I own nothing but Nicki. And Neeko, kind of, maybe. He's my own special little Russian that I named myself.

CHAPTER SIX

"I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I can see you are unarmed."

Oswald had been watching the door since nine. He knew she would be coming. Her meeting with Don Falcone had been rescheduled to tonight so it was only a matter of time before she showed up. Even now as he was standing in the rain, holding Fish's umbrella, he was constantly glancing back to the front entrance. Fish, on the other hand, was constantly casting annoyed glances at him as he let the umbrella trail away from her in his distracted state of being. "Boy!" she hissed, startling him. He immediately readjusted himself, realizing that for the third time, he had allowed her to get sprinkled on. "S-Sorry Ms. Mooney," he stammered under his breath, casting his eyes downward.

"I think your umbrella boy is expecting someone," Nikolai remarked in his heavy Russian accent. The five suited men accompanying him laughed at his joke. Fish seemed less than amused. "Yes…" she agreed dryly, shooting him a sharp look. "It would appear so." Oswald gulped and ducked his head. Fish had already warned him once about the girl and the last thing he wanted was to be on her bad side. Especially since he was sure that Butch had already told her about their little talk this morning.

"Yo Penguin," Butch called, causing Oswald to cringe. "Go dig out some of the nicer looking dresses from wardrobe and hang em on a rack for Nick! She's coming back tonight and we don't want a repeat of yesterday."

"Yes, right away," Oswald said quickly, putting down his pen and rushing past the bigger man. He made a small choking sound as Butch snatched him by the back collar of his shirt. "And hey don't be so chatty this time. You held the poor thing captive last night."

Oswald's brow furrowed at his insinuation, partially out of embarrassment and partly because, well, it simply wasn't true. "The lady actually came to talk to me," he informed Butch curtly.

"Oh yeah? And just what did she have to talk to you about?"

"Stories."

"Stories?" Oswald nodded, defiantly. "What kind of stories."

Oswald wasn't sure if he should respond. Was what she had told him confidential? Or, a little voice in the back of his mind added, even true.

"She…she said that…well she told me she was the…mouse thief." Even as the words left his mouth he felt stupid, and Butch's guffaw only made his ears go red.

"She told you that, huh?" Butch laughed.

"It wasn't true was it?" Oswald's heart was sinking lower by the minute.

"Nah it's true. HAH!" Butch shook his head. "I just didn't think she was supposed to talk about it too much. But I guess it's not like she exactly left the past in the past." Butch leaned in like he was telling Oswald a joke that only he should here. "That's why she hasn't paid you back personally for the cab fare. The girl feeds every allowance check Daddy gives her right into the feral youth of Gotham. Her ol' man can't stand it. Fish always called her the Queen of the Lost and Found because she's like the Peter Pan of all the lost boys and girls in this city."

Oswald was incredulous. She had been telling the truth, and yet again, he was moved to surprise by her. As he made his way to the dressing room his mind was filled with images of Nicki dressed as a sequenced Robin Hood, throwing bags of money to the grabbing hands of children. With a small chuckle he shook his head, rifling through dresses. A pale blue one stood out among the flashing gold and sequence and he took the material in his hand. Soft and silky. Taking it from the rack he smiled. Perhaps just one option would be plenty for her.

Eventually the rain picked up and the Russians and Fish decided to move in doors. By this time, Oswald's hair was soaked and plastered to his forehead, dripping down his long pointed nose. With Fish taking precedence, the umbrella did him no good. He was used to this by now, however, and simply waited for Fish to seat herself before excusing himself to go towel off. He found a dry dish towel in the kitchen and, looking at his reflection in the shiny surface of a pan, attempted to make himself look presentable. With a sigh he eventually gave up on his hair as familiar cowlicks stuck out of their own accord. He resigned himself to accepting this as the best he could do before rejoining the crowd in the club, which was now teeming with life. Glancing at the clock he could see that it was barely ten, but it was a Friday night he supposed. He moved to the table where Fish sat, and stood posed and ready to take up her drink when it needed refreshed. Nikolai's men were already tossing back glasses of amber liquid and becoming quite raucous. Oswald almost expected Fish to say something to them, but she seemed preoccupied with Nikolai who was about as close to her as he could be without pulling her into his lap. After a few minutes of whispers and low giggles Fish and the Russian left the table, off to one of the back rooms of the club, he could only assume. With her gone, he was able to go help Lazlo with the serving, and in truth he welcomed the task. In his idleness he was consumed by anticipation for when Nicki would come.

