Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

I'm Sorry You Feel That Way

   Batwoman and I drive through Gotham City, Batwoman maneuvering her car with lightning precision.

"Today I'm going to show you my base of operations," she announces, veering off to the left.

I raise an eyebrow, "Isn't that just your apartment?"

She shakes her head, "No, I've been mainly working out of a friend's house. She's pretty cool, if maybe a little...judgemental."

"Rich and snobby?"

Batwoman grits her teeth, biting her lip, "Well...she's just...like that, is all."

I smirk, "Uhuh."

We leave the downtown area, making our way to the edge of the city limits, where dirty skyscrapers are replaced by sprawling green lawns and formidable mansions.

"Wow, I never thought I'd ever see this part of town," I look on in wonder as we pass Wayne Manor.

She chuckles, "It's not all sunshine and roses, believe me."

We pull up to an old Victorian-styled mansion with spiral towers and large, double-paned windows. The outside is painted warm wooden brown colors, giving off the impression of a homely cottage, although it's size makes it more of a castle than a cottage.

Taking off her mask, Barbara rings the doorbell, but doesn't bother to remove her costume or hide the car.

A tall man in a coat and tails answers the door, looking down sternly at Barbara and I. He turns away to the side, "Ms. Vreeland, Ms. Kean is here, and she brought a guest!"

An equally tall woman with red hair pushes him out of the way, "A guest?! Oh Babs, you finally brought your mysterious partner in crime! Who is she?" Veronica Vreeland jumps excitedly.

I remove my mask to reveal my face.

"...oh...I apologize deary, I haven't the slightest idea who you are."

My eyes shift from side-to-side, remembering her encounter with Oswald at the art gallery, "...that's probably for the best."

We follow her into the house, which follows the warm aesthetic, with mahogany and cedar woods lining the floors and walls. Mirrors are scattered in various places in the living room and hallways, and Veronica takes her time to at least glance herself in every one they pass.

"So deary, tell me your name, and what you do," she instructs me.

"Well, my name's Natalie, and I'm primarily a police officer at the GCPD, but as you can see, I have a few...hobbies."

Veronica arches her eyebrow, "Oh...a police officer, I see. No wonder I've never heard of you-"

"Natalie tends to lead a more private life than what we're used to," Barbara interrupts.

"In other words, she never gets out," she concludes.

Veronica leads us down a narrow hallway, and down a flight of stairs to a wine cellar. Among the rows of barrels, a somewhat out-of-place marble pedestal sits toward the back, with a Shakespeare bust atop it. Veronica makes a beeline for the bust, lifting up its head to reveal a red button. Pressing the button, a wall on the other side of the cellar opens up.

"You just...had this here?" I ask.

"My family used it as a speakeasy during Prohibition, but recently we've done some, renovating."

We walk down a dark flight of stairs, descending into a cave-like space similar to what I'd imagined in my dream. The hollowed out room is dimly lit by computer screens and electrical equipment, a large computer terminal sitting at the center.