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Victor’s ears were ringing. Carefully, he withdrew from the doorway, moving silently back down the hall. His footsteps were light, not a single sound rising from the floorboards as he walked quickly down the way he had come. If they heard him, if they knew that he had been there, hovering just outside the doorway… there would be blood.
And there would be, he would make sure of it, but he couldn’t let it happen too soon. He couldn’t act out. No matter how badly he wanted to storm into that room, or how desperately his hands itched for the feel of a gun in his grip, or how much he wanted to kill that lying, traitorous snake of a woman… he had to be patient.
Sofia Falcone and Jim Gordon would pay for this. Perhaps Jim was mostly innocent, but after what Victor had just overheard? After Jim was told by Sofia herself the truth of the matter he was still protecting her. That couldn’t stand. He couldn’t let it.
Quietly, he slipped out of the house entirely.
Victor took a deep breath of the cold, night air- tinged with smoke and filth as Gotham always was. It settled hazily in his lungs, coating his throat. Or, maybe, that was the guilt creeping in.
His stomach churned at the knowledge of what he had done. Carmine Falcone had always been good to him; he had worked for the man for years. Victor may be a lot of things, but a traitor wasn’t one of them. His word was his bond, his loyalty given and held, his ties running deep and strong. Falcone’s death had shaken him more than he had ever expected, had left him feeling lost and dazed.
It was like a rug had been pulled out from underneath his feet. And, at the center of it all, was Oswald Cobblepot. Victor had been sure of it. The betrayal of trust - the trust he had been so sure that they had - ate away at him, prickled beneath his skin, and left his heart feeling raw and wired. Victor was loyal, he was a good soldier, but his loyalty had been held by Falcone long before it had belonged to Oswald.
So he had betrayed Oswald right back. The slimy words he’d spoken to Jim Gordon seemed to crawl back up his throat now, bitter and sour on his tongue. The look on Oswald’s face when he had lied, when he had testified that he had killed Martin, flitted through his mind again and again and again.
Because Oswald was innocent. Innocent as far as Carmine’s death was concerned, anyway.
The real culprit, the traitor that had torn Carmine away from them too early, was none other than Sofia Falcone herself.
Victor’s mouth curled slightly, his lips burning with the memory of the skin of her hand against them. She had lied to him, manipulated him, killed Falcone in cold blood, and Victor should have seen it. He should have known. But he hadn’t.
He had become just one more statistic, one more person to shun Oswald’s friendship and betray him. Oswald had been good to Victor. He could be childish and snappy, but honestly he hardly minded. The Penguin was fun. He was clever. He always had jobs for Victor to do and he humored his suggestions. Hell, he let him torture a street musician for fun, when they both knew it was pointless.
And Victor had turned on him like it was nothing. He had felt guilty, of course, a feeling he wasn’t familiar with handling; His chest had been tight. His heart had raced. It was an unpleasant sensation, only growing worse as Oswald screamed and struggled, as he swore he’d kill Victor for the betrayal.
And honestly? Victor understood.
Oswald had been taken to Arkham- and Victor knew full well what kind of place that was. He knew what had happened to Oswald the last time he was there. He knew. And he had let them take him anyway, when really, he should have been helping Oswald kill Sofia once and for all.
It wasn’t too late. It wasn’t. He could still fix this.
Perhaps Oswald would discard him, would never trust him again, but at the very least, Victor could get him out of Arkham. He could give him back his empire.
And he would.
Victor turned to look as the door of the house opened, fingers twitching as he met Jim’s gaze. He liked Jim. Jim was one of the good ones. He was fun. He was a challenge. But right now, all he felt like was a target. His tally would settle nicely into the flesh of Victor's arm. Perhaps he could kill Officer Bullock as well, tie the two together in the death count like partners should be.
But not yet.
Right now, he needed Jim. He’d need him in the days to come.
“Zsasz,” Jim said curtly, exhaustion all but pouring off of him. “You might want to clear out for a few hours.”
“Oh? And why is that, Jim?”
“Police are on their way.”
