Dynasty: A Batman Tale Part 15

NOW

A storm front was preparing to unleash its wrath on Gotham City, the wind blew harder over the course of the evening. Penguin paced back and forth upon the top deck of his monstrous yacht, The Antarctica. He had watched Ivy feed his beloved Cockatoo Bossworth while relaying Joker’s instructions. Chester had listened very closely to everything Ivy explained regarding the events of the past twenty-four hours.

Penguin learned of Tim Drake’s abduction, though not his whereabouts, though Ivy did reveal the location in which Riddler and Clayface were priming explosives for the crippling of Gotham’s infrastructure leading to the complete destruction of the city. Chester had one time been Joker’s sole supplier of munitions, but not anymore. So where did the clown get his supplies? Chester knew the number of people willing to do business with a psychopath the likes of Joker was extremely limited, especially since he was no longer one of them.

Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot was a very intelligent man. Before Gotham was introduced to Joker's new breed of insane criminal, there were only two types of crime as far as Chester was concerned, organized and everything else. Penguin had his hand in both. He had acquired a vast fortune doing business with multiple personality types, but he had never seen anybody transform as much as that kid he met in the penitentiary so many years before. If I had known when I met him what he’d become... The thought was interrupted by the voice of the ships steward coming through the speaker on the desk in Penguins office.

“Sir, we had something on the radar approaching, but it’s gone now. It vanished!”

“No need for alarm, he’s expected.” Oswald poured himself a glass of his finest single malt scotch, he was not thrilled at the thought of being pulled back into Joker’s circus. His instructions for Penguin were simple enough, Too simple! Chester was to relay a message to Batman, and as Penguin had just been notified, he figured the caped crusader would be arriving momentarily.

THEN

Chester met John Robinson while locked up in Gotham’s Blackgate Penitentiary, before the Joker, before the Batman. Before the woman he loved had been taken from him.

At first, John was quiet and had confessed to Chester, that he felt little remorse for beating his foster brother half to death. John reminded Chester of himself, he had also grown up orphaned and could relate to the quiet young man. He took it upon himself to mentor the young aspiring criminal. John never spoke about his past, though his history with the Robinson Family Massacre was a matter of public record, and Chester had heard the tale years prior just after it happened. Gotham PD was full of cops eager to make an extra buck and easily dished out information to anyone paying the right price. The only family John ever mentioned was his foster sister Harley, and when he did, were the few occasions Chester saw John smile.

During the time they spent locked up, Chester educated John about Art and more importantly its value. He taught him about the aristocratic society and how it went hand in hand with the high-end art community. Chester had a job planned and ready once he was released, and though John would be out sooner, he offered him a chance to be a part of it. However, Just days after John’s discharge, Chester, himself on the verge of being freed from incarceration, read in the newspaper about the infamous albino, who had been caught soaked in blood having just slaughtered his foster family, leaving only one survivor. Harley!

Penguin never encountered John again. Rather along with the rest of Gotham he was introduced to the Joker. The Arkham escape was all over the news, five criminally insane mass murderers and serial killers were on the loose in Gotham. The images shown on television were captured from the Arkham security system, they were of John in a hallway dragging the deceased body of Dr. Jonathon Crane, his face reminiscent of a clown with blood spattered across is scarred mouth.

Once the media got wind of Joker’s story, their reporting became responsible for injecting a surge of fear into all Gotham-mites, with headlines that read Clown Prince of Gotham Terrorizes!

Six months after the breakout Penguin received a visit at his high-rise office. As he arrived for the day, a number of things were striking Chester’s intuition as odd. First, the doorman at the building’s front entrance was not at his post. He tried not to think too much of it, until he arrived at the elevators and realized they also were unmanned. Regardless, Penguin rode the elevator up to his floor and upon stepping off noticed his assistant Olga was not at her desk. He advanced around her desk and found her laying on the floor. He knelt down and felt for a pulse. Alive! Thank God!

Chester walked up to his double door office entrance, took a deep breath and opened the door. Waiting for him to was a familiar albino with a wicked smiling scarred mouth. The visitor was wearing a three-piece purple suit and sitting on Chester’s horseshoe shaped couch.

“It’s been a long time John.” Greeted Chester.

The clown’s grin stretched from ear to ear, “No, NO, NO! That will not do,” He said while slowly unsheathing a blade from his cane. “John Robinson is dead, so sad,” Joker mimed wiping away an invisible tear. “No, his demise occurred at the place of my birth, Ha, Ha, Ha! You may call me Joker.”

Penguin hesitated for a moment, he began circling around the couch toward his desk.

“All right, Joker. What can I do for you?”

“I want you to know that I took everything you taught me to heart. I have an all new appreciation for fine art, thanks to you.”

