*Osswalds Song*

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@mrcobblepotofgotham
*Osswalds Song*

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||Oswald&Pristine||TakeOver||
He gripped the bannister and paused in his effort to conquer the dreadful stairs. He looked up at her then, trying to gauge if she was genuine or not. He took the moment to regain his composure, grateful for the break. He smiled then politely, waving his hand at her limply. âNo No, Iâm fineâŚI assure youâ Butch eyed him wearily before glancing at her, he was a good few feet away from him, knowing to keep his distance. He continued up then, his nostrils flaring from the exertion before he landed at the top. He puffed his chest out again, happy with himself.
He extended his hand to her then. âItâs nice to finally meet you, Iâve heard so much about you..â he smiled widely then. âIs there somewhere we could talk..perhaps, in private?â he tilted his hand, waiting for her to take his hand.Â
Butch reached the stairs then and stood behind him, towering over his boss like a giant. A jagged âVâ etched into his forehead. Oswalds eyes twinkled still in this light, his teeth crooked as he continued to smile at her. But it was strained, his jaw was still tense.Â
He wanted his day to go well, this meeting. He hoped, for her sake that she complied, she was very pretty after all.Â
âAll good I hope,â she smiled, shaking his hand firmly and confidently, âunfortunately I canât say the same for you, but Iâm sure that will change,â she added, just to be a bitch.
âWe can talk in my booth up here, itâs private enough for me,â she told him, and what was good for her was all that mattered.  She looked over to his giant lapdog genially, âYou can have yourself a drink while you wait for your employer and I to return from our lilâ chat,â she informed him in a way that said she wouldnât take ânoâ for an answer.  In fact, she didnât care for an answer from either of them per her replies, she turned and walked ahead back to her booth, her perfume wafting in the air where she stood.
âIâm ever so curious as to what you have to say to me, Mr Cobblepot,â she continued as she walked ahead, thinking to herself that she mustnât show how nervous she was nor must she let him know how much his presence hurt her.
âOh of course..â he smiled, keeping her gaze and not faltering, his own hand holding hers comfortably. But she did notice a subtle twitch to his right eye when he rounded off her comment. He knew she was being coy, trying to undermine him. Who hadnât heard about The Penguin? Gothamâs streets were bleeding and whispering his name. He knew this to be a fact, since he had taken out and taken over enough businesses that wouldn't cough up their debts.Â
He hid his thoughts with a smile, remaining polite as he let his hand fall back to his side. âThatâs very kind of you..â he looked over his shoulder at Butch. âGo see if they have your favourite..â he turned back then and followed her, hopefully letting her know that he didnât need his bodyguard to be dangerous, and that the lack of one wouldn't make him soft.Â
He sat down the, always grateful to be off his feet. He placed his hands neatly on his lap. âWhy, Iâm here to talk about business!â he smiled then, relishing this situation alittle more than was healthy. âAs you well know, I have taken over the operations of both Maroni and Falcone, your dear father..â he nodded solidly. âOperations, people, territory, business and of course, their cops and officials...â he trailed off, just reminding her of how much weight he held now. He held his hand up. âI digress.....now, you were most likely paying a cut to your father...I propose that you continue to do so, to me...and you get to keep operation like nothing has happened...I mean..â he looked around. âWith such a popular business...I donât think too many would be happy with this places closure..â he trailed off then and simply looked at her.Â
||Oswald&Pristine||TakeOver||
He gripped the bannister and paused in his effort to conquer the dreadful stairs. He looked up at her then, trying to gauge if she was genuine or not. He took the moment to regain his composure, grateful for the break. He smiled then politely, waving his hand at her limply. âNo No, Iâm fine...I assure youâ Butch eyed him wearily before glancing at her, he was a good few feet away from him, knowing to keep his distance. He continued up then, his nostrils flaring from the exertion before he landed at the top. He puffed his chest out again, happy with himself.
He extended his hand to her then. âItâs nice to finally meet you, Iâve heard so much about you..â he smiled widely then. âIs there somewhere we could talk..perhaps, in private?â he tilted his hand, waiting for her to take his hand.Â
Butch reached the stairs then and stood behind him, towering over his boss like a giant. A jagged âVâ etched into his forehead. Oswalds eyes twinkled still in this light, his teeth crooked as he continued to smile at her. But it was strained, his jaw was still tense.Â
He wanted his day to go well, this meeting. He hoped, for her sake that she complied, she was very pretty after all.Â
||Oswald&Pristine||TakeOver||
Oswald looked up in the direction of the voice and let his narrow face break into a closed lipped smile. His eyes twinkled in the light as his skin seemed paler from the cold. âYou presume correctly, Ms. Falcone...â he winked then, using her full name, even though he knew she was widowed twice, to show he meant business. It didnât have to end bloodily, after all, he gave Flacone time to run, out of respect. But she didnât have to know that. It thrilled him to think that this young and supple princess was under pressure from him.