Victor smiled thinly. “And why would I need to worry about that? I’ve done nothing.”
“We both know that’s a lie. But, for now, yes, they’re not coming for you. They’re just coming for the Pyg’s body, so you don’t have to get involved.”
“The Pyg? So you’ve killed Sofia’s little contract killer?” He knew that in reality, Sofia had been the one to kill him. He had heard it; just as he had heard the fabricated story she and Jim had concocted.
Jim’s eyes narrowed. “It had to be done. It was self-defense.”
“I’m sure it was. Just like it always is, with you.” He could hear the sirens approaching. Victor let out a soft breath, weighing the options, before finally dipping his head. “We’ll see each-other again soon, Jim. Real soon.”
Jim’s expression grew even more wary, but he said nothing as Victor turned and walked away, across the yard and into the dark, Gotham night.
Victor had very little to lose.
It was something that came in handy when people wanted to threaten him, and also meant that there was nothing that Sofia could hold over his head. Perhaps the offer of protection, the danger of what would happen to him if she left and Oswald returned, but at this point he didn’t care. He didn’t want or need Sofia’s mercy.
Already, a day into her employ, his skin was crawling. She was so… haughty. So flippant. So dismissive. She was nothing like Carmine, and she was nothing like Oswald.
All of this taken into account, it was easy to incapacitate her. She knew how loyal he had always been to her family. She knew how hurt and angry he had been at Oswald’s supposed betrayal. She knew, and so saw nothing wrong with him flitting through the shadows of her home. It was what he always did. What he had always done.
And it only took a harsh, well placed blow to her head with the butt of his gun for her to crumple to the floor.
She was light, easily manhandled as he bound her wrists and ankles, then her arms and legs for good measure. He gagged her too- it wouldn’t be good for her to draw attention should she wake up early. He could just kill her now, could slit her throat or bleed her dry, torture her until there was nothing left… but he needed her; She was part of his apology. A gift for Oswald.
Instead, he carried her limp body to his car and drove her to a safe house he kept near the outskirts of the city. There he bound her tightly, tied her to a chair with more ropes and chains than was probably necessary. It was during this process that she woke up, eyes snapping open as her gaze darted every which way, her muffled cursing swallowed up by the gag.
Her expression morphed into fury as she met his eyes, a look promising that her vengeance would be slow, painful, and absolutely ruinous. It was the look of someone who had been betrayed.
But all Victor could think was that Oswald’s expression had hurt far, far more.
“Sorry for the rough wake up, princess,” he said softly, watching as Sofia tugged at her restraints and cast her gaze about, searching for anything that could help her. There was nothing. He had made sure of it. “But things are only going to get worse from here.”
She glared, huffing angrily, and he reached out to grab her chin roughly. Her skin was soft, and he was sure it would bruise wonderfully if given the chance.
“I know it was you,” he murmured. “I know that you had Carmine killed.”
Her eyes widened slightly before her expression calmed, but it was that single moment, that single sliver of emotion that confirmed everything for him.
He needed her alive… but he didn’t need her intact. Carmine only came to save her because he had still considered her family. Well. She had severed that connection herself.
So Victor went to work.
The GCPD was busy as Victor walked in through the front doors. It was odd how little time he spent in the building, all things considered, and there were new faces among them that he didn’t recognize. They must be very new, then.
He was noticed immediately, and that suited him just fine. He was here to make a public announcement, after all. One by one the officers all paused what they were doing, going still, watching him cautiously. After the last sounds in the large, open space had finally faded out, he took a single step further into the room.
“Someone tell Jim I’m here,” he said, glancing towards the Captain's office. “I have an announcement to make and I’m only going to say it once.”
And just like that, Jim was leaving the office mere seconds later. He walked forwards until he was in the center of the room, eying Victor with clear mistrust.
“Victor Zsasz,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“No, of course not. But, I have a confession to make.”
Jim’s expression pinched, his brows furrowing. “Alright. Would you like to go to a holding room, then?”
“No, I think right here is good.”
“…Fine. What is it?”
