Chapter 10

Present Day

I sit watching Ozzy's heinous eating habits, as he dangles his last piece of calamari over his head and drops it down into his mouth. This is all part of his act, his Penguin persona, the same goes for the stupid British accent he uses when speaking to the waiter,

"No dessert for us tonight Garson, we'll be late for the opera."

"Opera?" I ask aloud.

He turns to me, nodding, "I've reserved two wonderful seats at the Gotham Opera House."

When's the last time I've been to the opera? The last time I was with Ozzy, I guess. He's the one who introduced me to opera, and I do rather like it, if only to have a good time with him.

I take his hand as he leads me down the delicate bending staircase made of glass stained to look like ice. As we reach the bottom of the staircase, a woman dressed in a tight sportsdress marches up to him in her black heels,

"Oie, Penguin, where've you been all night? An' who's she? She one of the dancers or something?" dear God, her British accent is worse than his.

"Trixie, this is Tracey, one the restaurant managers." he introduces, "Tracey, this is Trixie, my...well, we're still working that one out, aren't we?"

"We're old friends." I say politely.

She raises her eyebrow, "She looks a lot like Candy. If you really wanted some company boss, why not just ask her? She's certainly got bigger tits than-"

"That's...that's quite enough Tracey." Ozzy chuckles nervously, gripping my wrist tightly, "Take care of the place while I'm gone, as you usually do."

We're just about to leave the restaurant when a familiar man in a green suit approaches them, "Ah, Cobblepot, I see you have your girlfriend back."

"Nigma, I see you've escaped Arkham once again. You'll have to thank me for the break-out though. I assume the passages are back open?"

He nods, "Certainly. Your men were even kind enough to move around the entrances. No longer will our little secret be trampled upon by pure accident." his eyes drift to me, and he spends a few seconds looking me over. Does he recognize me?

"Would you stop staring, boy? If you want to stare at girls, the cabaret show is just beyond the casino." Ozzy demands, pulling me away from him.

Mr. Nigma, or should I call him the Riddler, smiles through his purple-tinted glasses, "Riddle me this: I talk, but I do not speak my mind

I hear words, but I do not listen to thoughts

When I wake, all see me

When I sleep, all hear me

Many heads are on my shoulders

Many hands are at my feet

The strongest steel cannot break my visage

But the softest whisper can destroy me. What am I?"

"People have better things to do than sit and pick apart your silly puzzles, Nigma." Ozzy spits, "Come my darling, we mustn't be late."

I feel Riddler's eyes trained on me as we exit the Iceberg Lounge, "The answer is: an actor!"

We starting walking the streets, the Gotham Opera is only a few blocks away. The streets are dark and dimly lit, as usual.
"Tracey, was it? And there's another woman too...Candy?" I ask, recalling the woman with the horrid imitation of a British accent.

"They're two employees of mine, nothing more."

"Really? It certainly seems like there's more going on than just that."

"Well, can you blame me? I got lonely while you were gone...I, I even tried moving on at one point-"

"And why didn't you?"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE MINE!" he shouts frantically.

Both of our heartbeats quicken. In any other situation, I would not take that for an answer, but I know right now, I have to make the exception.

I can feel Ozzy grip my hand tighter as we pass by a small band of homeless burning the contents of a garbage can in an alleyway.

One of them notices us, and steps out from the shadows, wielding a small pocketknife, "Alright, you know the drill. Wallet and jewelry."

I shift my eyes to the side as I see two more thugs grab a brick and a pipe from among the alleyway trash. Looks like we're going to be in for a fight.

"You fools! Do you know who I am?" Ozzy shouts.

The thug with the pipe comes swinging right towards Ozzy. I push him out of the way, grabbing the pipe with both hands. I twist the pipe so it's facing him and jab it into his stomach, knocking him back. With the pipe, now in my hands, I hold the pipe at the end and swing it at the thug, smacking him in the face. I brandish the pipe like a baseball bat as the thug with the pocketknife approaches,

"Allow me, my dear." Ozzy cuts in, raising his umbrella.