He let those thoughts melt from his mind as he looked to the stairs. âBoys, get yourselves a drink...Butch..with me..â he gestured with his hand as he approached the stairs. âIâm sure you wonât mind if I come up for a chatâ he said as he placed his hand on the bannister. He remembered her then when he would spy her in Falcones mansion, with a shock of flame hair and always some form of fur elegantly draped around her shoulders from the cold. He smiled to himself, wondering if she ever caught sight of him. Or if Daddy dearest ever told her the name of the blade that struck his heel.Â
He frowned suddenly as he looked down at his feet, large and sticking out at an angel. He sighed to himself as he began to hop up, like a Rock Hopper penguin making his way for the coast. He gritted his jaw so tight it hurt and he continued his crazy little journey.Â
||Oswald&Pristine||TakeOver||
Oswald Cobblepot was riding in the back of a intimidating car as it glided through the streets of Gotham. He leaned against the window and watched as the lazy rain left droplets racing down the glass as they reflected a thousand different colours from the city lights. He took in a deep breath. A breath that was calm. Comforted. Content.
They were slowly making their way to Pristineâs Lounge, the last piece in the puzzle that made up his newly acquired Kingdom. A piece that was sticking out like a sore thumb, especially when Oswald found out that it was none other than pretty Pristine, Falconeâs beloved daughter. He knew that she primarily stayed out of street politics. But she was and is the last pillar of remembrance of the old Carmine days.Â
Everything had to have Cobblepotâs name on it if he was to rule with an iron fist. No gaps. No missing puzzle pieces.Â
The car pulled up then and the door was opened for him. He stepped out as gracefully as he could manage and he wandered up to the door, his cane in hand and his chest puffed out. Butch held the Lounge door open for him and he came in, sheltering from the rain. He smiled to himself then, knowing that he wanted to see to this job personally. She was practically family after all.Â

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The Return
||Duality of the Self|| Cobblepot & Valetine||
Rich cleared his throat to cover his nerves; he disliked introductions in case his own words contradicted what may already be out there in the press.
âWell, I⌠Iâm 28 years old, born November. Iâve lived all my life in Gotham, though I was born in New York. UhmâŚ. only child of Gwenyth and Patrick ValentineâŚ.. my hobbies include reading, travelling, artâŚ. philosophy. I currently hold a degree in both psychology and business managementâŚâ
He trailed off, his wording formal but seeming rehearsed, and his body rigid though his face was animated with an anxious smile and worried eyes.
Oswald couldnât help but hear his words as if he were conducting an interview...he hoped he didnât intimidate this doppelgänger...no..it must be the situation..Oswald was only able to intimidate with a sharp knife or sharper words. He cleared his throat, nodding to show he was listening, even though his stomach knotted since he knew he was next to reveal.
âT-Thank you..well...Iâm 37..born and raised in Gotham..my mom is Gertrude Cobblepot..I..never met my father..he died before I was born...um..I like reading and..uh..â he felt like he was in school, standing up and introducing himself. âI donât have degrees or anything..umm...â he shrugged and laughed nervously. âYeah... I..donât know what to say..I mean...we shouldnât force it, I guess..â he exhaled then, not realizing he had been holding his breath. âSit down..please..I donât want to be a bad host..â he smiled nervously, he knew he needed to focus, but he couldnât help but feel overwhelmed by the impossibilty of this situation.Â
||Duality of the Self|| Cobblepot & Valetine||
âThank you,â Rich nodded, taking the champagne flute and sitting down. He sipped from his drink to take the edge off his nerves, little sips⌠baby sipsâŚ
He gave a nervous giggle at Oswaldâs observation, managing to stop himself from being loud about it, and he grinned widely before taking another few sips, feeling embarrassed and uncertain.
âIâŚwouldnât quite say that,â he said slowly, thoughtfully, tittering gently again. He himself may not have seemed so but he failed to see himself as attractive in any way; he had a list of faults in his appearance and personality but guarded them well with bravado.
