Dynasty: A Batman Tale - Part 10

NOW

At first glance, the Antarctica appeared to be a huge glacier protruding from Gotham Harbor. Commonly referred to as The Iceberg, at just over six hundred feet in length, it was the largest yacht in the world. Sheathed with three inch thick mirrored bulletproof glass and powered by a small army, the yacht was an impenetrable fortress and home to Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. Chester as he preferred to be called, was known for being a ’Gentleman Criminal’ with a fondness for wearing formal tuxedos earning him the nickname ‘Penguin’.

The floating fortress was anchored at the most northern point of the harbor with its bow facing the city. Chester sat in his custom-made jewel covered throne on the stern of the yacht, giving him an unobstructed view of an ocean of water and stars. An arrow shaped fifty foot Cigarette Marauder was approaching at full speed on the Antarctica’s starboard side distorting the full moon’s watery reflection.

“She’s coming in hot!” Said the captain from up inside the wheelhouse, his voice echoing throughout the ship’s communication system.

Cobblepot fingered the red button on the small speaker built into his chair, “Relax Captain, She’s got a penchant for danger, a bit of a thrill seeker if you will.” Chester watched the speedboat shoot out behind the ship and make a quick one hundred eighty degree turn heading back towards the Antartica’s stern. When the boat was less than fifty feet from the Iceberg, the fiery redhead behind the wheel cut the engines and drifted smoothly aligning herself at the rear of Penguin’s yacht.

Chester watched the fierce beauty approach, he had met her as Pamela Isley when she was a young wide-eyed environmentalist, before she became Ivy. She had wrapped herself up with a radical group known as SHELF, the Safeguarding Human Eco Liberation Front. When the group needed equipment, it was Penguin who supplied it. Over time he watched Pamela’s innocence dissolve with every demonstration she took part in. He couldn’t help but feel slightly responsible for her evolution. I could have said no. I should have said no.

THEN

“This is highly irregular, you need to have an appointment Ms. Isley, Mr. Cobblepot is an extremely busy person,” said the secretary rudely. Olga Mörgæs sat behind an oversized L-shaped desk that wrapped around her petite frame. She had served Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot for thirty years, whether he was running his businesses, legitimate or otherwise, from his high-rise office, the Antartica or from Gotham Penitentiary, Olga had assisted the Penguin. She kept his calendar and contacts in order and always at the ready. She had come to think of herself as his shield in cases such as this.

“Please I just need five minutes with him…” Pamela Isley was practically begging, she had been attempting to get a meeting with Cobblepot for months.

Olga was aware of Isley from her numerous calls and emails, “Ms. Isley, as I stated on the phone AND by electronic mail, “Mr. Cobblepot in NO way has any direct contact with SHELF!”

As Olga finished, the two oversized doors leading into Penguin’s office slowly swung open and a voice rang out through the intercom system on Olga’s desk. “It’s quite all right Olga, Ms. Isley appears to be extremely determined this morning for my time. Please show her in and go ahead and hold my calls, and some hot Earl Grey would be wonderful, thank you.”

Olga cleared her throat, “Right away Mr. Cobblepot!” She waved Pamela into her boss’s office.

The young activist had been steadily working her way up the ranks of the Eco-Liberation Front, she had grown up an only child living in the bowels of Gotham’s Bowery. Her parents worked long labor-filled hours for little pay and would go weeks without so much as saying a word to the young Gothamite. She spent most of her time playing on a small patch of grass just behind the tenement that her family lived in. There were two small Japanese Cedar trees planted in Pamela’s park that an old Japanese widower had sown years prior in remembrance of his wife. Pamela considered the cedars her friends and talked to them often, caring for them as well. Over time Pamela added more friends to her sacred space, she planted ferns, and flowers and tended them regularly. One day, she came to find her sanctum had been utterly devastated. A City truck had lost a tire while driving through the building’s alleyway resulting in the driver losing control and swerving onto Pamela’s patch, tearing up the grass, flowers, and both Japanese Cedar Trees. This desecration led her on a path of activism with an almost militant focus.

Olga brought in a tray of tea for her boss and his guest to enjoy. The secretary gave Pamela a stern look for practically forcing her way in, but at the same time held a small amount of admiration for the young woman’s determination. Olga handed her boss a golden chalice encrusted with diamonds, a billow of steam rising from the top. Chester brought the chalice to his rather large sharp pointed nose and inhaled deeply.

“Nothing like a hot cup of Earl Grey, would you agree Ms. Isley or may I call you Pamela.” Cobblepot said raising his chalice to his lips and slurping a sip, “mmm that’s nice!”

Olga placed another smoking cup down on the desk opting not to hand it to Penguin’s guest.

“I’m more a coffee kind of girl, but thank you…” as she brought the tea to her lips and took a sip. “…This is quite delicious.”

“Pleasantries aside, what can I do for you? If I recall SHELF has already received their final shipment for the year and again if memory serves did I not just read about a certain stunt over at Gotham Zoo.” Chester said relaxing back in his chair waiting to hear what defensive position Pamela was going to take on behalf of the growing movement.

“SHELF is a waste of my time,” she blurted out surprising Chester. “I got involved with them because I believed in their mission, but I’ve come to realize that their mission is bullshit and that they’re more interested in protests and politics than action. I did not join them for the sake of freeing animals and tree sitting. I mean to make a real difference.” She paused, trying to keep her composure. Pamela’s love for nature was unmatched. She had spent most of her childhood outdoors, preferring to campout in her little patch of nature rather than sleep in her bedroom. Falling asleep under the stars was always better than feeling trapped inside a concrete box.

