"Killer Croc?" In the alley behind Molly's Bar, a thin woman with a buzz cut rocked her head from side to side as if trying to refresh her memories, "I don't know where he is." She told the two detectives that surrounded her.
"But you do know where he could be, don't you?" Detective Harvey Bullock asked the informant. He left Tusk's hotel at least an hour before the attack and hasn't returned. What's the word down here? Croc would be looking for whoever did the attack. They made a big scene over there. Who do you think Croc would go to in order to get back at 'em?" Harvey stared down at the informant.
The informant shifted on her feet, as if unwilling to say what she knew.
"You know..." Detective Renee Montoya spoke up, "Methamphetamine is a Schedule 2 controlled dangerous substance here in New Jersey, If you don't have the information on Croc, we might need to arrest you for possession of narcotics." She turned her eyes to look at Harvey, watching him give her a small smirk underneath his battered fedora.
"...." The informant tapped her fingers on her pants legs, her eyes looking around her as if making sure nobody but the three of them were in the alleyway before she clicked her tongue and opened her mouth.
"The 100!" She told them, quickly giving another look at her surroundings, "For the past few months they've been trying to take over Penguin's territory, Sending in guys from Metropolis to chip away at him, getting on Penguin's nerves. Rumor has it that he was trying to get Tusk and his gang to work for him, help him against The 100, if Croc was working for Tusk, he'd want to get back at The 100, Penguin is the obvious answer here." The informant bit her lip as she looked around the alley one last time, "That's all I can tell you," She scowled, "Anything more and I'm dead, You do not want to mess with The 100, I'm out of here!" Before the two detectives could stop her, she turned around and entered Molly's Bar from the back door, ran into an employee carrying several boxes of toilet paper, the two falling onto the floor before the door closed behind her.
Harvey Bullock sighed tiredly as he fished a cigar out from the inside of his coat, lighting it before taking a puff.
"Shouldn't we arrest her?" Renee asked the older detective, raising an eyebrow at the smoking man.
"Let her be, That's the deal we have. She gives us information only someone with an ear to the underground would know, and we look away whenever she does a small crime like that." He stretched his body before he turned to walk out of the alley, "We'll arrest her if she does anything bigger than drug possession, but till then, she keeps an eye on what going around the area,"
"That's..." Renee tried to find the words to use as she followed Harvey back to the car.
"Corrupt?" He brought the word up, "You might think that, but this isn't like taking bribes. We do not take bribes from criminals," He turned to Renee and gave her a stern look, "This city is Corrupt, every other cop looks the other way when a crime happens in broad daylight because they get paid to do so. What I have with these informants, is different. They give us information in exchange for not being thrown in the slammer. Not money. Never accept money." The two stopped once they reached the street, waiting for the cars to stop moving so the two could cross, "Only small crimes too, Druggies and pickpockets, not robbers or killers, we do not deal with them like this."
"That's still letting a criminal go." Renee pointed out as the two reached the other side of the road.
Harvey chuckled at that, "What do you want me to say? Welcome to Gotham."
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Oswald Cobblepot hated not being in control.
Sitting at the head of a table in the back of one of his many hideouts, Oswald Cobblepot smiled to himself as he watched the people sitting in front of him.
Lark, his personal Chauffeur, and Bodyguard, the short-haired woman trying her best to look as if she wasn't bothered by the green-scaled Elephant in the Room.
Bossworth, his most loyal Henchman and Informant, if Oswald wanted to know something, The Iron-Jawed man would find the information for him.
Ignatius Ogilvy, When Oswald decided to take a step back from doing crimes himself in order to keep up the look of him going "Legit" Young Ignatius quickly became his go-to replacement for robberies, heists, and murders. Placing the man in charge of doing all the filthy things he doesn't need to get caught doing anymore.
Rose, Richard Fisk. What was supposed to be a pity hire, Having brought the young man on board in order to pay back the debt he owed Fisk's previous employer, quickly turned into the gift that keeps on giving.
If Ogilvy takes care of the violent side of the gang for him, Fisk takes care of the diplomatic side. Handling transactions and deals, Gunrunning, Drug Dealing, Setting up meetings with other gangsters. Fisk has repeatedly proven himself to be useful. If he keeps this up, He might need to renew the contract to keep him on for longer. After all, he's only part of the gang until Rose Forrest turns twenty-one.
Last but certainly not least, the newest person to sit at the table of Lieutenants, Waylon Jones, The Killer Croc.
After the events of two nights prior, where he sent Fisk to set up a meeting with the Metahuman Gangster known as Tusk, which quickly devolved into The 100 pulling the Sicilian Mob into the gang war, ending the night with Tusk having gone missing. The angry Crocodile was willing to work for the Penguin if it meant he could take down the bastards that ruined the semi-comfortable life he had with the Metahuman Hotel Owner.
Oswald Cobblepot smiled to himself as he watched his Lieutenants, judging their reactions, looking for the small twitches on their faces. he watched Lark squirm at her close proximity to Croc. He watched Ogilvy side-eyeing Fisk for taking part of his job away from him. He watched Killer Croc's eyes roam over the other people on the table, waiting for one of them to say something. He watched Rose ignore the people around him, the young man most definitely wishing he could be back at home, helping his Ward get ready for the upcoming school year. He watched Bossworth cross his arms and silently wait for the meeting to begin.
Watching his employees like this, silently judging them, It made Oswald feel in power. Noticing the discomfort and awkwardness that dwelt with all these people as they waited for him to open his mouth and get their attention away from the horrible silence that plagued the room.
