Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

My Life Is A Dream

   Oswald hobbles through the Royal Flush Casino. Gambling has never really amused him, not that he’d ever try it. He has enough vices as it is. Speaking of vices, Trixie, Trixie, Trixie. How he’ll enjoy winning her. Of course, he couldn’t do it without ceremony. No, this needs to be an occasion. After all, it’ll symbolize victory over his weakness that has so far done nothing but drag him down. And yet, she has helped him in the past. But even so, in helping him, she’s become a weakness, because, as much as he hates to admit it, he cares. He cares whether she lives or dies, and that’s a dangerous position to be in. Someone could easily hold her hostage to get his attention, and they would succeed. So that’s why it must be him, he must he the one to kill her, no one else. After all, it’s the only way that he, outcasted, demonstrative Oswald, could ever win someone like her.

He turns the corner, and spots Raoul Morgan pushing around a large cart of cleaning supplies. Perfect.

Hiding behind one of the flashy slot machines, Oswald looks on as he makes his way into an employee only room. Catching the door with his hand, Oswald peers in to make sure that he’s alone.

“Raoul...what a coincidence,” he makes his presence known, closing the door behind him and standing in front of it.

He whips around, shaking in terror, “P-Penguin! You’re...alive?! And what, what are you doing here?!”

Oswald chuckles, “I...was in the neighborhood, and I thought to myself: why not visit, my old friend Raoul? See how his new job’s been going.”

“Just get to it, Penguin, what do you want?” the name cuts like a knife, but words mean little right now, now he’s the one with the knife.

“I need a favor,” he prepositions, slowly walking toward him, “you’re familiar with the underground tunnels below this facility? The ones that Falcone’s men use to transport their...assets, hmm?”

“Ye-yeah, why?”

He steps closer, looking up at the taller Raoul Morgan who is cowering in fear. He loved the idea that someone who, once upon a time, would’ve physically intimidated him, now shakes in fear in his presence. He takes it in for a few seconds, allowing himself to enjoy the moment.

“Well, a couple of friends of mine are looking to...pay the casino a visit. I thought I’d provide them with the VIP entrance, seems only appropriate, right? Think you can do that for me?”

He nods, “Sure, sure, whatever. Just-just get out of here!”

Now having cleared the space between them, Oswald rushes him, wielding his pocketknife and pointing it directly at Morgan’s throat. He begins sobbing, fearing that these will be his last moments. Oswald chuckles, wild eyes flashing as he mocks him, “It was wonderful seeing you again, Raoul.”

Backing off, Oswald puts the knife back in his pocket and steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. He’s unable to hide a malicious smile as he walks out of the casino, various customers staring him down for his unusual grin and limping gait. Let them look, let them know that Oswald Cobblepot is a man of confidence, of importance.

The front lobby man is listening to the radio when Oswald catches what’s being played. A news reporter rapidly fires off a story about a police raid on a warehouse down by the water.

“And we’re just getting reports that the raid was unsuccessful. The officers are dispersing from the building as we speak. According to sources, at least one officer is missing, a rookie officer by the name of Natalie Ka...Kawa…I’m sorry, but I just can’t pronounce this last name.”

Oswald’s eyes widen. Trixie! How could this happen?! He shakes his head, no, no, this is exactly what he’d been fearing. A pain in his chest rises up as he tries to repress the emotions that unexpectedly come rushing forth. He should be glad, she’s out of his way, possibly for good. But no...she’s his to kill, not some no-name kidnapper. He needs to save her, yes, this may actually work to his advantage. He could come swooping to the rescue, just like the heroes in the books and the pictures. And she’ll be grateful, so, so, grateful. She’ll beg to be in his arms, her hero, her savior, and he justs imagine the delicious look of horror and betrayal on her face when he turns on her, slays her with the swift, strong stab of his knife. Yes...oh, this is perfection!