Chapter 76

I listen from my apartment room as Oswald greets his mother downstairs. I take out a broom to start sweeping the floor. At least he has one other person he can trust, who'll be there to comfort him in times of need. Because, there's no way I could handle him on my own.

"Ah! ...so beautiful," Mrs. Cobblepot coos from downstairs.

I smile, he must have just given her the brooch.

"As soon as I saw it, I thought of you," Oswald's tone is soft and light.

I can't help but scoff, even if he loves his mother, he certainly isn't above lying to her.

"Such a good son," she praises.

I roll my eyes, I can't believe she's buying his game. Then again, I can't help but be a tad bit jealous. Not that I would want an overprotective mother...but, it's not as if I know what it's like to have one.

"Put it on, put it on," he encourages like a small child.

Suddenly, Mrs. Cobblepot gasps, "Oh...what happened? Who did this?"

She must have noticed Oswald's bandaged hand. I smirk, how's Oswald going to talk his way out of this one?

"N-Nobody. It's just a scratch."

"Is your mother a fool? No. Someone...is being mean to my boy-"

"Hey," he interrupts, placing his hand on hers, "it's a tough business."

Well, at least she's picking up on that. But, it isn't so much that these people are trying to be "mean" as they're going after his head.

"The restaurant business, so tough these days. Why is that?" she bemoans.

"My success makes other people envious," Oswald boasts, although his tone remains humble as ever.

"So tell the boss on these people."

A laugh escapes me. That response doesn't even work in school, why would it work in a criminal organization?

"This person isn't scared of the boss. Not like they should be. ...I don't know why," he grumbles.

"I know," Mrs. Cobblepot begins, "when I was in school, Magda Himmelfarb was so mean to me...and teacher did nothing!"

Well duh.

"Why?" Oswald asks, although I'm certain he already knows the answer.

"Because such a good dancer I was, and Magda, with her nice hair and her big bosom, a carthorse!" she cries.

I could imagine Oswald shaking his head before responding, "I meant...why did the teacher do nothing?"

"Why you think? 'Private lessons' they said. I put stop to that," she hisses mischievously.

He scoffs, somewhat surprised, "You told on them?"

"Oh no, I denounced Magda's father, to secret police."

Hmph, sounds like something that she would do, considering she tied me up and tried to kill me. Although...it makes me curious as to Mrs. Cobblepot's past. It sounds like an Eastern European soap opera, if such thing exists.

There's a snapping sound from downstairs in the Cobblepots' apartment, "Ah! Three weeks, he's been turning up his nose at my traps, and now, now today, a smidge of camembert and Mr. Rat, he can not resist. No, oh, can you? Can you my little greedy baby? I found out your secret!"

Hmm, the Cobblepots are having a rat problem? It hasn't reached me, at least not that I know of, but hopefully the rat isn't Mr. Sniffles.

"Yes," Oswald mumbles in revelation, "...everyone has a secret."

...uh oh.

Two hours later, right on the dot, there's a knock at my door. Knowing for certain who's at the other end, I refuse to answer the door, instead sitting in my chair in the makeshift dining area.

"Trixie, I know you're home. Your shift at the GCPD ended three hours ago, and you called in sick at Fish Mooney's," he lists, his voice only slightly muffled by the barrier of the door.

Geezus, he knows my schedule? But then again, why should I be surprised? Creep.

"Go away!" I shout, my tired tone reminiscent of an angsty teenager.

The door swings open, Oswald placing his knife back into his pocket, "Your front door could hardly be considered a security measure."

Pushing myself out of my chair, I stroll into the kitchen, "I don't need security measures…" I whip a knife from the kitchen cabinet and hurl it toward Oswald, "I am the security measure."

The knife lands on the doorway next to Oswald. He clenches his fists, holding them close to his head, but the knife doesn't even scratch him. He opens his eyes, and turns around to the knife on the wall. A malicious grin spreads from ear-to-ear, as he bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

He begins slow clapping, "Oh...fantastic, bravo! Bravo! Oh...ha ha, you really can't hurt me, can you? You missed on purpose. You...you can't even touch me."

"You want to test that theory?" I ask, pulling out another knife.

Oswald spread open his arms, "Go ahead. Try to kill me. Bring out your lovely military knives, I've always admired those…oh! How about you take out those guns you use whenever you go galavanting with Victor Zsasz? Although I'm more...preferential to blades myself…" he flips out his own knife, "...we could...have some fun."

I reopen the drawer, and put the knife away. Oswald frowns, slumping his shoulders, "...killjoy."

"You need to leave. Now," I command, pointing to the open door.

With the palm of his hand, he closes the door, "No."

Stepping further into my apartment, he holds his blade out in front of him, "I've been far too lenient with you as of late. There's so much I could do to you...people I could get you in trouble with. Secrets to reveal…"

"You wouldn't dare," I spit.

"But why not?" he asks, "After all, what exactly have you done for me?"

I shrug, "True. But I didn't realize this was a give-and-take relationship."

He cackles, "Trixie...every relationship is give-and-take. And I...haven't received enough."

"So, what exactly do you want me to give?" I sigh, pretending as if I don't know the answer.

Oswald runs his hand over the nearby wall, "All my life...there's only one thing I've ever wanted...something I've never, truly had until recently."