He had learned a long time ago that confidence was key to getting by in life and that nobody cared to hear oneâs insecurities. Many people would rather come across a pompous, arrogant asshole than a pathetic, suffering fool. At least being arrogant made you infamous rather than forgotten.
âWhat I mean to say is⌠your appearance is not atypically perfect, but nor is mine.â
He paused, not knowing what more to say: since Oswald was more or less a reflection of himself, should he go on about how gorgeous he was the way he believed himself to be on a good day? Or should he comfort him by saying that he wasnât attractive but that he didnât care that much because nor was he?
He wondered if Oswald had ever considered surgery the way he had many times until being forbidden to alter his visage, the one thing that marked him out as a Valentine.
âSo....â he looked at him now after a couple of sips of Champagne..., he noticed that they were holding their glasses and sipping in the same way. âTell me about yourself...I hope you donât think Iâm being creepy but...I canât help but think..what else about us is similar...you know?â he tilted his head, looking at him.
His suit was impeccable, his hair alittle too gelled and moulded into a crest like shape. His skin was pale and his nose seemed alittle red. But they shared those deep oceanic eyes, the jawline...they shared the same big hands...it was unsettling.
Oswald observed all these things and wondered if Rich was ever called Penguin..he definitely didnât  scream penguin like...
||Duality of the Self|| Cobblepot & Valetine||
âPlease,â Rich consented to the drink as he looked around the comfortable office, admiring the decor and thinking it was badly in need of something in fur. A rug perhaps.
He waited to be asked to take a seat, as was polite, and wondered why Oswald walked in that way. Was it a defect or an injury? It certainly was a little off-putting, but it gave him⌠character.
He also wondered if they were both the same age, if they had similar backgrounds or interests, if they both had certain tastes that were best kept hidden. For half a second he wondered if they had similar anatomies, so to speak, below the belt.
ââŚitâs hard to believe weâve never met until now,â he said to distract from that thought, his mind racing with questions he was keeping silent for now so not to overwhelm Oswald, who clearly had no clue as to what was happening either.
âI know...itâs...odd...I mean, Iâve lived in Gotham all my life...I...donât know why Iâve only met you tonight...â he turned then with the drink in hand and noticed that Rich was standing. âOh, please, excuse my manners, my heads all over the place. Please, sit. My apologies...hereâ he handed him the champagne glass. Sipping from his own. He sat himself down then in the down chair, seeming relieved to be off his bad leg.
He stared at Rich again. Gazing and taking everything in. It was honestly like someone had taken him and air brushed him. His hair was nicer, his smile, his...nose!
âI..I must say..â Oswald was having a hard time looking at him. I bet heâs had a better life than me, too. âYou do look like me...but..more handsome by far..â he nodded, looking into his drink...feeling painfully insecure, if he noticed it so did Rich. it must have been like looking at an ugly filter for Rich, like a warning for him., how he could have ended up looking like.Â
||Duality of the Self|| Cobblepot & Valetine||
âYes⌠yes, letâs go where itâs quieter,â he nodded eagerly with a relieved smile that showed his nerves and confusion; his face and actions made him look ever more like Oswald for that moment.
He glanced around, hoping they werenât drawing attention to themselves, hoping no one was staring. He felt on the verge of mania, of mad giggling and girlish hand movements. What should he do? What should he say? He had to remain in control⌠breatheâŚ
His fingers fidgeted with his lapels and he nibbled the side of his lip, eyes darting around warily.
Oswald walked around from the bar to Rich and then directed him to follow him. He walked to the back of the club, no one was staring at them except for the bartender who seemed confused. He opened the door for Rich and once inside the lavished room he closed the door tight.Â
He was hobbling as he walked, his gait was off from it and his foot seemed to be permanently directed at an angle.
He wandered straight over to the mini bar and pulled out a bottle of moet. It was the only thing left in there. âW-Would you like a drink?â he asked then, not looking back.
I know I sure do...

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||Duality of the Self|| Cobblepot & Valetine||
âHow nice,â Rich commented, cemented his smile in place. He shook the manâs hand, noticing how their skin felt the same, albeit rougher on Oswaldâs hand. âRich Valentine.â
He tilted his head as he closely observed the almost perfect double before him, resisting all urges to laugh or run away. This was just⌠fucked up.
ââŚcan I ask if⌠uhmâŚâ he paused, words failing him again. Should he investigate? Did he want to know?
