bed. I get out the bandages and start wrapping the material tight around his hand.
Returning to the medical kit, I toss him a non-descript package, "Take two of these. They won't take effect right away, but it should help nevertheless."
Oswald opens up the box, tilting his head back to pop two of the pills, his Adam's Apple visibly extending to swallow them without water.
As I put the kit back under the bed, he leans over to examine me, his wide eyes almost unblinking, "Why...why are you helping me?"
"Because you were bleeding, and everyone knows that Gotham General will make you pay an arm and a leg just for simple bandages alone, if they'll even admit you. If you can do it by yourself, why waste the money?"
He shakes his head, "No, that's not-"
"The answer you were looking for?" I finish, getting up and sitting down beside him.
I chuckle, "...I'm helping you because I know no one else will. Except maybe your mother, although I doubt you you want her knowing you've just been stabbed in the hand."
"Oh, don't underestimate Mother. She's seen her fair share of hardships…" Oswald trails off, "that's not the point. My point is...I fear you have ulterior motives in assisting me."
Hmph, true. I guess I never considered that his mother has been through some hardships. If Gotham is considered the "better life" to her, I wonder what her home country was like. Wait...where are they from again?
I shake my head, "No, if I had ulterior motives I'd be patching up your wound and trying to seduce you. Kill two birds with one stone, that sort of thing."
Oswald smiles, placing his good hand on my thigh, "...I wouldn't mind that."
Raising an eyebrow, I cross my arms and look down at his wandering hand. He removes his hand, and suddenly remembers something. Reaching behind him, he reveals the black box.
"Please...accept this! As a token of my thanks!" he insists, pushing the box against my chest.
I twist my lips, although Oswald hasn't exactly been on his best behavior as of late, I would still feel bad accepting another gift from him.
I push the box away from me, back toward him. A complete look of surprise washes over him.
"Thank you Oswald but...I can't accept this. But, you know who I think would really appreciate something as nice as this?"
'66 Standalone Special Conclusion
Last time: the Penguin hatches a perilous plot!
The Dynamic Duo investigates!
An atrocity to Audubon art?
Natalie goes undercover as the tenacious Trixie!
But love is in the air for these two birds!
Oh no! A trap, the Trickstress tricked by that petulant Penguin!
Can Batwoman make it in time? Find out!
Batwoman, in her Batmobile, drives down to the Iceberg Lounge, a swinging nightclub hiding dastardly deeds. After parking the Batmobile in a nearby alleyway, Batwoman walks into the Iceberg Lounge, twirling her cape in one hand. She walks up to the bartender behind a light blue bar covered in frost and icicles on the top.
"Excuse me miss but, could you be so kind as to direct me to the current location of your employer, Oswald Cobblepot?"
The bartender, cleaning a glass, turns to her for one split second, "Beat it, you old fruit!"
Batwoman gasps, "My goodness! Such tone should not be employed by the likes of such a...lovely young lady."
The bartender pauses, "...well gee, it's not everyday I get a compliment like that. You're a swell gal, Batwoman."
"What's going on here?" the Penguin approaches, waddling from foot to foot.
"Mr. Penguin! Batwoman's just here-"
"Ah, yes, of course, the Caped Crusader herself! We've been expecting you!" he greets warmly, dancing over to kiss her hand.
Slightly surprised, Batwoman struggles to produce a response, "Uhm...uh...why, thank you Mr. Cobblepot."
Taking her hand, the Penguin pulls her toward the glass staircase, "This way please. I believe you're here to see my fine Audubon collection, correct?"
"So you admit to stealing the prized art from the museum?" she asks.
"Steal? Heaven's no, why, I simply procured these from a...shall we say, bargain sale."
They arrive at the Iceberg Lounge's VIP room, where the Penguin trips a switch with his umbrella, revealing the Audubon art.
"Beautiful, aren't they?"
"Beautiful indeed, but these pieces of art belong in a public museum, not a private collection! You're under arrest, Penguin!" Batwoman declares, stepping in front of the doorway.
"Ah, so you think, Batwoman! Henchmen, now!"
Out of no where, six thugs jump out, the both of them wearing all black with the word "henchmen" in bold white lettering across their chest. They surround her, and she realizes she's outmatched, what a foul move, to out-brawn a woman. Oh, what's a girl to do?
The Trickstress slams on the door another time. Gosh darn, it still won't budge. She marches to the Penguin's desk and tries the phone, but all she gets is a dead tone. She sighs, and hangs up, but just as she turns around, the phone begins ringing. Closing her eyes, and anticipating who's on the other end, she picks up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Trickstress, I'm surprised at you! Slipping so easily into the Penguin's greedy gloved hands...tell me, what kind of infrastructure always needs help? Answer: a damsel in distress! Hi hi hoo hoo hoo hoo!"
She gasps, "The Riddler! You dastardly Prince of Puzzles, what do you have to do with this?"
"Don't fret my dear, the Riddler is here! I'm going to help you escape Penguin's nest," he announces.
"Oh really? What are you really up to, Riddler?" the Trickstress questions, putting a hand on her hip.
