So the chapter updates have been coming really quick on here because I posted them a few weeks earlier on my Ao3, but I should be caught up now. A quick few notes about this chapter: In the original episode it's based on, Myrtle is seen going into the club during the day, but I had to change the timing to fit my plans. That being said, when I include canon events in my story, they'll usually be altered in some way to either fit my plot or add in information never revealed in the show. But hopefully with where the story is heading, I won't have to do that for too long. Anyways, thank you to everyone who has read this far and I really hope you enjoy!
The first thing that struck Clover about the Iceberg Lounge, was the classy atmosphere of the joint. Like, classier than any place she'd been before. The booths were made of a dark red velvety plush, and the luxurious curtains looked thick and heavy with woven tassels decorating them Clover was currently seated in a back room with accompanied business man she entered with, but she could just make out a bar and some type of ice sculpture through the curtains of their enclosed booth. Formally clad people lounged in the main lobby, their tittering laughs resounding out over the backdrop of a piano's smooth sound. Clover's father would never believe where she was right now.
Clover swirled the liquid in her drink nervously, her hand clenching the delicate flute of the glass as she attempted to ignore the hungry gaze of the man sitting across from her. After entering the club, the two blondes had wanted to dance, beckoning the man to follow along with them. He simply ushered them off, claiming that he wanted some alone time with his guest. From then on he had attempted to make what Clover guessed was his idea of a rousing conversation. He asked her countless empty questions about "her native country of China." Though she desperately wanted to call him out on his ignorance, the fear of getting thrown out was too strong. But as the urge to slam her head repeatedly against the table grew stronger, Clover knew she had to find a way to get escape from his presence.
After a few more minutes of silence and unnerving stares from the man, he finally spoke up.
"Ya know, I never did ask ya what your name was."
Clover really didn't want the man knowing what to call her, nickname or real name, so she quickly decided on a fake one.
"My name's Jessica." She said demurely, trying to give him what felt like a flirtatious smile. To say that Clover was out of her depth would be an understatement.
The man gave her a dopey look of surprise. "No kidding huh? I thought you'da be named Ching Chong or some shit."
Clover didn't think she'd ever wanted to punch someone as much as she wanted to punch him at that moment. Fortunately for her, she hadn't drank enough at this point to lose her self control and actually act on her violent impulse. However, she had drank enough to make a realistic plea for a trip to the bathroom. That would be her daring escape plan.
Clover gave him an uneasy smile as he laughed at his little joke. "Excuse me but I need to use the bathroom, I'll be right back." She said, giving him no room to argue.
As she stood up and walked away, Clover felt the man's eyes on her. A disgusted shiver rolled down her spine as her pace quickened, despite the pain in her feet.
"Stupid heels." Clover mumbled as she opened the bathroom door.
It was quiet and empty inside the bathroom, which Clover was thankful for. It gave her some time to clear her head. As she stood in front of the large mirror she glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was almost 1, which meant the club would be closing in an hour. Clover's plan was to wait in the bathroom until the club closed, then make her way into the kitchen and let Myrtle in. However, it was still too early to put her plan into action, and being alone in the restroom for so long was sure to cause suspicion. So with a deep breath, Clover pushed the heavy door open again and reentered the party.
She'd already decided she wasn't going back to sit with that man, so Clover made her way over to the bar instead. Maybe she'd be able to get a real drink instead of the fruity martinis the business man had insisted on. Heaven knows she could use a real drink right now. Clover made her way over to the bar, careful not to brush up against any of the other patrons or pull any attention to herself. The last thing she needed was another sleazy rich person trying to talk her into coming home with them. She'd had just about enough of that, thank you very much.
On her way over to the bar, the glinting of the ice sculpture caught her eye, or at least Clover thought it was an ice sculpture. All she could see over the heads of the crowd was the top of a chunk of ice. During the brief moments she could see in between the moving crowd, she could make out a dark figure at the center of the ice. Not for the first time, Clover cursed herself for being so short. She would have to get closer in order to see what it was.
She slowly pushed her way through the crowd, maneuvering through countless drunk couples and mingling socialites. Luckily, she only managed to bump into a few people who gave her some affronted looks, only to dismiss her quickly as if she were a bug. She imagined them stating in a disgustingly posh accent, "By heavens, what is this riff-raff doing in such an establishment, I shall have my refund at once!" Clover supposed their thoughts on her were fair. These people were recognizable to anyone in Gotham and she was virtually a nobody. She tried not to let their glares sting too much.
