Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

Gotham Needs Them, They Are Its Future

   I can't believe I'm going through with this.

Ed and I stand at the entrance of the Gotham P.D. precinct, the dark painted wood setting the tone for the crowded station. Office desks crowd the bottom floor, which are overlooked by a circular balcony.

"Uhm...Natalie, probably best if we keep moving," Ed suggests, tapping my shoulder.

I nod silently, before continuing to walk into the precinct. The jail cells are in the same area as the desks, packed mostly with the homeless and low-level thugs. No one I knew, thank goodness.

We walk up the stairs to the balcony, where Captain Essen's office is. She stands upon our arrival, as Ed closes the door behind us.

"Oh, thank goodness Natalie. You couldn't have come at a better time," she informs me, shaking my hand.

I hand her the papers Ed gave me, and she starts skimming through them.

"Well, I'm happy to bring you onboard right away. You can change into a police uniform in the locker room downstairs."

I smile, "Yes, thank you, Captain Essen."

I open the door and start walking out when I turn around to see Ed, standing proudly with his arms in front of him. I know that look, he's looking for some sort of acknowledgement, some way to show her appreciation. She gives a tired expression.

"Thank you, Ed."

He smiles, before following me as we exit.

"Is that her cookie cutter response?" I ask him.

“It’s a response. That’s something, correct? It can only get better from here,” Ed replies optimistically.

I smile, and as we walk down the flight of stairs to the main floor, a woman with sharp glasses and her hair back approaches the steps, carrying a large paper box.

“Oh, Kristen!” Ed calls out, scampering toward her, “I have someone I’d like you to meet,” he points to me, “this is Natalie. A longtime friend of mine. She’s new here, so, could you direct her to the women’s changing room? Because...I...I kind of don’t know where that is.”

“Well, Mr. Nygma, if you could carry these papers to Administration, I would gladly do that,” she replies coldly.

Ed takes the box that Kristen’s carrying, and I smile as I notice their hands touch for a brief second while making the transaction. Ed however, can not handle the weight of the box and it plummets to the ground, landing square on Kristen’s foot.

“Ouch! Nygma!”

Ed looks up, worried, “I, am...so...so, sorry, Ms. Kringle! I...I, guess I underestimated the mass and volume of the package.”

I intervene, easily lifting the box up with one hand. I turn it away from Kristen before carefully handing it to Ed, who is now somewhat prepared for its weight. The box weighs him down so that now he’s hunched over.

“I’ll just be taking this...excuse me…” he says as he begins awkwardly shuffling through the crowd of officers and desks.

“So...you’re friends with Mr. Nygma?” Kristen asks, as we head down a side staircase to a basement level.

I nod, “Yes, he and I have been friends since childhood.”

She abruptly stops in her tracks, turning around to face me, “I’m sorry, I know you said you guys are friends, but please tell me you’re actually his girlfriend, or his fiance, or his wife...and you guys are just saying you’re friends for professional reasons.”

“...no, we’re not...why do you ask? Is something wrong?”

She starts walking again, her hands on her waist, head down, “I’m sorry, I hardly know you, and you seem rather nice so, I’ll just, keep quiet on the matter.”

I twist my lips, yeah, that would probably be best.

   Oswald turns on the rusty old sink to wash his hands of blood. Too bad the ransom video didn’t work, he could’ve earned a decent amount from that boy and his family. All he has now is some change, and his pocketknife. The car of the two young men has enough gas to get him back to Gotham, but he certainly couldn’t keep it, it’ll be on a stolen cars list soon enough, and with the gas crisis, he wouldn’t be able to find a refill even if he were to steal it.

He looks out the window, staring across the bay to Gotham City. Dark clouds seem to stir around that city alone, as if it’s meant to be drenched in darkness. To be fair, it is, after all, very soon, he will be the one in control of it. Darkness indeed, for there is beauty in darkness as there is order in chaos.

Oswald gets out a black trash bag and dumps the man’s lifeless body into it, and notices the blood stain he’s made on the trailer carpet. Perhaps as a courtesy he’ll clean that up before leaving.

His mind begins to wander back to Trixie, why do his thoughts keep running back to her? It’s just, there’s something familiar about her, something comforting that he can’t quite put his finger on. Certainly, on that fateful night they’d met, he hadn’t been expecting her first words to be to ask if he was okay. He’d been in far worse conditions before and nobody had even blinked an eye. But somehow, his minor injuries had caught her attention. This had been immediately interesting to Oswald, while the first explanation he’d come to had been ulterior motives, he quickly brushed that away. What did she see in him that was useful to begin with? At that time, he must have seemed weak, subservient, hopeless even. He’d figured she would accept his offer to come to his home as a means to use him, maybe steal some of his mother’s jewelry. And yet...she did no such thing, throughout her entire stay. He’d planned to catch her in the act, then use it as leverage to sway her into his bed, but, things did not go according to plan. He’s rather glad they didn’t...things are so much more, interesting now.