Non-Canon A Clue in the Knight

[York]

"This" Penguin stammered through his forced smile "This is the kind of candour that gets you far in this business" He haphazardly began to wave his dagger in Gene's direction, drawing loops in the air with its blade. Sweat dripped across his forehead as his rage passed and the facade of the mob boss returned to his eyes, albeit a more slovenly mob boss that the enforcers might have anticipated. He remained hunched forward, his body unevenly raised by trembling arm. "So what you're telling me, Mr. Gene... is that its Rhea's own incompetence that let Butch escape? Oh, that makes it all o-k. You know what, Mr. Gene? I've grown tired of that good-ol' all-American family mechanic, haven't you? It didn't do Falcone any good when he was in charge. Didn't do the Maroni's any better..."

Rising from his seat, Oswald began to chew the floorboards again, only this time, limping his was behind his chair and towards the window, free of his cane. Staring out across the Gotham skyline, he continued.

"Those 'crime families' failed because they forgot one thing- this is a business. Businesses come with loses and accountability. They come contracts and consequences. This isn't a family, Gene. This is a very precise and complicated system, the most complicated Gotham has ever known!" There is no room for mistakes. We're not a family. We don't forgive"

Abruptly turning back to his audience, Penguin rocked his body forward, a cutting glare cutting deep into Gene's eyes.

"Had Butch escaped with his life, I would have not hesitated to have had you shot for admitting to having not done all the damage you could. A nice, quick death would be the only holiday bonus you would be receiving. Yet, since Butch is, dead, albeit, at the expense of my pride and reputation, I will grant you a slightly more homely punishment"

His flipped his knife around, placing the hilt of the blade before Gene's cupped hands.

"I see potential in you, Gene. You could go far in Gotham. You have drive, you have wit, a taste for violence and a knack for brutality, so I hear. But you won't get as far as you could unless you realise that your attachments have made you weak. They're interfering with your potential, just as they once interfered with mine. Never again"

"Never, Ever again"

"So your punishment will be a pledge of loyalty. Your punishment will be to punish Rhea. You will decide her fate"

His eyes danced towards the blade

"What will it be? Will you take a finger? A hand? Or go for the nice clean kill we all know you're capable of. I'm curious as to the path you take, Mr.Gene...

Oh, and don't even think about turning that knife on me. I'm quite certain that there my boys outside won't take kindly to that... nor will they take kindly to any verdict that displeases me"
@Yun Lee @Crow @Takumi
____________​

"Sorry kid, but I won't be going in with you guys. With the number of run-ins Jim and I have had with the Bird, his men practically have us on a blacklist; wouldn't surprise me if they had a shoot-on-site rule made just for Jim behind those doors. One look at me and Cobblepot would have his would operation in lockdown, and we can't waste our one shot on that. So right now, the missions gonna be the 6 of you plus Sergent McNally. Some of you might have seen him around the place. Tall guy? Bit of a dick? I'm sure you'll know him when you see him. Guys had a few run-ins with the Penguin's boys before, but he's mostly been assigned to the Anti-Vigilante task force since, so it's unlikely the Bird will know his face. He'll meet you on the inside. He's the best undercover man we've got"
@Alex Azure @Jeremi @MelodyMeister @Crow @Lucky @Donder172
_________​

"No can do, Mz. Clover" Lucius muttered, clumsily laying a large metal briefcase across Gordon's desk "Your particular skills will be integral to the mission. Besides, Forensics was one of the departments that were hurt the least by yesterday's attacks. Although some of your co-workers have been placed in active duty to compensate for the lack of ground officers, there are more than enough boys back in the lab to share out your workload. As Head of your Department, I specifically asked for you to be given this cafe; your work is fast and proves results. I wouldn't recommend anyone else"

"Hey hey hey" Bullock interjected with a raised palm "Don't sell me short, Fox. I had her in mind anyway. She did some good work back at the docks. Might have saved Harry's leg from a week o' surgery by my guesses. Thanks to her and Aurora we don't have a 19th officer off the books"

"Ah, yes" Lucius smiled "I'm sure the Forensics team will have much to applaud her for by the time she returns to her typical tasks. Quite the audacious feat"
@Alex Azure @Jeremi @MelodyMeister @Crow @Lucky @Donder172
____________________________​

"Nice to see a humble hero for once, and even nicer to see one who does feel the need to hide his face" Gordon growled, taking a deep sip of his morning black coffee. placed his cup back down on top of Harvey's file, letting the condensation crawl along its perimete. The brown ring almost added the ordered-yet-choatic composition of Harvey rough strategy guide. "But according to Harvey's 'battle plan' it's more of an undercover op than an infiltration. More disguises than lock picking..."

"You say that like its a bad thing!" Harvey laughed "The last thing Birdbrain is gonna expect is for some of his own patrons to turn around and cuff him once we get what we need outta him. The Iceberg is the only place in town that Penguin'll let his guard down in. The smart move would be to catch him with his pants down, aye Fox?"

"I've ran it by logistics" Fox scratched his temple "They've created enough cover identities to cover all 7 officers and some fitting clothes to match their new attitudes. The plan is for some of them to hold Penguin's attention and encourage him to lower his guard, while the others try to play the room and try to gather some intel on Penguin's operation. Once they work out where he keeps his sensitive documents, they can make an attempt at stealing a look at them; the lounges back rooms aren't large-"

"-I Never took you as the partying type, Lucius?"

"I took a look at the blueprints. I am yet to count out the premises myself"

Bullock released a loud sign. Fox was as... alien as ever.

"Once the documents have been acquired, our forensics officers can run some simple printing and ink dating tests, and should they have time run a handwriting comparison. After that they can leave the lounge in plain sight"

"Look, Fox is making it sounds more complicated than it is. Its simple: our boys go in undercover, they make a disguise, wait for Cobblepot's knuckleheads to spill the beans, grab what we need then go. Just a rinse and wash operation, Jim"

"Sounds dangerous"

"Never stopped you when you were a detective"

With a tense brow and scowl, Jim nodded, accepting Harvey's checkmate.

"Fine... but I was you and Fox in the van just incase anything goes wrong"

"Wouldn't have it any other way"
@Alex Azure @Jeremi @MelodyMeister @Crow @Lucky @Donder172
____________________________________________________
​

"Well, If you're up to it-"

"And only if you're up to it-"

"-You'll have a pretty important role in this case"

On cue, Fox opened up his briefcase to reveal a steel walking cane folded over itself, with a distinct black crease lining its shaft. Delicately removing it from its confinements, Lucius swung his wrist forward, allowing the crutch to extend to its full length, almost cleaning off Harvey's desk in the process.

"It's a walking stick"

"No Kidding"

"Not any old walking stick. Fox had this one custom made, just like a lot of their undercover gear. This is good tech, right?"

"Right. Should you apply pressure here-" He tensed his finger at the base of the handle, pressing down upon a small, silver button. Upon command, the crease expanded into an expansive crack, its spring-loaded jaws revealing a sea of scientific equipment tied to the chamber's walls. "Everything the forensics team will need its right in there. Nothing volatile, down worry. I assure you, it highly unlikely that your cane will explode... probably"

"Beyond that, the cane should be a real help when it comes to earning Oswald's trust-"

"Yes. Penguin is not all that proud about his limp. Seeing another man with a cane in the room should put him at ease, even if yours is only temporary"

"Plus I managed to convince Fox to put a taser in that thing. You're holding the world's first and only taser stick"

"Hense why I only stated that your combustion is... unlikely. Just apply pressure to the lower quatre of the cane and swing. The motion charges its battery. Just... try to stay away from alcohol should you need to defend yourself. Fire could tamper with evidence"

"-And more importantly hurt a lot of innocent people. With any luck, you won't even need to use the taser, but if you do, it should be a good ace up your sleeve"
@Alex Azure @Jeremi @MelodyMeister @Crow @Lucky @Donder172
_____________________________________​

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I don't plan on skinning you. I much prefer keeping things... clean. If I were to kill you, I would have shot you in the...head. One clean shot. I'm nice. The Boss... he's not so nice when it comes to things like this. He might skin you. But I... I won't. Don't want you to get confused here. I'm just the messenger"

The truck began to swerve slightly as Zsasz checked his watch, letting his vehicle drift across the lanes. He took an early exit, gracefully dancing around the corner and towards the iceberg. "Look at the time...Sorry... forgot about the blindfold. Guess we should hurry things up. The Boss doesn't like to be kept waiting now... he likes dinner to be on the table as soon as he gets in ...Oh, and the name's... Zsasz. Don't worry too hard about spelling it for your... Christmas Cards. I hope you don't mind, but I already ID checked you. A breach of privacy... maybe. But it won't matter too much when you're... dead"
@York
__________________________
​

Kidd Wilder
@Sark

Kidd began to carefully fidget with her restraints, in hopes of shimmying herself free...

Perhaps if she still had that paperclip stowed in her sleeve, she might be able to pick the lock on those handcuffs; jumping out of a moving vehicle was no hurdle for her, but before all that... She had to make sure her captor's attention was elsewhere.

The drifting motion the truck went into threw her off a game a bit, but allowed her a little extra time to feign grasping at something for support as she tried to feel for that paperclip, looking up towards Zsasz... Or well, where she assumed she was based on the direction of his voice.

"Ya know... I'm flattered ya wanna look me up like that... But why'd ya bother? Givin' a street rat like me a funeral er somethin'?" She asked.

Fortunately she wouldn't need her eyes to pick the lock of some handcuffs; she had done so before, but she just had to make sure not to draw attention to what she was doing...​

 

[Lucky]

Liam Anderson and Aurora Diaz

Liam paused, listening to everything that was being said and while clothes and new identities would be good, he already had a question. " Will we also be doing something about our faces for these disguises? As good as fancy new clothes and names will do, I'm sure some of the Penguin men he released might recognize our faces and even our voices. I'm sure some of us can adjust our voices, but it is more likely someone will recognize ones facial features faster."

" I'm sure they have that covered... you do have that covered, right?" She asked.

@Sark @Alex Azure @Jeremi @Cops

 

[Sark]

Liam Anderson and Aurora Diaz

Liam paused, listening to everything that was being said and while clothes and new identities would be good, he already had a question. " Will we also be doing something about our faces for these disguises? As good as fancy new clothes and names will do, I'm sure some of the Penguin men he released might recognize our faces and even our voices. I'm sure some of us can adjust our voices, but it is more likely someone will recognize ones facial features faster."

" I'm sure they have that covered... you do have that covered, right?" She asked.

@Sark @Alex Azure @Jeremi @Cops

"Is unlikely that Cobblepot's enforcers will recognise your faces. You were moving around too much, and there was a lot of rubber-smoke flying about the place. That said, we do have some additional distractions that should help disguise your features..."

"We've got a bunch of fake scars, fake beards and makeup. Anything that can draw the eye away from your bone structure. Glasses and sunglasses will be helpful too, but I guess its gonna be easier to show you than tell you. Head down to the evidence locker, and the boys down there will give you what you need"

As Harvey rose from his chair to lead the cops towards their disguises, Gordon reached forward and grabbed his arm, pulling him back down towards the table. Staring him dead in the eye, Jim whispered. "Are you sure about this, Harv? We can't lose anyone else. If this thing goes to hell..."

"We've got this, brother" Harvey pulled away and continued along his chosen path "We've got this. The Bird will be roasting by the time we get back"
___________
After what felt like an hour in the changing rooms and a further hour under the makeup brush, the cops were completely transformed. The rough and tired facades of the detectives had been replaced by an aura of cleanliness and class as their well-worn uniforms were replaced with cocktail dresses and smart-casual tuxedos. Had Harv not known the men and women they had once been so well then even he would have struggled to recognise them. As their truck turned the final corner and the Iceberg lounge finally entered their view, Harv and Fox to brought their vehicle to a halt in a local alleyway. Turning around in his chair, Bullock couldn't help but feel under-dressed compared to his recruits.

