spankingfemme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spankingfemme) wrote2015-03-09 01:00 am
spankingfemme) wrote2015-03-09 01:00 am
Entry tags:
A friend to the 'end' (Gotham fanfic) Chapter three
So Jason, lovely husband that he is has written me the latest chapter in my A Friend to the 'end' story... *evil grin* It's fun as for every chapter I post we've worked out at least three more spankings to come! LOL! XD Poor Oswald, he really has no luck over in these parts ;)
Other than that, it's been a pretty crazy week! I literally just finished my homework a little over an hour ago (We took enough time out to watch the latest Walking Dead, (Does anyone else but me think that Rick and his group are making a big mistake with this community? I have a feeling their inability to trust is going to be their downfall...) and I'm posting this fic, and gods it's already 1AM Oo)
Hope everyone has been doing well. I know I've fallen behind a bit... two more weeks for this semester to end, and I can't wait! Yes, I am a bit tipsy on wine what of it! LOL! :P
Chapter 3
Assume Nothing
A few weeks passed and Oswald managed to put the events at the club behind him, at least to a degree. He moved forward in his plan to cement his position with Maroni, and things went very well indeed. Until of course one fateful evening when Maroni receives a phone-call from Fish Mooney…
Oswald glared out of the bus window, his face set in a deep frown as he contemplated the extent that Fish had ruined him. Maroni had expectedly taken news of his betrayal poorly, and attempted to kill him.
Oswald wasn’t angry at Maroni; he would have done the same to anyone that tried something like that to him, after all. He wasn’t even that angry with that bitch Fish; she was his enemy after all. He was more upset that he hadn’t seen this coming sooner.
The way that Maroni had made such a show of loading that gun and placing it in that bag before they went into the cabin should have sent up a red flag, especially since he fully expected his now former boss was up to something.
Maroni walking outside of the cabin like he did, leaving the gun behind when the whole point was that he shouldn’t be trusting Oswald with a gun should’ve also set him wondering. Oswald wished he had just handed Maroni the gun; he would have earned his trust again!
But he hadn’t, he had even stupidly fired the weapon even after Maroni told him to his face that it was loaded with blanks. He had been so sure that he had him, and his hubris had nearly gotten him killed…
Penguin ran one long-fingered hand along his smooth-shaven jaw as he continued to glare through the glass without seeing the wheat-fields and dairy farms they passed as the bus traversed the back roads of Gotham’s countryside.
His mind was instead intently fixed on learning what he had done wrong so that he could be cleverer next time. Maroni wasn’t that smart; but he was clever enough and Oswald could only blame himself for getting drawn into such a simple ploy.
He would have to be more careful from now on; he had already had three narrow escapes with certain death in the last year alone and that kind of thing couldn’t be healthy in the long term. He wasn’t off the hook with Maroni, either…
Oswald let out a long sigh. He was going to have to ask Falcone for protection now; an annoyance seeing as Falcone himself was an obstacle to his own rise to power. Falcone didn’t know that, though, and as long as he was pretending to work for the man he might as well obtain more use of him…
“No.”
Oswald sputtered, “What… but Don Falcone, I’ve been nothing but…”
“Deceptive,” Falcone cut him off, “as helpful as you have been to me you have remained only a conniving little snitch whose loyalty will always remain doubtful at best.”
Cobblepot was stunned by the sudden turn of events and just stared in horror at the older man as Falcone sat himself down in a comfortable, expensive leather chair there in his manor, “But sir, I assure you…”
Falcone shook his head as he interrupted yet again, “Your assurances mean nothing to me; a man like you probably lies to his mother. I won’t protect you from Maroni because the mess you’re in with him was entirely of your own design.”
The crime boss continued as Oswald stood mortified in thought of what this meant for him, “I gave you the option to live if you could navigate around being shot by Gordon and you managed that well enough, so you’re just going to have to escape this noose too.”
Penguin stuttered, “B-but James Gordon’s a straight-lace cop… Maroni is a boss with connections and he wants me dead! I used what I knew of Gordon to escape harm before, but I need protection to live now!”
Falcone shrugged at him as he poured aged bourbon from a glass jar into a smaller drinking glass. He took a drink and replied after a moment, “I suggest you prove to me then that the first time with Gordon wasn’t luck. Survive this and prove to me that you’re clever enough to forgive your tendency to backstab your employers.”
Oswald just stared at the other man with a sinking feeling of growing hopelessness. When it became clear with the prolonged silence that Falcone wasn’t interested in speaking on the matter any further Cobblepot gulped, trying to keep his escalating fear from his voice, “Of course, Mr. Falcone.”
Jim Gordon looked at Oswald with obvious surprise, “Mr. Cobblepot… I didn’t expect you today.”
Oswald nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck as he sidled over to talk to Jim, his voice low and conspiratorial, “I came to make you an offer that I think will prove mutually beneficial, detective.”
Gordon glared at him, “Didn’t I mention before that the precinct isn’t the best place for us to talk?”
Oswald shrugged apologetically, “I knew I’d find you here and time is of the essence… besides, I think you know with that list I gave you that most of these guys would rather pretend not to notice us talking anyways.”
Jim shook his head, handing him a card, “Here’s my number; if you can’t just e-mail me pick up a phone. Since you’re already here though; what’s bothering you?”
Penguin beamed a large smile at him as he spread his hands, “I thought it might be best for everyone if you and a group of police you trusted… say people who aren’t on that list… were to arrest Maroni.”
