Chapter Text
At this point, the Twins didn't even stop him as he pushed his way into the club.
After so many deep dives in his first week on the Riddler case, he wasn't too exasperated in coming back to this den of sin. The smell of bodies and sweat clung to him as he stalked through the crowd, completely illuminated by the intense pulses of white and purple lights. People were more blazed off their asses than ever, caught up in making silly dances and trading laughs, absolutely smothered under the pounding of heavy bass. There was some lighthearted song tonight about purple hats and dancing that encouraged an intense playful atmosphere as they all watched him, eyeing him with smirks and points this time around.
He couldn't help himself from letting his gaze roam, led by curiosity from the way they teased, touched his cape, made passing comments about his acts.
Once he had gotten to higher ground and stopped before the loft he had sought out, Batman took a step and slowly leaned to peer over the railing.
Down there in the pit was a different side of Gotham. Dredged out from the flood waters, they all mingled as if no true evil had ever threatened to swallow them. It was as if the Iceberg Lounge had always stayed afloat, untouched by the wicked hands that gave them their drinks and their drops. The attitude was different.
Falcone was dead. Some of the most corrupt players in Gotham society were either there with them or being held behind bars. Even through it all, that green-eyed storm, they still danced as if they had never been wet. It was pure human spirit shining through, finding joy again in pleasures only they knew. As he watched the revelry beneath him, he couldn't stop himself from smiling.
It was a celebration of life, hidden away from the suffocation of the news and world affairs. Tonight, they deserved their fun.
Batman stepped back from the rail and regarded the beaded doorway of the loft office. Unlike the first encounter, he took his time to push his hand through the strands while listening for curious sounds. So purely vintage and out of place, almost hilarious in such a modern club. He knew better.
They were effective ambush deterrents.
It sounded like snakes were hissing all over him as he pushed through and stopped to survey the space. The tiny room gave him a quick answer as to what he was looking for, namely that he found himself standing alone. A few girls from the next room over stared at him as they applied their makeup. He returned the gesture, unsure of whether to keep the smile or drop it. It was easier to look elsewhere, at the neat assortment of bottles on a cabinet to three umbrellas in a stand. There was a distinct smell of cologne drifting through the space.
At least the window was fixed.
"Can...I help you?" A mousy voice called from the doorway. One of the bar girls was peering at him from behind the bead curtain, her ruby lips set in a nervous pout.
"Yeah." He rasped. "Looking for Oz."
It sounded like an ass-kiss but this was not a visit looking for a fight. He noticed the woman responded favorably with a nod while she shifted her drink tray.
"He's in his office. This is more of a..." she gave a soft giggle and looked at him through blonde bangs, "A party lounge." She shrugged and scrunched her nose. "But anyway, I can show you-"
"No need."
Tall, dark and brooding. That was surely the right string of words going through her head as she was surely watching him descend back down the stairs.
It was strange to accept that he had already been in the private suite twice, both in and out of his persona. Penguin had rightfully been antagonistic after their last encounter under an overpass, but the man had been nothing but jovial and even polite to Bruce when he had come crawling into the belly of the beast to find answers. "Johnny Slick"...now that was quite the name. From a mafia point of view, he could dare to say it was a sign of acceptance.
His lips squirmed at the sensation he felt in his gut as he pondered the idea. Instead, he forced his attention to the plunge in temperature as he continued pushing forward. As the music slowly hushed behind him, all he could hear was the heavy strides from his boots and the grinding of his teeth. Two men tensed up as they stood guard at the large double doors.
"Not here to fight," he started before they could even finish squaring up, "Just here to talk to Penguin."
"Last time you talked left him zip-tied." One big suit snarked at him. He was rolling his head in a swivel to crack his neck at every point. "What makes me believe you don't got some extra messed up shit on you this time?"
The other guard was way too close now, almost breathing on his face. Batman kept his face focused on the first but his eyes were honed on the second. His expression was unreadable but his pupils were tightened.
"Just here to talk." He said again, though his tone had a harsher grit to it. "A business proposal...for Mr. Cobblepot."
Both men looked at each other and back to the absolute lunatic they saw in him. The closest stepped back to slip through the doors while the first cracked his knuckles.
"...No funny business." He said, though there was a quiver to his voice that Batman understood immediately.
