Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

The Caged Bird Sings

   I return to the apartment complex, hoping to get an afternoon of peace and quiet before heading out as the Trickstress tonight. On the way home I’d bought some magazines from a local stand that caught my eye, and maybe I could listen to the radio as well.

Ascending the stairs to my apartment, I open the door to find it uninhabited. It’s almost strange, I’d almost become use to running into Oswald snooping through my stuff. One time I’d installed a lock on the fire escape window, only to find it smashed to pieces and Oswald rummaging through my drawers.

Sitting down on the couch, I kick off my heels and set the magazines down on the coffee table. The first magazine I pick up is a renter’s guide. I look through the Gotham listing, hoping maybe to find a nice apartment so I can move out of this one. I flip the page and am greeted with a full page advertisement drawn in the style of Norman Rockwell for a small town. Smallville, seems like a nice place, but I’m more of a city person myself.

The magazine blows toward me, and my heart jumps. How can there be a breeze, when none of the windows are open? Glancing below the magazine, I see a pair of sharp dress shoes and dark socks, covered partially by black slacks. I lower the magazine, revealing Oswald’s long nose mere inches away from mine.

“Afternoon Oswald,” I greet him, raising the magazine above his face, blocking him from view.

“Afternoon Trixie,” he replies, sitting down on the couch next to me, squishing himself so that his side is up against mine.

Glancing over from my reading, I’m greeted with a wide-eyed Oswald, his expression expectant.

“Why are you looking at apartments?” he asks, leaning over.

“I told you, I’m thinking about moving out to another apartment,” I remind him.

He places both hands into his lap, “I would...strongly advise against that.”

“Oh really? And why’s that?” I inquire, placing down the magazine.

“Because you would benefit from staying close to me,” he reasons, taking my hand, “I’m...growing increasingly concerned for our relationship. You seem displeased with me.”

Displeased? Does Oswald just not understand other people, or is he playing that angle to his advantage? There’s no way he could be that stupid, he’s just trying to disarm me, catch me off guard.

“I am displeased with you. You tried to kill my friend,” I state, explaining to him as if he were a child.

“But with only the best of intentions! I know you desire your friend over me, but that he desires not for you. I...I was just trying to correct the injustice-”

“By murdering him?” I snap, cutting him off.

He shirks back, but in that moment, the light in his eyes shift from hopeful to malicious. He clenches his fists and grits his teeth, lowering his head, “I don’t need your approval of my actions. I had my reasons for what I did and I have no regrets.”

I place my hand on Oswald’s shoulder. While his more aggressive side has lost most of its shock value, there’s still a slight fear and hesitation as I attempt to calm him, “Fine, maybe you don’t need my approval. But I also don’t need to tell you that committing murder has serious consequences.”

“Ha, consequences. How are the police doing on your victim’s murder? What about Edward’s? I’ll bet you aren’t a suspect in either of those murders, despite the fact that you’re clearly tied to at least one of them.”

I rest my head against the back of the couch as Oswald continues, “What I’m saying is that in Gotham, none of us matter. Common people mean nothing to the police, they only care about the politicians, the mob bosses...the important people. And when a person isn’t important, well, we can do what we please with them.”