"Must you heroes always suspect ill of us villains? We're human beings with emotions, and feelings and-"
"And ulterior motives," she interrupts, "who should be judged for their crimes in the court of law!"
He sighs, before taking a breath and pitching his plea, "I need a favor. I hear that you're friends with Natalie K., friend of the famous heiress Barbara Kean?" he asks, his diction perfectly crisp.
The Trickstress sits down on the Penguin's desk, next to the bronze penguin statue, "Yes, I've met her...once or twice. I guess you could say we're friends."
"Could you perhaps arrange a dinner between the two of us? I would be making the arrangements, all she would have to do is attend."
She twists her lip, "I don't know, Riddler. She's a moral girl, someone who wouldn't spend her time getting caught up with criminals...but time is of the essence...alright, I'll see what I can do."
"Hi hi hoo hoo! Thank you Ms. Trickstress! Tell her to meet me at The Enigma at eight o' clock tonight! And as I depart, here's your clue: where does a Penguin keep his eggs?"
The line goes dead, and the Trickstress hangs up. She paces around the room, speaking aloud to herself, "Where does a Penguin keep his eggs? Penguin...Penguin...I got it! Male Emperor penguins keep their eggs warm by balancing them on their feet!"
She whips around to the bronze penguin statue on the Penguin's desk. Tinkering with the statue for a little bit, she soon discovers that the statue opens up, revealing a large red button that she presses. The secret door slides back open, and the Trickstress runs out.
She finds Batwoman surrounded by the Penguin and his two henchmen, Lark and Jay. When she appears, the Penguin gasps, "What! No, you couldn't have escaped, how could you?!"
"Justice always finds a way Penguin," the Trickstress declares.
He straightens his coat, "While it's unbecoming of me to attack a woman, especially a loved one...for you blasted Caped Crusaders I'll have to make the exception! Boys, attack!"
Penguin's henchmen rush Batwoman and the Trickstress, but Batwoman reacts immediately, punching the first henchman right in the face-POW!
The Trickstress backs up, until she grabs the lamp from the nearby table and and smashes it on a thug's head-WHAM!
Batwoman is pushed back by two thugs, but she grabs them both by the head and smashes them together-KLONK!
The Trickstress gets up on the table and kicks the next incoming thugs with both feet-BAM!
Lifting up a nearby chair, Batwoman scurries and breaks it over a thug, shattering it to pieces-THUNK!
One of the broken legs of the chair slides over to the Trickstress, who picks up the leg and uses it like a bat against one of the thugs, smacking his head from side to side-OUCH!
Two thugs go for Batwoman at once, but she gets down on her knees and slides through in between them, getting back up and pushing them both to the ground from behind-UGH!
The Penguin takes out a large red button and presses it. A spring trap pops out from the floor upon which he's standing, launching him up through the roof into the next floor.
"That flightless fiend! He's getting away!" Batwoman cries, as the Trickstress knocks out the last henchmen.
"We can catch him in time! Quick, to the window, we can use our Bat-Grappling Hooks!" the Trickstress suggests.
"Great idea, but we must hurry!"
Running to the window, Batwoman and the Trickstress take out their Bat-Grappling Hook, a long rope of string with a large bat hook attached to the end. Spinning it a couple of times, they throw it in the air, and they attach to the window of the window on the next floor. They begin slowly climbing to the next floor.
"I hope we make it on time, who knows what foul tricks awaits up in the Penguin's nest," Batwoman wonders aloud.
They pass by another nearby window, and someone opens it.
"Why, hello Dynamic Duo!" a smiley man with high cheekbones and short black hair, with only his head visible.
"Batwoman, it's famous actor Robin Lord Taylor!" the Trickstress cries.
"Good day, civilian. No need to fear, we're here on official crime-fighting business. Rest assured there will be no harm done when the job's in our hands," she assures him.
"Ah, that's good to hear Batwoman. Well, I gotta go, I have a quick change for this next scene. Good luck, Dynamic Duo!"
He closes the window with his gloved hand, and Batwoman and the Trickstress continue climbing up the building.
The Trickstress sighs, "Gosh Batwoman, he sure is dreamy…"
"While attractive actors are acceptable for the occasional diversion, you must remember Trickstress, that they are human beings with the right to a length privacy," Batwoman reminds her.
"I know Batwoman, it's just...he looks awfully familiar…"
Reaching the top window, they climb in, revealing a colorful art gallery, including not only some more of the Audubon paintings but dozens of other stolen pieces of work.
"Do you like my private collection, Batwoman?"
A spotlight appears on the Penguin, standing from the balcony of the art gallery.
"Give it up Penguin, you know you can't win this," she declares.
"Oh, really Dynamic Duo?" he points his umbrella, and fires an explosive grenade from the end.
Batwoman the the Trickstress duck out of the way as it blows up, sending an explosion of smoke. He fires at Batwoman again, Batwoman jumping side-to-side to dodge his attacks. Meanwhile, while Batwoman's distracting the Penguin, the Trickstress gets out her Bat-Grappling Hook, spins it around a couple of times, and throws it up, snagging it to the second floor railing.