No doubt, it came from thoughts over Carmine Falcone, the prodigal traitor. His death had shaken up the Underground far harder than it did for the common Gothamite. Batman nodded to the man, though he was thinking more of that night when he had dragged Carmine out from his nest, bruised and still grinning as if he weren't being led on by what he possibly thought was his executioner. Fear, vengeance, paranoia...the notions were not exclusive to the cowl.
The door opened again and the second suit returned. He mumbled something to his cohort and together they both stepped aside.
Penguin was standing there in the far back, perfectly framed by the center window, pool stick in hand. He watched the vigilante approach with a tense expression. When Batman was up close, he took a sharp inhale, nodded and settled into both a squint and a crooked smile.
"Didn't want to ruin the mood on that entry." He mused. "Very bold, so mysterious...what brings you back, more Spanish lessons?"
He was chuckling, but his suspicions were apparent. He shifted into a thoughtful pout as Batman bridged the gap between them.
"Have a proposal for you." The Dark Knight said. He waited while Penguin looked him over with a funny expression, no doubt trying to analyze what sort of game he must be playing.
"A proposal?" The big man repeated. "I'm flattered, baby, but the last two times you wanted to talk to me ended up with you owing me a new window and a car." He settled into a teasing croon, close to looking like the was going to nudge a knuckle against that tight square jaw. "I like them feisty, but you're somethin' else-"
"You were a possible suspect in a murder case-"
"I told you, I knew nothin' about that girl!" Penguin barked over him. "Also, don't forget that I helped you with your little crossword for that poindexter because you couldn't figure it out yourself-"
"By extension, you are still wanted for the collisions you caused on the interstate." Batman calmly interjected.
They both stood there, eyeballing each other. Penguin furrowed his brows but bit his lip and growled through his nostrils as he sighed. He turned away to retreat back to the pool table.
"Alright, you got me. Here," He tossed a stick, "Come and talk."
Batman frowned at him. Last time he had seen a billiards game in here, he had been running on almost three nights without sleep and had nearly stumbled into the arms of Carmine. This was not an invitation to a gentleman's sport but a power play, yet he accepted the nudge and approached the green felt.
"You look like a solids kinda guy." Penguin side eyed him as he reset the order. "Me, I always dug the stripes." He gestured to his suit and managed a laugh. "Host's choice- you go first, Mr. Vengeance."
Batman stared at the table as he listened to the environment. He could hear the TV running a news report in the next room over, fighting for dominance through a heavy croon of soft jazz coming from some record player behind him. The lazy blades of a ceiling fan above hummed in long breathy swoops. He heard a small grumble coming from the mobster next to him.
"...you got cold feet?" Penguin asked.
The jab actually made him smile again. Tough words, coming from a snow bird.
"Just admiring the atmosphere." He chose his own wisely as he sank back to ready his strike.
One could learn so much from the sounds of a person. Words could be tailored but reactions were instinctive and easy to betray. The low chuckle beside him suggested he was losing the edge, though the offset footsteps reminded him that there was still danger to the heavyset man. No respectable person just gained a limp in a place like this.
"You dig it? I took care of cleaning up the place after that rat bastard got his dues." Penguin was standing so close now that his own breathing was noted. It was shallow yet heavy, suggesting anxiousness that was trying to be passed off as focused. He was terrified, but of whom the Bat was not quite certain. He whistled as the cue ball cracked hard into the lineup.
"Damn, good arm there."
"Came to talk about the Riddler." Batman said as he stood upright. He twisted the pool stick around in his palm while he watched the other man move to the opposite side.
"Riddler..." Penguin tutted. He chalked up his stick and used it to measure an angle for a potential shot. "Creepy little freak...no offense." He glanced over at the man in bat ears. Before he took the shot, he hesitated and looked back proper. "...Riddler? Ain't he locked up in Arkham?"
"Yes."
Penguin scrunched his nose before he shook his head and shrugged. "...What's the problem then?" He asked as he leaned down to align his sights with his cue.
He dropped his shoulders when he saw the card being pulled out from god knows where in that jet black cape. His eyes boggled as it was turned this way and that.
"Oh, that's real rich. What a sweetheart!" He was not fond of the cheeky choice of purple for the envelope.
He held his hand out for it and snarled when Batman took the liberty of slipping it out instead.
Just like the others, it had been a smarmy little number dressed up with a cute presentation to the topic. Two pastel birds were nestled together on a branch that was curling up in the shape of the heart, right beneath giant blue text that read "Birds of a feather!". The longer the silence persisted, the more that shallow breathing drew attention to them both. Their shared glance was nothing short of comedic if the circumstances had been different.
