Sorcerer in DC

I arrived at the club from the back entrance and was greeted by Clara.

She was a short Asian lady dressed in a tight black dress that hid nothing, and she scanned me like I was a piece of meat.

"You're scrawnier than I imagined," she commented.

"That's why they never see me coming," I grinned.

She made a face. "That's cute, but don't say that in front of the boss."

The excitement drained from my face. What was wrong with what I said? It was a decent comeback…

"I'll keep that in mind."

She held the door open for me to enter, and I was led through a series of interconnected hallways lit with blue lighting. I arrived at a large, metal-reinforced double door with the insignia of the Iceberg lounge at the center. Two burly men waited out front.

Clara spun around without much a word, and the men eyed me up and down just like Clara had.

"Arms out, kid," the bigger of the pair ordered, starting towards me. He was especially rough, swatting at my hands and slapping my legs, searching for some type of weapon.

"He's clean," he said to his partner, eyes never leaving me.

"You see something you like, Big guy?" I asked, looking him straight in the eyes. I knew a bully when I saw one. And I hated bullies.

He'd probably heard about me and was itching to put me in my place. Although I had a reputation to protect, I ultimately knew we wouldn't come to blows, at least not in front of his boss's office.

Or maybe I was wrong.

The big guy bared his teeth and raised a hand, but his partner stopped him.

"Come on, the boss man is waiting on him." 

He stood there for another long second before finally letting me through and opening the door to the Penguin's office.

They came in after me, and Oswald waved me down to one of the three plush chairs in front of his massive desk, which, like the rest of his office, was in a white and black motif.

Everything was. The plants, the paintings, the walls, and even the aquarium on the far wall.

He was really going overboard with this white and black motif. He needed to fire his decorator. Slipping my hand into my pocket, I summoned my cell phone, and the recorder app had already opened and hit record.

Penguin had his head buried in a stack of thick documents and stayed that way for a few seconds before he finally looked up, then tilted his head slightly as if surprised. His eyes lingered on my healed hand briefly, setting off alarm bells.

Had Tom told him about the injury?

Given how much bone, muscle, and blood had been sent flying through the apartment, it wouldn't have been that difficult to confirm Tim's story. I could've missed something.

Of course, Art and I planned for that.

"With the way Tim spoke about you, you'd think you were the devil."

Oswald's voice was sharp and nasal, his face leathery, and his teeth crooked but white—every bit as intimidating as I remembered from the commercials.

I shrugged, trying to play off my fear.

"Well, he was an asshole." And I had been completely out of my mind with rage then. Crippling him was better on my conscience than killing him. I was beginning to wonder if that was the right call.

"Can't say I disagree," he said, steepling his hands together. "I'm assuming those men Mask had execute your friend received the same treatment?"

"Can't confirm or deny," I shrugged, and the Penguin smirked.

"I know what sort of man you are, and that why I think job would be perfect for someone of your…talents."

There it is. He knew something or at least suspected it, and that meant I could be more aggressive with my negotiations.

It was just a question of how aggressive I wanted to be.

"I'd like you to do what you failed to do the first time around. Rob Black Mask," he said, "strike his collection houses and drug factories. Ruin him like he has you."

My brows hiked up. I'd expected as much but assumed he'd tease it, not go straight for the jugular. But fine by me.

"You can't expect me to take on his operation by myself."

"Nor am I expecting you to," he said automatically. "We start small. Stash houses, drug meets, and soldiers. Then we move up."

"Dismantle his organization piece by piece," I said. It was the best-case scenario for me. I get to help out Gotham, take out future competition, and level up. But it was like I said on the phone: I didn't work for free.

"And my compensation?"

"The satisfaction of butchering the man who killed your friend isn't enough?" he asked.

"Not nearly," I said, crossing my legs.

"Huh. Tim described you as an emotional lad," he said. "Though you come across as more practical up close."

"What can I say, revenge doesn't pay the bills."

He laughed, his lips twisting into a shark-like grin, and my face slowly started to mirror his. Penguin was a bastard through and through, but a rich one nonetheless. Stories abound about his rise. How he betrayed the Falcones, took over their properties and rose from the ashes.

