Chapter 28: Mayoral Candidates
The townspeople of Gotham made a march towards the conference being held at the town square, a centrality in Gotham where several media vans were parked, and a podium on which all of Gotham's delegates and politicians stood, present for the announcement of the new mayor.
Leading the people was Oswald Cobblepot and his wife, Sylvia. On Oswald's right was Butch, his usual tag-a-long, and on Sylvia's left was Demetri, who had inexplicably obtained Sylvia's favor and had moved up from being a bouncer at Lean on Vee's to being her constant.
Aubrey James was speaking into the microphone as they steadily approached the conference. His voice was no where near cathartic and his words were hardly politically correct.
"Since the death of Galavan," Aubrey James stated, "The office has been governed by the elected officials standing behind me, as you see them. This city desperately needs experienced, seasoned leadership. And so, in their wisdom, they have persuaded me—much against my will—to resume the office of mayor until elections can be organized in the next year…"
"STOP!" Oswald ordered, his voice nearly echoing against the buildings surrounding them.
The crowd dispersed, all turning to the new attendees, all of whom looked disgruntled. Oswald, on the other hand, was mischievous.
Sylvia smiled, waving at James and Mrs. James, who stood just to the right of her husband, apparently offering what little support she could give.
"This proceeding is a sham," Oswald told the crowd, approaching the podium.
"Security!" James shouted, "Remove this criminal!"
Immediately, Sylvia stood slightly in front of Oswald, who, in turn, gently moved her back.
"'Criminal?'" Oswald repeated, glancing at the security officials who had promptly obeyed their orders, then he turned on James, speaking to only the people while still facing James, if only to prove a point. "I was jailed illegally by a corrupt system. A system that was put into place by this man" (he indicated James appropriately) "who has the audacity to put himself right back in the position that he has brought so much shame and dishonor to."
"How dare you," growled James.
"No, how dare you," Oswald countered, stepping towards him, "waltz up there and announce yourself as mayor. The people demand to have a say into who will represent them, who will protect them!"
"Yeah! Yeah!" Multitudes of praise and agreement sounded off from the crowd standing behind and around Sylvia, who looked at them with a satisfied expression.
She hadn't expected the people to be so quick in their agreement. Then again, didn't she say that her husband was charismatic? This certainly was a nod to that.
As the people hurrahed, waving their hands emphatically to Oswald's statement, Oswald turned to face the crowd, putting Aubrey James in the background.
"It was I—and I alone—who drove out the monsters that plagued our city!" Oswald told the crowd.
"Oh please!" James retorted.
Oswald responded, saying, "And where were you, then, while I faced peril at the hands of those abominations?"
"Probably at home with his head in a box," Sylvia muttered, only realizing she'd said this louder than intended when a few of the people in the crowd tittered.
"Sir!"
Oswald turned towards the voice that addressed him, and without needing to look, Sylvia already knew the owner of that voice. It was Valerie Vale, already at the scene and with a microphone at the ready.
"Are you challenging James' appointment to office?" Vale questioned eagerly.
"I most certainly am!" Oswald replied emphatically.
Butch and Sylvia glanced at each other, eyebrows raised. Well, this was certainly a turn of events!
"Better go up there," Butch muttered, gesturing to the stage as Oswald made his way up to the surface.
"Why do I have to go?" Sylvia questioned as Butch egged her forward. "He's doing fine by himself."
"James' wife is up there."
"James' wife can suck my balls," Sylvia hissed, but she rolled her eyes when Butch nudged her so she stepped forward and stood on the podium alongside Oswald.
She smiled in spite of herself when he looked at her with new love in his eyes. Then, seriously, he grabbed a microphone attached to the podium, and addressed the crowd: "To govern this city, one must be legally elected"— (He pointedly glared at James, who returned it.)—"which is why I, Oswald Cobblepot, announce my candidacy for the office of Mayor! And I demand—and the people demand—that an emergency election be held forthwith!"
Sylvia smiled and leaned into Oswald and kissed his cheek.