I begin backing up as Oswald holds the knife out toward me. My hands behind my back, I back up against the wall as he looks down at me, his hands out in front.

"Well, what exactly do you want? Power? Money? Glory?"

He glances around from side to side, keeping a snide smile, "That's part of it...but not quite."

Holding the point to the bottom of my chin, he runs his hand through my hair, "What I want...is control. The ability, not just to make choices for myself, but for others."

He slowly turns the knife, not forcefully enough to create a cut, but just enough so that the cold metal floats against my skin.

"And tonight…I want control of you," he grabs me and forces me up against his chest. My head rests against his chest, letting it rise and fall along with his heavy breaths.

Wanting to avoid feeling like the victim in a trash novel, I begin inching away, but he grabs me by the back of the head and pulls me toward him.

"You will not do or say anything against me or I will hurt you, got it?" he wraps his hand around my neck and turns me to face him.

I scowl, oh really? Well, I'll play along for now, lulling him into a false sense of security is much easier than most. He gets cocky very, very easily, and I know just how to get it out of him.

My eyes turn fearful, "Ozzy, please, please don't hurt me…"

He chuckles, running a hand through my hair, "Of course I won't…"

With one swift movement, he slashes down my arm, and I shout out in pain. I slam against the wall, falling to the ground. The wound is substantial, enough that blood is now running down my arm, but not enough to warrant stitches.

Getting on his knees, he grabs my arm, and licks the blood trickling from the wound, "Mmm...hmm hmm...even your blood is sweet."

I let out a yelp as he licks me again, his hand grasping my shoulder. He arches upward, and kisses me on the lips. His knife clatters on the floor as Oswald wraps both of his arms around me, and hoists me to my feet. Pushing me against the wall, he runs his hands over my shoulders.

We release from our kiss, and Oswald, panting as if out of breath, tilts his head so that he whispers in my ear, "I'm glad you're seeing things my way."

"Mhm," I smile, kissing him on the cheek.

He snarls, snuggling up so that our noses touch, "I don't need to tell you what to do...because in your heart of hearts, you already know."

He leads me to the living room couch, while I try my best to ignore the searing pain in my arm. We lie down together, and Oswald smothers my head into his chest.

"Shhh...don't move...let me enjoy this for once."

His arms around me, he squeezes me closer against him, the heat of his body making me warm and strangely...comfortable. Comfortable in the arms of a murderer. Countless minutes pass, the two of us silent in each other's embrace, nothing but the slight breeze and sounds of the city coming from the window to disturb us.

"I know you have my knife in your back pocket."

I flinch, as he reaches over and removes the knife from my pocket. I'd grabbed it with my bare foot after he dropped it on the floor. Placing the blade on the table, he shakes his head, tsking, "Naughty girl."

"It was just a precaution," I reason, peeking out from the fabric of his suit.

He sighs, petting my head, "Why can't you trust me, Trixie dear?"

I raise an eyebrow, "Give me a reason to, and I might reconsider."

Oswald twists his lip, sitting me back up onto his lap, "As much as you may think, I have you interests at heart-"

"And you think you know what's best for me?" I interrupt, curling my arms around his shoulders.

We kiss, and Oswald reaches up, trailing a finger down my cheek, "...perhaps. But perhaps I'm your only true ally in this coming fight."

I pause, "W...what fight?"

He chuckles, "Gotham is constantly in a state of unrest. Always jumping from the hands of mob boss to mob boss. And what does it accomplish? A lot of money for a select few, but not much else. No progress...and I...I plan to change that."

"So you're going to take over Gotham, like Don Falcone?" I ask.

He shakes his head, "No. Don Falcone may be in charge, but he just collects the check. I want to change the city. Look around, the rooms we live in, the clothes we wear...everything is old, outdated. We live in a city, a beautiful city, that's been left by time to rot. No major construction projects have taken place in Gotham for at least twenty years, we're not...growing. We're neglecting our home."

I rest my head against his shoulder, I never thought Oswald was so passionate about Gotham, it's actually kind of noble, in a creepy sort of way. Well, I guess there has to be something driving him.

"That's...that's quite poetic," I lean to the side to kiss him on the cheek, "I like that."

His eyes widen, "R-really? You like it? E-...everyone's always thought it was...strange, and I…" he trails off, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. He lowers his head, folding his hands in his lap.

I smile, I've got him now. I lean in, pulling him into a long kiss. The cut on my arm is nothing now, completely sealed, as if it had never happened in the first place.

"Of course I like it. It's valient that you think of Gotham that way," I encourage, before kissing him on the neck.

Ending my kiss, I twist back up to face him, but his expression is frozen in place. The only movement seems to be in his eyes, the irises widening, the innocent twinkle consumed by the darkness.

He pounces me, throwing me onto the back of the couch. With my arms and waist pinned by his weight, he throws off his jacket, and proceeds to tear at my shirt with his meaty hands.

I wrap my arms around him, fearing for what will come next, but smiling through all of it, "You really don't know how else to show affection, do you?"

Instead of responding, Oswald dives in and kisses me, grinding his body against mine, as we tumble around the couch.

Author's Note: It's good to be back! No love for the bonus content though, that's fine, it is extra after all. Now I'm back to my regular release schedule of every Friday and Monday

Thanks! :)