Jim laughed, “And how long would he stay in jail? Fifteen minutes? Fifteen seconds?”
Oswald spoke quickly, “That’s the thing, you see; I can give you more than enough evidence to make it hard for him to pay off enough people to keep himself out, maybe even get a real conviction.”
The detective sat down at his desk, scratching at his chin with one finger, “Okay; so let’s say you can do that and I can get a team together; what are you getting out of this betrayal other than a potential death sentence?”
Cobblepot looked a bit sheepish, “Well, he sort of discovered that I’m working for Falcone, so my side of this is that he doesn’t kill me…”
Gordon sighed, leaning back into the chair, “So you want me to save you again…”
“But you’ll also be making the arrest of a lifetime! Imagine how much easier things will be for you once Maroni is locked down…” Oswald wiped at a bead of sweat that trailed down his face.
Jim nodded, “Fine. Just tell me how we should do it.”
*******
Maroni had been furious when Penguin had slipped free of him. He had searched that junk yard over several times, hoping that the skinny little man would be found hiding in a vehicle or under some garbage, but he had not had any luck.
After that he had gone straight to Falcone, both to look for the little snitch and to confront the other boss about leaving a spy in his employ. Falcone had told him that Oswald was an independent rat, though, and that the man had only told Maroni a pack of lies.
He went further and told Maroni that Penguin had come to him seeking protection, and that he had turned him down. Maroni wasn’t sure if he believed Falcone, but his new right-hand man told him that Falcone’s story added up.
“The little bastard turned on Fish at the drop of a hat, plus Falcone had ordered him killed, the cop told you that much. Falcone would be stupid to keep him, and we both know that old man ain’t stupid.”
Maroni stood in his office at the restaurant, his hands gripping the leather chair behind it with such force that it creaked loudly, “I have to wonder how much of what spilled out his mouth was true, or if everything he ever told me was lies. He came back from the dead once; I wanna make sure he doesn’t this time.”
His thug shook his head, “No way boss; this guy’s gotta be runnin’ for the hills if he’s got any sense. He knows enough to know that you don’t cross, well, you and live without serious protection, which he don’t have.”
Maroni stood up a little taller, nodding, “Yeah, I just…”
The loud sound of argument could be heard then from the next room and Maroni gestured to his henchman, “Go check it out.”
The man nodded and left, leaving Maroni to his thoughts for a moment. He supposed he would have to shelf his issues with the annoyance Penguin posed and focus on the present. He started to head around the desk to see for himself what was causing the racket outside and drew up short.
Oswald smiled at him as he pulled back the hammer of the gun he pointed at Maroni, “Hello again. I’m afraid that noise out there is the sound of the police barging in, so I don’t have much time to chat, sorry.”
Maroni saw his finger begin to tighten on the trigger and he did his best to look calm as he smiled at Cobblepot; a skill he had nearly perfected in his line of work, “Tell that to my man behind you.”
Penguin whipped his head to look behind him before realizing he had just fallen for the oldest trick in the book, perhaps due to his last engagement with Maroni ending so poorly because he hadn’t been bluffing.
This time he was, though, and even as Oswald noted the empty air Maroni lunged, grabbing the gun with one hand and smashing his fist into the smaller man’s face with the other.
Oswald went down hard, seeing stars as the edges of his perception became a bit fuzzy from the blunt force trauma to his head. Maroni ripped the gun free from his hand and it went off as he did so, the bullet flying harmlessly into the wall behind them.
Maroni quickly turned the weapon to point it at Oswald, “You little shit! It’s about time you got what was coming to you!”
Oswald raised his hands up as he begged, “Wait!”
Another voice boomed suddenly across the room, “Freeze!” Maroni glanced over to see Jim and several other cops coming around the corner, guns leveled on him, “Put it down or I shoot.”
The crime boss swore vehemently but lowered his gun, throwing it on the floor beside him, “This little punk just tried to kill me; I was only defending myself.”
Jim glared at Oswald and the small man gave him an apologetic look, “He’s under arrest too, but either way we’re here to arrest you for a slew of charges, Don Maroni; I’m sure you knew this was coming some day.”
Maroni gave him a stiff smile, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about; I run a perfectly legitimate business here…”
Jim motioned to the other police, “Cuff him and read him his rights…” he moved over to Oswald, and stared at him pointedly as they did so, “he’s in a whole heap of trouble.”
**********
Oswald frowned deeply as he sat in the small holding cell. This particular cell was walled on all sides with only a small barred window on the door to allow police to look inside. It was generally only used for isolation as punishment for inmates of the precincts small jail that were too rowdy, but in Penguin’s case it was to keep him from Maroni and the others for his own protection.
Things couldn’t have gone worse; now not only did he fail to kill Maroni, which was likely a death sentence from Falcone, but Maroni himself would be out soon enough to see him dead personally.
Everything had worked beautifully, and the boss’ thugs had all rallied to the front of the restaurant when the cops showed up in force, allowing him to slip into the back unseen. Maroni had been where he had been hoping to find him, didn’t have any guards, and was unarmed.
Oswald slapped his palm to his forehead over and over again. How could he have been so stupid… a ‘look out behind you’ trick? There was no way he should keep falling for Maroni’s tired old ploys, he was cleverer than that!