“Look out there Mr. Cobblepot!” Pamela stood up and walked around towards the wall size window that took up the entire width of Penguins office.

“Please, call me Chester.” He said pleased with the young woman’s passion. The ‘gentleman criminal’ slowly spun his chair tracking her steps until he was turned completely around, facing out towards the skyline.

Standing in front of the glass, admiring the breathtaking view from Penguin’s high-rise office, Pamela said, “Mr. Cobbl…” catching herself,“Chester, look out there! It’s a concrete jungle, where did all the trees go? There use to be parks scattered throughout the city,” she paused to look at her host, “but not anymore. Year after year another one is built over for another franchise or some other bullshit business to move in.” She paused again; Chester caught her swallow and sniffle. Pamela was becoming very emotional. “And now they’ve ripped apart one of the last natural refuges in the city, they’re destroying the botanical gardens just so they can extend the God Damn Gotham Mall and I…” She hesitated to go on, but Chester waited silently for her to continue. “I cannot allow that to happen! I will not allow that to happen!” She finished.

Chester felt moved by her passionate plea, but he still wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “Okay Pamela, you have my attention, what can I do for you?”

Isley reached into her pocket and took out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Penguin. He unfolded it, put on his reading glasses, “Ah! Now I see,” he said with a chuckle. “Apparently, you would like to do some shopping of your own, wouldn’t you?”

One week later, while on the roof of his office tower feeding the birds, Oswald was blown off his feet by the concussion of the explosion that had just destroyed part of The Gotham Town Center mall. It was hard to surprise a man like Chester. He had been under the impression that the young Eco-terrorist was going to set her bombs for a nighttime detonation to reduce collateral damage. He pulled his timepiece out of his vest pocket. 11:30am. He knew this time on a Saturday morning, the number of victims was going to be tragically high. How many people did you just kill Pamela? Penguin pondered, before asking himself the same question. How many people did YOU just kill? You agreed to supply her, those deaths are on you!

Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot was many things: thief, smuggler, money launderer, bookie, and when necessary murderer. But when he killed it was solely for business. Never pleasure. The fact that he was a professional and an expert at covering his tracks gave him a sense of peace that allowed him to sleep at night.

The day after the explosion, the News reported that Pamela Isley was responsible for the destruction of the entire new annex of the Gotham Town Center Mall. A sizable portion of the Gotham Botanical Garden was designated to be relocated in order for the new annex to be built. However, the construction crews forwent the relocating process and chose to demolish, and in turn kill the garden in order to pave over for the new wing’s foundation.

The amount of explosives used caused the structural integrity of the entire mall to have to be refitted, costing the city millions of dollars, sadder was that as a result, the East wing of the mall which had been adjacent to the new annex on the opposite side of the botanical garden was also destroyed, killing one hundred seventeen people including thirty-seven children. Her attorneys, whom had been secretly hired by Cobblepot arranged for a plea of insanity in which Pamela was transferred to the maximum-security ward at Arkham Hospital and in return Penguin was assured his name never be mentioned during or after the trial.

NOW

“Well, well, well! Pamela my dear, green is certainly your color.” Cobblepot said with a smile. He watched Pamela come aboard. Half a dozen armed men were also watching, trigger fingers resting on the ready, trained to take down anyone presenting a threat.

“Now, now Penguin! You know better than to call me that.” She said as she effortlessly floated towards Chester, she was wearing an Olive green dress that exposed her midriff along with a slit in the skirt that ran up her thigh. Tall, slender and absolutely beautiful, her hair ran down her back in long auburn waves. As she bent over ready to give Penguin a kiss on the cheek, the guards slowly leveled their weapons on her. Inches away from his ear she stopped, kissed the air and whispered, “And tell your goons to lower their guns, I thought we were friends.” She pouted.

“Ivy!” He whispered back, “They’re just doing their job.” Then he pushed another button on his chair and all his guards disengaged. Chester stood up and took Ivy by the hand and led her inside to his office. He gestured for her to take a seat as he walked over to the bar and proceeded to mix two dry martinis. He handed her one of the glasses, “With extra olives, yes?”

“Of course, thank you.”

“I can’t say that I’m surprised you’re here, after supplying Harlene with intel and reading about the bloody clown show, I had a feeling sooner or later someone would be in contact.” Chester said as he took a seat across from Ivy. “Tell me, have you been with him this whole time?” Penguin’s curiosity was getting the better of him. “It’s been what? Ten years? Where have you been? Better yet, how did you stay hidden?”

“Ah, did you miss me? Business first!” She winked at him, “Then we’ll play catch-up.” She took a sip of her martini, “Oh that is delicious,” she said as she plucked an olive into her mouth.

Cobblepot sat there slowly sipping from his drink listening to everything Ivy was saying. She skirted around any true details regarding the past and instead laid out the current situation including Tim Drake’s abduction and the systematic arming of Gotham’s underground with dynamite.

When Pamela finished speaking, Penguin took one last swallow of his martini, “From what I gather, my acquisition skills are not needed.” He placed the glass down and clasped his hands together. “What exactly is it, I can do for you?”

Ivy plucked another olive into her mouth as she slowly and seductively crossed her legs exposing her flawless thigh, “It’s not what you can do for me Chester! It’s what HE wants you to do! It’s what you can do for him!”