He pops it up, and a small blade comes out the end of it. The man with the pocketknife swings wildly, but his swipes barely tear at the fabric of the umbrella. Ozzy thrusts forth, stabbing the man directly in the chest. The blade still inside him, Ozzy lowers the thug to the ground and his body slides off of the blade and lands lifeless on the ground.

The last man with the brick hopelessly runs towards us. With the pipe in both hands, I hit the hand holding the brick, causing him to drop it. Ozzy comes in with his umbrella, jabbing him in the shoulder,

"I say we keep this one alive, teach him a lesson."

"You've had your fun. Like you said, we'll be late for the opera."

And I have no interest in participating in active torture.

He takes out a handkerchief and wipes his umbrella blade clean of blood before retracting it, "As you wish, my dear." before extending a hand to me.

I realize I'm still holding the pipe. I could easily hit him over the head with it and escape. But then, what would happen to Dr. Leland and Whistler? Do I even care? I've only known them a week...honestly, I don't really care. But, for some reason, I feel an obligation to stay. Even if I hardly know them at all they're still human beings. I drop the pipe. As it falls to the ground and it crashes to the ground with a clang, I realize there's something else too, keeping me here, something I can't quite put my finger on...

I take his hand and smile, a smile he returns, before we continue to the opera.

Several years ago

"You have a lovely view." I comment, staring out the window of Oswald's room into the Gotham skyline as the sun begins to set.

His mother had brought us sandwiches to eat after I'd cleaned myself up. The way she dotes on him reminds me of a mother taking care of a small boy. I almost imagine we're young children on a playdate, or what I imagine a playdate would look like.

"Not really, that big skyscraper is covering my view of the Gotham Bay." he points out, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

"Oh, who cares about the bay? Have you ever been to the bay? Dirtiest thing ever."

He nods as he swallows, "Yeah...many times actually."

"Why?"

"Well, I didn't exactly go by choice." he explains, "There were these group of boys from school who'd bring me out there and force me in."

"And you didn't fight back?" I ask.

He sighs, "...I...I was short. Still am. Plus, I'm sure you've noticed my nose and teeth. I've always had those...Penguin, that's what they called me. I was a little Penguin, who couldn't defend himself...I, I'm sorry, I'm not sure why I'm telling you all this."

While I'd noticed his slightly elongated nose, I'd never noticed his teeth before, most people in Gotham don't have dental hygiene high on their priority list anyway, but as he smiles at me, I notice his teeth are not only yellowed out and protruding, but are also slightly sharpened, like all of his teeth are canines.

"It's fine." I tell him, "If it helps, I'll never call you Penguin-" I pause, "...except for that one time."

He chuckles, "It's cool, really."

I laugh as well, "What, me calling you Penguin?"

"NO!" he shouts angrily.

I step back, shocked at his sudden mood swing. Maybe I'd gotten more than what I'd bargained for with this guy. Should I try to negotiate around him? Or is he more trouble than what he's worth?

"Is something wrong?" Oswald's mother asks, her frail figure timidly standing by the door.

"Nothing Mother." he smiles pleasantly.

Her expression sours, she clearly doesn't believe him, "Well, if you two need anything, I'll be just outside in the living room."

"Hey, do you guys have a phone I can use?" I ask him. I need to call Amanda now.

She shakes her head, "No...sorry. There's a payphone a couple of blocks awa-"

"Who do you want to call?" Oswald asks innocently.

"A...a friend who might let me stay over until I can get back up on my feet."

He chuckles nervously, his eyes shifting for me to his mother to back to me, "But, aren't you going to stay here?"

"Yes, and you've been very kind. But I wouldn't want to outstay my welcome." I tell them.

His mother pauses for a split second, returning the glances of her son, "Well, that's awful thoughtful of you, but you're welcome to stay here, it was very kind of you to help me with the dishes and laundry this morning. I could use the help around the house."

"Well, a few days at most." I conclude, hoping I'd made the right decision.

His mother claps her hands together and smiles warmly, "Wonderful, now, who wants dessert?"

Oswald raises his hand, "Oh, me!"