The metal door to his small room suddenly creaked open and he jumped. He relaxed visibly when he saw that it was Jim, “Detective, I understand that you are upset with my attempt on Marnoni’s life, but I assure you that I had no…”
Gordon held a finger up, silencing him with a look. He shut the door behind him and walked calmly over to Oswald, who backed up until he bumped into the close wall. Jim wordlessly sat on the single bench located there and deftly wrenched Oswald by his arm so that he was over his lap.
Cobblepot’s eyes were wide as saucers as he looked back over his shoulder dumbly at the detective, his half-hearted attempts to flail free crushed immediately under the force of Jim’s efforts, “Wha… wait… here?!”
Jim secured him tightly to his lap and grunted acknowledgement as he quickly ripped Oswald’s pants down so that they no longer protected his pale white buttocks. Penguin made a mewling sound of protest just before he began bringing his hand down sharply on him.
This time was far more brutal than before and Oswald worked ultra-hard not to cry out; he was already a dead man, but his fear of discovery in this position still terrified him, especially concerning Maroni, “P-please,” he whispered, “Not here!”
Jim only glared at him for a moment, Oswald taking a moment to breath as he paused, then began to whack him even harder and faster as he spoke, “You’re right, but I want to give you a taste of what you have coming to you once I manage to get you out of here, you asshole.”
Oswald let slip a few muffled moans of pain as he kicked his legs and flung his arms in rhythm to the beat that Jim applied, and then he stopped as suddenly as he had begun. He simply stood, pushing Penguin off onto the bench as he moved quickly to the door, and he was gone again.
As Oswald lay there trying to pull his pants back up over his fresh new welts, he wasn’t sure whether he was happy that Jim had just told him that he was going to see him free of the jail, or if he was terrified of the detective’s plan for what came next…
Oswald was made to wait in that small cell a while longer, each minute that ticked by feeling like an eternity as he continued to consider all of the awful potential futures that awaited him.
After a while though, detective Bullock opened his door and glared in at him, “Alright, bird-brain, as much as it pains me, I’m supposed to let you go and tell you to go directly to Jim’s place if you wanna not die for all the scum-bag things you’ve done.”
Penguin just blinked at him a moment before giving him a nervous smile and shuffling out of the cramped cell, “I appreciate it detective…”
Bullock held up a hand and shook his head, “Don’t thank me; given a choice I’d have put you in the cage with the rest of them.”
Cobblepot frowned at the man’s overt hostility but decided not to let it get him down, being hunted by two crime bosses would be enough to worry about, “I’ll just gather my things…”
Bullock shoved him toward the precinct back door that led out to the garage, “Your stuff is at Jim’s apartment. Get going, you don’t have a lot of time if you know what I mean.”
A thrill of fear ran down Oswald’s spine. Had they already let Maroni out? He began to hobble as quickly as he could in the direction indicated. There were other places he could try hiding, but one of his enemies would eventually find him if he simply hid.
Oswald didn’t like the idea of what Gordon had promised back in the station, but if he was to have any hope of rising from this latest catastrophe, Jim was the only ally he really had left. He would just have to make the man see reason…
Jim found Oswald on the steps to his apartment a few hours later. The detective glanced both ways down the street and then nodded to him, “Get inside.”
Penguin hobbled past the door, his face plastered with a smile despite everything he had been through, “I do thank you for all you’ve done to protect me detective, but next time please send a car…”
Gordon frowned at him, “Sore feet are the least of your problems if anyone realizes I’m harboring you. Come this way, I have a few questions we need to sort out, and there’s not much time.”
Cobblepot frowned in turn, worried about ‘questioning’ that had happened recently between them, “Please feel free to pick my brain, I am more than happy to tell you anything you’d like to know; it’s the least I can do for getting me out of there…”
Jim sat down on the living room couch, patting his leg and gesturing that Oswald should come over, “You know the routine.”
Oswald froze, sputtering, “N-no I certainly do not!” His hands reflexively reached back to cover his still sore posterior, “Detective, we certainly can’t be making anything like a ‘routine’ with something like that, it’s very unhealthy and pointless, since I’ll gladly tell you whatever…”
Gordon only shook his head, “No. You lay over my lap and show me that you can own your mistakes, or I’m not going to continue sticking my neck out for a man who just lied to me and tried to use me to murder another man.”
Penguin stood there for several long moments, his jaw working as he tried to think of what to say, but what was there to say? Jim wasn’t going to be convinced of anything less than his obvious betrayal, “James, please, I’ve made mistakes but even I know when it’s time to take a hint and straighten out… I’ve seen the proverbial light so to speak… all that time reflecting on my possible death has…”
The detective sighed and shook his head, “I’m not buying it. This is an ultimatum, Cobblepot; do what I say or watch out for the door on the way out.”
Oswald felt stuck between a rock and a hard place; this was his last chance at recovery as a gangster not to mention possibly his best prospects of survival, but knowing what Jim intended to do to him left him more than a little hesitant.
After another long silence he spoke again in a small voice, pleading, “Is there no other way I can convince you of my good will? Surely you can find some compassion for such a desperate man?”
Jim stared at him, “This is compassion, Cobblepot. I’ve chosen to treat you like the child you are rather than leave you to face the consequences of your actions like a man, which would invariably lead to your death.”
Penguin gulped. This wasn’t fair… reluctantly and very slowly he moved over towards Gordon, “You know I can’t leave, James. Please, you know I would do anything to get out of this, please believe I will tell you the truth?”
Jim shrugged, “Perhaps. Either way, I told you back at the precinct that this was going to happen; you’re not trying to make a liar out of me, are you?”
