Myrtle Jenkins

Bucky smiled faintly in return. He didn’t consider himself to be much of a hero, but if he could help where he could, he would. He was more comfortable fighting than talked to the person he’d helped, which probably wasn’t good, but whatever. “You’re okay now,” he assured her, glancing around. “At least for now.” Another faint smile touched his lips. “Not that amazing. I just ate my Wheaties, that’s all.”

She smiled at him when the man told her that she was okay now but it faded a little at the reminder that danger could be lurking around every corner. The Raft and Arkham escape were still fresh and Myrtle was new to defending herself. She was smart in the ways of sneaking around. In avoiding danger, but when it was head on- when it found her, she couldn’t quite handle herself as nicely as she wanted. “You just tossed that man like he was nothing. I think it’s a little more than just a healthy diet.”

Oswald looked at the other shrugging his shoulders “when your love destroys everything you worked all your life for and has the gall to use your death father to do so. You’d be surprised how cruel you can get. I never wanted his brain to fail, but I think that also comes back on to you, had you allowed Victor to de-freeze him his awakening might not have been so traumatizing” He looked at her noticing just how much the fact she failed really tore her up “Either way what is in the past is in the past, You don’t believe me about not killing you? I have no use in ending your life Myrtle, in fact, I’d like to help you, find our beloved Edward, I know you’ve been searching for him for a while now.” He replied moving to drink his scotch one again.

He smirked at her words “when actually came to face each other, that’s not at all what happened, some women beat me to the point. Regardless of what you think of me, I do care for Edward, he was my first friend, the only person in this world who met me on my intellectual level. In your hurry you always make mistakes, use that as advice, stealing must become art not a mass of evidence.” He replied softly thinking back to how broken he was to learn what had happened to Ed and how much he couldn’t deal with him not being in this world.  

“I will never freeze him again, even I’m not that cruel,” he whispered out before watching her take to cleaning glass. “So, tell me what brings you here? Not working just in general”

“You’re blaming it on me. On the woman who had the gall to work under you. To steal from the Penguin. All in the name of rescuing him. You don’t have the right to say that Mr Cobblepot. He spent five months trapped in an ice prison, but worse? You had him on display. Like he was a pretty little sculpture. He was a trophy and you were getting recognition from it. You may have never de-freezed him. Why would you?” Myrtle argued. She shook her head and glanced away from him, trying to take a moment to calm herself. Edward always invoked intense emotion inside of her.  Oswald continued talking to her and she glanced over at the man. Listening to him. “You want to help me?” She wasn’t sure if she should believe him. “Forgive me, Mr. Cobblepot, but I don’t know that it would be wise of me to take your offer. I know you claim you won’t try to kill me again...”

Myrtle reached down to her shirt and began to unbutton it, pulling the fabric apart to reveal an ugly scar in the middle of her chest. “I don’t want another one of these. I’m just being careful.” She told him before nodding at his words. He said that she left behind evidence after her theft. “If you’re talking about that ugly hat, he never really suited it.” She joked. “But I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Penguin. Thank you.”

She placed the now clean glass down and smiled. “You know why I’m here. I tracked Eddie down to New York. I’ve been watching him quietly for years now, but... his sudden disappearance? It worried me. Just like it seems to be worrying you.” She paused for a second and glanced down from him. “I’m... glad you’re not going to freeze him again. Did you mean what you said earlier?” She asked, finally meeting his eyes again. “When you said our beloved Edward. Do you really still love him too?” 

“Hopefully he was a better person,” Nebula said simply. Her father was not one to emulate, though his training was possibly the only reason she was still standing here today. Nebula placed her batons into her holster and did a quick bio-scan of the girl. She wasn’t injured, that much was good news she supposed. 

She tilted her head, pausing for a moment. “Do you truly believe that?” she asked. It seemed impossible. She had only ever been known for her worst moments. Her father punished her for her failures and only barely acknowledged her victories, and kindness in his eyes was never victorious. The Gardens did not trust her, and even in her own universe when she was helping the heroes of Earth – she had never been one of them. “I do not know this Suber-man,” she said, shaking her head. “You should get off the streets. It is not safe.”

“I can’t say he’s a good person.” Myrtle said, “I can only say that I love him. And that he’s really smart.” She replied with enthusiasm. When the woman asked if she truly believed what she just said, she nodded. “There’s a thing called redemption. I think everyone’s capable of it. Capable of kindness... but at the same time. I feel like sometimes... bad things can be excused. If you have a mental issue or... if they deserved it.” She said with a shrug. She didn’t want to get too much into it. Mostly because she tended to go off about the minds of killers.