Victor took a deep breath, and then let it out. He could feel the eyes of every single officer in the building burrowing into his being. “I lied. My statement concerning the crimes of Oswald Cobblepot and the child Martin were false, a pure fiction. I want his charges dropped and his release forms signed.”
Jim’s eyes went wide, his face going pale. “That’s- that’s a bold claim. And a big demand.”
“It’s only lawful. He’s been imprisoned for the murder of Martin. I’m telling you he didn’t kill him. Therefore, no crime was committed.”
“Are you saying that it was you who killed the boy?”
Victor couldn’t help the soft chuckle that left his throat. “I’m saying, Jim, that Martin is alive. Obviously. Oswald was telling the truth. We faked his death and I smuggled him out of the city.”
He could see just how badly Jim wanted him to be lying, could see how badly he wanted to simply end things here and now. But he couldn’t. That would go against his code.
“If this is true,” Jim said firmly, “then why did you lie?”
“Sofia Falcone pushed me to lie on her behalf.”
Jim looked pained. “And now? Why come forward?”
“Oh, I think you know, Jim. See, I heard everything the other night.”
That got the other officers murmuring. Everyone loved a good scandal, after all. And, it backed Jim into a corner. Victor could tell them all everything, and he knew it.
“Can you provide proof of your claims?” Jim asked, sounding defeated. “Can you prove that Martin is alive and safe?”
Victor reached into his pocket, taking some pleasure from the way everyone around him tensed up and shifted into defensive stances. Unfortunately, killing them wasn’t the plan. Instead, he pulled out his phone.
“I can video call him right now,” he said, smiling wildly. “There are pictures of him readily available and descriptions all over the news. He’s safe, with someone I trust to keep him that way.”
“…Do it. Call them.”
Victor dialed the number, and after just the first two rings it picked up. He smiled at the elderly woman that appeared on the screen. “Hello, bubbie. I’m here with Jim Gordon, can Martin come to the phone?”
Jim stepped up to him, holding out a hand, and reluctantly Victor set his phone into his palm. The Captain then retreated, hiding himself away in his office once again. That was fine. He would want to talk to Martin in as private a setting as possible.
It was fifteen minutes later that Jim returned, looking far more disheveled than he had been before. He handed Victor’s phone back.
“So?” Victor asked, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Are you satisfied?”
Jim stared at him for a moment, expression dark. He knew how much Jim must hate this, how much it must hurt him to have to undo his own great victory. But he also knew that Jim would undo it. That was just the kind of man that he was.
“…Martin is alive and well,” Jim finally announced, his voice ringing out loud and hollow through the GCPD. “Oswald Cobblepot has committed no crime.”
A knot of tension loosened in Victor's chest, even as the other officers groaned and griped. Ungrateful, the lot of them… They were better off with Oswald- far better off than they would ever be with Sofia.
“Can I expect Oswald’s release, then?”
“…Yes. We’ll get right on that.”
“Be sure you do. Oh, and before I go, I should mention…” he raised his voice, looking around at all the officers gathered there, “Sofia Falcone paid off the mayor to make Jim Gordon Captain of the GCPD. She also hired Professor Pyg, and had her men kill her own father, Carmine Falcone. And Jim Gordon… knew. Everything.”
Jim’s expression twisted, an exhausted kind of anger, the kind of rage from a man who can’t actually find fault in you. Victor met his gaze, the babbling roar of words that were now erupting from the officers around them barely registering in his ears.
And then, he dipped his head to Jim, turned, and left the building.
True to his word, Jim made quick work of getting Oswald Cobblepot released from Arkham. Victor waited at the gate, leaning against his car, watching as the guards led Oswald towards him. They’d returned his suit and cane, so honestly it only looked like he’d had a bad night, not a two day stay in Arkham Asylum.
Victor pushed himself off the car and popped the door open, tensing as Oswald approached. There was an anger in his eyes, a dark, pained kind of anger that hurt as much as it was deserved. He raised his cane, shaking it slightly.