To his great embarrassment, Oswald felt tears watering his eyes, “Please, I’m still sore from before… let me rest a bit?”
Jim watched Oswald shift from foot to foot, his hands clutching his bottom for a bit before finally nodding slowly, “Alright, I’ll let you have a little reprieve, but waiting isn’t going to make it any easier on you.”
Penguin let out an audible sigh of relief as Jim pointed back to another room, “I’ve put your things they took from you at the station in that room; that’s where you’ll be staying until we can sort all of this out.”
Cobblepot kneaded his hands together as he gave Jim a very appreciative look, “What were those questions you wanted answered; you said time was running out, I will happily answer them.”
Gordon shook his head, “We’ll address that later, when I’ll know for sure you’re telling me the truth. Go enjoy your break; like you said I haven’t got all day, so it won’t be that long.”
Oswald felt a thrill of fear at that statement and he hurriedly moved to the indicated room, as if getting out of Jim’s sight immediately might somehow relieve him of what came next. He shut the door behind him, taking in the Spartan features of the small guest room.
As promised, the few possessions (minus his gun) that Oswald had on him when he was arrested were all sitting on the small dresser that the room sported. He sat on the bed, wincing as the momentarily forgotten bruises on his backside reminded him of their presence.
Penguin rolled onto his stomach, realizing that Jim was right the more time that passed. Waiting for Gordon to come in and punish him was a special kind of punishment in and of itself. He tried to distract himself thinking about how he might now deal with his other large problems in life, but the knowledge of what loomed closest kept dominating his mind.
In fact, he was becoming so paranoid of Jim’s next visit that he wondered a few times if it wouldn’t just be easier to go back out into the living room and tell Gordon to get it over with. He wasn’t able to work up the nerve, though, which only continued to perpetuate the cycle of apprehension.
When the door knob finally turned and Jim entered the room, Oswald felt as though his heart had leapt into his mouth, and was unable to speak so mortified did he feel all the way up until the point where the detective sat on the bed, patting his leg again, “I’m sorry James, I just… can’t”.
Jim sighed and reached across the short space between them, grabbing hold of Oswald’s hand and yanking the smaller man over into his lap. In a rather embarrassing display that Oswald knew couldn’t help his case concerning maturity Cobblepot began to scream in terror and flail both his arms and legs against Jim.
Gordon grunted in effort as he had to work hard to contain the scrappy young man for a few moments until he could finally get enough of a hold to pin him down, “I told you this was just going to get you worked up. Maybe now you’ll start listening to me more.”
Once made helpless Oswald screamed pathetically for release, “Please don’t, I don’t have the constitution for this sort of thing; please I’ll do anything!”
Jim replied quickly, “You’ll live, and if your this cooperative now I’m sure you’ll really open up after a good few licks with this.” As he spoke the detective removed his belt and doubled it over in his hand.
Oswald’s eyes widened at the sight of the leather implement and the threat it posed, “No! Please, oh god ah! Ah!” He cried out, his sentence broken by the sensation of Gordon pulling his pants back, followed by the excruciating sting of leather on naked flesh.
He begged whined and cajoled, but the detective soundly ignored him as he continued to resolutely bring his belt down again and again on Oswald’s wriggling form. This continued for a short while before Penguin was reduced to very real tears, crying and sobbing as he pleaded.
After a long silence and a litany of resounding swats filled the room with a chorus of Cobblepot’s screams, cries, and moans Jim finally spoke again, “The chief has given me until morning to get her something solid to keep Maroni in there. The first thing you’re going to do to set this right is to fulfill your promise to give me that evidence.”
Oswald screamed, “D-done! Y-you didn’t have to do this; I would have gotten you that a-anyway…”
Gordon nodded, “Maybe, but you still deserve this. Glad to know that you weren’t lying about having what it would take, but I’m disappointed that you were going to kill the man instead of putting him in prison where he belongs.”
Penguin twisted in a special kind of agony as Jim continued to slap him with the leather strip, “O-okay, I’m s-sorry I didn’t give it to you sooner, b-but I’m going to now… p-please let me up!”
Jim frowned down at Oswald as the other man looked up at him pitiably, “I just told you how disappointed I am, but I think ‘this’ is the best way to get the message across with you. Every time you consider murder a viable option to solve a problem I want you to think of this moment.”
Oswald cried out loudly as the punishment continued unabated for a while afterward. Only when it seemed that Gordon was growing tired from the effort of swatting him did he slow to a stop, “Consider that incentive, Cobblepot.”
For his part, Penguin didn’t respond, his face buried in the bed as his body was still overtaken with wracking sobs. Jim stood and after watching Oswald cry a moment, he awkwardly helped him get his pants up, then patted his shoulder, “You’ll be fine… I hope.”
After that he turned, leaving the room and allowing Oswald to cry quietly to himself.
Oswald woke with a start. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep the night before, but at some point in the misery Jim had left him to he had passed out from sheer exhaustion. He made a face as he moved on the bed; his buttocks felt very sore from the previous night’s ministrations.
He threw his feet over the side of the bed and started to stand but then froze. An odd weight pulled at his foot and when he glanced down he saw a circular metal object wrapped around his ankle, “What?”
Gordon’s voice caused him to glance back up as the other man entered the room, “It’s a monitor anklet; it’ll keep you from running off. I managed to get one from the station last night. I have you here because I don’t want to see you get killed, Oswald but I’m still a cop. For attempted murder I have placed you under house arrest, Mr. Cobblepot. Enjoy your stay.”