“It’s okay, I only said Superman because he’s famous. But he’s not that cool.” She replied, then she mentioned that the streets weren’t safe and Myrtle glanced into the street. “If they’re not safe, would you mind if- I mean, if you have time. Could you walk me home? Maybe I can make you something to eat and you can take a break. -Do you eat?” 

The carnival seemed to appear overnight, bright red tent tops and screaming tilt-a-whirls, and it was no coincidence that its arrival coincided with Joker’s abrupt escape from Arkham. “Sobre las Olas” blasted over various loudspeakers, creating a fantastical yet off-key soundtrack to limping carnies and grinning showmen. Its doors were thrown open–free admission, free tickets, one night only! The man stood on a makeshift stage as he called to pedestrians as they passed by, his voice friendly, lilting, and his clothes perfectly tailored. He waved a cane toward the entrance and it spun around in his hand, hypnotic. 

Inside, the lights were bright and the fleeting screams from the rides were joyous. There were funhouses, haunted houses, freak shows (a quarter a peek), and various games with stuffed prizes and plump goldfish. 

Somewhere past the ferris wheel and the popcorn stand, something changed. The scent of peanuts grew stale and rotten. The lone speaker sounded as if it had shorted out and the waltz sounded distorted. An arrow pointed toward a lone attraction, boasting of a HALL OF MIRRORS, and the cardboard facade was painted with a large, garish clown’s smile. The entrance was through his mouth, through a barrel that steadily tilted to throw anyone walking over it off-balance. At the end was a thin line of razorblades, which slid back and out of the way just before whoever approached got too close. The waltz cut off and was replaced with eerie laughter. 

“Do you have an appointment?” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. It sounded disembodied, as if it belonged to a ghost. The rotating lights showed a number of rooms to choose from: one with a large, spinning disk, an upside-down room, a ball pit, and the promised Hall of Mirrors.

It couldn’t be a coincidence. At least that’s what Myrtle Jenkins thought. She had an eye on each and every rogue that Gotham had to offer. Sure, no one reached the top of her list like the Riddler did, but Joker had always been a compelling individual, and when she learned from her inside resources that the Joker had escaped Arkham despite his extremely well barricaded cell? She just had to go to the Carnival that had popped out of nowhere. Well knowing that it was dangerous. Well knowing that it was a bad idea. She just had to meet him, and if there was a chance. She’d take it. 

But she wasn’t stupid, hidden in the woman’s purse was a real gun. She figured she had enough practice to actually use it by now. It was one taken from the Riddler’s safe house and was painted green and littered with black question marks. Definitely touched by Ed himself. She could imagine him delicately painting each question mark so it was perfect. 

As she made her way through the carnival, she noticed the deeper she went the odder it became. There was a giant clown mouth and Myrtle’s stomach flipped with both fear and excitement. If he was at this Carnival... this is where she imagined he would be. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Myrtle cautiously made her way in. Jumping a bit when she heard the voice. Letting out a squeal that quickly turned into an excited squeal. Was that his voice? Was that him? 

Oswald knew of Myrtle’s hatred of him, it ran a bit deeper than the fact he’d placed her beloved Ed on display for so long almost ruining his beautiful brain. The man did try to have her killed, but to him, that was almost too normal. The women had proved to be a hard worker and he had admitted he enjoyed her perseverance to live, and steal from him.  If anything Oswald respected her for all she’d accomplished, she’d even tracked Edward and him here from Gotham which was no big feat.

He watched her make his drink knowing he wouldn’t have too, she was as stupid as to try something with his drink with him being so close and so ready to turn on her at any moment. The saying you don’t bit the hand that feeds you taking deep root with all of Oswald’s employees. He took his glass bringing it to his lips allowing the sweet burn to hit the back of his throat.

He wondered if she’d even humor him with converstation and he found he was hardly disapointed, she had quick the wit and mouth on her even when facing death. “You know among my friends its almost like a rite of passage, but I understand how weird it is.” he replied smiling at her over “I’m not here to kill you Myrtle, I’m simply here to inquire how you are doing. Plus can you really fult me for being so quick to rage back then? its what loving ed turned me into, quite the jealous little thing. Yet i was just as much as a pawn to him as you were when he ran from you.” He replied softly.

“If you ever loved him the way I did, you wouldn’t have risked damaging his brain the way that you did. We’re both lucky that he managed to get back to his greatness on his own. I spent hours nursing him back to health. Thawing him out, learning about every little thing I could do to help him. Physically, he was fine, but mentally... in the most important way, I wasn’t helpful enough to Eddie. I failed him.” Myrtle replied. She scoffed a bit. At least Oswald wasn’t there to kill her, but how was she supposed to know if that wouldn’t change? If he would switch on a dime and kill her anyway. She supposed that she should be more careful but all she could do was frown. Especially when Oswald stated that they were both pawns to Ed. 