As he carried a tray of drinks to the shouting Russians, he heard the door open for the millionth time that night, but this time he wasn't disappointed. A small figure walked in the door, dressed in tight black pants and zipped up leather jacket to match. She was just unpinning her hair and shaking out her curls as she walked in, a motorcycle helmet held beneath her arm. Her doe-eyes met his from across the room and she shot him a smile and a wave before making her way to a side door that led to the backstage area. A low wolf-whistle behind him cued him into the fact that he wasn't the only one that had noticed her entrance. Turning his attention back to the table, he was disgusted to see that Nikolai's men were elbowing each other and making comments in Russian that he could only be thankful he didn't understand. He couldn't exactly blame them, she had looked ravishing in all that black leather, but for some reason it made his blood boil to think of those men ogling her. Not that you were much better, a little voice reminded him as he passed out their drinks.

"Oswald?"

He straightened up at the sound of his name and turned to see her standing right behind him. Wow she changed fast, he thought as he took her in. If she had looked good before she was gorgeous now. The motorcycle outfit had been exchanged for the floor length, pale blue dress with a slit up the side, and sweetheart neckline. He had been right in thinking it was a good choice. It was much more soft and feminine and made her look so out of place under the dim red atmosphere of the room. "Hi," she said simply, flashing him a smile.

"H-Hello miss Nicki," he stammered, returning her grin with a lopsided one of his own.

"Yes," came a slippery voice from behind him. "Helloooooo miss." One of the Russians, Neeko, quirked an eyebrow at her and shot her a toothy grin. Nicki's smile transformed into more of a smirk as she met his gaze. "Nicholetta," she offered, suddenly much more formal. "And you are?"

"The man who's going to be treating you to breakfast in the morning," he slurred out with a smirk. Oswald's eyes narrowed at the man while his friends howled at his smooth-talking antics. "Neeko," he introduced himself. Nicki pursed her lips and crossed her arms, cocking her hip to the side. "Neeko," she tried the name out, before giving a curt, "Pleasure."

"Oh, it will be." Neeko gave her a wink, sending his men into another peal of laughter. Oswald wanted to punch him in his smug face. His comments alone were enough to make his blood boil, and the way he was looking at her, was even worse. There was something predatory in his gaze that set the umbrella boy on edge. Nicki had lost her smile and was now glaring at the man. She recovered quickly and reclaimed the formal politeness she had held before.

"It was nice to meet you," she clipped with a forced smile. "But if you'll excuse me I have to be…anywhere else."

"Now now don't be like this," Neeko drawled in his heavy accent. "I'm joking with you. Come sit with us. Drinks on me." As a show of good faith, he lifted his drink to her, as if offering it to her. She cocked an eyebrow at his seemingly sincere offer. Then with another sleazy wink he added, "I'll even let you sit on my lap. I've got something better than that motorcycle for you to ride."

The men erupted into laughter and Oswald couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"Sir I-" he spat but Neeko cut him off with a menacing look.

"Or you'll what little Penguin man?" he popped his knuckles and smirked, and Oswald felt his whole body get hot. But before he could say another word Nicki held up a hand to slience him. To Oswald's horror she actually offered Neeko a small smile, batting her eyelashes as she leaned across the table towards him, arching her back as she propped herself up on her elbows. Even Neeko seemed a little surprised by this seductive turn. "That sounds nice," she purred, letting her fingers graze over his as he slipped his drink from his hand and leaned in until she was only inches from his face. "But unfortunately, you need to go clean yourself up."