Jim threw him and apple and Oswald stared dumbly after him as the man walked away. He had thought each of his incidents with Gordon to be singular, but suddenly we was starting to feel like he had somehow become tied to the man in a nightmare he could never escape…
Other than that, it's been a pretty crazy week! I literally just finished my homework a little over an hour ago (We took enough time out to watch the latest Walking Dead, (Does anyone else but me think that Rick and his group are making a big mistake with this community? I have a feeling their inability to trust is going to be their downfall...) and I'm posting this fic, and gods it's already 1AM Oo)
Hope everyone has been doing well. I know I've fallen behind a bit... two more weeks for this semester to end, and I can't wait! Yes, I am a bit tipsy on wine what of it! LOL! :P
Chapter 3
Assume Nothing
A few weeks passed and Oswald managed to put the events at the club behind him, at least to a degree. He moved forward in his plan to cement his position with Maroni, and things went very well indeed. Until of course one fateful evening when Maroni receives a phone-call from Fish Mooney…
Oswald glared out of the bus window, his face set in a deep frown as he contemplated the extent that Fish had ruined him. Maroni had expectedly taken news of his betrayal poorly, and attempted to kill him.
Oswald wasn’t angry at Maroni; he would have done the same to anyone that tried something like that to him, after all. He wasn’t even that angry with that bitch Fish; she was his enemy after all. He was more upset that he hadn’t seen this coming sooner.
The way that Maroni had made such a show of loading that gun and placing it in that bag before they went into the cabin should have sent up a red flag, especially since he fully expected his now former boss was up to something.
Maroni walking outside of the cabin like he did, leaving the gun behind when the whole point was that he shouldn’t be trusting Oswald with a gun should’ve also set him wondering. Oswald wished he had just handed Maroni the gun; he would have earned his trust again!
But he hadn’t, he had even stupidly fired the weapon even after Maroni told him to his face that it was loaded with blanks. He had been so sure that he had him, and his hubris had nearly gotten him killed…
Penguin ran one long-fingered hand along his smooth-shaven jaw as he continued to glare through the glass without seeing the wheat-fields and dairy farms they passed as the bus traversed the back roads of Gotham’s countryside.
His mind was instead intently fixed on learning what he had done wrong so that he could be cleverer next time. Maroni wasn’t that smart; but he was clever enough and Oswald could only blame himself for getting drawn into such a simple ploy.
He would have to be more careful from now on; he had already had three narrow escapes with certain death in the last year alone and that kind of thing couldn’t be healthy in the long term. He wasn’t off the hook with Maroni, either…
Oswald let out a long sigh. He was going to have to ask Falcone for protection now; an annoyance seeing as Falcone himself was an obstacle to his own rise to power. Falcone didn’t know that, though, and as long as he was pretending to work for the man he might as well obtain more use of him…
“No.”
Oswald sputtered, “What… but Don Falcone, I’ve been nothing but…”
“Deceptive,” Falcone cut him off, “as helpful as you have been to me you have remained only a conniving little snitch whose loyalty will always remain doubtful at best.”
Cobblepot was stunned by the sudden turn of events and just stared in horror at the older man as Falcone sat himself down in a comfortable, expensive leather chair there in his manor, “But sir, I assure you…”
Falcone shook his head as he interrupted yet again, “Your assurances mean nothing to me; a man like you probably lies to his mother. I won’t protect you from Maroni because the mess you’re in with him was entirely of your own design.”
The crime boss continued as Oswald stood mortified in thought of what this meant for him, “I gave you the option to live if you could navigate around being shot by Gordon and you managed that well enough, so you’re just going to have to escape this noose too.”
Penguin stuttered, “B-but James Gordon’s a straight-lace cop… Maroni is a boss with connections and he wants me dead! I used what I knew of Gordon to escape harm before, but I need protection to live now!”
Falcone shrugged at him as he poured aged bourbon from a glass jar into a smaller drinking glass. He took a drink and replied after a moment, “I suggest you prove to me then that the first time with Gordon wasn’t luck. Survive this and prove to me that you’re clever enough to forgive your tendency to backstab your employers.”
Oswald just stared at the other man with a sinking feeling of growing hopelessness. When it became clear with the prolonged silence that Falcone wasn’t interested in speaking on the matter any further Cobblepot gulped, trying to keep his escalating fear from his voice, “Of course, Mr. Falcone.”
Jim Gordon looked at Oswald with obvious surprise, “Mr. Cobblepot… I didn’t expect you today.”
Oswald nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck as he sidled over to talk to Jim, his voice low and conspiratorial, “I came to make you an offer that I think will prove mutually beneficial, detective.”
Gordon glared at him, “Didn’t I mention before that the precinct isn’t the best place for us to talk?”
Oswald shrugged apologetically, “I knew I’d find you here and time is of the essence… besides, I think you know with that list I gave you that most of these guys would rather pretend not to notice us talking anyways.”
Jim shook his head, handing him a card, “Here’s my number; if you can’t just e-mail me pick up a phone. Since you’re already here though; what’s bothering you?”
Penguin beamed a large smile at him as he spread his hands, “I thought it might be best for everyone if you and a group of police you trusted… say people who aren’t on that list… were to arrest Maroni.”
Jim laughed, “And how long would he stay in jail? Fifteen minutes? Fifteen seconds?”
Oswald spoke quickly, “That’s the thing, you see; I can give you more than enough evidence to make it hard for him to pay off enough people to keep himself out, maybe even get a real conviction.”