Oswald looked all smug while peering over at James before turning to Sylvia and sending her an appreciative smile.
The crowd chanted "Cobblepot" over and over again, their proclaim deafening. What came after were the reporters making their rounds to different people in the crowd, questioning them about who they were ready to vote for, and why. There was discussion of when the election would be held—allegedly, a few months from now—and where it all would take place.
Oswald decided that he'd indulge the people's insistence to talk to him personally. They wanted to find out what he would be ready to offer as far as promises go when holding the office, and he joined Butch on the ground. Meanwhile, Sylvia stayed on the stage; Demetri quickly joined her.
He handed her a bottled water and she gratefully took it, taking a gulp before someone addressed her.
"Mrs. Cobblepot, is it?"
It was not Aubrey James standing near her, but his wife, Mrs. James.
Mrs. James was at least a foot taller than she with an aged face and a tight bun. Although she might have been beautiful in high school, she was now wrinkled and a little saggy around her jaw line and eyes. Dark amber eyes, brunette hair tied too tightly in a bun, and her smile lines were something of the past. Dressed in a bright orange coat over a beige jumpsuit, Mrs. James looked strict, but a breeze no more than five miles per hour might blow her over.
"Mrs. Cobblepot, it is." Sylvia returned smartly.
"I don't think we've officially met," Mrs. James stated calmly, although there was a tear in her politeness. It could have been mistaken for restrained nicety but Sylvia could tell otherwise.
"Not officially, no." She agreed. "But just because we've not met doesn't mean I don't know who you are. Just, as I am sure, you know who I am."
"So pleasantries are out of order?"
"Well, if we're being politically correct, they were never mandatory," Sylvia replied pointedly.
Demetri, who stood at her side, glanced between Mrs. James and his mistress, offering only a small smile of discomfort as Mrs. James gave him a steely-eyed once-over.
"Let's not stand on ceremony, then." Mrs. James sneered. "You're a known felon, Mrs. Cobblepot. Everyone in Gotham knows that."
"Allegedly. I've never been imprisoned in Gotham." Sylvia said lightly.
"I would have to disagree with that."
"You can disagree all you want, ma'am, but—"
"You've been arrested before."
"Pardon?"
"When you were younger."
"When I was a teenager," corrected Sylvia with a small smile. "Kids will be kids. My face is in the newspaper from when I was a teenager, but aside from that, I've never been arrested. But since you're the one who brought it up—everyone knows your mistakes too, so why not cut the crap and stop trying to intimidate me with my own past."
"You're a criminal," said Mrs. James, stepping towards her. "You're a felon. So is your husband. You, two, will not win this election. You will be embarrassed, mortified by what is to come if you try to intervene, and you will wish your husband never tried to run against mine."
"Are we really doing this?" Sylvia said incredulously. "Comparing your husband's travesties to...to whatever you think Oswald or I might have done? Seriously? I mean, I'm game, but if you want to spill some real tea, sister, I've got a thousand pitchers." (She stepped closer to Mrs. James, who started to look unhinged.) "But being in an open area, I doubt you'd tell anyone just how corrupted your family really is, so how about we save the mud-slinging for when we are in a bar, and our dicks are hanging out!"
"Well! I never!" Mrs. James gasped, stepping back. She addressed the crowd, saying, "Everyone! Everyone! This woman just threatened me! This woman—"
"You tried to threaten me first!" Sylvia snapped, glaring at her. "It's not my fault that I'm better at dishing out threats than you!"
"How dare you," Aubrey James growled, stepping forward and in front of his wife, "threaten my beloved! But why should I be so surprised? You've done less than honorable things in—"
"Seriously?" Sylvia questioned. "If any one is to blame for the monsters running amuck, it's not Strange—it's you. You supplied the bodies. You're the phenomenal dick who decided he wanted to put all the baddies in Arkham; they all ended up in Indian Hill, more fucked up than they started out with!"
"I did not turn them into what they are now."
"You made Arkham what it is and it was you who put Strange in charge of it all. The people in Arkham are your responsibility."