Credit had to be given where it was due. For as unassuming and harmless he looked unmasked, the Riddler had succeeded in sowing fear far deeper into anything the Bat ever could.
"...What's it say."
It was funny, how something so simple as a greeting card could be handled like a hit list. Batman gave him a blank look before looking down to peel it open, revealing equally large font in a punchine- "We flock best together!". That wasn't the creepy part. It was the deep chicken scratch bleeding into the paper beneath it. Directly above a string of nonsensical symbols, bold and jagged were the words
"Is IT a SIN??"
Penguin was back at his side, squinting in disbelief as he mouthed the words.
"Eh? Sin? This nutcase thinks himself a preacher now?" He paused and looked at the Bat, his eyes gone wide once he caught his look. "I already told ya...I take good care of this club. What they do here is..." He made a few gestures with his hands but dropped the act from the cold reception. It only made him switch tactics.
"What? The drops? That was between Falcone and Maroni, that little dance we did that night was-"
"Shut up."
Batman reached to remove something else from a secret pocket. It was a small piece of paper, protected by a glossy laminate sheet.
"This came with the card. Another cypher from the Riddler. I ran a check based on previous ones collected and cracked it."
In the dim lighting, he held the card up closer to the Penguin's face. What had no doubt looked like shiny marks to the paper revealed themselves to be striking silver letters above the code, which spelled out the hidden meaning.
"Finched the prize. Exhibit A."
He gave the man no room to cut in as he continued.
"Finch, urban slang for "stealing". Finch pairs with the bird motif on the card. Exhibit A relates to the exhibit of classical fiction at the Cobblepot Historic Library." His gaze was intense on the kingpin as he neatly tucked the sheet into the card. "He wanted me to go there to uncover you but he didn't know I already identified you."
He recalled the name and alias popping up on the camera lens during Selina's crawl through the -44 Below. As he took a step forward, he relished in the power he now had over the other man.
"I still went. Exhibit A showcased the history of "To Kill a Mockingbird". The message in the card referred to the quote-"
"Yeah, kid. I read books before." Penguin's voice was unusually calm, gritty. His gaze had hardened and he straightened up more, meeting Batman almost chest to chest. "I know that quote."
"You do."
"Yeah."
They waited, as Penguin licked his lips and looked up at the ceiling to collect his thoughts. He closed his eyes, nodded and pointed up at nothing in particular as the words came to him.
"Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy." His brows tightened over his lids. "They...don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corn...rows? They don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why...it's a sin, to kill a mockingbird."
He opened his eyes, though he was lost again to a look of confusion. When he addressed Batman again, it was like he was looking at the man in a whole knew light.
"...A sin, to kill a mockin' bird? The hell does that egghead thi-" He trailed off once the meaning clicked and he looked agitated. "...cute. Clever."
Batman was still gripping his pool cue like a spear, as was Penguin. They looked ready to square off and yet each held their cues like a lifeline. Batman's eyes darted between the other's as he slowly nodded.
"He knows you're a Cobblepot."
Even though the truth was obvious, the kingpin - "Oz" - still tightened up as if it were some shameful secret. The longer he refused to speak, the more that truth solidified. Finally, he nodded and limped back to the table to set his stick against the edge.
"Little bastard knows everything about us, don't he? Sent you on some wild goose chase across the whole damn city for his little game night." He moved himself to look back out at the great pane window, his back to the Batman. It was clear carelessness, but it spoke something to Batman that enticed him to step closer.
They stood now, side by side, staring out at the great city.
"Yeah, I'm a Cobblepot." Penguin sighed. "My family once held just as much power over the good graces here, just like the Waynes. Course, we all know the history better than the rest." He side eyed the vigilante, who he saw was returning the favor. "Didn't need no big press reveal for that. My heritage was full of desperate deals and bad moves towards those cutthroat Waynes...happy to hear that old book nook is still up and runnin'."
Batman was silent but he nodded. He didn't need to hear the rest of the story to understand the series of unfortunate events that led them to where they stood now, in the belly of a mob front disguised as a sanctuary.
"...What's this all mean to me, World's Greatest Detective?" Penguin's tone was shifting, back to slow and scrutinizing as he turned his head to study the Bat once more. "You got played like a cheap date and look where we ended up." He shifted again to properly face him. The set expression he wore was exactly the one he carried through the pouring rain on the night of the chase. He was dangerous then and he surely would be now- a threatened animal, ready to bite back.
