Hitting An Iceberg

[flightlessfelon.livejournal.com]

Even on the quietest of nights, the Iceberg Lounge never falls short of ostentatious. The Penguin lives for his bling, and in stark contrast to the other throbbing, rhythmic nightclubs of Gotham City, his Iceberg Lounge has a rather more subtle, subdued atmosphere. Pandering to the upper class as always, the Iceberg Lounge is a glittering monument to excess. Tuxedoed men romance their dates, serenaded by a dapper chamber orchestra. A few infamous faces sit among the airbrained elite.

High in his private balcony, Oswald Cobblepot sighs contentedly, swirling a martini gently in one hand and listening to the orchestra play. He's kept his beak more or less clean, and it's served him well. He's well aware of the nasty business going on with the Black Mask, but even Cobblepot won't shed a tear for that man's demise. Roman has done nothing but make business difficult for everyone.

He has a special quest in the Lounge tonight. Captain Cold has come all the way from Albania to share a drink with him. Snart isn't his usual choice of drinking companions but Cobblepot has been expanding his network. There's no sense in having friends in just Gotham. After all, no one can say what tomorrow holds, can they?

Comments

[a-cold-front.livejournal.com]

"That's something I've never really understood about you guys in Gotham." He takes another swig, and raises his arm to wipe his mouth. "You're always fighting one another, always switching allegiances, or just totally batshit crazy."

He leans back. "Central and Keystone have something of a pecking order, but we're more organised as well. Less uncontrollable psychopaths. When one shows up, we put him or her down. Not that I've been there in years..."

"Mardon, that's Weather Wizard; he's been in control of the Rogues since I started working out of the country. The last time I heard anything from them, I understood they pretty much have freedom to commit any crimes. The Flash just isn't about so much."

[flightlessfelon.livejournal.com]

"Perhaps a change of venue is in order." remarks Cobblepot thoughtfully. "Once, years ago, there was a pecking order here in Gotham. My usual associates, colorful though they might be, can be counted upon to act a certain way. Men like Harvey, Nygma, and Crane... oh, you know them as Two-Face, Riddler, and Scarecrow, of course, have a certain rhythm and a bit of honor among rogues, such as the case may be." He pauses briefly, admiring his own pun.

"It's these damn upstarts who are ruining it for all of us. Roman is the most visible but he is hardly the only one. They run the streets, a new generation of upstarts with no respect for the cops or us. If only my compatriots would show such initiative in dispensing of them, but then, Gotham has never been a unified front. I love this city dearly, but sometimes it is hard to recognize."

The maître d', a tall, thin man in sharp black, approaches the table, setting down a tray with a bottle of brandy and two glasses. The tophat he wears and the dim lighting cast his face entirely into shadow, but Penguin doesn't seem too bothered.

"Thank you, Milbury." he remarks carelessly. The maître d' lifts his head, and for just a moment, his eyes can be seen, piggish and red, sunken into his gaunt face.

[a-cold-front.livejournal.com]

"You employ an odd looking waiting service, Oswald. This guy looks half-dead." He grabs the bottle of brandy and starts to pour two glasses. A shot for the Penguin, half a pint of it for Cold.

"Maybe you're working 'em too hard. Don't you give 'em paid leave or something?" He swishes the brandy around his glass. Looking up, the maitr'd is still stood there. "You can go away now."

[jla-undead.livejournal.com]

The tall man turns to leave...

Then spins around and lunges for the Penguin, pushing the heavy table aside at Cold like it weighs nothing.

The tophat falls from his head, revealing an inhuman face and jagged teeth.

Teeth on a collision course with Oswald Cobblepot's throat.

[flightlessfelon.livejournal.com]

The Penguin's sordid past has left him with a certain knowledge of confrontation, for good or for ill, but never in all his encounters with Batman has he encountered a foe this... this savage.

He brings up the umbrella blade, forced to use it as a shield to hold back the snarling serviceman.

Cobblepot has a reputation for being a miser, but he never thought he'd treated one of his employees this badly.

[a-cold-front.livejournal.com]

Captain Cold is fast enough to dodge the incoming table, and draws one of his blasters as he rolls to the side. In a second he's adjusted the setting to fire a thin beam so as not to spray a cone of absolute zero over both the waiter and the Penguin.

Still... "Get down, Oswald. I've got a clear shot but if you keep flappin'..." He holds the gun steady, but waits for the Penguin to dive to the ground before firing.

[flightlessfelon.livejournal.com]

Cobblepot is no fighter. He's more than willing to let Len take care of this... whatever it is. It's definitely not one of his people.

Taking cover behind the overturned table, Penguin looks below and sees a terrible sight.

The Iceberg Lounge is in chaos. He counts six, seven, no, eight of the monsters, attacking his patrons almost simultaneously. Screams erupt throughout the Lounge, as patrons begin running for their lives.

And then, the skylight shatters, and a dark form Penguin has seen too many times land nimbly amidst the carnage.

He's never been so happy to see Batman.

[jla-undead.livejournal.com]

The vampire turns its attention from Oswald to Leonard as the Penguin dives for cover. It hisses, exposing the razor-sharp teeth that fill its maw, and leaps at Captain Cold, heedless of the cold gun he has trained on it.

[a-cold-front.livejournal.com]

"Your mistake." Cold pulls the trigger and lets loose a shot of cold power that's of a low enough temperature to freeze a flame in place. It encases the rushing vampire in a matter of seconds, freezing it in mid-running pose.

And then he turns and sees Batman. Batman. "Ah, crap." The first thought that goes through his head is that he should take this opportunity to escape, but the Penguin's been a good employer and one shouldn't cut oneself off from a source of reliable income without a failsafe. Right now, he doesn't have one.

"Get to the exit, Penguin. I'll see off this Dusk Till Dawn crapola until you're outta the door, then I'm right behind you." He pulls his second blaster free.

[flightlessfelon.livejournal.com]

Oswald doesn't need to be told twice. He's already heading for the secret alleyway entrance, the one he had built into the Lounge specifically in anticipation of the need for a quick exit.

[a-cold-front.livejournal.com]

"Great." Len was hoping that at least a few of these creatures would be distracted enough by the fleeing Penguin that his workload may become slightly lighter, but no, they appear to be letting him leave quite happily. More work for him. More Batman for him.

And Robin. "Ah, crap." The second time he's said that tonight. But then he notices Batman and Robin fighting, and the weird contortions to this Bat's body and face.