The detective sat down at his desk, scratching at his chin with one finger, “Okay; so let’s say you can do that and I can get a team together; what are you getting out of this betrayal other than a potential death sentence?”
Cobblepot looked a bit sheepish, “Well, he sort of discovered that I’m working for Falcone, so my side of this is that he doesn’t kill me…”
Gordon sighed, leaning back into the chair, “So you want me to save you again…”
“But you’ll also be making the arrest of a lifetime! Imagine how much easier things will be for you once Maroni is locked down…” Oswald wiped at a bead of sweat that trailed down his face.
Jim nodded, “Fine. Just tell me how we should do it.”
*******
Maroni had been furious when Penguin had slipped free of him. He had searched that junk yard over several times, hoping that the skinny little man would be found hiding in a vehicle or under some garbage, but he had not had any luck.
After that he had gone straight to Falcone, both to look for the little snitch and to confront the other boss about leaving a spy in his employ. Falcone had told him that Oswald was an independent rat, though, and that the man had only told Maroni a pack of lies.
He went further and told Maroni that Penguin had come to him seeking protection, and that he had turned him down. Maroni wasn’t sure if he believed Falcone, but his new right-hand man told him that Falcone’s story added up.
“The little bastard turned on Fish at the drop of a hat, plus Falcone had ordered him killed, the cop told you that much. Falcone would be stupid to keep him, and we both know that old man ain’t stupid.”
Maroni stood in his office at the restaurant, his hands gripping the leather chair behind it with such force that it creaked loudly, “I have to wonder how much of what spilled out his mouth was true, or if everything he ever told me was lies. He came back from the dead once; I wanna make sure he doesn’t this time.”
His thug shook his head, “No way boss; this guy’s gotta be runnin’ for the hills if he’s got any sense. He knows enough to know that you don’t cross, well, you and live without serious protection, which he don’t have.”
Maroni stood up a little taller, nodding, “Yeah, I just…”
The loud sound of argument could be heard then from the next room and Maroni gestured to his henchman, “Go check it out.”
The man nodded and left, leaving Maroni to his thoughts for a moment. He supposed he would have to shelf his issues with the annoyance Penguin posed and focus on the present. He started to head around the desk to see for himself what was causing the racket outside and drew up short.
Oswald smiled at him as he pulled back the hammer of the gun he pointed at Maroni, “Hello again. I’m afraid that noise out there is the sound of the police barging in, so I don’t have much time to chat, sorry.”
Maroni saw his finger begin to tighten on the trigger and he did his best to look calm as he smiled at Cobblepot; a skill he had nearly perfected in his line of work, “Tell that to my man behind you.”
Penguin whipped his head to look behind him before realizing he had just fallen for the oldest trick in the book, perhaps due to his last engagement with Maroni ending so poorly because he hadn’t been bluffing.
This time he was, though, and even as Oswald noted the empty air Maroni lunged, grabbing the gun with one hand and smashing his fist into the smaller man’s face with the other.
Oswald went down hard, seeing stars as the edges of his perception became a bit fuzzy from the blunt force trauma to his head. Maroni ripped the gun free from his hand and it went off as he did so, the bullet flying harmlessly into the wall behind them.
Maroni quickly turned the weapon to point it at Oswald, “You little shit! It’s about time you got what was coming to you!”
Oswald raised his hands up as he begged, “Wait!”
Another voice boomed suddenly across the room, “Freeze!” Maroni glanced over to see Jim and several other cops coming around the corner, guns leveled on him, “Put it down or I shoot.”
The crime boss swore vehemently but lowered his gun, throwing it on the floor beside him, “This little punk just tried to kill me; I was only defending myself.”
Jim glared at Oswald and the small man gave him an apologetic look, “He’s under arrest too, but either way we’re here to arrest you for a slew of charges, Don Maroni; I’m sure you knew this was coming some day.”
Maroni gave him a stiff smile, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about; I run a perfectly legitimate business here…”
Jim motioned to the other police, “Cuff him and read him his rights…” he moved over to Oswald, and stared at him pointedly as they did so, “he’s in a whole heap of trouble.”
**********
Oswald frowned deeply as he sat in the small holding cell. This particular cell was walled on all sides with only a small barred window on the door to allow police to look inside. It was generally only used for isolation as punishment for inmates of the precincts small jail that were too rowdy, but in Penguin’s case it was to keep him from Maroni and the others for his own protection.
Things couldn’t have gone worse; now not only did he fail to kill Maroni, which was likely a death sentence from Falcone, but Maroni himself would be out soon enough to see him dead personally.
Everything had worked beautifully, and the boss’ thugs had all rallied to the front of the restaurant when the cops showed up in force, allowing him to slip into the back unseen. Maroni had been where he had been hoping to find him, didn’t have any guards, and was unarmed.
Oswald slapped his palm to his forehead over and over again. How could he have been so stupid… a ‘look out behind you’ trick? There was no way he should keep falling for Maroni’s tired old ploys, he was cleverer than that!
The metal door to his small room suddenly creaked open and he jumped. He relaxed visibly when he saw that it was Jim, “Detective, I understand that you are upset with my attempt on Marnoni’s life, but I assure you that I had no…”
Gordon held a finger up, silencing him with a look. He shut the door behind him and walked calmly over to Oswald, who backed up until he bumped into the close wall. Jim wordlessly sat on the single bench located there and deftly wrenched Oswald by his arm so that he was over his lap.