"Looks like you all brush up pretty nicely" He muttered brushing his own scruffy hair buck under his hat "You'll fit in quite nicely among the big-wigs up there. But we've still gotta go over a few ground rules:

• One- Once you're in there, don't go blabbing about the GCPD. That goes without saying, but that's a great way to get yourselves shot. You're not morons, but I gotta say it for my conscience more than anything
• Two- When you pick your new identity, stick to it. Dream up a name. Dream up a backstory. But try to keep things simple, or else you'll just contradict yourself. Penguin's men aren't stupid. They'll catch you if you slip up
• Three- When you get in there, don't forget to mingle. Ease in the tough questions so you don't stick out. If you aren't 'having fun', then Cobblepot's men will be keeping eyes on you. Sometimes, the most suspicious thing you can do is nothing, so keep yourselves busy.
• And lastly, don't get caught. Once you find out where Penguin keeps his books, find a way to find them without getting shot. Cause a distraction. Find an excuse to get a look at them. If you one you get caught- as hard as its gonna be- don't throw yourself under the bus to get them out. Keep up your cover, even if one of you gets caught, and find a way to rescue them without pulling the 'cop card'. If you all start dropping out, Penguin's just gonna call a witch-hunt. That said, if things get too hot in there, get out. We don't want to lose anybody else"

"We've hidden radio's within your accessories. Check your watches, purses or broaches. Speak into these, and you'll have a direct line to us. Things go wrong, come back to the van-"

"-And if things go even wrong-er, then we'll come to you"
@Alex Azure @Sark @MelodyMeister @Crow @Lucky @Donder172
_________________________
After reaching the top of the spiral staircase, the cops were given their first sightings of the Iceberg lounge. The room was all sounds and lights, with an air of class settling around every corner of the establishment. Around the room patrons laughed and drank and drank and laughed, going around their daily routines as if the world beyond their walls wasn't falling apart. While Gotham bled, its elite danced.

At the far end of the room sat the bar, which, despite the number of full glasses circulating the room, remained relatively empty. The Bartender absentmindedly polished a glass, his stare fixed at fading fast flickering across the dancefloor. Aside from the occasional waiter arriving to restock a sample tray, he remained isolated from the rest of the party, his only company coming from an equally detached sultry blonde sitting at one of the stools. She stirred her drink with her finger and pursed her lips, sharing her attention with none of the men the gifted her gazes as they passed

@Bar
________________
Across the room stood a small stage, large enough to fit a single drum kit, a set of small speakers and a guitarist. Their latest ballad had attracted and ensnared a majority of the patrons, pulling their attention towards the window and away from their wallets. Leaning against either side of the stage were two grim looking bodyguards, each giving the audience the kind of scowl that could sower milk. Yet, despite their less than welcoming appearance, the audience still seemed to enjoy themselves, nodding along to the latest hits. Paradoxically, a red-headed woman leaned against a nearby wall, eyes rolling and a wineglass dancing between her fingers. Oh, she was practically begging for someone to ask her how her day was going.

@Stage
__________
Lining the walls of the lounge were small, compact booths, each wrapped in crimson, velvet curtains to provide both privacy and security to the customers inside. These were the most expensive seats in the house, and they surely came with enough perks to meet the price of admission. Rumour had it the curtains were built to be both burn and bulletproof; what went on behind the wall of red was a mystery to most patrons. Laced in between the red booths were cheaper, uncurtained booths, not reserved for anyone in particular. These were simply a place for the customers to rest their legs between laps of the dancefloor.

One of the private booths stuck out from the others, with the curtains of the room being pulled back to half mast. On the top of the table sat an eloquently written placeholder, reading:

Reserved for General Archibald Flag, Washington DC

At either side of the empty booth sat an additional two bodyguards dressed to the nines in matching black suits and sunglasses. Unlike the other guards who had become stoic statues, these twin mountains of men seemed intent on holding onto some semblance of humanity between them. Waving their hands wildly as they spoke, the two seemed comfortable in their position.

"Hey man, I hear that General Flag is a no-show. 'Parently he was s'posed to be here an hour ago... Penguin's gonna be pissed if he misses their first meeting..."

"Yeh yeh, apparently he's been held up at the Airport or something. My cousin works down there. 'E says the guy's knee replacement kept setting off the alarms. That and his surface pistol made 'em think he was another nutjob trying to blast the city to hell-"

"-Not that it needs any help, aye"

"Aye mate, not that it needs any help"

@Booth
_______________________________

Gene was silent as Cobblepot berated him, letting the boss say all he wanted to. Once finished, Gene looked down at the dagger before him, quiet a moment. Then...he did something rather unorthodox.

"Haw haw! Aw, man! You sure showed me, boss!"

Gene broke into a grin, one that was completely genuine. "You saw through that shit faster than anyone back home! All them mafia types are all hung up on family and honor...makes me downright sick! That's why I made sure to burn all them bridges I had down in Dixie...and a few other things, too."

He picked up the knife and tossed it into the air, catching it by the handle. "Good to know this here is a professional establishment. Fancy suits and parties...gee whiz, if only the boys back home could see me now! Fuckin' inbreds wouldn't know class if it lit 'em on fire!" He sighed, finally turning to Rhea. "Now, as for my punishment...allow me to explain why I'm gonna do what I'm gonna do. First of all, you ARE my people. Even if we're a business, I don't take too kindly to my people gettin' slammed by them Hoods or them cops. Now, if one of our own was traitor, then I'd be happy to kill 'em...but Rhea's useful. She was the one who put the hearse out of commission, so it wouldn't be right to kill her when she can provide more to this establishment. But...an order's an order, so..."

It would happen so quickly that Rhea wouldn't feel it at first. In one second, Gene had his hand on the top of her head, the other making a simple flick of the wrist with the dagger. In the next, he was back in his seat, something white and round sitting atop the point of his dagger. Gene laughed, grinning at Oswald and ignoring any reaction Rhea may have. "How's that, boss? I can take her other eye if you ain't satisfied. Just say the word!"

@Sark @Takumi @Crow

Luckily, or unluckily depending on how one looked at it, Rhea didn't feel a thing for a good second or two. Then she felt something warm on her cheek and seeing the object on the tip of the blade made it all come down on her like a stack of bricks-pain and shock left her wide eyed, the only real reaction being-"Shit!!"

Clutching where her right eye had been, her left simply stared blankly ahead at it's now damaged and solitary other half. She didn't even register the rest of what Gene said about her other eye, and likely wouldn't fully be there mentally for another few minutes.

@Sark @Yun Lee @Crow

"..."

Charlie continues his silence as he observes the scenario play out, arms behind back. He flinches not a single bit as Rhea's eye was ripped out.

It wasn't easy to tell what he was feeling, but whatever he was feeling, he continued to observe the scene.

@Sark @Takumi @Yun Lee @Crow

---

Back at Gotham Academy's dormitaries, the young Makoto Koichi sat on her bed, wondering what went wrong, before deciding to check news updates in Gotham and other places of the world via laptop.

"Let's see the newest insects trapped in this web of lies."

Makoto seemed intent on knowing how the story went in the heads of the common man.

"Brilliant! That is absolutely brilliant!" Oswald applauded, slapping his two flippers together in a frantic, clumsy fashion. "I knew I saw something in you, Mr.Gene, I just knew it. And your judgement was correct" Reaching into his blazer, Cobblepot wrapped his hand in his trusty handkerchief and reclaimed his knife, delicately pinching the handle as to avoid spreading Rhea's blood across his table. Placing the weapon- and by extension, the severed organ- in his desk drawer, Oswald pressed upon his intercom, hastily awaiting a reply.

"Rhea is still useful, even if she is half the woman she used to be" A sickly smile blessed his lips, barely containing his pride. Perhaps Falcone would be proud of him... not that he cared, of course. He had outgrown the old man long ago. "Now, I'm sure we can put this whole fiasco behind us. I'll have to see that we find you something to cover up that battle scar of yours, Rhea... How about an eye patch? Or would you rather just a pair of dark glasses?" His taunts continued "Say, I do know a man who is great as organ transplants just off Dulmacher Island. Oh, he's great with a scalpel... not so great at getting matching colours, mind you. I guess you'll just have to live with the consequences of your actions now, Mz.Rhea. Let this merry experience stand as a reminder as to what happens to those who fail the true king of Gotham"


The intercom roared in a delayed response to Penguin's prompt, the rattle of static filling his office. After a few moments of breathing coming from the other end of the line, a voice spoke.

"Heyyyyy, Boss"

"Victor Zsasz! Just the person I was after. Are you in the building?"

"Just pulling into the carpark now, Sir"

"Wonderful. Could you be an angel and bring me a first aid kit on the way up? Maybe a spill kit too? We have had a situation in my office. Do be quick..."

"Ya want me to make them sorry for that, boss?"

"No no, that'll be all" His eyes fell to Gene and Charlie, a sinister glow forming behind his pupils "I have two very determined young gents see to that already. My office. Soon as you can. Bye-Bye now" His head tipped to the side in childlike joy as a swift motion ended the call. Almost as quickly as the call had ended, the intercom rattled back to life, a begrudged Oswald reopening his lines of communication. His mood made a sudden heel-turn.

"What is it, Zsasz? I thought I gave you a job to do? A painfully simple one at that!!"

"Yeah--" He breathed "Its sorta about that. While I'm grabbing that spill kit, what did you want me to do with that Red Hood... The one I found crawling about that docks....?"

Penguins mouth slipped open, his quaking tongue shivering in void of a response.

"Boss, y'there?"

"What... what did you say?"

"I said y'there?"

"Before that, Zsasz?"

"Oh, yeah. Did I... forget to tell you? I found that missing Red Hood... the one the GCPD missed. Some girl named 'Kidd Wilder'. Big fan of capes. Not-so-big fan of handcuffs"

"You caught her?!?"

"You asked us to find her. So I did"

Still in shock, Penguin froze for a few moments, the cogs of his mind rapidly turning as they thought out a plan of attack. What to do first? Scare her straight? Or jump straight to torture? Or maybe just send Gene out there again and have him extract a spare eye for Rhea? Each decision flooded his mind with more mental traffic. He had to say something.

"I---" He hesitated, licking his lips "Leave her in the parking lot. Don't let her out of your sight. I'll send my 3 favourites down ahead of me. Let them do what they like with her. Get everything you can from here" He spoke half into the microphone, half to his three guests. Sweat poured from tense brow, his heart rate rising in anger "Then make her suffer some more for good measure. Make her regret siding against me! Find out which family she works for! Rip her limp from limp! And then... and only then... are we going to throw her in front of a camera... and show the GCPD, the Maronis, the Falcones, the Bertinellis, Sionis' boys, and anyone else out there who wants to mess with me...We'll show all of Gotham that you do not get to shoot at OSWALD COBBLEPOT and walk away unharmed. She'll be an example. She'll be punished for the sins of the whole gang!"
@Crow @Takumi @Yun Lee @York
________________

Kidd Wilder
@Sark

Kidd began to carefully fidget with her restraints, in hopes of shimmying herself free...

Perhaps if she still had that paperclip stowed in her sleeve, she might be able to pick the lock on those handcuffs; jumping out of a moving vehicle was no hurdle for her, but before all that... She had to make sure her captor's attention was elsewhere.

The drifting motion the truck went into threw her off a game a bit, but allowed her a little extra time to feign grasping at something for support as she tried to feel for that paperclip, looking up towards Zsasz... Or well, where she assumed she was based on the direction of his voice.

"Ya know... I'm flattered ya wanna look me up like that... But why'd ya bother? Givin' a street rat like me a funeral er somethin'?" She asked.

Fortunately, she wouldn't need her eyes to pick the lock of some handcuffs; she had done so before, but she just had to make sure not to draw attention to what she was doing...

