Chapter Text
Jailbird
Oswald Cobblepot glared ahead as he was led unceremoniously through the bleak halls of Arkham Asylum by a couple of smug looking guards. They would both die very slow and painful deaths the moment he got his chance to do something about his predicament. As would the person who decided black and white stripes was the perfect attire for prisoners.
“Here ya go, Penguin. Lucky for you, you got the last empty cell,” one of the guards said, opening a door and shoving Oswald into the room. Oswald glowered at the two as they locked him in before they walked off, snickering. He looked around the plain, dingy room and sighed. Oswald supposed he should be grateful for small miracles - at least he would be relatively safe without a roommate. Though, given that there was a second bed, he was sure if he was trapped here long enough he might get a roommate. That was not a pleasant thought.
Oswald had been going about his business – collecting the debt a particularly troublesome underling owed him – when the GCPD had shown up. Jim had, strangely, been absent. Which is why Oswald had had no qualms about fighting back when the officers had arrested him. Looking back now, that was probably not his best idea seeing as he was now sporting a rather unsightly black eye and bloody nose. And a longer sentence than he probably otherwise would have had.
Luckily Gabe and his other henchmen had managed to escape. Oswald hoped Gabe would work on a way to get him out of here. Honestly, though, it wasn’t a very high hope. Gabe was loyal, but he was also somewhat simple. Oswald looked up at the barred window and frowned. If he wanted to escape – and he did – then he had to do so on his own.
A new guard came to let Oswald out of his cell sometime after the sun went down and he was forced to join a group of other inmates as they headed for the cafeteria. Oswald managed to get his ‘food’ – it looked sort of like food but the smell was awful - with little trouble, aside from some slight pushing. He looked around the cafeteria, debating where he should attempt to sit.
Oswald was distinctly reminded of his high school days. There was never a safe spot to sit then as often his bullies would find him regardless of where he sat. And now? Well, he had yet to make any enemies, but many of the tables were inhabited by some nasty looking characters. It seemed the only option he had was to sit with the group as far off to the side as possible – which was comprised of a man talking to himself, a woman who was preaching to the others about something Oswald couldn’t hope to understand, and a younger man who was staring into space.
Fortunately, when Oswald sat, none of the people at the table even noticed. As he ate, he looked around the room, observing the other inmates and calculating his odds of survival. Those odds dropped drastically when Oswald felt a large hand drop onto his shoulder from behind.
“Hey, bird man, whatcha doin’ sitting over here with the crazies?” a gruff voice demanded. Oswald looked back - trying his best not to frown at the nickname - and saw a very tall, very muscular, bald man covered in tattoos smirking down at him.
“Well, being that I’m new here, I didn’t wish to upset anyone…” Oswald explained, going with his first instinct of showing he was no threat and therefore didn’t need to be beat into submission. The man snorted.
“Sure. Well some of my pals want you to sit with us,” he sneered, grabbing the back of Oswald’s shirt and hauling him from his seat.
“Of course, I’d be delighted,” Oswald replied, inwardly grimacing in both pain and annoyance. The man pushed him into a seat at a table filled with other burly, mean looking men (and a couple of just as mean looking women) and sat across from him.
“So, bird man, what could have possibly gotten a scrawny twig like you locked up in here?” the bald man asked with a crooked grin. “Peck someone’s eyes out?”
Oswald frowned. All politeness was out the window now.
“First of all, gentlemen, ladies, my name is Oswald Cobblepot. Second of all, I don’t appreciate bird jokes,” he snapped. The snickers that followed irritated him further. “I am the King of Gotham. I overthrew Don Falcone and Don Maroni as well as Fish Mooney and I took over.”
That statement got him outright laughter.
“Oh really? You’re a lying little shit, aren’t ya?” the man who had dragged him over smirked.
“I dunno, Slade, maybe he’s telling the truth. I mean, look how frightening he is. I’m sure the Dons just keeled over in fright!” taunted a woman with bright blue hair and many piercings. The bald man - Slade apparently - laughed.
“Yeah, sure. Lookin’ at that face anyone would die!” he exclaimed, grabbing Oswald’s face and turning it forcefully towards the rest of the table. Slade gave a scream of pain as Oswald bit down, hard, on the finger closest to his mouth. Oswald was made to let go, however, as one of the other goons at the table slammed his head down against the table.
“You little fucker!” Slade snarled, grabbing Oswald’s hair and smacking his head against the table a second time.
“Break it up! Back off!” a guard shouted, finally interfering. “Meal time’s over for all of you. Get back to your cells.”
Oswald was hauled to his feet by the guard and forced out of the cafeteria. He spit the blood in his mouth onto the floor and hoped Slade hadn’t had any diseases as he was marched back to his cell. What a wonderful day Oswald was having.
