Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

Hearts and Minds

   Oswald lies in bed, his hands resting behind his head. To his side, Natalie sleeps peacefully, entangled in the thin sheets. He reaches over and runs his hand through her hair, a regular sort of habit he's been getting into. He silently chuckles to himself, playing with the locks of hair in his hand. While he toys with her hair, he wants nothing more than to touch other parts of her, but he knows anything more will wake her.

Just moments ago he could touch any part of her, if he wanted. And of course he wanted to, but his satisfaction didn’t come from the fact that he could, rather, it came from the fact that he could choose not to.

He could have turned away, insisting that he was tired or far too traumatized to engage further, and he imagines her nodding understandably before peacefully falling asleep, just like she is now.

The sex itself was fantastic. Animalistic, wild, passionate, he didn't want the night to end. Of course, she'll wake up tomorrow morning insisting that their encounter was an isolated transaction, but she'll be back. Oswald glances around the room, fantasizing about where they could do it next. He wasn't satisfied with the bed of course, no, not when there are far more...creative options available.

He shifts slightly in the bed, so that he faces her. He could easily retrieve his pocket knife from his suit, and end her life. After all, he got what he’d been seeking, right? But no, there were still so many uses for her and death now would be anticlimactic at best. And besides, he enjoyed having the ability, the power to give her pleasure, to see a smile on her face, to be kissed on the cheek, and know that these shows of affection are because she genuinely finds him charming, charismatic, attractive even…

But on the other hand, she has near equal power, if not greater, to give him intense pleasure of his own. In the immediate sense, it’s wonderful, but that kind of power could easily be used against him. It’s a dangerous exchange to say the least. He would have to find some way to keep her power in check, the last thing he needs is to have his own pawn manipulate him any further than she already has. Well...she isn’t so much his pawn, more so...his partner, his confidant, his lover, his little bird. Yes, like a little canary in a cage, he’ll find a way to make her sing for him alone.

   I awaken to an empty bed. Clutching my head with both hands, I slam myself back into bed. Was that wrong? Am I mad? Is that all? I can’t believe I let him….do that. But strangely, I don’t regret it. It was nice and man...it’s true what they say about men with long noses.

But, where is he now? I get out of bed and check the closet. One of his suits is missing. He couldn’t have left now, that’s not like him. But there’s still is unwaning uncertainty. After all, if Oswald’s anything, it’s unpredictable.

Trying to take my mind off of him, I wash up and get changed. I don’t have to be at the precinct for a couple of hours, so there some time to relax. Turning on the radio, I grab a magazine from a small pile I keep on the coffee table. I flip through the articles while radio announcers John Ryder and that other guy babble on in the background.

“Recent police reports suggest that this vigilante may actually be someone within the mob itself, due to his knowledge of mob workings and the underworld, and the fact that he operates mainly in the financial district, which has always been neutral ground for Gotham’s mobs. What do you think of that, John?”

He laughs, “Well, I’ll tell you one thing, my son Jack loves him. Says he wants to be him for Halloween, which is coming up in two weeks. My wife’s trying to stitch something together using an old Zorro costume.”

The front door rattles slightly, and it opens to reveal Oswald, carrying a neatly wrapped pink box. He smiles, “Oh, you’re awake.”

I put down the magazine, and get up to turn off the radio, “Yeah, where did you go?”

He smiles playfully, “I’m glad you missed me. I...went out to fetch some breakfast, I got caught up because I ran into some old friends from high school. ...have you ever had cannoli for breakfast? It’s a fun treat, and I got the sweet kind, with cream.”

“Oh, you ran into some old friends? I was under the impression that you didn’t have a lot of friends growing up,” I recall, turning off the switch on the radio.

“I was using the term sarcastically,” he clarifies, “no, these men tortured me during our years together at Gotham Academy. Not to mention they’re...they’re considerably younger than me. And on top of that, when they recognized me on the street, they had the audacity to joke around with me, as if everything they’d done to me was all harmless fun!”

He plops himself down in one of the dining room chairs, “But...as fate would have it, it turns out that despite their fine education, all of them are simple men for hire. Nothing more.”

“Mercenaries?” I ask, “Wow, I knew the economy was bad but when rich kids have to stoop to hiring themselves out...gee, what a world we live in.”

“Well, you know, there could’ve been other factors, drugs, gambling, alcohol, the usual vices. I didn’t ask of course.”

Oswald opens the box, revealing several cannoli rolls neatly placed in a row, with some squeezed in to the side. He takes one and bites into it, and I follow suit. As we eat, a bit of cream accidentally gets onto the side of his cheek. Feeling daring, I lean over and lick the cream off of his cheek. He smirks, reaching over and wrapping an arm around my waist.

“Perhaps we could, go another round tonight?” he suggests, stuffing the last of his cannoli into his mouth.

I raise an eyebrow, “Oswald, that was a one-time thing. I promised one time, not whenever the mood strikes you.”

I look up at the clock and wipe my mouth with a napkin before getting up, “I’ve got to get going.”

I grab my coat from the coat rack by the piano, and I glance over to Oswald to see that his lips are pursed into a disappointed pout. I smile, and approaching him, I lean down and kiss him on the cheek, “Hey, play your cards right, and I might not mind going for another round.”

I get back up, and when he’s just out of view, he quickly smacks me on the behind. I briefly turn around, meeting a grin on Oswald’s face that’s both smug and flirtatious. I narrow my eyes and twist my lips, the nerve.

   I’m only a few blocks from the precinct when a nearby phone booth begins ringing. I discreetly step inside and pick up the phone.

“Natalie, it’s me, Amanda,” the demanding voice comes out loud and clear.

“I’ve barely been back a couple of days Amanda, is something wrong? Have you caught that Harrison guy yet?” I ask.

She sighs, “No, he’s been...elusive, and it doesn’t help that I’m also working with a skeleton staff. Anyway, I’m sure you’ve heard of the vigilante currently roaming Gotham.”

“I know what you’re thinking Amanda, and no, it’s not me,” I conclude, glancing around the phone booth.

“I know it’s not you. You’re not that sloppy. Whoever this person is, they’re new at this, but they’re also undeniably good at it as well,” she clears her throat, and I hear the pitch coming, “I want you to utilize your Trickstress identity to get close to this vigilante, discover their identity, then mark them for tracking. They could be a good candidate for the Suicide Squad.”

Alright, I get using my own vigilante identity to associate with her, but how would I even find her? Maybe I should call attention to myself, get her to notice, or maybe I’ll stage a crime, or…

“Fine, Amanda, but don’t blame me if things go wrong. Like you said, this person is sloppy. She  may be unpredictable.”

“I know, that’s why you’re the right agent for this job. You’re good at managing chaos. Waller out.”

I hang up the phone and continue on my way to work. Amanda’s right, between Oswald, my two jobs, and now a vigilante identity, I’m good at managing chaos.