"Hear that, Mz.Kidd? I don't think funerals fit in to Penguin's itinerary" Wilder would hear the sound of the garage closing behind them, and the van come to a sudden stop somewhere beneath the lounge "I don't think he'll be burying you at all... not unless he wants to try the whole-bury-'em-alive-then-dig-them-up-once-they're-about-to-die-just-so-you-can-bury-them-alive-all-over-again-trick.... which, I'm not gonna lie, is what I'd do. It's a good trick. Not exactly the oldest in the book, but its still a good trick..."

With a click, Kidd would find the lock of her handcuffs coming undone, the noise veiled by the hum of the ice cream cooler. Though she might be free, she was still in the belly of the beast... and she would still have to get past Zsasz...
@York
_________________

Back at Gotham Academy's dormitaries, the young Makoto Koichi sat on her bed, wondering what went wrong, before deciding to check news updates in Gotham and other places of the world via laptop.

"Let's see the newest insects trapped in this web of lies."

Makoto seemed intent on knowing how the story went in the heads of the common man.

As Kid Question searched the web, more flies than usual seemed to be dancing towards the spider's jaws. The GCPD's official statements seemed intentionally vague. The Gotham Gazette spat out its usual lies. All seemed dreary on the western font. A few bloggers complained about the falling police response times. Some vloggers boasted about how liberating the lack of 'the pigs' presence felt. What else did one expect Gotham to spit out in its time of need?

As the Question continued his search, pinging noise left his laptop, signifying a new message. Send: unknown. It read:

Question

I know you
I know what you can do
Alleyway. 12th street
40 minute
Don't be late
Don't be scared
Find your fate
Be made aware

Byzantium, SC

@York​

 

[Jeremi]

"Is unlikely that Cobblepot's enforcers will recognise your faces. You were moving around too much, and there was a lot of rubber-smoke flying about the place. That said, we do have some additional distractions that should help disguise your features..."

"We've got a bunch of fake scars, fake beards and makeup. Anything that can draw the eye away from your bone structure. Glasses and sunglasses will be helpful too, but I guess its gonna be easier to show you than tell you. Head down to the evidence locker, and the boys down there will give you what you need"

As Harvey rose from his chair to lead the cops towards their disguises, Gordon reached forward and grabbed his arm, pulling him back down towards the table. Staring him dead in the eye, Jim whispered. "Are you sure about this, Harv? We can't lose anyone else. If this thing goes to hell..."

"We've got this, brother" Harvey pulled away and continued along his chosen path "We've got this. The Bird will be roasting by the time we get back"
___________
After what felt like an hour in the changing rooms and a further hour under the makeup brush, the cops were completely transformed. The rough and tired facades of the detectives had been replaced by an aura of cleanliness and class as their well-worn uniforms were replaced with cocktail dresses and smart-casual tuxedos. Had Harv not known the men and women they had once been so well then even he would have struggled to recognise them. As their truck turned the final corner and the Iceberg lounge finally entered their view, Harv and Fox to brought their vehicle to a halt in a local alleyway. Turning around in his chair, Bullock couldn't help but feel under-dressed compared to his recruits.

"Looks like you all brush up pretty nicely" He muttered brushing his own scruffy hair buck under his hat "You'll fit in quite nicely among the big-wigs up there. But we've still gotta go over a few ground rules:

• One- Once you're in there, don't go blabbing about the GCPD. That goes without saying, but that's a great way to get yourselves shot. You're not morons, but I gotta say it for my conscience more than anything
• Two- When you pick your new identity, stick to it. Dream up a name. Dream up a backstory. But try to keep things simple, or else you'll just contradict yourself. Penguin's men aren't stupid. They'll catch you if you slip up
• Three- When you get in there, don't forget to mingle. Ease in the tough questions so you don't stick out. If you aren't 'having fun', then Cobblepot's men will be keeping eyes on you. Sometimes, the most suspicious thing you can do is nothing, so keep yourselves busy.
• And lastly, don't get caught. Once you find out where Penguin keeps his books, find a way to find them without getting shot. Cause a distraction. Find an excuse to get a look at them. If you one you get caught- as hard as its gonna be- don't throw yourself under the bus to get them out. Keep up your cover, even if one of you gets caught, and find a way to rescue them without pulling the 'cop card'. If you all start dropping out, Penguin's just gonna call a witch-hunt. That said, if things get too hot in there, get out. We don't want to lose anybody else"

"We've hidden radio's within your accessories. Check your watches, purses or broaches. Speak into these, and you'll have a direct line to us. Things go wrong, come back to the van-"

"-And if things go even wrong-er, then we'll come to you"
@Alex Azure @Sark @MelodyMeister @Crow @Lucky @Donder172
_________________________
After reaching the top of the spiral staircase, the cops were given their first sightings of the Iceberg lounge. The room was all sounds and lights, with an air of class settling around every corner of the establishment. Around the room patrons laughed and drank and drank and laughed, going around their daily routines as if the world beyond their walls wasn't falling apart. While Gotham bled, its elite danced.

At the far end of the room sat the bar, which, despite the number of full glasses circulating the room, remained relatively empty. The Bartender absentmindedly polished a glass, his stare fixed at fading fast flickering across the dancefloor. Aside from the occasional waiter arriving to restock a sample tray, he remained isolated from the rest of the party, his only company coming from an equally detached sultry blonde sitting at one of the stools. She stirred her drink with her finger and pursed her lips, sharing her attention with none of the men the gifted her gazes as they passed

@Bar
________________
Across the room stood a small stage, large enough to fit a single drum kit, a set of small speakers and a guitarist. Their latest ballad had attracted and ensnared a majority of the patrons, pulling their attention towards the window and away from their wallets. Leaning against either side of the stage were two grim looking bodyguards, each giving the audience the kind of scowl that could sower milk. Yet, despite their less than welcoming appearance, the audience still seemed to enjoy themselves, nodding along to the latest hits. Paradoxically, a red-headed woman leaned against a nearby wall, eyes rolling and a wineglass dancing between her fingers. Oh, she was practically begging for someone to ask her how her day was going.

@Stage
__________
Lining the walls of the lounge were small, compact booths, each wrapped in crimson, velvet curtains to provide both privacy and security to the customers inside. These were the most expensive seats in the house, and they surely came with enough perks to meet the price of admission. Rumour had it the curtains were built to be both burn and bulletproof; what went on behind the wall of red was a mystery to most patrons. Laced in between the red booths were cheaper, uncurtained booths, not reserved for anyone in particular. These were simply a place for the customers to rest their legs between laps of the dancefloor.

One of the private booths stuck out from the others, with the curtains of the room being pulled back to half mast. On the top of the table sat an eloquently written placeholder, reading:

Reserved for General Archibald Flag, Washington DC

At either side of the empty booth sat an additional two bodyguards dressed to the nines in matching black suits and sunglasses. Unlike the other guards who had become stoic statues, these twin mountains of men seemed intent on holding onto some semblance of humanity between them. Waving their hands wildly as they spoke, the two seemed comfortable in their position.

"Hey man, I hear that General Flag is a no-show. 'Parently he was s'posed to be here an hour ago... Penguin's gonna be pissed if he misses their first meeting..."

"Yeh yeh, apparently he's been held up at the Airport or something. My cousin works down there. 'E says the guy's knee replacement kept setting off the alarms. That and his surface pistol made 'em think he was another nutjob trying to blast the city to hell-"

"-Not that it needs any help, aye"

"Aye mate, not that it needs any help"

@Booth
_______________________________




"Brilliant! That is absolutely brilliant!" Oswald applauded, slapping his two flippers together in a frantic, clumsy fashion. "I knew I saw something in you, Mr.Gene, I just knew it. And your judgement was correct" Reaching into his blazer, Cobblepot wrapped his hand in his trusty handkerchief and reclaimed his knife, delicately pinching the handle as to avoid spreading Rhea's blood across his table. Placing the weapon- and by extension, the severed organ- in his desk drawer, Oswald pressed upon his intercom, hastily awaiting a reply.

"Rhea is still useful, even if she is half the woman she used to be" A sickly smile blessed his lips, barely containing his pride. Perhaps Falcone would be proud of him... not that he cared, of course. He had outgrown the old man long ago. "Now, I'm sure we can put this whole fiasco behind us. I'll have to see that we find you something to cover up that battle scar of yours, Rhea... How about an eye patch? Or would you rather just a pair of dark glasses?" His taunts continued "Say, I do know a man who is great as organ transplants just off Dulmacher Island. Oh, he's great with a scalpel... not so great at getting matching colours, mind you. I guess you'll just have to live with the consequences of your actions now, Mz.Rhea. Let this merry experience stand as a reminder as to what happens to those who fail the true king of Gotham"


The intercom roared in a delayed response to Penguin's prompt, the rattle of static filling his office. After a few moments of breathing coming from the other end of the line, a voice spoke.

"Heyyyyy, Boss"

"Victor Zsasz! Just the person I was after. Are you in the building?"

"Just pulling into the carpark now, Sir"

"Wonderful. Could you be an angel and bring me a first aid kit on the way up? Maybe a spill kit too? We have had a situation in my office. Do be quick..."

"Ya want me to make them sorry for that, boss?"

"No no, that'll be all" His eyes fell to Gene and Charlie, a sinister glow forming behind his pupils "I have two very determined young gents see to that already. My office. Soon as you can. Bye-Bye now" His head tipped to the side in childlike joy as a swift motion ended the call. Almost as quickly as the call had ended, the intercom rattled back to life, a begrudged Oswald reopening his lines of communication. His mood made a sudden heel-turn.

"What is it, Zsasz? I thought I gave you a job to do? A painfully simple one at that!!"

"Yeah--" He breathed "Its sorta about that. While I'm grabbing that spill kit, what did you want me to do with that Red Hood... The one I found crawling about that docks....?"

Penguins mouth slipped open, his quaking tongue shivering in void of a response.

"Boss, y'there?"

"What... what did you say?"

"I said y'there?"

"Before that, Zsasz?"

"Oh, yeah. Did I... forget to tell you? I found that missing Red Hood... the one the GCPD missed. Some girl named 'Kidd Wilder'. Big fan of capes. Not-so-big fan of handcuffs"

"You caught her?!?"

"You asked us to find her. So I did"

Still in shock, Penguin froze for a few moments, the cogs of his mind rapidly turning as they thought out a plan of attack. What to do first? Scare her straight? Or jump straight to torture? Or maybe just send Gene out there again and have him extract a spare eye for Rhea? Each decision flooded his mind with more mental traffic. He had to say something.

"I---" He hesitated, licking his lips "Leave her in the parking lot. Don't let her out of your sight. I'll send my 3 favourites down ahead of me. Let them do what they like with her. Get everything you can from here" He spoke half into the microphone, half to his three guests. Sweat poured from tense brow, his heart rate rising in anger "Then make her suffer some more for good measure. Make her regret siding against me! Find out which family she works for! Rip her limp from limp! And then... and only then... are we going to throw her in front of a camera... and show the GCPD, the Maronis, the Falcones, the Bertinellis, Sionis' boys, and anyone else out there who wants to mess with me...We'll show all of Gotham that you do not get to shoot at OSWALD COBBLEPOT and walk away unharmed. She'll be an example. She'll be punished for the sins of the whole gang!"
@Crow @Takumi @Yun Lee @York
________________
"Hear that, Mz.Kidd? I don't think funerals fit in to Penguin's itinerary" Wilder would hear the sound of the garage closing behind them, and the van come to a sudden stop somewhere beneath the lounge "I don't think he'll be burying you at all... not unless he wants to try the whole-bury-'em-alive-then-dig-them-up-once-they're-about-to-die-just-so-you-can-bury-them-alive-all-over-again-trick.... which, I'm not gonna lie, is what I'd do. It's a good trick. Not exactly the oldest in the book, but its still a good trick..."