“Maybe he was right to run from me.” She said, “I thought I was able to outsmart you. I shut off all the cameras, I learned your schedule. I was so careful and yet you still found out it was me who took Edward from you. If he’d been there when you came for me, you would have imprisoned him in ice again and all of my hard work would have been for not. His brain wouldn’t have been able to take a second freezing and he would have died the next time he was let out. I’m sure of it. It was a miracle that he was fine the first time.” 

She let that sit for a moment as she grabbed one of the dirty glasses she had and began to clean it. She might as well be doing her job while she was speaking to Oswald, she was supposed to be working. 

Tabs? The Kree and other civilizations used tabs for medical purposes, but she guessed that wasn’t what this woman was talking about. “My father used to say that knowledge was power,” she murmured. Her father was mad, misguided, evil to his core – but he was not always wrong. “It’s useful to know your enemies, then you can defeat them.” It wasn’t always necessary. She hadn’t needed to know anything about the man threatening Myrtle in order to knock him out. 

She kicked at the man’s form, knocking him further away. “Oh-kay,” she repeated. Her hearing was often a problem. She had experienced this moment before – but she had rarely heard someone refer to her as kind. “Not usually,” she said finally. “Myrtle. Even for Terrans that is an… interesting name.” She shook her head. “No. I am not. But I’m not here to attack this planet,” she assured Myrtle quickly. 

Myrtle grinned at the other’s words, “I used to know someone who’d say the same thing.” She replied, admiration sewn into every word. She’d have to keep that in mind, the part about enemies. As much as she preferred looking into the so-called villains of Gotham. Looking into Batman hadn’t been an overwhelming need for her. He was- well, she supposed he was interesting. There must have been something that drove him, the same way something drove Eddie to do what he did. She’d look more into him later. Focus her energy on learning her enemy.

Nebula said that she wasn’t usually kind and Myrtle shrugged, “Most people aren’t. What matters are the few moments that you are. That’s when it counts.” The woman offered, “Terrans? Is that what I am to you?” She was beyond excited to be meeting an actual alien, but she was trying to keep herself calm. “I didn’t think you were. There’s a lot of well known aliens here that help us. Like Superman.” 

As amused grin spread across Harley’s face as she heard the other woman squeal. It was an unexpected reaction, but she enjoyed it. “Y’know who I am?” she asked, wiping the blood off her baseball bat with the sleeve of her jacket. “I guess my hair an’ skin kinda gives it away, huh?” It had been a while since someone knew who she was without introduction. Perhaps this stranger was from Gotham. “Thanks, though! I love livin’ up ta my reputation,” she said with a chuckle. 

When the other asked if she’d teach her how to fight, Harley considered it for a moment, chewing her gum loudly while twirling a lock of her hair around her index finger. “Sure! Why not. I ain’t got nothin’ better ta do these days. Plus, I ain’t taught someone how ta fight before. It sounds like fun.” She shrugged her shoulders and leaned into the woman. “Y’ever punched someone before? That’s probably a good place ta start. It’s exhilaratin’!” 

“Of course I do!” Myrtle exclaimed. A wide smile on her face. “Don’t you know how famous you are? You know, I’ve always thought you deserved more limelight than what Joker got, you- you’re an inspiration.” She commented. Sure, Myrtle probably preferred Harley because she looked like her. She small stature, the blonde hair. She gave Myrtle a tiny bit of hope that even though she was a woman, she could rise to the ranks that the other Rogues had reached. To stardom. Edward himself had been quite thin when she met him. Lanky, not nearly as strong as all the other men she knew. But clearly it was his intelligence that made him special. His beautiful, dangerous mind. Harley was probably the same way, only... she actually seemed to know how to fight too.

Myrtle brightened up when Harley said she’d teach her. Her eyes widened. It was like she was given another chance. Another chance to prove herself. Saving the Riddler had only taken her so far. Clearly she’d need to be able to do a bit more to get his attention again. “I mean, I have!” She giggled, “But not in a while!” 

“What’s the matter, buddy? Meeting women in bars isn’t working for you anymore?” Bucky drawled, his feathers clearly not remotely ruffled by the situation. A bunch of criminals escaping from some crackpot facility wasn’t exactly an ideal day, but his bar for disaster was set pretty high. Although in his experience, this situation was probably going to get a whole hell of a lot worse before it got better. He grabbed the guy by the collar and lifted him up like he was a sack of laundry, swinging his arm until the guy was sailing through the window, landing on the floor in a heap. “You alright?” he asked the girl mildly. 