As she finally closed in on the ice, Clover was even more intrigued by what she saw. Everyone seemed to be giving the "sculpture" a wide berth, and she could see why. It was a pillar of ice, tall enough to reach the ceiling and radiating frigid clouds of steam that made her shiver even from a few feet away. Clover could see the cold air curling off of the ice, dissipating into the air in thick waves. The lights above were rigged so that the sculpture refracted the light and almost seemed to be glowing in a crystalline way. Instead of being illuminated, the structure seemed to emit its own unearthly glow. It was amazing how etheral a simple block of ice could look. Even more compelling, however, was what stood frozen on the inside of the ice.
Clover had to blink a few times to make sure she was seeing things clearly. There was a… man inside the ice. An actual man, inside the ice. It was if he was a person frozen in time. The man's body was standing upright, with one arm stretched out. It looked almost as if he was… pleading. A cold feeling that wasn't an effect of the nearby ice began to settle in the pit of Clover's stomach. Her eyes moved up to the man's face, and any present thought in her head promptly ceased to exist.
It was that man, Edward Nygma. His face was mid shout, as if he had been screaming for his life when he was frozen. His expression was one of shock and dreadful anticipation. It mirrored the way Clover had felt all those nights ago. But there was no sense of smug satisfaction in Clover's heart when she recognized the irony of the situation. There was no justified glee at the realization that their roles were swapped, and that he was now the one who was afraid. There was only an alarming feeling of dread creeping up the back of her spine. She was about to aide in the robbery of this club. This club, which had a frozen criminal displayed in the middle like a prize. Or a warning. If this is what had been done to him, for whatever thing he'd done to anger the owner, she could only imagine what would be done to her. She had to get out of here.
Before she could turn around and leave without ever looking back, Clover felt a presence next to her. A voice spoke with the kind of self satisfaction that can only belong to someone who's achieved something they've dreamed about.
"Awe inspiring, isn't it?"
Clover did her best not to jolt, but the surprised look in her eyes betrayed her. Standing next to Clover was a man who looked too familiar for all the worst reasons. His icy blue eyes and hooked nose gave him away as Oswald Cobblepot, known better under his criminal alias "Penguin". All of sudden, Clover realized why the Iceberg Lounge had sounded vaguely familiar to her. She had read about its grand opening about a week earlier when she caught a glimpse of the headline in her father's morning paper. She wished she'd paid more attention to her father's passing comment about the gangsters that ran the joint.
"It's certainly… something" Clover replied, her voice quivering.
Cobblepot's gaze rested on the ice for a few more moments. His expression was fairly blank, but Clover thought that she could see the barest hint of a cruel smile at the edge of his mouth. After a moment, he turned back to Clover, his expression now one of a hospitable host. Clover's eyes widened a hint more. The man really did resemble a bird!
"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Oswald Cobblepot, the proprietor of this establishment, and you are?"
His question seemed polite enough, but there was a frost beginning to gather in his eyes. If anyone could spot that Clover didn't belong here, it would be this man.
Clover flashed him a wide smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Cobblepot. I'm Jessica, Jessica Brown."
Cobblepot nodded, his eyes assessing her like a particularly picky DMV instructor who was about to fail her. "I see." He paused for a moment, looking apprehensive. "I'll be honest Ms. Brown, I approached you because I saw you come in with Mr. Goodman." He gestured towards the table where the business man sat. If the way he was groping the two blondes was any indication, he wasn't missing Clover's company too much.
Cobblepot continued. "If you'd allow me to be quite frank, you're not quite like the usual...associates...he brings in here. I'm just simply curious about your relation to Mr. Goodman."
'You mean I'm not as hot as his regular "associates" are.' Clover thought bitterly. She was well aware that she was no model, but being compared to the other women in the room didn't do anything to help her self esteem.
Clover could tell Cobblepot was sizing her up, but she didn't understand if it was because he thought she was trouble, or if he was only genuinely interested in who she was. Clover assumed it was the former, considering that a man of his stature probably didn't bother with things like basic curiosity when he was busy running a club.
"Well you see…" Clover supposed she could just tell the truth about how she encountered Mr. Goodman, but that might earn her a ticket straight out of the club. "I only met Mr. Goodman recently at a charity gala." 'That's a thing rich people do, right?'
Cobblepot's right eyebrow twitched minutely. "Oh really? Which one? Perhaps I was also in attendance."
Clover thanked her lucky stars that she read the newspaper often enough to know when some hotshot gala occured. "It was the Wayne gala last week. The one raising money for the ongoing repairs at Gotham University." She gave out a little sigh and gave the sleazy businessman in the distance an enamored look. " Mr. Goodman was so handsome that night..." She tried not to cringe as he began to pick something out of his teeth.