He sighed, frowning, letting go of his hand and rubbing his own temples a little. âIs it just me or⌠do we appear to be⌠vaguely similar?â
Oswald took back his hand and let his eyes go wide at the suggestion. âYouâve noticed it too? â he gasped, leaning closer. âThe bartender must have noticed it too, thatâs how you grabbed my attention...wow..itâs...uncanny...how is this possible...?â he mused aloud then, narrowing his eyes, his cooked avian look nose close to Rich now as Oswald inspected him closer.
âWould...you like to come into my office so we can talk?â he asked, it was still loud and the two of them were shouting over music and the din of the crowd.Â
||Duality of the Self|| Cobblepot & Valetine||
Rich frowned at this twerp approaching him and slowly turned to look him in the eye, readying a harsh reply; but then he seen the guyâs face and stopped dead.
He stared at him in silent surprise, eyes widening: this guy⌠looked just like him! Well, almost⌠the guy was shorter, didnât have as nice a hairstyle or nose, and his teeth needed whitening. Did he just limp over? Rich didnât limp, so there was another thing⌠but apart from those thingsâŚ
He didnât know what to say; he was caught off-guard, unprepared. As impossible as this situation was, it was happening.
Rich broke in to a wry grin to hide his nerves. âWell hello, handsomeâŚâ
That came out wrong, but oh well⌠the features they did have in common were handsome.
Oswald opened his mouth to say something, but his jaw just hung there, opened. His bright blue eyes scanned the manâs features before he choked out a âI...Eh..â he couldnât believe it. It was like looking into a mirror...well..the man infront of him was far more better looking!
Itâs like me...but with all my physical imperfections corrected.....
The thought slightly upset him and he swallowed hard, finally closing his mouth.âUh, hello there..â he seemed nervous. âI...I donât believe weâve met before...Iâm...Oswald Cobblepot..â he reached out an open hand to Rich.
He needed to touch him to make sure he was real.Â
||Duality of the Self|| Cobblepot & Valetine||
Rich entered in to Oswaldâs, the hippest place to be right now and the only place he knew to have some pretty decent live music, maybe some cabaret acts.
He was dressed finely as always in a tailored suit, hair neatly gelled, and his pale skin almost glowing under the overhead lights; he was feeling particularly good about himself tonight and hoped that he might get lucky⌠even if that meant someone would have to be unlucky.
When he went in a wall of sound, smoke, and the smells of over a dozen people hit him, assaulting his senses, but he never faltered; he strode in and went to the bar, ordering a Morgan and Coke in a clear voice without even giving any attention to the receiving bartender. Instead he surveyed the room.
The bartender placed the drink in front of the new comer and took his money, as he did he glanced at him and had to double take. He even looked back at The Boss and then back to the patron infront of him. He shook his head and went to put the money in the till.
Oswald had spied the bartenders reaction and set his gaze to the man at the bar. He frowned as he looked at him, his eyes staring and cold. Curiosity niggled at him, since he couldnât see his face. He walked over to the man and stood infront of him. âGood evening, sir!â he said over the din of the music.Â
He wanted him to look at him. He wanted to see what the bartender had seen.Â
||A Chance Meeting|| Oswald & Harley||
Oswald was sitting on the bus on the way back to Gotham. He had been spared his life and he wasnât going to waste it. He sat beside a homeless man who smelled strongly of whisky and piss in equal measures. The bus itself smelled damp and the driver looked like he was one mile away from spinning the whole damn thing into a ditch.
Finally the bus chugged to a halt and Oswald stepped off, wearing his poorly fitting yellow shirt and blue wool jumper. It was all he had to hand after that embarrassing business with those two jocks. He sighed and decided he would never think of that moment again.Â
As he sighed, he took in the deep smells of Gotham, the smell of petrol, the water nearby, the smell of frying foods and the endless smell of the city itself. He sighed contently and took his first steps back home, that was until he bumped into someone. âOh,...e-excuse me..â he mumbled, stiffening up, almost being knocked over since he wasnât use to his poor leg.Â
||Duality of the Self|| Cobblepot & Valetine||
Oswaldâs bar was doing good tonight. It was relatively busy, mostly because of the burlesque act on the stage. Cobblepot wasnât busy with âbusinessâ tonight, so he had plenty of free time to tend the bar, keep an eye on staff, pour some drinks and nervously talk to the locals.
He looked around himself and still thought he was dreaming. He took a deep breath and let a wistful sigh escape his lips. He saw the bartender look at him oddly but Oswald shrugged it off.
He hoped that the night would stay uneventful, but that was when the door opened....Â

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âCall me Rich, Because thatâs what I amâ
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