With a click, Kidd would find the lock of her handcuffs coming undone, the noise veiled by the hum of the ice cream cooler. Though she might be free, she was still in the belly of the beast... and she would still have to get past Zsasz...
@York
_________________
As Kid Question searched the web, more flies than usual seemed to be dancing towards the spider's jaws. The GCPD's official statements seemed intentionally vague. The Gotham Gazette spat out its usual lies. All seemed dreary on the western font. A few bloggers complained about the falling police response times. Some vloggers boasted about how liberating the lack of 'the pigs' presence felt. What else did one expect Gotham to spit out in its time of need?

As the Question continued his search, pinging noise left his laptop, signifying a new message. Send: unknown. It read:

Question

I know you
I know what you can do
Alleyway. 12th street
40 minute
Don't be late
Don't be scared
Find your fate
Be made aware

Byzantium, SC

@York​

Oh lord this was actually happening. Clara took a deep breath from her inhaler as she listened to what Bullock had to say. God why had she picked this outfit? A gaudy yellow and thin black striped three piece suit. Who would even wear this ironically? Her huge blue glasses switched to a more stylized black rimmed ones to fit the theme. The make up people had suggested contacts but she had vehemently refused. Poking stuff into her eyes whatever it could was something she refused. Plus all her allergies and what not, knowing her luck she'd turn blind the moment they slapped them in.

The fact that they had possibilities to call for back up calmed Clara down slightly, but she hoped that there wasn't going to be a pat down. As they arrived at their destination Clara forced a smile before stepping out, almost forgetting the cane that perfected the ensemble. "G-Good luck everyone."

Well inside Clara looked true to form ridiculous and out of her element. Being undercover wasn't something she would have seen herself ever do. She felt her hair that had been slicked and sprayed back to infinity. That was going to be a bitch to wash out when this was all over. Where could she hang out with the least possible danger to herself and her colleagues? She couldn't just stand in a corner that would be suspicious so instead she went for her second choice. The bar.

She twirled the cane, almost causing it to slip from her hand before catching it. Hope no one saw that, Clara thought to herself. What felt like an eternity but that probably was just a few second walk she sat down on one of the bar stools. And...now what?

@Sark @Bar @Everyone

 

[dark]

"Is unlikely that Cobblepot's enforcers will recognise your faces. You were moving around too much, and there was a lot of rubber-smoke flying about the place. That said, we do have some additional distractions that should help disguise your features..."

"We've got a bunch of fake scars, fake beards and makeup. Anything that can draw the eye away from your bone structure. Glasses and sunglasses will be helpful too, but I guess its gonna be easier to show you than tell you. Head down to the evidence locker, and the boys down there will give you what you need"

As Harvey rose from his chair to lead the cops towards their disguises, Gordon reached forward and grabbed his arm, pulling him back down towards the table. Staring him dead in the eye, Jim whispered. "Are you sure about this, Harv? We can't lose anyone else. If this thing goes to hell..."

"We've got this, brother" Harvey pulled away and continued along his chosen path "We've got this. The Bird will be roasting by the time we get back"
___________
After what felt like an hour in the changing rooms and a further hour under the makeup brush, the cops were completely transformed. The rough and tired facades of the detectives had been replaced by an aura of cleanliness and class as their well-worn uniforms were replaced with cocktail dresses and smart-casual tuxedos. Had Harv not known the men and women they had once been so well then even he would have struggled to recognise them. As their truck turned the final corner and the Iceberg lounge finally entered their view, Harv and Fox to brought their vehicle to a halt in a local alleyway. Turning around in his chair, Bullock couldn't help but feel under-dressed compared to his recruits.

"Looks like you all brush up pretty nicely" He muttered brushing his own scruffy hair buck under his hat "You'll fit in quite nicely among the big-wigs up there. But we've still gotta go over a few ground rules:

• 
  
  
  • One- Once you're in there, don't go blabbing about the GCPD. That goes without saying, but that's a great way to get yourselves shot. You're not morons, but I gotta say it for my conscience more than anything
  • Two- When you pick your new identity, stick to it. Dream up a name. Dream up a backstory. But try to keep things simple, or else you'll just contradict yourself. Penguin's men aren't stupid. They'll catch you if you slip up
  • Three- When you get in there, don't forget to mingle. Ease in the tough questions so you don't stick out. If you aren't 'having fun', then Cobblepot's men will be keeping eyes on you. Sometimes, the most suspicious thing you can do is nothing, so keep yourselves busy.
  • And lastly, don't get caught. Once you find out where Penguin keeps his books, find a way to find them without getting shot. Cause a distraction. Find an excuse to get a look at them. If you one you get caught- as hard as its gonna be- don't throw yourself under the bus to get them out. Keep up your cover, even if one of you gets caught, and find a way to rescue them without pulling the 'cop card'. If you all start dropping out, Penguin's just gonna call a witch-hunt. That said, if things get too hot in there, get out. We don't want to lose anybody else"

​

"We've hidden radio's within your accessories. Check your watches, purses or broaches. Speak into these, and you'll have a direct line to us. Things go wrong, come back to the van-"

"-And if things go even wrong-er, then we'll come to you"
@Alex Azure @Sark @MelodyMeister @Crow @Lucky @Donder172
_________________________
After reaching the top of the spiral staircase, the cops were given their first sightings of the Iceberg lounge. The room was all sounds and lights, with an air of class settling around every corner of the establishment. Around the room patrons laughed and drank and drank and laughed, going around their daily routines as if the world beyond their walls wasn't falling apart. While Gotham bled, its elite danced.

At the far end of the room sat the bar, which, despite the number of full glasses circulating the room, remained relatively empty. The Bartender absentmindedly polished a glass, his stare fixed at fading fast flickering across the dancefloor. Aside from the occasional waiter arriving to restock a sample tray, he remained isolated from the rest of the party, his only company coming from an equally detached sultry blonde sitting at one of the stools. She stirred her drink with her finger and pursed her lips, sharing her attention with none of the men the gifted her gazes as they passed

@Bar
________________
Across the room stood a small stage, large enough to fit a single drum kit, a set of small speakers and a guitarist. Their latest ballad had attracted and ensnared a majority of the patrons, pulling their attention towards the window and away from their wallets. Leaning against either side of the stage were two grim looking bodyguards, each giving the audience the kind of scowl that could sower milk. Yet, despite their less than welcoming appearance, the audience still seemed to enjoy themselves, nodding along to the latest hits. Paradoxically, a red-headed woman leaned against a nearby wall, eyes rolling and a wineglass dancing between her fingers. Oh, she was practically begging for someone to ask her how her day was going.

@Stage
__________
Lining the walls of the lounge were small, compact booths, each wrapped in crimson, velvet curtains to provide both privacy and security to the customers inside. These were the most expensive seats in the house, and they surely came with enough perks to meet the price of admission. Rumour had it the curtains were built to be both burn and bulletproof; what went on behind the wall of red was a mystery to most patrons. Laced in between the red booths were cheaper, uncurtained booths, not reserved for anyone in particular. These were simply a place for the customers to rest their legs between laps of the dancefloor.

One of the private booths stuck out from the others, with the curtains of the room being pulled back to half mast. On the top of the table sat an eloquently written placeholder, reading:

Reserved for General Archibald Flag, Washington DC

At either side of the empty booth sat an additional two bodyguards dressed to the nines in matching black suits and sunglasses. Unlike the other guards who had become stoic statues, these twin mountains of men seemed intent on holding onto some semblance of humanity between them. Waving their hands wildly as they spoke, the two seemed comfortable in their position.

"Hey man, I hear that General Flag is a no-show. 'Parently he was s'posed to be here an hour ago... Penguin's gonna be pissed if he misses their first meeting..."

"Yeh yeh, apparently he's been held up at the Airport or something. My cousin works down there. 'E says the guy's knee replacement kept setting off the alarms. That and his surface pistol made 'em think he was another nutjob trying to blast the city to hell-"

"-Not that it needs any help, aye"

"Aye mate, not that it needs any help"

@Booth
_______________________________




"Brilliant! That is absolutely brilliant!" Oswald applauded, slapping his two flippers together in a frantic, clumsy fashion. "I knew I saw something in you, Mr.Gene, I just knew it. And your judgement was correct" Reaching into his blazer, Cobblepot wrapped his hand in his trusty handkerchief and reclaimed his knife, delicately pinching the handle as to avoid spreading Rhea's blood across his table. Placing the weapon- and by extension, the severed organ- in his desk drawer, Oswald pressed upon his intercom, hastily awaiting a reply.

"Rhea is still useful, even if she is half the woman she used to be" A sickly smile blessed his lips, barely containing his pride. Perhaps Falcone would be proud of him... not that he cared, of course. He had outgrown the old man long ago. "Now, I'm sure we can put this whole fiasco behind us. I'll have to see that we find you something to cover up that battle scar of yours, Rhea... How about an eye patch? Or would you rather just a pair of dark glasses?" His taunts continued "Say, I do know a man who is great as organ transplants just off Dulmacher Island. Oh, he's great with a scalpel... not so great at getting matching colours, mind you. I guess you'll just have to live with the consequences of your actions now, Mz.Rhea. Let this merry experience stand as a reminder as to what happens to those who fail the true king of Gotham"


The intercom roared in a delayed response to Penguin's prompt, the rattle of static filling his office. After a few moments of breathing coming from the other end of the line, a voice spoke.

"Heyyyyy, Boss"

"Victor Zsasz! Just the person I was after. Are you in the building?"

"Just pulling into the carpark now, Sir"

"Wonderful. Could you be an angel and bring me a first aid kit on the way up? Maybe a spill kit too? We have had a situation in my office. Do be quick..."

"Ya want me to make them sorry for that, boss?"

"No no, that'll be all" His eyes fell to Gene and Charlie, a sinister glow forming behind his pupils "I have two very determined young gents see to that already. My office. Soon as you can. Bye-Bye now" His head tipped to the side in childlike joy as a swift motion ended the call. Almost as quickly as the call had ended, the intercom rattled back to life, a begrudged Oswald reopening his lines of communication. His mood made a sudden heel-turn.

"What is it, Zsasz? I thought I gave you a job to do? A painfully simple one at that!!"

"Yeah--" He breathed "Its sorta about that. While I'm grabbing that spill kit, what did you want me to do with that Red Hood... The one I found crawling about that docks....?"

Penguins mouth slipped open, his quaking tongue shivering in void of a response.

"Boss, y'there?"

"What... what did you say?"

"I said y'there?"

"Before that, Zsasz?"

"Oh, yeah. Did I... forget to tell you? I found that missing Red Hood... the one the GCPD missed. Some girl named 'Kidd Wilder'. Big fan of capes. Not-so-big fan of handcuffs"

"You caught her?!?"

"You asked us to find her. So I did"

Still in shock, Penguin froze for a few moments, the cogs of his mind rapidly turning as they thought out a plan of attack. What to do first? Scare her straight? Or jump straight to torture? Or maybe just send Gene out there again and have him extract a spare eye for Rhea? Each decision flooded his mind with more mental traffic. He had to say something.

"I---" He hesitated, licking his lips "Leave her in the parking lot. Don't let her out of your sight. I'll send my 3 favourites down ahead of me. Let them do what they like with her. Get everything you can from here" He spoke half into the microphone, half to his three guests. Sweat poured from tense brow, his heart rate rising in anger "Then make her suffer some more for good measure. Make her regret siding against me! Find out which family she works for! Rip her limp from limp! And then... and only then... are we going to throw her in front of a camera... and show the GCPD, the Maronis, the Falcones, the Bertinellis, Sionis' boys, and anyone else out there who wants to mess with me...We'll show all of Gotham that you do not get to shoot at OSWALD COBBLEPOT and walk away unharmed. She'll be an example. She'll be punished for the sins of the whole gang!"
@Crow @Takumi @Yun Lee @York
________________
"Hear that, Mz.Kidd? I don't think funerals fit in to Penguin's itinerary" Wilder would hear the sound of the garage closing behind them, and the van come to a sudden stop somewhere beneath the lounge "I don't think he'll be burying you at all... not unless he wants to try the whole-bury-'em-alive-then-dig-them-up-once-they're-about-to-die-just-so-you-can-bury-them-alive-all-over-again-trick.... which, I'm not gonna lie, is what I'd do. It's a good trick. Not exactly the oldest in the book, but its still a good trick..."