Clover held her breath as she watched Cobblepot's stony face. After a second or two, his suspicion seemed to alleviate a little bit. He was buying it.
"Interesting. And what is it the finds you straying away from Mr. Goodman tonight?"
Clover could tell she was getting good at the whole lying thing, because the answer popped into her mind straight away.
"Well I was just interested by the ice display if I'm being honest. It's not everyday that you see a man frozen in an ice sculpture."
'Especially the man who burned down your university.' Clover thought.
"Well," Cobblepot said after an amused chuckle, "the story behind this piece is quite intriguing."
Clover nodded for him to go on, though she had a feeling that hearing the story might only put her more on edge.
"Well you see, poor Ed was suffering from a terrible brain disease, one for which there is no cure." Cobblepot explained, a forlorn look on his face. " He begged me to preserve his body so that, when the cure was found, he could be reanimated and treated. Of course I had my reservations, but how could I say no to my dear friend?"
Clover couldn't believe that Cobblepot actually thought anyone would buy that story. One look at the man in ice's face and it was clear that this hadn't been done to him of his own volition. Clover wasn't even sure if this method of cryogenics worked. She had heard rumors of working long term stasis in crazy government labs, but freezing someone in a block of ice just sounded preposterous. Although, someone had to be believing it if Cobblepot had gotten this far. But not Clover, she knew better at this point. Nygma had worked for Cobblepot during his brief stint as mayor, so it was plausible that he could have offed Nygma for knowing too much, or getting on his bad side.
"Wow...that is an intriguing story. Poor man, hopefully they find the cure someday."
"Yes, hopefully one day poor Ed will return to us." Cobblepot said, an air of disinterest creeping into his tone. It was clear that he had grown tired of this conversation with Clover. Now that his suspicion had passed, he had no reason to continue talking to her, or even acknowledging her existence.
"I'm afraid I must attend to other things now. It was wonderful making your acquaintance Ms. Brown. Perhaps we'll meet again soon." Oswald said, shooting Clover a tight lipped smile.
"It was lovely meeting you too. Have a good evening Mr. Cobblepot." Clover called as she watched his retreating form hobble back into the crowd. She was still reeling from the fact that she'd come face to face with the Penguin, and lived.
Clover took a few steadying breaths, then glanced back towards the ice. Unfortunately for her nerves, Nygma was still there, the terrified look on his face never wavering. It was almost as if he was an omen of warning from the universe. A final plea from fate for her to turn back. 'You should probably run…' The words echoed through her head.
"Shut up." Clover whispered harshly through her clenched jaw, giving the man a withering glare.
She needed this money, now more than ever. Her dad was depending on her, and Clover had already let him down too much to fail again. Besides, she had not put up with that sleazy old business man for hours to give up so easily. Clover's heated gaze cooled into one of determination.
"I'm going to do this. You'll see." She mumbled more to herself than the frozen man. Maybe if he had been alive to hear her, he would have smirked and offered her a cocky "good luck" But unfortunately, the only response Edward Nygma could offer her was the same expression he'd been wearing for who knows how long. So with new resolution, Clover turned away from him and began to enact her plan.
After loitering around a bit more, Clover finally heard Cobblepot announce that the bar was closing and all patrons would leave the bar. After scoping out the bathroom earlier, Clover decided her best bet was to hide in the cabinet beneath the ornate sinks located in the bathroom. It wasn't necessarily a full proof plan, or even a good one at that, but it was the only feasible hiding place she could think of. Luckily, Clover had been on the gymnastics team in highschool and was more flexible than your average undercover thief. She was able to squeeze herself into a precarious position inside the cabinet, placing rolls of toilet paper in front of her and arching her back around the pipe extending from the sink. Now all she had to do was wait.
Clover could hear the sounds of patrons subsiding as they exited the club, and soon there were only a few voices left. Clover thought she could recognize Cobblepot's, but wasn't keen on emerging from her hiding spot to find out. She eventually heard the thuds of footsteps enter the bathroom, and the sound of stall doors being pushed open. She held her breath as she listened to the person rummage around.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour of tense waiting, Clover heard the beep of a walky-talky.
"All clear boss, we're good to lock up for the night." A gruff voice said, footsteps fading away as the click of a lightswitch signified his exit.
Clover allowed a gust of air to escape from her lungs as she sat hunched inside the cabinet. For good measure, she let what she estimated to be 15 minutes pass before she cautiously pushed open the cabinet doors. Clover felt her joints pop and her muscles sigh in relief as she finally stood up. It was pitch dark on account of the lights being off, so Clover groped around blindly in the dark until she found the door. Ever so slowly, she twisted the doorknob and reentered the club.
