#pristinefalcone

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 Pristine’s 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, Falcone’s 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. 

Everything had to have Cobblepot’s name on it if he was to rule with an iron fist. No gaps. No missing puzzle pieces. 

Zsasz had found himself some good luck amidst his recent and terrible misfortune. He had found himself employment. Don Falcone had seen potential in him and took him in and cleaned the stink of Gotham’s gutters from his soul. He now had a clean suit, quick and expensive guns, a room in a vast mansion that reminded him that he was a man who grew up in luxury and his dignity. 

He thought about all this now as he walked the streets of Gotham, feeling the weight of his gun at his hip and his heavy wallet in his tight drain pipe jeans. He took a deep breath of cold, autumnal air as he walked towards the hottest lounge in town. He could have never have dreamed of ever entering this place only a couple of months before. But he could now.