“Don’t mention it, like I said when we were inside, you showed great promise, but I’ll be frank, back then I didn’t see a killer.”

“Do you see a killer now?” asked Joker.

“I’m not sure what I see!” replied Penguin gazing around his office realizing that Joker was not alone. Chester had never met the others, but for one. Pamela! He recognized the rest from their pictures in the newspaper. Their monikers boldly highlighted in every story, The Riddler, Clayface, The Mad Hatter, and Pamela now only referred to as Poison Ivy!

Joker started to laugh and continued laughing louder and louder until he was in hysterics. “That’s a very good response, Birdy!” Joker took a moment to resume his composure, “There’s a list on your desk of items I require.”

“What’s the job?” Inquired Chester.

“Are you sure you want to know my dear Penguin?” Joker responded.

“I’ve always said to pull off the right job, you need the right tools. So, Joker…,” Cobblepot paused quickly glancing at the list on his desk before locking eyes with Joker and continuing, “…in order to make sure you have the correct items to pull off your job, I don’t want to know I NEED to know. What’s the job?”

Joker fell silent. In Chester’s peripheral vision, he noticed his desk chair spin around revealing a young lady sitting in it. She wore pigtails and her face was covered with makeup replicating Joker’s appearance. Both their faces were snow white, his a natural albino skin tone, hers applied with foundation. Blood covered Joker’s scarred smile, while Harley wore a matte dark red lipstick. The dark around their eyes gave them a deep sunk appearance, Joker’s emanated an uneasy and condemning stare. Chester thought different of her, she’s cute for trying, but not pulling it off as well as he is.

“So you must be Harley, John…,” Penguin stopped to correct himself as he glanced over at the couch, “…Joker spoke of you while we were inside.”

Harley leapt out of the chair onto the desk, halting an inch away from Chester’s face. He didn’t flinch. “Ain’t J just grand, he’s always taken good care of me, but if you don’t fill this order, I’m gonna have to take care of you.”

Chester slapped her across the face. He was a businessman with a reputation in both the business world and underworld, and he would not be disrespected in his own office. The remaining members of Joker’s crew didn’t move, but Harley had murder in her eyes, and as she drew her blade with the intention of slicing penguin’s throat, Joker simply said, “No Harley.”

Harley jumped off the desk, sheathed her blade and plopped down on the couch next to joker, letting a displeased sigh escape.

Chester asked again as if nothing had happened “The Job?”

“Fine already! Sometimes bird, you are no F.U.N!” Quipped Joker. “Go ahead Harley, fill Mr. Penguin in on our big plans.” He instructed.

“Okey-dokie-artichokie, We’re going to hit Gotham’s Galerie d’art,” Harley replied.

Chester was silent. This was the one place that was off limits. It was under his protection. It was a closely guarded secret as to why, there was nothing illegitimate about it. It wasn’t a front, or a fence. It was simply a fine art gallery. Chester’s interest were in its curator. Selina!

Chester remained calm, refusing to show his hand, he was compelled to know more. “Why there?”

“Why indeed!” remarked Joker, “Perhaps by being the only gallery in Gotham untouched by anyone, a sense of curiosity has come over me.”

“You know what they say about curiosity Joker.”

“Indeed I do.” Joker sneered.

Chester had once been tracking a rare piece for one of his affluent clients. A sculpture from a French artists whose name Chester didn’t care to pronounce. His research had led him to Galerie d’art, and its curator, Selina Kyle. She towered over his short stature, her golden blonde hair draped down her shoulders in waves while all her flawless curves were accentuated by the black skintight dress she wore.

After speaking for only a few minutes, both Chester and Miss Kyle recognized an immediate attraction to one another. Chester decisively changed his tactics for acquiring the sculpture and instead purchased it at full price, then asked Selina to dinner.

Their shared appreciation for art turned out to be the first of many commonalities. A passionate yet brief love affair transpired, Selina had opened up to Chester and revealed all about her past as a professional Cat Burglar. After deciding to hang up her whiskers, Selina took her skills to the other side of the law going to work for the Cane Group Insurance Company becoming their top investigator. She had a gift for evaluations and appraisals, and after successfully investigating a fraud case on the behalf of Monsieur Jean Pierre Jouvenet, owner of Galerie d'art, he in return offered Selina the curatorship.

Selina was an intelligent woman, she knew from her previous life who the Penguin was, but that didn’t stop her from falling in love with him. However, both had reputations to preserve so their relationship was kept discreet.

Chester had sent a message throughout his network that Galerie d'art was not to be touched. Ever! And up to this point it hadn’t. What is the clown playing at?

Joker waved his hand, signaling Nigma, Ivy, Clayface and Tetch to clear the room, he winked at Harley and she leapt up off the couch and headed out of the room leaving Penguin alone with Joker. “Well, Chester?”