“And what are you doing here?” Oswald spat, coming to a stop a few feet away. “Has Sofia sent me a welcoming party?”
“No, sir,” Victor murmured. He glanced at the guards still hanging around the gate for a moment, and then looked back. “I’m the one who got you released.”
Oswald scoffed. “Right. Just like you’re the one who got me incarcerated! In the first place! You traitorous-“
“I’m sorry,” Victor said, gaze flicking down. “I am sorry, Oswald.”
“S-“ Oswald gaped, jaw working soundlessly. Finally he managed a firm, “Explain yourself.”
“…Can I explain in the car?”
Oswald took in a harsh breath through his nose, pursing his lips. A long, tense minute passed in silence, before finally he approached. He clambered into the car, letting Victor shut it behind him. As soon as Victor himself had slid into the driver's seat and the door was closed, Oswald was leaning towards him, a spare gun in his hand that Victor had left there for him. He knew that Oswald knew that it was there on purpose.
“We’re in the car,” he hissed, “so now explain.”
“I thought you had Carmine Falcone killed,” Victor said simply. It was an easy truth.
“I told you that I didn’t!”
“I know. I should have believed you, but I had doubts. And Sofia is excellent at picking at a person's doubts.”
“So it’s her fault? You want me to blame her?”
Victor sighed. It really would be simpler if he did. “No. I made the choice. I betrayed you, Oswald. But now, I want to make it up to you.”
“Why? What changed?”
“Sofia is the one who killed Carmine.”
At this, Oswald paused. He blinked. Then, he grinned. “I knew it. I knew it!”
“I only betrayed you out of respect for Falcone. He’s dead now, and you know you are the only other person to have claim to my loyalty.”
Oswald took a breath. “So you want back in my service. Is that it?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Hmm. And Sofia?”
Victor smiled. “I have her contained. I could take you there now.”
“And how do I know it’s not a trap?”
The smile faded. Victor closed his eyes. “I won’t stop you if you leave the car. I’ll take you anywhere you ask. If you want to use that gun, that’s up to you.”
Oswald was quiet for a moment. Then, Victor heard the click of a gun. He didn’t move. He kept his breathing steady.
And then Oswald pulled the trigger. Victor felt the rush of air against his cheek, felt the ringing in his ears. The windshield crackled, and a chunk of glass fell as Victor watched. His heart was racing. Oswald let out a shuddering breath, and then smiled. A relieved, hopeful smile.
“Okay,” he said shakily. “I’ll trust you, Victor- but don’t make me regret it.”
Relief swept through Victor’s chest, his heart fluttering. “Never again, boss. I swear.”
Oswald grinned widely as Victor led him into the safe house. Sofia glared at them from where she was still tied up, blood matting her hair and bruises littering her body. Long nails had been pounded through the backs of her hands and into the arms of the chair beneath them. Her toenails had been torn off. She was gagged, but Victor knew a few of her teeth were missing- or, they weren’t missing. They were laying on the floor by her feet.
“Oh, look at you!” Oswald crowed. “You thought you’d won, didn’t you? Well, no one! Gets the better of me for long.”
“Are you going to kill her?” Victor asked curiously. Oswald snorted, putting a hand to his chest, over his heart.
“Victor, this is Sofia Falcone. My dear friend, my confidant, my manipulator! She’s been so kind to me, I think I owe her some kindness in turn. So of course I’m going to kill her.”
“Can I watch?”
“Of course. I need you watching my back, after all.”
Victor did his best not to smile too widely.
Covered in blood, Oswald Cobblepot stood panting in the center of the safe house. Sofia’s body was limp and mangled, a masterpiece of fury and desperate rage. Victor took a slow step forwards, meeting Oswald’s eyes.
And then, he sank down onto one knee.
“I pledge myself to you,” he murmured, taking Oswald’s hand and pressing his lips to his bloody knuckles. “For as long as you’ll have me.”
Oswald smiled, and the sight of that wide, manic grin sent Victor’s heart fluttering. “Well then, Victor Zsasz, I hope you’re ready for eternity.”
“With you? Always.”