Chapter Text
“Change the papers,” Oswald spoke finally. The voice on the other end of the phone hesitated.
“Are you sure, sir? You will become this boy’s legal guardian.”
“Yes. And I don’t take kindly to being questioned .”
“Yes sir. Sorry sir.”
Oswald hung up the phone, sitting in silence as he thought. So Bruce Wayne wanted a son, and had chosen the circus boy to be it. Everyone had seen the papers of course of the poor parents’ fall. Some in the GCPD suspected foul play, but it looked like it was likely to just be shoved into the back of some file cabinet underneath more important and pressing cases than the murder of two foreigners. Similarly, the surviving child had been sent to a juvenile detention center, as there were no available foster homes to take him. To be adopted by someone like Bruce Wayne - a ganglord, certainly, but a philanthropist with a well-known soft spot for children - it would have been the boy’s lucky break after months of misery.
Oh, well. Oswald had planted the infiltrator specifically to find something like this - an opportunity to get back at the so-called “Bat of Gotham” for his list of grievances against him. If necessary, Oswald could simply send the boy off to a boarding school and be done with him. But that would only happen if the boy turned out to be too unruly and uncooperative.
Oswald was an opportunist. A child was easily molded. Richard Grayson could become an incredibly valuable investment.
---
Oswald tutted, waving a hand for the maid to fix the crooked tie in Dick’s suit. The boy stared at the ground solemnly, fidgeting with apparent discomfort.
“Mister Cobblepot?” He asked quietly, not making eye contact.
“Yes, Dick? And I told you, call me Oswald. There’s no need to be so formal if we’re to be father and son.”
Dick swallowed. Oh, how difficult it had been, that first month with the boy. He kept trying to escape the house as he’d apparently escaped juvie so many times. The house staff were bedraggled for weeks keeping up with him. But they’d worn him down eventually.
“Do I have to wear the suit? It feels weird.” Dick was a sad, quiet child. Oswald had been quiet as well, but the sadness, the mourning that seemed to linger on him, that infamously turned to a fierce rage whenever he was denied certain freedoms - that had to be fixed. What would people think if Oswald’s heir was depressed?
“You’re Dick Cobblepot now, not Dick Grayson,” Oswald reminded him. “You’re not just my ward anymore, you’re an extension of the entire family. We Cobblepots have a reputation to uphold, and that reputation does not go away on weekends.”
Dick nodded, sighing. The maid hurried away to some other errand, leaving them alone.
“Galas can be fun, I promise.” Oswald placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder, ignoring the stiffness it caused. “Just remember… Bruce Wayne will be there.”
Dick’s expression went from somber to sour, his tiny fists clenched at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk to him.”
“A good decision. Remember, he’s a manipulator and a cheat. If he gets the chance to talk to you, he will try to twist you with his lies. Don’t give him that chance.” It had been easy to turn the boy against his rival, of course. And it helped to target Dick’s rage at a common enemy, rather than Oswald himself. Any frustrations Dick had could all be pointed at one man. Dick felt supported and protected by Oswald, and in time would fall into his role as ‘son’ more fully.
“And if you behave exceptionally tonight, I’ll schedule an extra lesson at the shooting range for you.” Dick collected himself a bit with Oswald’s promise, tucking the grief and rage underneath a mask of mature calm. He was a performer, after all, born and raised.
Oswald smiled. He was a performer too.
“Chin up, now. People like sweet, happy children. Let’s give the gala a bit of charm, yes?”
---
“Oswald?” A knock came at the door, tentative and nervous. Oswald was rather surprised. This time of night, Dick would be pacing the house, trying and failing (as he had the past several months) to find an opening to escape. Oswald assumed that at this point it was more of a habit than any actual attempt to break out.
“Come in, Dick.” He shuffled various papers to the side. He had a meeting tomorrow regarding an extortion scheme, and had been going over his notes to look for possible flaws in the plan.
The door opened and the small boy came in, still wearing the silk pajamas Oswald had purchased for him. He stood awkwardly in the doorframe, fiddling with his sleeves and staring at anything but Oswald.
“Come, sit down.” He gestured to the two chairs in front of the desk. “Is something wrong?”
Dick sat, biting his lip before reluctantly looking up. “I don’t want to run away anymore.”
Oswald smiled. “I’m glad.”
“I just - If you let me out, I’ll come back by morning, I promise. I just - I have something I need to do.” Dick barreled on. “You can, um, you can even send someone with me, and I - I’d like to bring my gun, please.”
Oswald paused. “Your gun? What is it that you need to do?”
Dick took a deep breath, hands gripping the armrests of the chair. “I need to find the man who killed my parents.”
There was a beat of silence before Oswald responded. “And kill them?”
Dick nodded. Oswald could understand him in this. His own mother had been murdered, after all, and he hadn’t rested until his vengeance was complete. It was only natural for the boy to want recompense for what had happened. The primary issue, however…
“No one knows who did it. How will you find them?” He measured his tone cautiously. He didn’t want Dick to think he was against it - he wasn’t, firstly, and second, this was important enough to the boy that it could destroy what progress they’d had if he made the wrong move.