Batman didn't falter to him. He observed Penguin's lip quivering and deduced that the man was overthinking the messages. It made him wonder, if this squat mobster really was smarter than he let on. He and Gordon had both been given a seething lesson on Spanish grammar, after all.
"You know." He said, hushed.
Penguin's bottom lip pushed up, setting him into a sour look as he digested the information. He was nodding, though if it was nothing more than an emotional tic was yet to be certain.
"A sin to kill a mocking. Bird." He emphasized while thinking. His mouth fell into a violent scowl." ...he's got a hit on me."
"What I believe, yes."
"And what are you, huh?" The look he was given bordered on disgust. "His little messenger? Is this what you're gettin' out of this, Vengeance?"
Batman took a moment to set his pool stick against a chair, as it was too irrelevant to the current atmosphere. Even without it, he felt awkward and stiff with his arms hanging at his sides.
"I still have that proposal." Even saying that felt awkward, because if anything his insufferable stubbornness was all he had in conversations like this. Bluntness was efficient. As Penguin just stared at him, absolutely frustrated by this madness, he parted his lips and exhaled. "Lieutenant Gordon-"
"Oh no, I'm going to stop you right there." Penguin poked him hard in the shoulder. "I know what this is about. You think that because you took out Falcone out from under my own establishment, you can walk in here with that leverage and make me a stool pigeon. I remember that talk! No sale, baby. I said I ain't no rat!"
By this point he was turning away to stalk off to god knows where, no doubt to retrieve some hold out weapon. Batman had to marvel at the luck he had in not being shot at already from this point in this conversation, which fueled his bravado even further to give chase. Even on the thick carpet, he could hear the heft of his boot steps. So did Penguin. By the time the man had spun back to try and get a word in, Batman was already picking his own.
"You said that while under Falcone's employ," He started, this time grabbing the other man's pool stick from against the table to use as a prod. "He's dead, and there is no immediate threat holding you back." He jabbed the cue tip right into that thick purple gut, advancing faster now that he was gaining the advantage. Penguin was almost stumbling back on his heels with each step. "You're next in line for the spot. You won't let anyone else try to challenge you for what his empire left behind."
By the time he stopped, he had the man backed up against his personal minibar. He kept his gaze calm and stoic, almost unreadable as he witnessed the hands-up, huffing display of barely contained anger before him. He counted the seconds of the silence. Every tick on his tongue proved to him that he was winning this case. He placed one hand over the other along the wooden shaft, almost resting his face against the wooden neck in a bid to prove he truly had no intention to fight.
As he had hoped, his reasoning hit where he wanted it- right into the palm of the old bird, stroking his large ego without any threat to it. Penguin lowered his hands and licked his lips. He said nothing, which was all that the man behind the cowl really wanted. He was starting to feel so tired with debating for reason.
"Riddler went after Falcone first. He was the more dangerous target, but he knew of you from the start." He took a step back to give space. "Those pictures you saw, they came from him. The shot to Falcone, it came from the complex right outside the compound."
Penguin blinked, pushing himself off the bar. It was his turn to advance now as he was fully starting to process everything. They were chest to chest by the time he found his words.
"...you telling me that this sicko was watchin' me all this time?"
Batman nodded.
"On the domain "rata alada", I asked for answers. He acknowledged your standing."
At some point during this exchange, he had pocketed the card and its cypher, as he was very much aware of how tight his fingers felt in his gloves. He loosened his grip and retrieved it again, looking at the cartoony cover again as his mind wandered.
"He wanted the biggest threats eliminated first. Mitchell, Savage, Colson. Falcone..." His eyes closed. This was the plunging point for the cause, to get the buy-in he needed and to prove this wasn't some insanity plea. When he met Penguin's eyes again, he made sure to let his own stay soft and vulnerable. From one crumbling heir to another, he hoped this worked. He was so tired.
"His next target was to be Bruce Wayne. He knows about the Cobblepots. Old money Gotham families, in his eye rife with equal corruption." He licked his lips and exhaled to calm his breath.
"A search of his apartment revealed more cards, all addressed to the Batman." He turned the card over to reveal the front of the envelope, proving his case with the uneven letters to his own alias. Penguin's face was still contorted into a fury of emotions, but he was nodding along as if he was recovering from a heavy blow. Batman continued.
"This was found in your loft. You weren't going to be spared."