Jim Gordon slammed the door behind him as he stormed into Captain Barnes’ office.
“You arrested Cobblepot!?” he demanded. Barnes, who had been looking out his window clearly deep in thought, turned and raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Penguin? Yes I did, Gordon. Do you have a problem with that?” he replied, crossing his arms. Jim grit his teeth.
“He was our best informant,” he snapped. Barnes’ eyes narrowed.
“He was a criminal. And like all criminals he is being put in jail where he belongs,” he said flatly. Jim’s jaw tensed.
“Maybe, but he could have helped us catch more dangerous criminals first,” he reasoned tersely. Barnes approached Jim.
“We don’t need criminals to help us catch criminals, Gordon. You should know that! I was told you wanted to clean up this city. Maybe I was misinformed,” he chided. “Get back to work. Unless you want to admit to working with Penguin? That’s the only reason I can see for this hissy fit of yours.”
Jim balled his hands into fists, but he managed to keep from decking his superior. He turned and strode back out of the office, wishing there was something for him hit.
“Jimbo, you look like steam’s about to come outta your ears,” Harvey commented from where he sat with his feet up on his desk. Ed, not so discreetly, shifted so that he was standing behind Harvey and far out of Jim’s reach.
“Did you know about Cobblepot being arrested?” Jim demanded, glowering down at his partner.
“Mr. Penguin’s been arrested? Oh that's not good,” Ed muttered. Harvey gave Ed a funny look before raising an eyebrow at Jim.
“Yeah, I knew,” he replied. His casual response annoyed Jim further.
“And you didn’t try to stop it? I was out for two days dealing with Lee and this happens?” he snapped. Harvey scowled.
“Hey, don’t get testy at me! How was I supposed to stop him getting arrested? They had evidence on the little freak and if I had tried to get Barnes to drop it I could have been fired,” he protested.
Jim sighed and rubbed his temples.
“You’re right. Sorry,” he said. Ed walked out from behind Harvey’s chair, grinning broadly.
“Well, we could just break him out of Arkham, right?” he asked, practically bouncing up and down. Harvey and Jim both looked at Ed incredulously.
“You sound way too excited for someone suggesting committing a crime,” Harvey said with a huff. Ed pouted.
“If Galavan could break out those Maniax people, surely it would be simple for us to get Mr. Penguin out,” he insisted.
“Drop it, Ed. We’re still cops. We can’t go breaking criminals out of prisons,” Jim told him. However, the idea was now in Jim’s head and it was unlikely to go away. If they had had enough evidence on Cobblepot, it was likely they would eventually find out his, and possibly Harvey’s, involvement with certain crimes.
Oswald’s morning passed without incident as he managed to avoid Slade and his lackeys at breakfast and his shower time was scheduled for after dinner with the rest of the male inmates. As he sat on a bench in the corner of the rec room he couldn’t help but dread that moment.
Oswald looked around the room, hoping to find anything that might be able to be used as a weapon. The rec room was plain, like the rest of Arkham. There didn’t seem to be anything to do, other than play cards or talk with others.
Unfortunately, there was nothing of use to him. Honestly, Oswald had expected as much. Housing both criminals and the insane, Arkham was unlikely to allow potentially dangerous objects – for example, all the utensils in the cafeteria were flimsy plastic - anywhere the inmates could access. Which of course meant Oswald would have to get creative. Or lucky.
Maybe he could try and play to one of the guards’ sympathies? Oswald was good at coming across as pitiful and if he could possibly get into the infirmary…He grinned. The infirmary was bound to have many things that could be used as weapons. Oswald figured he might even find something to help him escape.
Oswald quickly schooled his expression into a pathetic one and stood. He limped over to one of the guards, hoping this one would be easy to fool.
“Excuse me,” Oswald spoke up. The guard looked down at him, face devoid of much emotion.
“What?” he asked, sounding slightly annoyed. Oswald gave a pained smile.
“Well, I was hoping I might be able to see the doctor here? As you can see, my leg is damaged and occasionally I get pains,” he explained. The guard snorted.
“Nice try, Penguin. We got a call from the GCPD. They told us to watch out for you trying to talk your way around this place. It’s not gonna work,” he told him with a sneer. Oswald mentally swore.
“I assure you, I’m not trying anything,” he objected. The guard rolled his eyes and Oswald knew that he would be ignored if he kept pushing his luck.
He turned and began waddling back to his seat when he felt eyes on him. Oswald looked around and spotted Slade watching him with a malicious glint to his eyes.
As noon faded into evening, Oswald felt as though he were constantly being watched. Something bad was going to happen soon, and Oswald had a feeling he knew when whatever ill intentions against him would be acted upon.