“Why are you doing this Joker?”

“What Am I doing?” Joker laughed.

“This gallery...it’s,”

“Oh, you dumb bird, it’s under your protection! I know, I’ve heard, from God’s lips to all the little rats, Galerie d'art is not to be touched, but you see OSWALD…,” Joker snarled Chester’s first name, “…that’s where our constitutions diverge. You see, you zig while I zag. And I really feel like zagging! You may or may not know this about me, but I developed somewhat of a condition while under the care of Doctor Strange. When somebody tells me I can’t do something, ooohhhh well, you know where I’m heading with this. I just have to.” Joker was in near hysterics.

Chester could see in Joker’s sadistic red eyes that nothing he would say could change the clown’s mind. He let out a defeated sigh, looked at the list of supplies again and said, “Give me a week.”

“You have two days.” Ordered Joker

“Very well, two days and I’ll have what you need.”

Joker stood up clasped Chester’s shoulders, smiled and said, “Two days and remember, YOU Penguin, are my number one…guy!” He giggled on his way to the door where Harley was waiting.

Chester wished to warn Selina to stay clear of the gallery, but how could he, it would mean compromising Joker’s plan and that would most certainly have deadly consequences. He had to be sure, he ran out of his office to where Joker and the rest were boarding the elevator, “You’ll do it at night, yes?” he called out to Joker hoping to eliminate the potential for violence.

Joker was the last to step into the elevator, he spun around to face Chester, and as the doors closed, Joker grinned,“Of course.” 
 Three days after his meeting with Joker, devastation fell upon penguin, he was distraught after having learned on the evening news that Joker’s gang had committed a daytime robbery at Galerie d’art. The broadcast reported that in the process of taking the gallery’s most prized pieces, four people had been killed, two security guards, an unnamed client and the gallery’s curator Selina Kyle.

NOW

“One of my favorite things about being offshore is the lack of light coming from Gotham.” Chester was slowly sipping his fifty year old single malt scotch, ”I’ve always preferred the dark. I’ve always respected that about you, the way you become part of it, the way you disappear into the shadows, you become the dark.” Penguin turned towards the shadowed alcove behind him aboard the deck of the Antarctica. “I don’t suppose you want a glass…,” Penguin reached his chalice towards the shadow, “…it’s a three hundred thousand dollar bottle.” Penguin brought the chalice to his lips and took a sip. I’m talking to shadows. “He’s got a message for you…” He began as the darkness in the corner shifted and approached. “…ah, there you are, he wants…”

“My life for the boy’s!” Batman already knew. “Where is she?”

“In a secure place.” Chester answered truthfully. Ivy was locked in the ship’s brig below deck.

“Don’t Kill her.”

“You offend me, unlike our mutual clown problem, I don’t take pleasure in murder.” Penguin stated as he raised his diamond-plated chalice. “I don’t know where they’re keeping the young pup.”

“What can you tell me?” Batman’s tone was eerily calm.

“He’s crazy, all of them are insane. I don’t know where they’ve been all these years.” Chester said while grabbing a six-inch cigarette holder from his inner coat pocket and lighting up a menthol. He inhaled deeply, blowing out multiple rings of smoke. Chester took out a silk handkerchief and pat dried the beads of sweat beginning to drip down his brow. “I’ve always been a businessman, sure I’ve gingerly walked the ethical fence.” Who Am I kidding? “I’ll hold onto Ivy, you can have your commissioner friend come pick her up, but you should know that the others are planning to destroy most of Downtown Gotham, they’re going to bring this city to a dead stop. Joker wants to bring down Gotham brick by brick making it his personal playground, making it a...no man’s land! And I’m afraid that would be very bad for business.”

Silence. Chester had to turn to see if Batman had vanished. To Penguin’s surprise, he hadn’t. That’s a first!

Batman stepped towards the balcony’s edge just over the rear of The Antarctica, where below his one man hovercraft was docked. Penguin took another drag from his smoke. “I’ll keep Ivy out of your way, that’s one piece off your game-board.”

“Hand her over to Gordon’s men when they arrive,” the Dark Knight said launching himself over the railing, he halted and corrected Chester, “No, that’s two pieces off the board.”

“Two?” Cobblepot asked curiously.

“Tetch is dead, the Hatter’s body was found earlier this evening.”

“Wait! What?” Penguin shockingly asked. They know it was Hatter, or at least blamed him, but I wonder what he told them? Did he implicate me!

Chester put his cigarette holder back in his pocket and looked at Batman with all seriousness “There was one more thing Ivy said to me that you should know. You’ll have to choose Batman, between saving the city or your boy wonder.” Penguin watched Batman drop down into his hovercraft. Though something tells me you already knew that.