“It was Tony Zucco. I saw him threatening Mr. Haly earlier that same night.” Dick’s fury could barely be contained by his tiny body. He was practically vibrating in his seat, and his gaze burned holes into the table.
“Tony Zucco.” Oswald sank into his thoughts for a moment. Zucco was another rival. If Dick killed him, it could start another gang war as people fought to claim the newly freed territory. But if Oswald killed him, the territory was rightfully his.
“I’ll help you, Dick.” Oswald smiled. Dick looked surprised.
“...You will?” His voice was shaky. Oswald nodded.
“But we need to be careful about this, alright? We need to do it my way, which means you have to do exactly as I say, or things are going to get very nasty, very quickly.”
Dick nodded, his eyes stern but hopeful. “I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Good. One important… disclaimer, though.” Oswald kept their gazes locked onto each other. “I can promise that you’ll be the one to kill him. I can’t promise you’ll be the one credited with killing him.”
Dick smiled, an eerie mirror of Oswald’s own. “That’s okay with me. I don’t care about that.”
“Then I do believe we’ve come to an agreement,” Oswald held out a hand over the top of his desk, “son.”
Dick reached over and shook it, his smile still shining. Oswald noted that he had a bit of a gap tooth, and set a mental reminder to choose a good dentist for the boy. People loved smiling children, after all.
---
The gun felt good in his hands. Dick saw the body slump to the ground. His body vibrated with energy and the smile on his face hurt.
It had been so easy. Well, not for Oswald - months of planning the siege on the building, and then organizing the troupe who would sneak Dick into Zucco’s apartment at the same time, catching him just as he ran to escape to his safehouse. It had all been executed perfectly. And if Dick froze up in the moment, Oswald had ordered Dick’s personal guard for the mission - a man named Zsasz - to take Zucco, alive, and hold him somewhere until Dick was ready.
But he had been ready. Dick never felt so alive. People clapped him on the back, already moving him out of the building and heading back to the manor.
“I can’t believe it,” Dick breathed out, sitting beside Zsasz in the van as it moved away from the crime scene. Dick’s eyes welled up with tears as he pictured his parents, smiling and happy. He’d avenged them. Maybe he could finally start to heal. “I did it.”
“Of course. It was the Penguin’s plan, and it’s rare that one of his plans fails.” Zsasz watched out the window, still tasked with protecting Dick until they got home. “Penguins are predators, and this one always gets his prey.”
Zsasz shot a strange, knowing look Dick’s way as he said the last part, but Dick didn’t notice. He was still high on the moment. He looked down in awe at the gun in his hands. What if he’d used a knife? Would that have felt any different? Dick suddenly, desperately wanted to know.
There was a party waiting for them at the house. The entire house staff danced and Dick showed off some acrobatic tricks, changing them slightly to avoid ruining the suit he wore. There were mobsters there too, but they waved at Dick and smiled, and Dick knew they wouldn’t hurt him. They were just… work friends. Dick grinned.
Everyone else at the party was an adult. Dick held up his smile, but it made him a little sad. He wished there was someone younger there with him, someone he could play with.
“I’m just glad everything worked out,” Oswald was saying after, as Dick curled into the couch like a cat, content to watch the flames flicker in the fireplace. “What did you think of the party?”
“It was fantastic!” Dick hesitated, resting his head on the arm of the couch.
Oswald raised an eyebrow. “But?”
Dick squirmed a bit. “I don’t… I don’t really want to ask for anything more, because you’ve already given me so much and helped me so much, so I didn’t… I wasn’t gonna say anything…”
“You can ask for anything, Dick.”
Dick looked up. “Can I have a brother? It’s… it’s lonely, being the only kid.”
Oswald blinked. “Well, you’ll have to pick one out, of course. I can’t possibly know what kind of brother you’d want.”
Dick shot up into a sitting position, positively beaming. “Really? I can have a brother?”
“You’re going to have to do the work for it,” Oswald warned. “I’ll sign the paperwork and provide any material supplies, but keep in mind it may take you a while. You have to be patient to get what you want.”
Dick swallowed and nodded. He felt a few butterflies in his stomach and looked Oswald in the eyes.
“Thank you,” Dick sighed, his eyes watering. “Dad.”
Oswald smiled.
---
“We believe the hit was pulled off by Dick and Jason Cobblepot, sir,” the woman before him stood straight. Her face was riddled in scars. It was likely the rest of her was, too. It was one of the reasons she’d been hired. Bruce had found that his… more attractive employees were more easily compromised.
The Acrobat and Lil’ Red were well-known enforcers of the Penguin. It was common knowledge that they were also his sons, adopted and molded into killers loyal to a man that they mistakenly believed loved them.
Bruce felt a deep ache in his chest every time they were mentioned. They had been innocent children. Once upon a time, he’d wanted to be a father, to raise Dick Grayson to be better than he was. It wasn’t to be.
“Those two have been a blight for too long.” Bruce ran a hand through his hair. “They had their chance; for the good of Gotham, they need to be taken out.”
Bruce turned to another employee, a man with a long scar running down his jaw and a disfigured nose. “Get me in contact with the Demon’s Head.”