With a click, Kidd would find the lock of her handcuffs coming undone, the noise veiled by the hum of the ice cream cooler. Though she might be free, she was still in the belly of the beast... and she would still have to get past Zsasz...
@York
_________________
As Kid Question searched the web, more flies than usual seemed to be dancing towards the spider's jaws. The GCPD's official statements seemed intentionally vague. The Gotham Gazette spat out its usual lies. All seemed dreary on the western font. A few bloggers complained about the falling police response times. Some vloggers boasted about how liberating the lack of 'the pigs' presence felt. What else did one expect Gotham to spit out in its time of need?

As the Question continued his search, pinging noise left his laptop, signifying a new message. Send: unknown. It read:

Question

I know you
I know what you can do
Alleyway. 12th street
40 minute
Don't be late
Don't be scared
Find your fate
Be made aware

Byzantium, SC

@York​

​

Charlie King

The mechanic had a bit of gas hidden under his coat as he cleared his throat. Hopefully he didn't miss anything important. He walked toward the bar area and sat down.

@Sark ​

 

[Sleepwalker]

Newly dressed in a white tuxedo, Harry walked, well, limped in the building, and was taken aback by the luxurious and elegant look to it. At the same time, though, also digusted. This was obviously for Gotham's top class, like him to go to. The people outside were poor, and most of them resorted to crime because of that. Wasn't it absolutely abhorrent that while some were dying of hunger and getting shot, that people like him got to dance in a most wastefully beautiful area?

As much as he wanted to be a Robin Hood and give to the poor, he was in disguise now, he had to play the part. Harry's part was simple: Just a haughty, rich man by the name of....Alfred King lets say, who just wanted to leave his manor for once. Sounds like a good enough cover story. And what would be the first thing such an immature person would do?

Drink, of course.

Harry used to be quite the drunkard back when he was younger as well, and although he wasn't drinking much nowdays, surely he wasn't a lightweight. He remember from before that the Penguin would likely be more comforted around another person with a limp, as thus, he limped as much as he could, exaggerated it. Besides, it made for an easy way to catch the officer off guard when the man who could barely walk could actually run much better.

Harry was at the bar, and sat down at the front-most seat. He had full makeup on, foundation and all, and also decided to put on contacts and not wear glasses for once. He surely wouldn't be recognised, and al, he had to do was play the part. Taking a deep breath, he spoke.

"Excuse me miss, Can I have the most popular drink currently?"
@Sark @Bar​

 

[Jeremi]

Newly dressed in a white tuxedo, Harry walked, well, limped in the building, and was taken aback by the luxurious and elegant look to it. At the same time, though, also digusted. This was obviously for Gotham's top class, like him to go to. The people outside were poor, and most of them resorted to crime because of that. Wasn't it absolutely abhorrent that while some were dying of hunger and getting shot, that people like him got to dance in a most wastefully beautiful area?

As much as he wanted to be a Robin Hood and give to the poor, he was in disguise now, he had to play the part. Harry's part was simple: Just a haughty, rich man by the name of....Alfred King lets say, who just wanted to leave his manor for once. Sounds like a good enough cover story. And what would be the first thing such an immature person would do?

Drink, of course.

Harry used to be quite the drunkard back when he was younger as well, and although he wasn't drinking much nowdays, surely he wasn't a lightweight. He remember from before that the Penguin would likely be more comforted around another person with a limp, as thus, he limped as much as he could, exaggerated it. Besides, it made for an easy way to catch the officer off guard when the man who could barely walk could actually run much better.

Harry was at the bar, and sat down at the front-most seat. He had full makeup on, foundation and all, and also decided to put on contacts and not wear glasses for once. He surely wouldn't be recognised, and al, he had to do was play the part. Taking a deep breath, he spoke.

"Excuse me miss, Can I have the most popular drink currently?"
@Sark @Bar​

Oh lord...it's Harry. She was perfectly content with just sitting here acting like nothing weird was going on, but now she wasn't sure if she could. "I-I'll have what this strapping lad is having," Clara responded with a surprisingly good British accent to the bartender flashing what she thought was a very sultry smile but that probably looked super awkward.

@Sark @MelodyMeister @Bar

 

[Yun Lee]

"Oo-wee! We hood-hunting now, boss?" Gene rubbed his hands together in excitement. "A good-old showdown in a parking lot! Ha! Man, you can find all kinds of fun shit in there! Say, how you guys think Kiddo'd look with her head smashed through a windshield?" Now THIS was more like it! No time limits, no car chases...just a hunter and his prey. This was gonna be fun.

@Sark @Crow @Takumi​

 

[Sark]

Newly dressed in a white tuxedo, Harry walked, well, limped in the building, and was taken aback by the luxurious and elegant look to it. At the same time, though, also digusted. This was obviously for Gotham's top class, like him to go to. The people outside were poor, and most of them resorted to crime because of that. Wasn't it absolutely abhorrent that while some were dying of hunger and getting shot, that people like him got to dance in a most wastefully beautiful area?

As much as he wanted to be a Robin Hood and give to the poor, he was in disguise now, he had to play the part. Harry's part was simple: Just a haughty, rich man by the name of....Alfred King lets say, who just wanted to leave his manor for once. Sounds like a good enough cover story. And what would be the first thing such an immature person would do?

Drink, of course.

Harry used to be quite the drunkard back when he was younger as well, and although he wasn't drinking much nowdays, surely he wasn't a lightweight. He remember from before that the Penguin would likely be more comforted around another person with a limp, as thus, he limped as much as he could, exaggerated it. Besides, it made for an easy way to catch the officer off guard when the man who could barely walk could actually run much better.

Harry was at the bar, and sat down at the front-most seat. He had full makeup on, foundation and all, and also decided to put on contacts and not wear glasses for once. He surely wouldn't be recognised, and al, he had to do was play the part. Taking a deep breath, he spoke.

"Excuse me miss, Can I have the most popular drink currently?"
@Sark @Bar​

"Sure thing, buddy" The bartender groaned, placing his freshly polished glass onto the bench in front of Harry. In one swift motion, he spun around, grabbed a half-empty bottle of whiskey from hall behind, snapped its cork free on the edge of the table and poured a drink "Got the best whiskey in town, just for you..." Glancing upwards as he pressed the cap back onto the bottle, his eyelids thinned in thought "Say... are you that fancy General man everyone's talking 'bout? General Archie or General Anrie or something?"​

Oh lord...it's Harry. She was perfectly content with just sitting here acting like nothing weird was going on, but now she wasn't sure if she could. "I-I'll have what this strapping lad is having," Clara responded with a surprisingly good British accent to the bartender flashing what she thought was a very sultry smile but that probably looked super awkward.

@Sark @MelodyMeister @Bar

"A brit, huh? Don't get many of those in here..." He grabbed another glass from beneath the table and pouring one in the same fashion as before "Matta o' fact, we don't get many of anyone in here. Only Gothamites tend to come to Gotham... Gothamites and Crooks" He winked "And both are more than welcome here"​

Charlie King

The mechanic had a bit of gas hidden under his coat as he cleared his throat. Hopefully he didn't miss anything important. He walked toward the bar area and sat down.

@Sark ​

"Watch it, asshole"
A girl muttered, her shoulder rocking to the right under the force of her impact with Charlie. At first glance, she almost seemed too young to be allowed into the bar, but hard dark clothing and even darker eyes seemed to add years of maturity to her smooth face. She scowled and made her way towards one of the private booths. Charlie would notice his phone and wallet were missing...​

 

[Jeremi]

"Sure thing, buddy" The bartender groaned, placing his freshly polished glass onto the bench in front of Harry. In one swift motion, he spun around, grabbed a half-empty bottle of whiskey from hall behind, snapped its cork free on the edge of the table and poured a drink "Got the best whiskey in town, just for you..." Glancing upwards as he pressed the cap back onto the bottle, his eyelids thinned in thought "Say... are you that fancy General man everyone's talking 'bout? General Archie or General Anrie or something?"​

"A brit, huh? Don't get many of those in here..." He grabbed another glass from beneath the table and pouring one in the same fashion as before "Matta o' fact, we don't get many of anyone in here. Only Gothamites tend to come to Gotham... Gothamites and Crooks" He winked "And both are more than welcome here"​

"Watch it, asshole"
A girl muttered, her shoulder rocking to the right under the force of her impact with Charlie. At first glance, she almost seemed too young to be allowed into the bar, but hard dark clothing and even darker eyes seemed to add years of maturity to her smooth face. She scowled and made her way towards one of the private booths. Charlie would notice his phone and wallet were missing...​

"O-Oh you know, things were...starting to get a beat heated back home." Clara quickly spun a tale as she looked at the bartender pouring her glass. God, of course it was whiskey. Then again, anything that picked even a little kick was disgusting. Okay time to fill on that cover story. "So I thought, why not come to Gotham? I've heard it's a most dreadful place and, well, in my line of work that's just perfect."

@Sark @MelodyMeister

 

[York]

"Is unlikely that Cobblepot's enforcers will recognise your faces. You were moving around too much, and there was a lot of rubber-smoke flying about the place. That said, we do have some additional distractions that should help disguise your features..."

"We've got a bunch of fake scars, fake beards and makeup. Anything that can draw the eye away from your bone structure. Glasses and sunglasses will be helpful too, but I guess its gonna be easier to show you than tell you. Head down to the evidence locker, and the boys down there will give you what you need"

As Harvey rose from his chair to lead the cops towards their disguises, Gordon reached forward and grabbed his arm, pulling him back down towards the table. Staring him dead in the eye, Jim whispered. "Are you sure about this, Harv? We can't lose anyone else. If this thing goes to hell..."

"We've got this, brother" Harvey pulled away and continued along his chosen path "We've got this. The Bird will be roasting by the time we get back"
___________
After what felt like an hour in the changing rooms and a further hour under the makeup brush, the cops were completely transformed. The rough and tired facades of the detectives had been replaced by an aura of cleanliness and class as their well-worn uniforms were replaced with cocktail dresses and smart-casual tuxedos. Had Harv not known the men and women they had once been so well then even he would have struggled to recognise them. As their truck turned the final corner and the Iceberg lounge finally entered their view, Harv and Fox to brought their vehicle to a halt in a local alleyway. Turning around in his chair, Bullock couldn't help but feel under-dressed compared to his recruits.

"Looks like you all brush up pretty nicely" He muttered brushing his own scruffy hair buck under his hat "You'll fit in quite nicely among the big-wigs up there. But we've still gotta go over a few ground rules:

• One- Once you're in there, don't go blabbing about the GCPD. That goes without saying, but that's a great way to get yourselves shot. You're not morons, but I gotta say it for my conscience more than anything
• Two- When you pick your new identity, stick to it. Dream up a name. Dream up a backstory. But try to keep things simple, or else you'll just contradict yourself. Penguin's men aren't stupid. They'll catch you if you slip up
• Three- When you get in there, don't forget to mingle. Ease in the tough questions so you don't stick out. If you aren't 'having fun', then Cobblepot's men will be keeping eyes on you. Sometimes, the most suspicious thing you can do is nothing, so keep yourselves busy.
• And lastly, don't get caught. Once you find out where Penguin keeps his books, find a way to find them without getting shot. Cause a distraction. Find an excuse to get a look at them. If you one you get caught- as hard as its gonna be- don't throw yourself under the bus to get them out. Keep up your cover, even if one of you gets caught, and find a way to rescue them without pulling the 'cop card'. If you all start dropping out, Penguin's just gonna call a witch-hunt. That said, if things get too hot in there, get out. We don't want to lose anybody else"

"We've hidden radio's within your accessories. Check your watches, purses or broaches. Speak into these, and you'll have a direct line to us. Things go wrong, come back to the van-"

"-And if things go even wrong-er, then we'll come to you"
@Alex Azure @Sark @MelodyMeister @Crow @Lucky @Donder172
_________________________
After reaching the top of the spiral staircase, the cops were given their first sightings of the Iceberg lounge. The room was all sounds and lights, with an air of class settling around every corner of the establishment. Around the room patrons laughed and drank and drank and laughed, going around their daily routines as if the world beyond their walls wasn't falling apart. While Gotham bled, its elite danced.