Myrtle struggled a bit as she tried to get out of the man’s grasp, glancing over at the other man as he approached. The Arkham inmate was large, built like wrestler, but the new man was able to pick him up like he didn’t weigh a thing. The woman backed up a little bit as to get out of their way but she wasn’t about to run and miss all the action. Clearly her new hero was capable of quite a bit. She scanned over his features with her eyes, trying to remember if she knew him some how, but she didn’t. He was able to throw the inmate through the window like it was nothing. Awkwardly, Myrtle straightened herself up when the man addressed her. Giving him a smile. “Well, now that’s you’re here, I’m okay.” She said. “I’ve just- I’ve been hurt before. He made me scared. But you? You’re amazing.” 

While walking toward her house many people when toward her trying to attack her however they didn’t expect to be knocked out with one punch, she didn’t looked like a superhero because she wasn’t one, Kat wasn’t going to stay on the street and help people, it wasn’t her fault that those people were there after all.

When a woman called out 42 looked at her and just stood there, watching, trying to decided if she should intervene or not. “Fine.” She answered. “Stay still.” 42 warned the woman before using her heat vision on his shoulder making him immediately let the woman go and move his hand toward the wound. “You bitch.” The man said walking toward to attack her when she punched his jaw and the man fall on the floor, Kat looked at the man and kneeled to use his shirt to wipe off his blood from her hand before standing up and looking at the woman.

Myrtle’s eyes caught how the man suddenly let go of her and paid special attention to his own shoulder. She could see traces of smoke coming off of his clothes and Myrtle’s eyes widened as she came to realize she had stumbled upon a meta-human. She’d read up on them. They were all over the place in Gotham, how could she not? From her own experience, normally something terrible happened to them before they’d unlock their inner potential. Some sort of accident or near-death experience that could unlock the gene. If she were one herself, she figured that horrible day she was shot? That would have done it for her. But she clearly wasn’t as special as the woman before her.

She watched as the girl knocked the much stronger man out in awe and smiled brightly when the other looked back at her. “Thank you so much.” She said. “So you’re a metahuman?” She guessed. 

          In his natural habitat, the photographer wasn’t as dressed to the nines as many would have seen him before. Oh no, this man was in his own version of civvies, overly stretched out Superman shirt and all. So to say he was surprised and slightly flustered at a stranger complimenting both him and his photography… well, it was strange. That was saying something compared to the wild stories he’d covered before. “Oh!” He exclaimed, his brain flat-lining while he stared. What did one say to a stranger who somehow found his apartment. “Uh… yeah! That’s me, and… wow, thanks! I-I mean about the photos.” 

          Was this a fan? Wild enough that he got the rare nod from Lois, or Perry, but he never knew newspaper photographers got real live fans. “Oh, and uh, please, you can just call me Jimmy.”

“Jimmy.” Myrtle repeated with a smile. “I’ve been paying attention to the articles your pictures are in. Watching you for a while. I hope you don’t mind. I just... I saw your name downstairs, by the doorbell. I was here visiting another friend and thought- hey. This is fate.” A large part of that was a lie, but it rolled so easily off of Myrtle’s tongue. Her eyes lit up as if everything she was saying was the truth. “My favourite of your photographs were the Casino ones... you wouldn’t happen to have more of those, would you?”

Oswald was hardly a fool, with the loss of Edward his side had taken a bit of a hit, but then Lucky always seemed to be on his side when the lovely Myrtle rolled into town. The women had long since been nothing more than a blimp on his map when he’d first seen her after she’d stolen his Ed away from him. The women, in the long run, had saved their dubious relationship in the end so he supposed he did owe her.

Having her work for him again was a well thought out plan in the making, the women had worked with him before even if he never saw her then and now. He always found her somewhat use of brilliance to be enough of entertainment to the point where she’d gotten the best of him. Most would say he had a death wish employing her once again but the fact of the matter was Myrtle interested him, just as he interested her.

“Myrtle” He nodded his head in greeting before thinking for a moment “Scotch on the rocks, please,” he replied before his ever watchful eyes followed over her movements. “How are you liking New York?”

A part of her wanted to spit in his drink or refuse to serve him, but she was smarter than that. She knew her old boss had a bit of a temper. He could be kind, yes. But he could get really angry too. His temper normally ended in someone’s death. Messing with the Penguin could get you killed, even in the smallest of ways. Myrtle wasn’t about to mess with him again. It was a miracle that she survived the last time and was still suffering side effects from being shot in the chest. 