"You're friends with half of them!" James snapped. "What does that say about you?"
"Like your friends aren't fucked up either?" Sylvia retorted, gesturing to him.
"You're out of order—"
"I'm out of order? Your wife came at me first, talking about how I'm going to be mortified and humiliated by the end of this election. What the fuck do you call that—a peace offering!"
The crowd gasped.
"I said no such thing!" Mrs. James exclaimed, glancing embarrassingly at the news reporters who flashed their cameras, scribbled furiously on their notepads, and pushed their audio tape recorders in front of other reporters.
Meanwhile, Oswald and Butch stood near the back, looking on.
Butch leaned into Oswald, saying, "Should we put to stop to this?"
"I think she's doing fine by herself, to be honest." Oswald replied calmly. "Personally, out of my own self-preservation, I am by no means willing to clamor to the podium and get in the middle of this fight."
"Those women are really going at it," Butch muttered. "How can this be good for your campaign?"
"The battle of the First Ladies," said Oswald sheepishly. "It'd happen eventually. Mayoral Candidates try to outdo each other. Meanwhile the families of each mayoral candidate try to show that their family is better."
"Sylvia's swearing at the former mayor of Gotham," Butch reminded. "How's that proving you're better?"
"Have you been observing at all, Butch? Look at how the people respond."
Sure enough, as Mrs. James and Sylvia were arguing at it on the stage—or rather Mrs. James trying to look like the victim while also turning out to be the pathetic actress while Sylvia roasted the hell out of her facade—the crowd, although surprised by Sylvia's crass approach, seemed to dote on her more.
"Your father was a corrupted hooligan," Mrs. James managed through gasps and stutters, pointing at Sylvia.
"My father was the best fucking District Attorney this city ever had. It's my mother who was corrupted and a complete psychopath," Sylvia said harshly. "If you're going to slander my family's name, at least get your fucking facts straight, you ignorant little twat!"
"Now, see, here, you can't talk to my wife like that," Aubrey James argued.
"She started the argument, Aubrey," Sylvia sneered. "If she couldn't take the heat, she shouldn't have lit the match."
"You're out of order, Cobblepot!"
"No, you're out of order, and you're out of your depth!"
Butch said quietly to Oswald, "Are you sure we can't intervene. It's getting a little out of hand—out of control, I mean."
"She's not out of control, trust me," said Oswald with a cunning smile. "She's playing the game."
"If you say so."
"You are a liar, a deceiver, and a—" Mrs. James began, but she was stammering to find another word.
"Fuck you, Dina," Sylvia snapped, "I am a lot of things, but I am not a liar. You know what, I'm done with this conversation. It's over, and I'm walking away. You two are so fucking petty, I can't even bother expending another ounce of energy on you guys."
"You threaten my family," said Aubrey James, as his wife cried behind him, "And expect to just walk away?"
"I've done nothing more than say my piece," said Sylvia. She looked at the cops, adding, "Officers, have I done anything illegal?"
They shook their heads.
"See?" Sylvia told James. "Nothing. Now you and your pretend-to-cry Wife can leave, knowing I mean you no physical or emotional harm."
"I'm not going anywhere," James snapped.
"Then stay here. What the fuck do I care? I've got an appointment to keep, so, excuse me. Demetri…" Sylvia said, waving him over.
Ready to help in anyway possible, Demetri took her hand and helped her down the stairs. Sylvia moved past the news reporters, all of whom stormed towards the podium to get another quote from the James' couple, and stopped when she saw Oswald and Butch.
Behind her, the crowd was screaming louder 'COBBLEPOT, COBBLEPOT', a sure fire response to the argument that had happened on stage and would surely be broadcasted on air for all the voters to see.
She kissed Oswald briefly on the lips.
"You did beautifully, Pigeon," He whispered.
"I thought that'd be one for the show," Sylvia snickered. "I'm going to the obstetrician. I'll be back by lunch."
"Be careful, darling."
"Always am," she sighed, and she left with Demetri, who opened her car door before he settled into the driver's seat.