At the far end of the room sat the bar, which, despite the number of full glasses circulating the room, remained relatively empty. The Bartender absentmindedly polished a glass, his stare fixed at fading fast flickering across the dancefloor. Aside from the occasional waiter arriving to restock a sample tray, he remained isolated from the rest of the party, his only company coming from an equally detached sultry blonde sitting at one of the stools. She stirred her drink with her finger and pursed her lips, sharing her attention with none of the men the gifted her gazes as they passed

@Bar
________________
Across the room stood a small stage, large enough to fit a single drum kit, a set of small speakers and a guitarist. Their latest ballad had attracted and ensnared a majority of the patrons, pulling their attention towards the window and away from their wallets. Leaning against either side of the stage were two grim looking bodyguards, each giving the audience the kind of scowl that could sower milk. Yet, despite their less than welcoming appearance, the audience still seemed to enjoy themselves, nodding along to the latest hits. Paradoxically, a red-headed woman leaned against a nearby wall, eyes rolling and a wineglass dancing between her fingers. Oh, she was practically begging for someone to ask her how her day was going.

@Stage
__________
Lining the walls of the lounge were small, compact booths, each wrapped in crimson, velvet curtains to provide both privacy and security to the customers inside. These were the most expensive seats in the house, and they surely came with enough perks to meet the price of admission. Rumour had it the curtains were built to be both burn and bulletproof; what went on behind the wall of red was a mystery to most patrons. Laced in between the red booths were cheaper, uncurtained booths, not reserved for anyone in particular. These were simply a place for the customers to rest their legs between laps of the dancefloor.

One of the private booths stuck out from the others, with the curtains of the room being pulled back to half mast. On the top of the table sat an eloquently written placeholder, reading:

Reserved for General Archibald Flag, Washington DC

At either side of the empty booth sat an additional two bodyguards dressed to the nines in matching black suits and sunglasses. Unlike the other guards who had become stoic statues, these twin mountains of men seemed intent on holding onto some semblance of humanity between them. Waving their hands wildly as they spoke, the two seemed comfortable in their position.

"Hey man, I hear that General Flag is a no-show. 'Parently he was s'posed to be here an hour ago... Penguin's gonna be pissed if he misses their first meeting..."

"Yeh yeh, apparently he's been held up at the Airport or something. My cousin works down there. 'E says the guy's knee replacement kept setting off the alarms. That and his surface pistol made 'em think he was another nutjob trying to blast the city to hell-"

"-Not that it needs any help, aye"

"Aye mate, not that it needs any help"

@Booth
_______________________________




"Brilliant! That is absolutely brilliant!" Oswald applauded, slapping his two flippers together in a frantic, clumsy fashion. "I knew I saw something in you, Mr.Gene, I just knew it. And your judgement was correct" Reaching into his blazer, Cobblepot wrapped his hand in his trusty handkerchief and reclaimed his knife, delicately pinching the handle as to avoid spreading Rhea's blood across his table. Placing the weapon- and by extension, the severed organ- in his desk drawer, Oswald pressed upon his intercom, hastily awaiting a reply.

"Rhea is still useful, even if she is half the woman she used to be" A sickly smile blessed his lips, barely containing his pride. Perhaps Falcone would be proud of him... not that he cared, of course. He had outgrown the old man long ago. "Now, I'm sure we can put this whole fiasco behind us. I'll have to see that we find you something to cover up that battle scar of yours, Rhea... How about an eye patch? Or would you rather just a pair of dark glasses?" His taunts continued "Say, I do know a man who is great as organ transplants just off Dulmacher Island. Oh, he's great with a scalpel... not so great at getting matching colours, mind you. I guess you'll just have to live with the consequences of your actions now, Mz.Rhea. Let this merry experience stand as a reminder as to what happens to those who fail the true king of Gotham"


The intercom roared in a delayed response to Penguin's prompt, the rattle of static filling his office. After a few moments of breathing coming from the other end of the line, a voice spoke.

"Heyyyyy, Boss"

"Victor Zsasz! Just the person I was after. Are you in the building?"

"Just pulling into the carpark now, Sir"

"Wonderful. Could you be an angel and bring me a first aid kit on the way up? Maybe a spill kit too? We have had a situation in my office. Do be quick..."

"Ya want me to make them sorry for that, boss?"

"No no, that'll be all" His eyes fell to Gene and Charlie, a sinister glow forming behind his pupils "I have two very determined young gents see to that already. My office. Soon as you can. Bye-Bye now" His head tipped to the side in childlike joy as a swift motion ended the call. Almost as quickly as the call had ended, the intercom rattled back to life, a begrudged Oswald reopening his lines of communication. His mood made a sudden heel-turn.

"What is it, Zsasz? I thought I gave you a job to do? A painfully simple one at that!!"

"Yeah--" He breathed "Its sorta about that. While I'm grabbing that spill kit, what did you want me to do with that Red Hood... The one I found crawling about that docks....?"

Penguins mouth slipped open, his quaking tongue shivering in void of a response.

"Boss, y'there?"

"What... what did you say?"

"I said y'there?"

"Before that, Zsasz?"

"Oh, yeah. Did I... forget to tell you? I found that missing Red Hood... the one the GCPD missed. Some girl named 'Kidd Wilder'. Big fan of capes. Not-so-big fan of handcuffs"

"You caught her?!?"

"You asked us to find her. So I did"

Still in shock, Penguin froze for a few moments, the cogs of his mind rapidly turning as they thought out a plan of attack. What to do first? Scare her straight? Or jump straight to torture? Or maybe just send Gene out there again and have him extract a spare eye for Rhea? Each decision flooded his mind with more mental traffic. He had to say something.

"I---" He hesitated, licking his lips "Leave her in the parking lot. Don't let her out of your sight. I'll send my 3 favourites down ahead of me. Let them do what they like with her. Get everything you can from here" He spoke half into the microphone, half to his three guests. Sweat poured from tense brow, his heart rate rising in anger "Then make her suffer some more for good measure. Make her regret siding against me! Find out which family she works for! Rip her limp from limp! And then... and only then... are we going to throw her in front of a camera... and show the GCPD, the Maronis, the Falcones, the Bertinellis, Sionis' boys, and anyone else out there who wants to mess with me...We'll show all of Gotham that you do not get to shoot at OSWALD COBBLEPOT and walk away unharmed. She'll be an example. She'll be punished for the sins of the whole gang!"
@Crow @Takumi @Yun Lee @York
________________
"Hear that, Mz.Kidd? I don't think funerals fit in to Penguin's itinerary" Wilder would hear the sound of the garage closing behind them, and the van come to a sudden stop somewhere beneath the lounge "I don't think he'll be burying you at all... not unless he wants to try the whole-bury-'em-alive-then-dig-them-up-once-they're-about-to-die-just-so-you-can-bury-them-alive-all-over-again-trick.... which, I'm not gonna lie, is what I'd do. It's a good trick. Not exactly the oldest in the book, but its still a good trick..."

With a click, Kidd would find the lock of her handcuffs coming undone, the noise veiled by the hum of the ice cream cooler. Though she might be free, she was still in the belly of the beast... and she would still have to get past Zsasz...
@York
_________________
As Kid Question searched the web, more flies than usual seemed to be dancing towards the spider's jaws. The GCPD's official statements seemed intentionally vague. The Gotham Gazette spat out its usual lies. All seemed dreary on the western font. A few bloggers complained about the falling police response times. Some vloggers boasted about how liberating the lack of 'the pigs' presence felt. What else did one expect Gotham to spit out in its time of need?

As the Question continued his search, pinging noise left his laptop, signifying a new message. Send: unknown. It read:

Question

I know you
I know what you can do
Alleyway. 12th street
40 minute
Don't be late
Don't be scared
Find your fate
Be made aware

Byzantium, SC

@York​

Kidd Wilder
@Sark @Others?

A wry smile crossed Kidd's face, as she feigned still being restrained. If she could just manage to catch her captor off-guard, she had a chance, as long as she played her cards right.

"No rest for the wicked... Aye?" She said, then the paused for a moment, something else crossing her mind.

"Say... If ya don't mind tellin' a lass on death row... What's that ol' bird got on ya anyways? What's yer stake in all of this?" She asked slyly.

It was an innocent enough question as is, but... Perhaps if she couldn't fight her way out of this outright, she could... Talk her way out of this situation, while the clock was still ticking...​

 

[Sleepwalker]

Ah, Britain. Harry hadn't been there for a while now, admittedly, he had none of the accent he had when he was a child, but it was still pretty nostalgic. If it wasn't for the fact that moving would be a hassle, then he would have gone already. Shouldn't include that in his disguise though, there probably weren't many non-natives here.

General Arnie? He himself had never heard of the name.
"Can you fill in the details of who he is? Sorry, I'm a bit scatterbrained, so I don't remember people so easily."
Far too risky to say he was someone he didn't know. But he could say that he was a work colleague or something that he had just forgotten, afterall, he had just said that he was scatterbrained.

Harry stared at his whiskey, as if in a staring contest about it. Months or years of not drinking, and then this? For all he knows, he could be incredibly lightweight. Besides, he was on the job.
"Actually, I just realised I have work tomorrow morning, can you get a glass of something that's weak instead? I'll prefer not to have a headache the next morning."

He looked over at Clara, who hadn't touched hers either.
"Two glasses, actually."
@Jeremi @Sark​

 

[Lucky]

Aurora Diaz( Traci Aquabelle)

Aurora took a look around the area, her hair tied back with rainbow streaks in her. She also had purposely put on too much makeup and added a fake scar over on her forehead. Liam had told her she had gone a little too distract, but what did her kind of boyfriend know? Sometimes he could be so dense. She was also wearing a yellow dress with heels and shoes. She walked over to the red haired woman and smiled. " Hi, I'm Traci Aquabelle. How has your day been going?" She asked the woman with a southern drawl for fun.

@Sark @Stage

Liam Anderson ( Gavin O'Connors)

Liam scratched his face. Why he had thought it had been a good idea to get a small fake goatee was beyond on him and he had made sure to put on strategic cuts. He also made sure to wear a black hat and a black leather jacket along with black jeans and a pair of black sneakers and a black muscle shirt. Basically, he was going for a criminal look. " Oh fiddlesticks, is Mr. Flag still not here? Did he get stick in airport securit' again? Ugh- he tald me he would be here at eight. Gavin O' Connors, gentleman,"

@Sark @Booth

 

[Sark]

"O-Oh you know, things were...starting to get a beat heated back home." Clara quickly spun a tale as she looked at the bartender pouring her glass. God, of course it was whiskey. Then again, anything that picked even a little kick was disgusting. Okay time to fill on that cover story. "So I thought, why not come to Gotham? I've heard it's a most dreadful place and, well, in my line of work that's just perfect."

@Sark @MelodyMeister

"Oh really?" The Bartender raised an eyebrow and teased "And what kinda work would that be? A lawyer? A cop? Those sorta bigwigs tend to get seduced by our City's kinda stink. But you don't strike me as one o' those types-- you seem like a gal who knows the real way to get rich if you catch my drift. You trying to get the Boss' attention or what?" He leaned across the bar and lowered his tone, shielding his words from any other prying ears 'Cause tip me well and I might just remember who to send your 'resume' to..."​

Ah, Britain. Harry hadn't been there for a while now, admittedly, he had none of the accent he had when he was a child, but it was still pretty nostalgic. If it wasn't for the fact that moving would be a hassle, then he would have gone already. Shouldn't include that in his disguise though, there probably weren't many non-natives here.