Despite all his many flaws, she had to admit. There was a strange charm to him. She always wanted to know more about him. He interested her just like all the rogues did. “Right away, sir.” She answered after a brief moment of pause. Walking over to the most expensive scotch they had, the one she remembered him having a taste for and pouring it for him. Making sure to make his drink where he could see it, so he knew there was no funny business.

She handed it to him and raised a brow. A civil conversation? “Okay-” She shook her head and placed her hands on her hip. Unable to stop the sassy tone as it spilled out. “Mr Penguin. You had me shot and nearly killed. What are you doing here, asking me how I am? One would think you wouldn’t have cared how I’m liking anything. Unless you want to finish the job?”

“No, no! Ya can’t go riskin’ everythin’,” Harley muttered to herself, skipping over the debris that littered the streets. The temptation to join in with the chaos was like a nagging itch that she couldn’t scratch. Causing trouble, violence, and destruction were three of her favourite things, and watching other criminals have the time of their lives while she was sitting on the sidelines was driving her nuts. Harley Quinn behaving herself while the city went to shit wasn’t right – it was unnatural. With a pop of her gum and a heavy sigh, she ignored a fight that was breaking out across the street and carried on walking.

When a woman called out to her, Harley stopped and chuckled as she listened to her plead for help. “C’mon, this guy ain’t even that dangerous. You could take him,” she said, making her way towards the stranger. “He was in Arkham for murderin’ two, maybe three people tops? Ain’t that right, Lenny?” she asked. As he turned to look at her, she tossed her baseball bat into the air, then caught it in her right hand. “Time fer you ta go night night, ol’ pal,” she said, hearing a satisfying ‘clunk’ as the bat collided with his head. 

When Mrytle heard the familiar voice, she raised her head. Catching the sight of Harley Quinn walking towards her. Her distinctive style and clear as day accent made her hard not to recognize her from the media. Bats disturbed her stomach as the other said that she could easily take on the Arkham inmate. She could? Harley Quinn, the second hand woman to one of the most infamous criminals in the world- let alone Gotham, had faith in her. She blinked with shock as she watched the spectacle before her as Harley did her thing. Smashing in the man’s head with her bat. Without much thought, Myrtle let out an excited squeal as Lenny hit the ground. 

Admiration sparkled in the woman’s eyes as she took in Harley in front of her. “Wow! You’re so... I mean, you’re even cooler in person.” She said. Myrtle swallowed. She should probably play it cool. “You said I could have taken him, right?” Her smile curled her lips, “Would you mind maybe... showing me how? How you fight I mean.” The idea of Harley mentoring her made her heart swell with excitement, but she didn’t know if Harley would even be interested. 

Myrtle’s eyes were on Oswald Cobblepot, watching him as he waddled up to the bar. He wasn’t a horrible boss before, when she used to work at his nightclub. She barely spoke to him, but she still heard things. Bad things. When she was learning the man’s schedule. When she was watching his every move. Waiting for the moment to snatch away Edward Nygma from his ice prison. It took her months to get the opportunity to steal from the Penguin. She had to do experiments to find out how long it took to melt that much ice. How best to take care of him once she did finally get him out. His chances of survival. How she was going to carry the tall man from the inside of Oswald’s club to her car. 

She often wondered why Oswald did it the way he did. Icing Edward instead of just killing him. It would have been a lot less cruel to just kill him. But he was kept instead. As a trophy. He was kept and he was mocked. She remembered the nights she’d have to keep it together at the bar. Listening to people talking about the man trapped in ice. Calling him names. Making fun of him. She wanted to gut them all where they stood. To rip them apart with her manicured nails. Her poor Edward. He didn’t deserve it.

“Penguin.” She finally spoke up as a greeting. “What can I get you to drink?”

She stood at his door for just a moment, a little nervous. Not of meeting him but of him thinking, she- a stranger to him- was crazy for just appearing at his home. But when she saw that article of the casino? His pictures were so stunning, and not only that but he was there when Edward was. Maybe he had more pictures. Maybe he had some of Eddie. She couldn’t exactly pass up that sort of opportunity. She just wanted to be closer to the Riddler again. To see more pictures. Myrtle reached her hand over to the door and gave it a peppy knock.

Smiling when he opened the door. “You’re James Olsen, right?” She asked. “Wow, you’re really cute in person. I uhm- I’m Myrtle Jenkins. I saw your photos online. I just... wanted to say they’re beautiful.”