Reaching the Penguin, the Trickstress grabs the velvet curtain hanging from the wall and wraps him in it, trapping him in the fabric, "The jig is up, Penguin!"
"Great job Trickstress, I'll go call the authorities on the Bat Communicator in the Batmobile," Batwoman nods, dusting off her hands and running out of the room.
From his fabric prison, the Penguin begins laughing, his laughter transitioning into a bird-like squawking sound, "Trixie darling, you didn't tell Batwoman that those pieces are fakes. With the money from the real paintings, we could easily bail me out of jail and escape to paradise."
With a gloved finger, she tips him on the chin, "Awe, Ozzy, you'd give it all up for me?"
He gives a puzzled expression, "Give it up? Heavens no! No, I'd set up operations in the Bahamas! There's lots of money to be made in privateers and smugglers!"
Any joy that may have remained in the Trickstress's expression fades, "I fell in love with you because I thought I could rehabilitate you, not because I wanted to join in your criminal ways!"
She runs out and pokes her head out the door, "Oh, Batwoman, there's something I need to show you!"
"No...no, Trixie! Don't do this to me!"
Batwoman walks back in, "Something the matter, Trickstress?"
From out of her utility belt, she takes out a can of Bat Carbon Dating Spray and sprays the Audubon paintings on the wall. The paintings all turn a bright red, and the Trickstress points, "See? These aren't the real Audubon paintings, the carbon dating is too recent. These are fakes!"
"Trixie, you...you witch! What kind of cold-hearted woman betrays her love?" the Penguin protests, struggling against the fabric.
"One who values the law above personal relationships, but I swear, I will do everything in my power to rehabilitate you," she promises, keeping her distance.
Batwoman crosses over to unravel the Penguin, before handcuffing him with the Batcuffs, "We'll leave it to the authorities to find the real paintings-"
"Actually Batwoman, if you're so curious, the real paintings are in a warehouse on the Gotham Docks. I can lead you and the authorities to its location," he grumbles, lowering his head in defeat.
"Why, thank you Penguin. Your cooperation with the authorities will certainly help you in your trial."
He raises his head, "...see Trixie? I can change...I just need a warm hand to guide the way."
The Trickstress bites her lip, holding back any sort of emotion she may be feeling for this criminal. But...perhaps there is hope for this bird yet.
"I'll do everything in my power to rehabilitate you Ozzy," she promises, kissing him on the forehead.
Natalie plays with the flower centerpiece in the middle of her table at The Enigma. She's been waiting for nearly twenty minutes now, and while she knows that her date is a known criminal, he could at least be a gentlemen to compensate. The nightclub is no swinging dive, the place is empty one or two other couples who are all oddly quiet and keeping to themselves. Maybe she should just leave, and be thankful that her date was a no-show.
Just then, Edward Nygma, the forensic scientist, appears from out of the darkness, sporting a black suit with a bright green tie. He approaches her table, "Good evening. Natalie K., correct? I've read about you in the papers, you're friends with the wealthy heiress, Ms. Barbara Kean."
She can't help but chuckle, "Yes, Barbara's reputation precedes the both of us. Although she's not here tonight, I'm afraid it's just me."
"Well, gosh, what's a sweet girl like you doing all by herself on a night like this?" he asks, sitting down in the chair across from her.
Natalie laughs again, before she admits, "...I'm glad you see me that way. I...I was invited on a evening date but...but it seems as if I've been stood up."
Edward smirks, "I'm sure the man had his reasons, but, in the meantime, perhaps, I could join you for a late dinner?"
She glances around, the Riddler, for better or for worse, it no where to be found, and Edward seems to be offering a good time, and she's already here...why not?
"Alright, I accept," she smiles.
He flags down the nearest waiter, "Sir, two Shirley Temples please."
The waiter brings the drinks, and Edward raises his, "To our newfound friendship."
"Indeed," she clinks her glass against his, before they both take a sip together.
Author's Note: Well, while Wattpad more than exceeded their goal (truly impressed guys, thanks!), Fanfiction was not even close to meeting their goal (kind of a relief in a way, at least for me). It certainly shows the difference of interest between these two sites, and is something I'll have to take into account in the future. I will return on Friday June 5th, 2015. Till then :)
Erik-is-my-angel1234: Thanks but, sadly, no bonus will be had this time around. When we celebrate our 100th chapter I might bring up another opportunity to get it
Langley: So sorry! Perhaps you could listen to some (there's only one up right now) of the audio commentaries for BOAF I'm creating on SoundCloud to tide you over. I return in exactly a month, so it's not too long of a wait in comparison. No bonus content however, sorry :( I'm glad you like Barbara, I've been trying to instill good qualities into her character. And it's great that you got an account! It makes it easier to distinguish you out of all the guest reviews
C'estLaMort: Thanks! Sorry, but I stick by my rules, so unless something huge happens within the fandom (like the season finale gets a skyrocket of views, bringing in more fanfic readers) I'm taking a long-delayed break
Thanks! :)