Neeko's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before he had time to make a sound she had thrown his drink into his face. He let out a growl and wiped angrily at his face as the other men howled in laughter. Straightening up, Nicki placed her hands on her hips and smirked at the furious Russian. "Drinks on you right?" she purred, meeting his glare with wink. "Now if you boys will kindly excuse me, I believe I'll spend some time with a real man."

She turned to face the incredulous Oswald, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "If you don't mind a dance that is," she said, cocking her head to the side and looking up at him through her lashes. She reached up to smooth down his cowlick and he could smell her vanilla perfume. It took all of his will power to keep from closing his eyes and sighing at her touch. "I would be honored, miss," he said offering her his hand.

They made their way to slightly crowed open space where people sometimes danced and Oswald could feel the eyes of the Russians burning into his back. A twinge of pride warmed his belly at the thought of their jealous gaze. He held up his arms, resigning himself to avoid dancing too closely, but she pressed right up against him, draping one arm over his shoulder and taking his hand with her other. He felt his stomach constrict as they began to dance and felt his heart skip a beat as she suddenly leaned up, her cheek practically touch his. "You're a really good dancer," she said over the noise, her breath tickling his ear and making him gulp.

"My mother taught me," he responded dumbly.

"Good woman," her voice came, and this time he let his eyes drift closed at the tickle of her breath. It was a short lived moment as she leaned back though and smiled up at him.

"Thanks for trying to take up for me with those guys."

"You handled them well enough yourself."

"I still appreciate the thought." After a moment she added, "Falcone has a lot of good men working for him, but those boys don't fit the bill."

Oswald gave a small laugh. "You're meeting with Falcone is tonight? It sounds important." Maybe he was pressing too far, but if there was one thing Oswald liked, it was information, and the more information he could get on this girl…

"Yeah," she responded, suddenly looking a little downcast, and almost making him regret asking. Almost, anyways. "I'm afraid he won't be too happy with me."

"No?"

"I really appreciate all that…I just…a life of crime was never what I had in mind for myself."

"What did you want to be?" He had stopped dancing, now fully engrossed by the sad looking thing in his arms.

"You'll laugh," she refused to meet his eyes.

"I won't." He may have said it too anxiously, but he had to know now. His unanswered questions were gnawing inside of him. She had to grant him at least this one.

She hesitated. "A cop."

"Really," a perplexed smile overtook his face.

"Yeah I-" her voice trailed off as she noticed something over his shoulder. Her eyes suddenly narrowed and Oswald couldn't help but loosen his grip at the hostile expression that wracked her face. "I'll be right back," she hissed, coldly, now her full attention on the bar. As she dropped her arms and began striding towards it, Oswald turned to watch. She was making a bee-line for a laughing boy perched on a bar stool. The kid was probably about eighteen, broad built but with a still pudgy and youthful face. He looked out of place to say the least. He had a Mohawk and heavily lined eyes that easily made him look like a punk, as if his dark slightly dirty clothes weren't doing that well enough for him.

Oswald slunk closer, trying to hear what was going on. Nicki had reached the boy and was now talking to him in what would have been a friendly manner had it not been for the malicious look in her eyes. She pointed to the door and said something with a toss of her head and the boy responded by leaning back in defiance. Just like that, all pretenses were gone and Nicki had a hold of him by his sleeve and was dragging him out the door, and almost comical sight with the way the young man towered over her. Oswald quickly crept behind them, following them to the alley beside the club, just in time to see the small girl slam the now wide-eyed kid against the brick wall.

Will Neeko take the insult lying down? Who is this kid getting man-handled by our little Nicki? Will Oswald ever find out how her father is? Stay tuned to find out dear readers and thanks for following me along this far!