Cobblepot’s eyes were wide as saucers as he looked back over his shoulder dumbly at the detective, his half-hearted attempts to flail free crushed immediately under the force of Jim’s efforts, “Wha… wait… here?!”
Jim secured him tightly to his lap and grunted acknowledgement as he quickly ripped Oswald’s pants down so that they no longer protected his pale white buttocks. Penguin made a mewling sound of protest just before he began bringing his hand down sharply on him.
This time was far more brutal than before and Oswald worked ultra-hard not to cry out; he was already a dead man, but his fear of discovery in this position still terrified him, especially concerning Maroni, “P-please,” he whispered, “Not here!”
Jim only glared at him for a moment, Oswald taking a moment to breath as he paused, then began to whack him even harder and faster as he spoke, “You’re right, but I want to give you a taste of what you have coming to you once I manage to get you out of here, you asshole.”
Oswald let slip a few muffled moans of pain as he kicked his legs and flung his arms in rhythm to the beat that Jim applied, and then he stopped as suddenly as he had begun. He simply stood, pushing Penguin off onto the bench as he moved quickly to the door, and he was gone again.
As Oswald lay there trying to pull his pants back up over his fresh new welts, he wasn’t sure whether he was happy that Jim had just told him that he was going to see him free of the jail, or if he was terrified of the detective’s plan for what came next…
Oswald was made to wait in that small cell a while longer, each minute that ticked by feeling like an eternity as he continued to consider all of the awful potential futures that awaited him.
After a while though, detective Bullock opened his door and glared in at him, “Alright, bird-brain, as much as it pains me, I’m supposed to let you go and tell you to go directly to Jim’s place if you wanna not die for all the scum-bag things you’ve done.”
Penguin just blinked at him a moment before giving him a nervous smile and shuffling out of the cramped cell, “I appreciate it detective…”
Bullock held up a hand and shook his head, “Don’t thank me; given a choice I’d have put you in the cage with the rest of them.”
Cobblepot frowned at the man’s overt hostility but decided not to let it get him down, being hunted by two crime bosses would be enough to worry about, “I’ll just gather my things…”
Bullock shoved him toward the precinct back door that led out to the garage, “Your stuff is at Jim’s apartment. Get going, you don’t have a lot of time if you know what I mean.”
A thrill of fear ran down Oswald’s spine. Had they already let Maroni out? He began to hobble as quickly as he could in the direction indicated. There were other places he could try hiding, but one of his enemies would eventually find him if he simply hid.
Oswald didn’t like the idea of what Gordon had promised back in the station, but if he was to have any hope of rising from this latest catastrophe, Jim was the only ally he really had left. He would just have to make the man see reason…
Jim found Oswald on the steps to his apartment a few hours later. The detective glanced both ways down the street and then nodded to him, “Get inside.”
Penguin hobbled past the door, his face plastered with a smile despite everything he had been through, “I do thank you for all you’ve done to protect me detective, but next time please send a car…”
Gordon frowned at him, “Sore feet are the least of your problems if anyone realizes I’m harboring you. Come this way, I have a few questions we need to sort out, and there’s not much time.”
Cobblepot frowned in turn, worried about ‘questioning’ that had happened recently between them, “Please feel free to pick my brain, I am more than happy to tell you anything you’d like to know; it’s the least I can do for getting me out of there…”
Jim sat down on the living room couch, patting his leg and gesturing that Oswald should come over, “You know the routine.”
Oswald froze, sputtering, “N-no I certainly do not!” His hands reflexively reached back to cover his still sore posterior, “Detective, we certainly can’t be making anything like a ‘routine’ with something like that, it’s very unhealthy and pointless, since I’ll gladly tell you whatever…”
Gordon only shook his head, “No. You lay over my lap and show me that you can own your mistakes, or I’m not going to continue sticking my neck out for a man who just lied to me and tried to use me to murder another man.”
Penguin stood there for several long moments, his jaw working as he tried to think of what to say, but what was there to say? Jim wasn’t going to be convinced of anything less than his obvious betrayal, “James, please, I’ve made mistakes but even I know when it’s time to take a hint and straighten out… I’ve seen the proverbial light so to speak… all that time reflecting on my possible death has…”
The detective sighed and shook his head, “I’m not buying it. This is an ultimatum, Cobblepot; do what I say or watch out for the door on the way out.”
Oswald felt stuck between a rock and a hard place; this was his last chance at recovery as a gangster not to mention possibly his best prospects of survival, but knowing what Jim intended to do to him left him more than a little hesitant.
After another long silence he spoke again in a small voice, pleading, “Is there no other way I can convince you of my good will? Surely you can find some compassion for such a desperate man?”
Jim stared at him, “This is compassion, Cobblepot. I’ve chosen to treat you like the child you are rather than leave you to face the consequences of your actions like a man, which would invariably lead to your death.”
Penguin gulped. This wasn’t fair… reluctantly and very slowly he moved over towards Gordon, “You know I can’t leave, James. Please, you know I would do anything to get out of this, please believe I will tell you the truth?”
Jim shrugged, “Perhaps. Either way, I told you back at the precinct that this was going to happen; you’re not trying to make a liar out of me, are you?”
To his great embarrassment, Oswald felt tears watering his eyes, “Please, I’m still sore from before… let me rest a bit?”
Jim watched Oswald shift from foot to foot, his hands clutching his bottom for a bit before finally nodding slowly, “Alright, I’ll let you have a little reprieve, but waiting isn’t going to make it any easier on you.”