General Arnie? He himself had never heard of the name.
"Can you fill in the details of who he is? Sorry, I'm a bit scatterbrained, so I don't remember people so easily."
Far too risky to say he was someone he didn't know. But he could say that he was a work colleague or something that he had just forgotten, afterall, he had just said that he was scatterbrained.

Harry stared at his whiskey, as if in a staring contest about it. Months or years of not drinking, and then this? For all he knows, he could be incredibly lightweight. Besides, he was on the job.
"Actually, I just realised I have work tomorrow morning, can you get a glass of something that's weak instead? I'll prefer not to have a headache the next morning."

He looked over at Clara, who hadn't touched hers either.
"Two glasses, actually."
@Jeremi @Sark​

"Ah, a mus' be mistaken then, Mr" The Bartender leaned back against the wall of bottles, his arms folded "General-whatever-his-name-is apparently some big shot from Washington who's came all the way down here to meet with the Boss. Now, that's not suspicious at all right?" Reaching into the shelf below him, he grabbed a further two glasses and slammed them down onto the table, before searching the shelves for something a little more tenth-grade for his customers to try "Now, you didn't here any of this from me, but word on dancefloor is that no-one really knows what he even looks like-- not even the Boss. He only talks in faxes, only meets through proxies; him showing up today was supposed to be a big deal. I was supposed to get a few more shifts thanks to that... but apparently, the Hoods have scared him off... not that anyone's suprised. Now his booth 'bout as empty as Hell... and I'm guessin' Cobblepot isn't going to be conservative with the blame..."

Against his better nature, the Bartender filled up the two glasses with some cheap, sparkling cider he had found tucked away in the corner of the bar, its weaker taste rendering invisible to his regulars. Rolling the fresh back between his fingers, he pushed the two glasses along the wooden table.

"Take these. It's hardly the softest stuff in the world, but you're hardly going to be stumbling outa the door at the end of the night. Enjoy... want me to set up some tabs for the two o' ya?"​

Aurora Diaz( Traci Aquabelle)

Aurora took a look around the area, her hair tied back with rainbow streaks in her. She also had purposely put on too much makeup and added a fake scar over on her forehead. Liam had told her she had gone a little too distract, but what did her kind of boyfriend know? Sometimes he could be so dense. She was also wearing a yellow dress with heels and shoes. She walked over to the red haired woman and smiled. " Hi, I'm Traci Aquabelle. How has your day been going?" She asked the woman with a southern drawl for fun.

"Urgh, its been the absolute worst" She groaned, rolling her eyes like a child "Ever bet someone who just makes you wanna throw your head in a microwave, or just run away and join the circus or just get away from everyone? Coz that's where I am right now. I hate that stupid bird. He's stupid and I hate him. He's the moron, not me! He's just...Urgh!" Casting her eyes back down towards the dancefloor "Hello, I guess, Traci... I'm Ivy..."​

Aurora Diaz( Traci Aquabelle)

Aurora took a look around the area, her hair tied back with rainbow streaks in her. She also had purposely put on too much makeup and added a fake scar over on her forehead. Liam had told her she had gone a little too distract, but what did her kind of boyfriend know? Sometimes he could be so dense. She was also wearing a yellow dress with heels and shoes. She walked over to the red haired woman and smiled. " Hi, I'm Traci Aquabelle. How has your day been going?" She asked the woman with a southern drawl for fun.

@Sark @Stage

Liam Anderson ( Gavin O'Connors)

Liam scratched his face. Why he had thought it had been a good idea to get a small fake goatee was beyond on him and he had made sure to put on strategic cuts. He also made sure to wear a black hat and a black leather jacket along with black jeans and a pair of black sneakers and a black muscle shirt. Basically, he was going for a criminal look. " Oh fiddlesticks, is Mr. Flag still not here? Did he get stick in airport securit' again? Ugh- he tald me he would be here at eight. Gavin O' Connors, gentleman,"

@Sark @Booth

The two bouncers looked at 'Gavin''s hand, then at each other, and then back to his hand. Neither man made any effort to shake it. "Yeah, Flag still ain't around- you're eyes coulda told ya that... What's 'e to you anyway? Ya got business with him and the Bawss?"

"Coz if ya don't-" The second guard continued "Then ya better run along, mate. Grab some drinks. Enjoy the party... We'd hate to have to 'remove you from the premises now', wouldn't we?"​

Kidd Wilder
@Sark @Others?

A wry smile crossed Kidd's face, as she feigned still being restrained. If she could just manage to catch her captor off-guard, she had a chance, as long as she played her cards right.

"No rest for the wicked... Aye?" She said, then the paused for a moment, something else crossing her mind.

"Say... If ya don't mind tellin' a lass on death row... What's that ol' bird got on ya anyways? What's yer stake in all of this?" She asked slyly.

It was an innocent enough question as is, but... Perhaps if she couldn't fight her way out of this outright, she could... Talk her way out of this situation, while the clock was still ticking...​

"Oh, Mr.Cobblepot doesn't have anything on me; he wouldn't need to. It's all business; I worked for the Falcones, Penguin kills the Falcones, he gets my contract. If someone kills the Boss, then I'd end up running with them. Its bad work- a great way to stay alive though, I gotta say"

The moment Victor stopped talking, the doors of the van came swining open, with Penguin, Charlie, Gene and Rhea standing in its gaping jaws. Hobbling his way over the step and into the boot, Cobblepot sat down, his cane between his legs and a sick grin across his face.


"Hello there, Hood... No no, don't stand up" His words dripped with sarcasm. "I wouldn't want you to go out of your way for me... I mean, not after you went through all that effort the kill me. But the past is in the past. I'm willing to put all of this behind us, maybe even give you a job... if you can do one tiny tiny thing for me; you're going to have to tell me who hired you to kill me. You're going to spill the beans about Butch and whoever else was in that car with you, and then you're going to tell me where you got that damn bomb. Once you've done all that, you're free to go... but try to keep secrets from me, and well... these three gentlement are very good at finding fact from fiction..."

With a twisted smile, he gestured for his 3 elites to enter the van with him

"I'm going to head off shorty; I've got an important meanting with Mr.Flag, and you know how these sort of meetings can go. So I'll leave you here with the assassin. Milk her dry. Find out everything you can. And if she doesn't play ball, then you know what to do"

And with that, the Penguin leaned free from the jaws of the van, leaving his 3 interrogators and his capture in the loving hands of Victor Zsasz...

"So, Ladies and Gents... who wants to get this party started?"

@York @Crow @Takumi @York​

 

[Sleepwalker]

Ah, a mus' be mistaken then, Mr" The Bartender leaned back against the wall of bottles, his arms folded "General-whatever-his-name-is apparently some big shot from Washington who's came all the way down here to meet with the Boss. Now, that's not suspicious at all right?" Reaching into the shelf below him, he grabbed a further two glasses and slammed them down onto the table, before searching the shelves for something a little more tenth-grade for his customers to try "Now, you didn't here any of this from me, but word on dancefloor is that no-one really knows what he even looks like-- not even the Boss. He only talks in faxes, only meets through proxies; him showing up today was supposed to be a big deal. I was supposed to get a few more shifts thanks to that... but apparently, the Hoods have scared him off... not that anyone's suprised. Now his booth 'bout as empty as Hell... and I'm guessin' Cobblepot isn't going to be conservative with the blame..."

Against his better nature, the Bartender filled up the two glasses with some cheap, sparkling cider he had found tucked away in the corner of the bar, its weaker taste rendering invisible to his regulars. Rolling the fresh back between his fingers, he pushed the two glasses along the wooden table.

"Take these. It's hardly the softest stuff in the world, but you're hardly going to be stumbling outa the door at the end of the night. Enjoy... want me to set up some tabs for the two o' ya?"

"Sure, thank you for the cider."
Harry stared at his drink ever so digustingly. It was cheap, and if he was the type of person to drink, he could have likely bought a whole slab of it for not much. Still, he took a sip without much complaint, as it wasn't too strong. For those wine critics, this was surely about as good as Pizza Hut was to a gourmet food eater. But this was his first drink he had in a while, and he wasn't about to complain in a gang boss's lounge of all places.

"Here, I don't feel like another glass, I'm a bit of a lightweight."
He passed the other glass over to Clara. It was his intention to order two after all, but he had to hide it under a lie. Hopefully Clara would get the message.

He turned back to the bartender and listend intently. Whoever this Arnie was, he sounded important, and gathering important information was obviously a benefit. Didn't hear any of this from me...that stunk of trouble. This Arnie was horribly suspicious, hiding his face, and coming here of all places? Maybe there was something in his booth?
"Unfortunate. I'm guessing he had quite a lot of money, considering he had a booth? I wonder if he's even been here."
@Sark @Jeremi​

 

[Sark]

"Sure, thank you for the cider."
Harry stared at his drink ever so digustingly. It was cheap, and if he was the type of person to drink, he could have likely bought a whole slab of it for not much. Still, he took a sip without much complaint, as it wasn't too strong. For those wine critics, this was surely about as good as Pizza Hut was to a gourmet food eater. But this was his first drink he had in a while, and he wasn't about to complain in a gang boss's lounge of all places.

"Here, I don't feel like another glass, I'm a bit of a lightweight."
He passed the other glass over to Clara. It was his intention to order two after all, but he had to hide it under a lie. Hopefully Clara would get the message.

He turned back to the bartender and listend intently. Whoever this Arnie was, he sounded important, and gathering important information was obviously a benefit. Didn't hear any of this from me...that stunk of trouble. This Arnie was horribly suspicious, hiding his face, and coming here of all places? Maybe there was something in his booth?
"Unfortunate. I'm guessing he had quite a lot of money, considering he had a booth? I wonder if he's even been here."
@Sark @Jeremi​

"I'd say so" The Bartender clicked the cork back onto the bottle of cider and placed it back under the table "Not many people can afford a private session with Cobblepot, an it takes a big ol' worm to get him to come out of his cave nowadays. The attack at the GCPD wasn't the first attempt on the Penguin's life. Some people say he's getting paranoid. Some say he's hiding behind his goons, and behind it all he's losing his touch... But me? I'd never say that..."​

 

[Jeremi]

"Oh really?" The Bartender raised an eyebrow and teased "And what kinda work would that be? A lawyer? A cop? Those sorta bigwigs tend to get seduced by our City's kinda stink. But you don't strike me as one o' those types-- you seem like a gal who knows the real way to get rich if you catch my drift. You trying to get the Boss' attention or what?" He leaned across the bar and lowered his tone, shielding his words from any other prying ears 'Cause tip me well and I might just remember who to send your 'resume' to..."​

"Ah, a mus' be mistaken then, Mr" The Bartender leaned back against the wall of bottles, his arms folded "General-whatever-his-name-is apparently some big shot from Washington who's came all the way down here to meet with the Boss. Now, that's not suspicious at all right?" Reaching into the shelf below him, he grabbed a further two glasses and slammed them down onto the table, before searching the shelves for something a little more tenth-grade for his customers to try "Now, you didn't here any of this from me, but word on dancefloor is that no-one really knows what he even looks like-- not even the Boss. He only talks in faxes, only meets through proxies; him showing up today was supposed to be a big deal. I was supposed to get a few more shifts thanks to that... but apparently, the Hoods have scared him off... not that anyone's suprised. Now his booth 'bout as empty as Hell... and I'm guessin' Cobblepot isn't going to be conservative with the blame..."

Against his better nature, the Bartender filled up the two glasses with some cheap, sparkling cider he had found tucked away in the corner of the bar, its weaker taste rendering invisible to his regulars. Rolling the fresh back between his fingers, he pushed the two glasses along the wooden table.