And who was he to keep them waiting?
"Gentlemen," He told the table before turning to Lark, "Lady," He smirked at his own joke, "We are gathered here to discuss a matter most important. For the first time in a long while, we have found ourselves in a pickle. Tusk is missing, and with him, The 100 took a piece off the board of our game. Fortunately, They proceeded to shoot up one of the Sicilian's fronts, making it much easier to convince them to join us in taking out The 100. Unfortunately, We're going to need to focus more resources on driving them out." Oswald Cobblepot stopped to see the reactions of his lieutenants.
Killer Croc slammed his hand on the table, his face in a snarl, "What are we waiting for then?! We find whoever is leading them and we gut him!"
"It's not going to be so simple," Ignatius spoke up, his face scrunching at the volume Croc yelled at, "Firstly, The 100 are based out of Metropolis, If we try and take the fight to them we'll be losing the home-field advantage,"
"And secondly," Rose spoke up, "We still don't know who Tobias Whale sent to command his people here in Gotham. If we take the fight to Metropolis, we'll be killed. And if we start fighting the one leading The 100 here in Gotham, we'll be fighting ghosts."
"Yes," Ignatius nodded at Rose. "Even more importantly than that, The 100 aren't simply based out of Metropolis, they ARE Metropolis." He said as he took a comb out of his shirt pocket, Moving it through his slicked-back hair, "Metropolis, while corrupt, is not near the extent of Gotham. And with Big Blue over there, Regular gangs don't stay long. The 100 aren't just another gang over there, they're the big fish. Imagine the reach of Carmine Falcone with none of the competition, Tobias Whale has his finger in every pie out there. As long as he's in Metropolis, there's nothing we can do."
"He has more money than us, He has more men than us, he has more reach than us, and if things keep going at the rate they are, there won't be an us," Lark spoke up, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair as she watched the two men explain to Croc why going after The 100 isn't as simple as he thought.
"Boys, Boys," Oswald spoke up, getting the table's attention back on him, "We aren't here to talk about what we can't do, we're here to talk about what we're going to do." He motioned to his right hand man to talk.
"Of course," Bossworth, The tall, broad-shouldered, bald man with a metal jaw nodded to his boss, "In order to combat The 100's rising presence in our territory, We've decided to change a few things. First of all, Ogilvy, You're in charge of taking The 100's known members out. We'll be putting our Robberies and Heists on hold for the duration, so you will be focusing on getting them out." His eyes bored into the blonde lieutenant.
"Second order of business, Rose," Bossworth turned to the masked man, "With our more extreme avenues of finance currently stifled for the duration of this gang war, You'll be putting more work in. We have a shipment of Narcotics heading to one of our drop-off locations, your job for the time being is to secure the drugs and deal them off. We have a lot of people lined up and foaming at the mouth for those drugs, Important People, Rich People. These People are going to be the ones paying for our war, and your official Job is to make sure the deals go through. The actual job you have is to collect as much blackmail on these people as you can, If we can get enough leverage on them, we'll have a steady supply of funds for the near future. That is what you will be doing." Bossworth stared into the glass shades over Rose's mask, drilling into him how important it is that these deals go through.
"Jones," Bossworth turned to the green-scaled man, "You'll be working with Rose, You will listen to his-"
"What the hell!" Waylon slammed his fist on the table and stood up, "I came here to get these 100 Fucks and you want me to play Forklift?!"
"Calm down, Croc." Oswald Cobblepot spoke up, staring down at Killer Croc from the head of the table, "You'll get your revenge, but you need to have patience. We still don't know where Tusk is, and until we find him, You'll paint a giant target on our back if you help Ignatius. The last thing we need right now is Batman trying to step into our business." The Penguin said calmly.
"Do not worry, Once we find out who's the one leading The 100 in the city, You'll be the first to take a bite out of him. But until then, You will be helping Rose, and staying quiet." Penguin's words broke no argument.
Killer Croc was going to listen to him, or he can leave the room.
Killer Croc locked eyes with Oswald for a few seconds before scowling and sitting back down.
"Well then. Lark, Your duties haven't changed. Ogilvy, Rose, The details of your jobs will be given to you tomorrow, Be at the Iceberg Lounge at eight. That is all." Bossworth finished his words before giving Oswald another nod and sitting back down in his chair.
"Well then, It seems we have no more to talk about~" Oswald Cobblepot smiled at the people at his table, his eyes focusing on three men in particular, "See you all tomorrow." And without any other words, He stood up, grabbed his umbrella, motioned for Bossworth to follow him, and left the room. Leaving the rest of his lieutenants to sit behind him.
"...Well, It seems I have some preparations to make," Ignatius said, "Now, If you'll excuse me." And he left the room.
Rose exited next, Richard Fisk stood up and walked out, not a word leaving his mouth.
"I'm gonna get a drink," Lark told the only other person who remained in the room, "If you need something, ask one of the boys downstairs." And without waiting for his reaction, she too left the room.
And Waylon Jones stayed in his seat, his scaly brows furrowing as he bared his teeth in a snarl, his arms shaking in anger at how useless he was currently being, before suddenly standing up, grabbing his chair, and throwing it against the wall with a roar of anger.
Killer Croc glared at the splinters of wood that fell on the ground before he balled his hand into a fist and angrily stomped out of the room, intent on finding a punching bag to take his anger out on.