Penguin let out an audible sigh of relief as Jim pointed back to another room, “I’ve put your things they took from you at the station in that room; that’s where you’ll be staying until we can sort all of this out.”
Cobblepot kneaded his hands together as he gave Jim a very appreciative look, “What were those questions you wanted answered; you said time was running out, I will happily answer them.”
Gordon shook his head, “We’ll address that later, when I’ll know for sure you’re telling me the truth. Go enjoy your break; like you said I haven’t got all day, so it won’t be that long.”
Oswald felt a thrill of fear at that statement and he hurriedly moved to the indicated room, as if getting out of Jim’s sight immediately might somehow relieve him of what came next. He shut the door behind him, taking in the Spartan features of the small guest room.
As promised, the few possessions (minus his gun) that Oswald had on him when he was arrested were all sitting on the small dresser that the room sported. He sat on the bed, wincing as the momentarily forgotten bruises on his backside reminded him of their presence.
Penguin rolled onto his stomach, realizing that Jim was right the more time that passed. Waiting for Gordon to come in and punish him was a special kind of punishment in and of itself. He tried to distract himself thinking about how he might now deal with his other large problems in life, but the knowledge of what loomed closest kept dominating his mind.
In fact, he was becoming so paranoid of Jim’s next visit that he wondered a few times if it wouldn’t just be easier to go back out into the living room and tell Gordon to get it over with. He wasn’t able to work up the nerve, though, which only continued to perpetuate the cycle of apprehension.
When the door knob finally turned and Jim entered the room, Oswald felt as though his heart had leapt into his mouth, and was unable to speak so mortified did he feel all the way up until the point where the detective sat on the bed, patting his leg again, “I’m sorry James, I just… can’t”.
Jim sighed and reached across the short space between them, grabbing hold of Oswald’s hand and yanking the smaller man over into his lap. In a rather embarrassing display that Oswald knew couldn’t help his case concerning maturity Cobblepot began to scream in terror and flail both his arms and legs against Jim.
Gordon grunted in effort as he had to work hard to contain the scrappy young man for a few moments until he could finally get enough of a hold to pin him down, “I told you this was just going to get you worked up. Maybe now you’ll start listening to me more.”
Once made helpless Oswald screamed pathetically for release, “Please don’t, I don’t have the constitution for this sort of thing; please I’ll do anything!”
Jim replied quickly, “You’ll live, and if your this cooperative now I’m sure you’ll really open up after a good few licks with this.” As he spoke the detective removed his belt and doubled it over in his hand.
Oswald’s eyes widened at the sight of the leather implement and the threat it posed, “No! Please, oh god ah! Ah!” He cried out, his sentence broken by the sensation of Gordon pulling his pants back, followed by the excruciating sting of leather on naked flesh.
He begged whined and cajoled, but the detective soundly ignored him as he continued to resolutely bring his belt down again and again on Oswald’s wriggling form. This continued for a short while before Penguin was reduced to very real tears, crying and sobbing as he pleaded.
After a long silence and a litany of resounding swats filled the room with a chorus of Cobblepot’s screams, cries, and moans Jim finally spoke again, “The chief has given me until morning to get her something solid to keep Maroni in there. The first thing you’re going to do to set this right is to fulfill your promise to give me that evidence.”
Oswald screamed, “D-done! Y-you didn’t have to do this; I would have gotten you that a-anyway…”
Gordon nodded, “Maybe, but you still deserve this. Glad to know that you weren’t lying about having what it would take, but I’m disappointed that you were going to kill the man instead of putting him in prison where he belongs.”
Penguin twisted in a special kind of agony as Jim continued to slap him with the leather strip, “O-okay, I’m s-sorry I didn’t give it to you sooner, b-but I’m going to now… p-please let me up!”
Jim frowned down at Oswald as the other man looked up at him pitiably, “I just told you how disappointed I am, but I think ‘this’ is the best way to get the message across with you. Every time you consider murder a viable option to solve a problem I want you to think of this moment.”
Oswald cried out loudly as the punishment continued unabated for a while afterward. Only when it seemed that Gordon was growing tired from the effort of swatting him did he slow to a stop, “Consider that incentive, Cobblepot.”
For his part, Penguin didn’t respond, his face buried in the bed as his body was still overtaken with wracking sobs. Jim stood and after watching Oswald cry a moment, he awkwardly helped him get his pants up, then patted his shoulder, “You’ll be fine… I hope.”
After that he turned, leaving the room and allowing Oswald to cry quietly to himself.
Oswald woke with a start. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep the night before, but at some point in the misery Jim had left him to he had passed out from sheer exhaustion. He made a face as he moved on the bed; his buttocks felt very sore from the previous night’s ministrations.
He threw his feet over the side of the bed and started to stand but then froze. An odd weight pulled at his foot and when he glanced down he saw a circular metal object wrapped around his ankle, “What?”
Gordon’s voice caused him to glance back up as the other man entered the room, “It’s a monitor anklet; it’ll keep you from running off. I managed to get one from the station last night. I have you here because I don’t want to see you get killed, Oswald but I’m still a cop. For attempted murder I have placed you under house arrest, Mr. Cobblepot. Enjoy your stay.”
Jim threw him and apple and Oswald stared dumbly after him as the man walked away. He had thought each of his incidents with Gordon to be singular, but suddenly we was starting to feel like he had somehow become tied to the man in a nightmare he could never escape…