Suppose he was seated in my chair right now, blessed with the talents I had. What sort of deal would he broker?

"I want 15% of Black mask's assets."

Penguin paused, then let out an uproarious laugh. The second guard joined in, while the one with a hate boner for me spoke up.

"Why don't you ask for the moon while you're at it. You're lucky the boss man let you keep your head at all."

"Now Henry?" he raised a finger, "the boy speaks out of turn, but he gets an A for ambition. He, of course, shouldn't risk life and limb without some kind of compensation. Five thousand a week till the end of our enterprise should be sufficient. Now onto the details," he said with finality.

"Yeah, that won't work for me," I said, cutting the Penguin off before he continued to speak.

"You got a death wish kid!" Henry barked, stepping forward.

"Do you!" I roared back, turning to face him. This was a good time as any to test just how much Penguin knew about my abilities. He would either let his baboon attack me, or he'd hold him back because he had a gauge of my abilities.

"It's quite fine, Henry," Penguin spoke up, stopping the bruiser in his track. "The boy has leverage. Let's see if he knows how to use it. What do you want?"

I swallowed.

"Black Mask is worth billions, and I'm about to start a very public campaign against him with limited help from your organization. I will be the distraction he obsesses about while you destroy. Before this is over, I expect Batman, the commissioner, and at least one major supervillain to be after me. I think I deserve a little more than chump change."

"His money is tied up in real estate, bank accounts, and stocks. All of which will be likely unsensible until Black mask is in the ground."

"And I'm sure you can buy me out whenever you please and transfer asset ownership when you work it all out."

Penguin steepled his hand and stared at me for a long moment. "I will offer you a single establishment valued under $250,000."

"In this economy, that might as well be a hole in the wall."

"And it's $250,000 more than you currently have," he said, "and you seem to forget you're just one boy. You've been extremely lucky so far, but you're still a child."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," I said. "And you must've talked to Tim. You have some idea what I can do."

"I do," he said. "I have dozens of metas on a speed dial who will work for a fraction of what you're asking for. I'm thinking I should go lower. How does $20,000 flat sum sound?"

"None of those Metas have a personal Vendetta against Black Mask, and nobody has a powerset quite like mine."

"What can you do exactly?" Penguin asked, leaning forward.

"I'll gladly show you," I said. "And it's a target I think you'd appreciate. The old stash house my partner and I failed to rob."

Penguin's lips quirked into a smile. "Bold. But you do know that Black Mask has since upgraded his security since your attack. The doors have been reinforced, the men are more heavily armed, and all food is made in house. You're not getting in through the front door."

Fuck me. Black Mask was thorough, but I was in a row. I could figure this out. I just had to think outside the box.

"Not a problem."

"You're certainly confident."

"Confident enough to make a bet?"

"What do you have in mind?

"I bet you I could tear down that stash house on the first try without help. I just need two weeks of prep time. And if I succeed, you give me a property or business valued at over $1 million from Black Mask's take, a $10,000 weekly stipend, and 50% of all cash recovered in all raid operations I'm involved in the future."

Penguin cackled. "Alright. Two weeks, and you get no help from outsiders. But if you fail, you're mine, kid. You work for me, now and forever. Can you handle that?"

I ground my teeth.

This was probably stupid as all hell, but I couldn't back down now—not when I'd come this far. Pushing for such a fat compensation package was greedy, but I had bills to pay. Sasha needed rehab, and I needed a new apartment and gear. I wanted to walk away from this with something in my pocket when everything went belly up.

The plan was to take over both of their assets, but getting a contingency plan was just good business.

"And how do I know you won't try to force me to work for you even if I succeed?" I asked.

"You're a big, tough, Meta," Henry said, folding his arms. "We are the ones who should be afraid."

He was right. He didn't just know it. The knife in the back was coming. I just wanted to get the most out of the relationship before the fighting started.

"So, what's it going to be, Kid?" Penguin asked.

"I'm thinking of something out of state for the property," I said with a confident smile. An apartment building, maybe."

"I guess I'll see you in two weeks."