Luckily, the streetlight streaming in from the large windows illuminated the club enough for Clover to navigate. She took a few steps in before removing her heels slowly, paranoid by the clacking noise that echoed in the empty space when she walked. With slow precise steps, Clover made her way past the grotesque ice sculpture towards the kitchen. She shuddered as she passed the ice tomb. Even with the power off, the thing still seemed to glow like a dying star.
Clover fumbled her way through the darkened kitchen, not confident enough to turn on the light and risk the attention of any late night guards. The rich smell of food still permeated through the air, and Clover could hear her stomach gurgle loudly. Maybe she'd use some of her payment to pick up a burger after this was over.
After reaching what she presumed was the back door, Clover held her breath and slowly pulled it open, waiting for some kind of alarm. When none came, she carefully peeked her head out into the frigid Gotham night. The door had opened to a back alleyway with a few dumpsters and the standard graffiti that accompanied every other wall in Gotham. Clover glanced in both directions. Both were devoid of people.
"Myrtle?" She whispered quietly, an uneasy feeling beginning to pool in her stomach.
Suddenly, a scuffling noise clanked from inside one of the dumpsters. Before Clover could think to slam the door shut, out popped one very disheveled looking Myrtle Jenkins. Clover balked at her, wide eyed.
"Oh good, I was getting worried that you were caught. That would not have been good." Myrtle said as she hoisted herself over the edge of the dumpster.
If Clover had been a little less urgent she might've questioned why Myrtle had felt the need to wait in a dumpster, but Clover honestly just wanted to get her money and get out.
Myrtle eagerly passed Clover, her equipment held tightly in her hands. However, Clover grabbed her shoulder before she could get too far.
"I believe you owe me the other half of my pay."
Myrtle gave Clover an annoyed look, before fishing through her pocket for a wad of cash and thrusting it at Clover.
"There you go, happy now? Your end of the bargain is over, and you're free to go." Myrtle gave Clover a dismissive look, ready to leave her be once and for all, but Clover wasn't quite finished yet. Her burning curiosity had reared its ugly head again, and Clover had to have her final question answered to gain any closer on this whole night.
"Wait!"
Myrtle turned back around in a huff. "Well what is it? I don't exactly have all night."
"What is it that you could possibly want to steal from The Penguin. What's valuable enough to risk your life?" Clover asked, almost dreading the answer.
Myrtle's face was blank for a moment, before a dreamy look came over her. She gave Clover a delirious smile.
"I'm saving the love of my life Clover. I'm saving my Eddie."
Clover could only furrow her eyebrows in shock as Myrtle darted off, the door closing with a resounding thud as she backed away. Suddenly the blowtorch in Myrtle's apartment made perfect sense. Her plan was to somehow thaw Nygma out. Clover had expected something crazy from the woman, but this was far beyond her expectations. Not only was she crossing one of the most powerful of Gotham's crime bosses, but she was rescuing a man responsible for countless murders and crimes. And all in the name of "love".
Clover wanted to puke right then and there in the alleyway, but decided she'd better leave as soon as possible. She wedged her money in the only available space to contain it, her bra, and carefully withdrew the tiny blade she had stashed inside her left shoe. The blade couldn't have been more than a few inches long, but the last thing Clover needed right now was to be robbed. The streets seemed to be fairly empty, but Clover didn't relax in the slightest until she was seated on the bus. Only then did she let her thoughts wander.
She couldn't help but regret what she had done. Not only had she risked her own skin, but she had essentially set Nygma free. And for what, a thousand dollars? The money felt sickeningly heavy in her pocket, but that did little to counteract the giddy rush of euphoria that surged through her. Despite Clover's moral conflict over taking the money, she couldn't help but feel a little thrill at the thought of what she had just succeeded in.
She had just swindled The Penguin. Clover had always gained a little thrill from breaking the rules, but this was farther than she had ever gone before and she liked it. It was the same sort of emotion she had experienced when staying out past her curfew as a teen or making out with boys in the bed of her father's truck after dark, only multiplied by a few thousand. Even though every logical nerve in her mind was sending out synapses of distress, there was a storm of dopamine surging through her. The knowledge that she had gotten away with her little undercover mission sat with a heady warmth in her chest.
And so it was with a new spark kindling in her heart, and a bra full of cash, that Clover stepped off the bus and into the cold Gotham night with. Tomorrow she'd be down from her high, but tonight she would ride out the intoxication of her success. Clover gave a content smile as she turned towards the McDonald's just past the bus stop. She had promised herself a burger, afterall.