"Take these. It's hardly the softest stuff in the world, but you're hardly going to be stumbling outa the door at the end of the night. Enjoy... want me to set up some tabs for the two o' ya?"​

"Urgh, its been the absolute worst" She groaned, rolling her eyes like a child "Ever bet someone who just makes you wanna throw your head in a microwave, or just run away and join the circus or just get away from everyone? Coz that's where I am right now. I hate that stupid bird. He's stupid and I hate him. He's the moron, not me! He's just...Urgh!" Casting her eyes back down towards the dancefloor "Hello, I guess, Traci... I'm Ivy..."​

The two bouncers looked at 'Gavin''s hand, then at each other, and then back to his hand. Neither man made any effort to shake it. "Yeah, Flag still ain't around- you're eyes coulda told ya that... What's 'e to you anyway? Ya got business with him and the Bawss?"

"Coz if ya don't-" The second guard continued "Then ya better run along, mate. Grab some drinks. Enjoy the party... We'd hate to have to 'remove you from the premises now', wouldn't we?"​

"Oh, Mr.Cobblepot doesn't have anything on me; he wouldn't need to. It's all business; I worked for the Falcones, Penguin kills the Falcones, he gets my contract. If someone kills the Boss, then I'd end up running with them. Its bad work- a great way to stay alive though, I gotta say"

The moment Victor stopped talking, the doors of the van came swining open, with Penguin, Charlie, Gene and Rhea standing in its gaping jaws. Hobbling his way over the step and into the boot, Cobblepot sat down, his cane between his legs and a sick grin across his face.


"Hello there, Hood... No no, don't stand up" His words dripped with sarcasm. "I wouldn't want you to go out of your way for me... I mean, not after you went through all that effort the kill me. But the past is in the past. I'm willing to put all of this behind us, maybe even give you a job... if you can do one tiny tiny thing for me; you're going to have to tell me who hired you to kill me. You're going to spill the beans about Butch and whoever else was in that car with you, and then you're going to tell me where you got that damn bomb. Once you've done all that, you're free to go... but try to keep secrets from me, and well... these three gentlement are very good at finding fact from fiction..."

With a twisted smile, he gestured for his 3 elites to enter the van with him

"I'm going to head off shorty; I've got an important meanting with Mr.Flag, and you know how these sort of meetings can go. So I'll leave you here with the assassin. Milk her dry. Find out everything you can. And if she doesn't play ball, then you know what to do"

And with that, the Penguin leaned free from the jaws of the van, leaving his 3 interrogators and his capture in the loving hands of Victor Zsasz...

"So, Ladies and Gents... who wants to get this party started?"

@York @Crow @Takumi @York​

Oh boy, well, here goes then, Clara thought to herself. "I'm a problem solver, in that I solve problems." In her mind that sounded super badass but probably came off really stilted and lame. Even so she continued. "If you need something to disappear I'll make it so it never fucking existed." Throw a swear word on for emphasis. Clara usually didn't say anything worse than heck so dropping a f-bomb almost grossed her out. Now to seal the deal. "And well if you have someone." She too leaned in dropping a twenty dollar bill on the bar and slid it to the bartender. "Tell them that the Eraser is here to wipe all the problems away." Boom! Nailed it. Oh God, hope he doesn't think she's a murderer or something...

"Sure, thank you for the cider."
Harry stared at his drink ever so digustingly. It was cheap, and if he was the type of person to drink, he could have likely bought a whole slab of it for not much. Still, he took a sip without much complaint, as it wasn't too strong. For those wine critics, this was surely about as good as Pizza Hut was to a gourmet food eater. But this was his first drink he had in a while, and he wasn't about to complain in a gang boss's lounge of all places.

"Here, I don't feel like another glass, I'm a bit of a lightweight."
He passed the other glass over to Clara. It was his intention to order two after all, but he had to hide it under a lie. Hopefully Clara would get the message.

He turned back to the bartender and listend intently. Whoever this Arnie was, he sounded important, and gathering important information was obviously a benefit. Didn't hear any of this from me...that stunk of trouble. This Arnie was horribly suspicious, hiding his face, and coming here of all places? Maybe there was something in his booth?
"Unfortunate. I'm guessing he had quite a lot of money, considering he had a booth? I wonder if he's even been here."
@Sark @Jeremi​

Clara took the glass and raised it towards Harry. "Cheers mate." Time to drunk up. Clara looked at the contents of the glass a good long while before taking a swig and...it wasn't that bad. Was all alcohol this sugary and bland? Was like she was drinking sparkling apple juice.

"I'd say so" The Bartender clicked the cork back onto the bottle of cider and placed it back under the table "Not many people can afford a private session with Cobblepot, an it takes a big ol' worm to get him to come out of his cave nowadays. The attack at the GCPD wasn't the first attempt on the Penguin's life. Some people say he's getting paranoid. Some say he's hiding behind his goons, and behind it all he's losing his touch... But me? I'd never say that..."​

"Well his namesake like to live in large pacts. Understandable if a lone bird has its doubts of venturing out into danger." Clara looked over to Harry and then the bartender now with a better smirk then the last one.

@Sark @MelodyMeister

 

[Sark]

Oh boy, well, here goes then, Clara thought to herself. "I'm a problem solver, in that I solve problems." In her mind that sounded super badass but probably came off really stilted and lame. Even so she continued. "If you need something to disappear I'll make it so it never fucking existed." Throw a swear word on for emphasis. Clara usually didn't say anything worse than heck so dropping a f-bomb almost grossed her out. Now to seal the deal. "And well if you have someone." She too leaned in dropping a twenty dollar bill on the bar and slid it to the bartender. "Tell them that the Eraser is here to wipe all the problems away." Boom! Nailed it. Oh God, hope he doesn't think she's a murderer or something...

@Sark @MelodyMeister

"Huh" The Bartender smirked "You really don't play around? Yano, at the start, I really thought you didn't have what it takes to last in this town... but now? Now I know you're the real deal, Eraser" He reached across the bar and took the crisp 20 into his palm, the wave of green disappearing beneath 5 pale mountains. Was the 'tip' really all that large? No, but he wasn't about to get on the wrong side of someone who 'solves problems' like they 'never fucking existed'. If he hadn't grown so acclimatised to a dangerous crowd, he might have shivered, but after all the years of his life he had poured away pouring drinks to the scum of Gotham, he couldn't help but feel a wave of excitement. His hide the bill away and pulled out his mobile, careful not to meet the eye of any of the bouncers; he doubted the 20 would make up for the cut in his pay that misdemeanour would earn him.

"Hey, Bookworm" The Bartender spoke into the receiver "We've got a new kid on the block... Yeah... yeah, this one's got potential...Wouldn't have tipped you off if she didn't... Yeah, I'm sure she can handle that one, William... I'll send her down"

Snapping his clamshell shut, he tossed it back under the bar, a charming smile and a raised eyebrow greeting his new recruit.

"So, that was Penguin's numbers guy on the line. 'Pparently, you're just what he's looking for. He needs someone Erased, and you seem perfect for the job. Its tough work, but if you really wanna go for in this town, he's the guy ya gotta go through. And hey, you last more than a week, and I'll see to it that you'll get free drinks here for life... and not just that shitty cider your mate's after... Hotshot drinks for a real Hotshot. You in?"
@MelodyMeister @Jeremi​

"Well his namesake like to live in large pacts. Understandable if a lone bird has its doubts of venturing out into danger." Clara looked over to Harry and then the bartender now with a better smirk then the last one.

@Sark @MelodyMeister

"Well, I don't think the Penguin's a chicken, so ta say... I just think he needs ta get his head outa his ass and remember the kinda game he's playin'. If he wants ta go play mayor in his free time, then he can go ahead. But he's gotta remember that's he's the fella who threw Fish Mooney offa rooftop. He's the guy who sprayed Leo Galivan across the Gotham Skyline with a bazooka. The guy's the real deal, but he needs to remember where his roots lie, and how ta take care of himself. The more time he spends roosting, the less feathers he's gonna have, ya know? He's a strong bet fa now, but lata down the line? He might get mistaken for a shootin' pidgeon... with any luck, some tough new blood will be the kick up the ass he needs... hate to see some pimple faced up-start take out a guy with his history..."
@MelodyMeister @Jeremi​

 

[Jeremi]

"Huh" The Bartender smirked "You really don't play around? Yano, at the start, I really thought you didn't have what it takes to last in this town... but now? Now I know you're the real deal, Eraser" He reached across the bar and took the crisp 20 into his palm, the wave of green disappearing beneath 5 pale mountains. Was the 'tip' really all that large? No, but he wasn't about to get on the wrong side of someone who 'solves problems' like they 'never fucking existed'. If he hadn't grown so acclimatised to a dangerous crowd, he might have shivered, but after all the years of his life he had poured away pouring drinks to the scum of Gotham, he couldn't help but feel a wave of excitement. His hide the bill away and pulled out his mobile, careful not to meet the eye of any of the bouncers; he doubted the 20 would make up for the cut in his pay that misdemeanour would earn him.

"Hey, Bookworm" The Bartender spoke into the receiver "We've got a new kid on the block... Yeah... yeah, this one's got potential...Wouldn't have tipped you off if she didn't... Yeah, I'm sure she can handle that one, William... I'll send her down"

Snapping his clamshell shut, he tossed it back under the bar, a charming smile and a raised eyebrow greeting his new recruit.

"So, that was Penguin's numbers guy on the line. 'Pparently, you're just what he's looking for. He needs someone Erased, and you seem perfect for the job. Its tough work, but if you really wanna go for in this town, he's the guy ya gotta go through. And hey, you last more than a week, and I'll see to it that you'll get free drinks here for life... and not just that shitty cider your mate's after... Hotshot drinks for a real Hotshot. You in?"
@MelodyMeister @Jeremi​

"Well, I don't think the Penguin's a chicken, so ta say... I just think he needs ta get his head outa his ass and remember the kinda game he's playin'. If he wants ta go play mayor in his free time, then he can go ahead. But he's gotta remember that's he's the fella who threw Fish Mooney offa rooftop. He's the guy who sprayed Leo Galivan across the Gotham Skyline with a bazooka. The guy's the real deal, but he needs to remember where his roots lie, and how ta take care of himself. The more time he spends roosting, the less feathers he's gonna have, ya know? He's a strong bet fa now, but lata down the line? He might get mistaken for a shootin' pidgeon... with any luck, some tough new blood will be the kick up the ass he needs... hate to see some pimple faced up-start take out a guy with his history..."
@MelodyMeister @Jeremi​

"Am I in?" She really didn't want to do this, and it was clear he had misunderstood her supposed M.O. Maybe the Eraser was too hard of a word. "Of course, luv. I wouldn't have put my butt on that plane and come to the colonies if I wasn't." Well she had one foot in the door at least, that counts for something. "So mind pointing me where I should be heading. After drinking this cider, of course."

She downed the drink as she listened to the bartender wax poetic about the Penguin and as he finished her drink was done too. Damn that was some tasty cider. "The way I see it a mayor is just a crime boss with some shinier colors."

@Sark @MelodyMeister

 

[Sleepwalker]

Taking a sip of his cider, Harry stayed quiet and listened. Clara was making a large lie, but for a lady who was freaking out during that shootout, it was impressive. Still, Harry was also much better at silent scenes such as being at a meeting then say, getting his brains blown out in a shoot-out. Also, she was getting attention, so it must work.

So this Arnie person was rich and important enough to get Cobblepot to meet up with him. Cobblepot, the large crime boss who had several attempts on his life. Of course the bartender wouldn't say the rumours, but sometimes, rumours can be true. Harry can't be sure this Arnie is important to the case or a red herring...but he liked rumourmills anyways.

"Hmm, interesting, what other rumours are there? I quite like listening to rumours, since some of them are so ridiculous they make me laugh. My friends often call me a gossip, but I call myself up-to-date."

Great, so he had to begin on his fake identity as well.

"Impressive, Eraser was it? I only wish I could 'erase' my boss as well. I forget one thing, and he's all yelling at me. One time, he gave me a black eye when I broke a plate! But, I'm pretty sure you're only for high-profile, and best of the best, is that right?"

@Jeremi @Sark​