Chapter Text
Acting stupid was the greatest game you ever played, and the things it allowed you to get away with, oh, now that was the greatest treat you ever earned. Ditzy, ditsy you, too dumb but golden-hearted to do any wrong. You weren’t even sure how it started. Maybe out of spite, maybe for the rush, now here you stood behind no easier mark than Oswald Cobblepot.
Granted he didn’t react to you like former employers did, feeding off your empty headed ploy and cutesy mannerisms, but he was a high strung fellow. Busy, busy, always too busy to really pay attention, to look at the books himself. A good two thousand had been siphoned off him already, the numbers littered all over Gotham and away from you, yet your new clothes were anything but cheap. For someone so rude and conniving, who knew Oswald could be so generous.
“Oswald-Mr. Cobblepot… sir? Could you sign these, please?” They were typical papers; all the dough for a proper campaign, donations to schools and orphanages, and miscellaneous. Pens, badges, flyers, a five hundred check split between five unknown parties. You held the clipboard in both hands, waiting patiently as he aggressively flipped through them, not taking a single real glance as he signed them.
There was nothing more satisfying than getting away with it too. In how easy it was, in how everyone saw you as so non-threatening. Slamming the pen back on the board, Oswald let it fall without any care to you. You bent down to pick it up and was almost dizzy with bliss as you came back up, like you should thank him for paying for your coming five hundred dollar shopping spree.
He grumbled and turned away from you to have Jameson jabber on and on about making appearances. Spinning on your heel, all sense of delight halted at the tall figure looming over you. All in green with dark eyes under a darker hat. “O-oh. I’m sorry.” You adjusted your far-bigger-than-they-needed-to-be glasses, forcing a smile. “I didn’t see you there.”
He only gave a short hum, forcing a smile of his own. In a voice you found startlingly deep he held out a hand and asked, “Mind if I see those?”
“Oh!” You waved with a chuckle and danced your all too cheery tune, “Don’t you worry yourself! I got it all figured out! I just go and hand it to Mr. Yanovich and he does all the numbers!”
Still smiling down at you, he asserted. “Than you won’t mind me seeing them.”
But you did. There was nothing to see, not really, yet you felt like a fox trying to hide from a bloodhound. “I don’t know how Mr. Yanovich would feel about someone else handling them-”
“It’ll only be a moment. I promise.” The feigned sweetness was too obvious to you, making your gut twist in knots.
Giving an exaggerated shift to try and look cute, you sighed, “Alright. But don’t get me in trouble!”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” As soon as the clipboard was placed in his hand the smile dropped and he sped off like lightening. You were left lost, heart slamming in your chest as he slowed to a stand behind Oswald, reading the papers very closely.
It was then you realized what you were really contending with. Oswald wasn’t just some perverted idiot. His friends weren’t a bunch of dumb beer buddies. He may have been released from Arkham, despite the fact no one got released from Arkham, but that didn’t change the fact he killed people, that he ran the cities underground with murderers and criminals of the worst kind.
Nervously biting your lip, you slowly turned away, hiding back behind your designated secretary desk, forcing down the idea everyone was watching you.
You never did see those papers again. Any you had Oswald sign left your hands and went to Edward Nygma’s. It became routine, and you weren’t sure if you should keep up the typical transactions or take them out, worried he would catch something amiss. Five hundred was a lot to suddenly not need. Decidedly you kept the numbers stagnant, just ‘tossing-around’ money, unmarked money to keep unknown people happy. Yet you were terrified of doing anything with that money, keeping it stashed and out of sights.
And then the shift happened. Taking your clipboard, this time Edward didn’t walk off, but stared down at your shoes.
“My… those are awfully nice buckles you have.” You pushed your puffy flowery skirt out of the way and acknowledged; the buckles were real gold, and while bought from a time before working for Oswald, still clean and untarnished.
“Thank you! They were a gift!”
His eyes drug up you, taking in every little detail. The shoes, the tights, the skirt, the belt, the bracelets and rings, the blouse, the earrings, the glasses. You tilted your head in curiosity, all you could do to keep down the panic.
A smile grew on him, something real and with a devious edge that made your heart slam harder. “A very nice gift for a very nice lady.” He offered, making your head spin before you caught yourself and gave a shy giggle. “Have a nice day Ms. (Y/L/N).”
Nygma got more and more energetic around you, like he was in on a little secret shared only between you two. It was strange; if he knew you were stealing, shouldn’t he make some sort of move? Call you out, call the police? You didn’t understand what was taking him so long. His favorite thing to do was ask you really hard questions that you could answer, but would break your persona if you did. After you’d fail Edward would stare into you for a long moment before winking and leaving without a word. There was never a real sign that he knew about the money laundering, until the Gala.
You found a lonely wall, hiding from an old boss that may have gotten suspicious over time. Sipping very leisurely you looked around at the denizens of finely dressed people and the giant glittering chandeliers above, the lights a wonderful golden glow that almost made you feel like you were in a dream the longer you spaced out. A splash of green caught you, your tall thin glass of champagne slipping from your fingers to his.
Your lungs sucked in a stinging air and held it, paining you before breaking out in a smile. “Hello Mr. Nygma! I didn’t think you’d be here! It doesn’t at all seem your tastes.”
He seemed so relaxed, back against the wall, sipping your sparkling drink with his hat dipped low, eyes trailing along the crowd. “On the contrary, I like a good performance.” You looked out a bit confused before he interrupted your thoughts. “You like games (Y/N)? How about a riddle?”
Your chest ached, begging behind your eyes for someone to take you away. “O-oh no thank you, I’m no good at-”
“You can’t see, hear or feel me, until it’s too late. I am what shadows love but what shopkeepers hate. What am I?”
You gave a pause, not in thought, but fear. Edward looked to you before smiling, a malevolence in his sharp gaze. Steadying yourself you shrugged with an innocent, “I don’t know.”
He motioned the glass to you, “Try.” You started up the ums and uhs before he rolled his eyes back to the crowd. “Try… without acting like a ditz.”
The words cut through you, sighing the agony before giving a sheepish, “A thief?”
He echoed in a satisfied growl, “A thief.” and set a tremble in your knees. Pushing himself to a full stand Edward walked by you and ordered. “Follow me please.”
Taking a last bit of living air, you followed, every step feeling closer to your end. As you passed through doors, he happily asked, “How about another one!” not minding the people littering less and less.
“I make you weak at the worst of all times.” Despite facing away from you, you saw his hands exaggerate his words. “I keep you safe, I keep you fine. I make your hands sweat and your heart grow cold. I visit the weak, but seldom the bold. What am I?”
He came to a door, down a hall with no people, spinning and leaning against it with bright anticipation. Gulping, you answered. “Fear?”
“You are good at this! Isn’t this so much more fun than acting stupid?! Another one!” The door to the dark empty room opened wide for you. You took the slightest glance in, the moonlight through the windows the only lamp. Looking to him, he only motioned with a jump of his brows and waited.
Forcing a steadying breath in your stone heavy chest, you took those dooming steps. He didn’t speak until he was inside and the door was shut, his voice dark and deep in the empty room. “So cold, damp and dark I am. To stay you would refrain, yet those who occupy me do never complain. What am I?”
All the dread built itself into a frenzy, spilling from you in a trembling plea, “I never used the money!” Edward started stalking to you and you started stumbling back, “I have it, all of it! I can give it back! It’s just habit, see, I didn’t really think about who I was stealing from! And then I did and I didn’t really know what to do but I did save it and I didn’t mean anything by it and I can give it back, I-”
Your back hit the wall, eyes watering as he stood a breath away, tilting his head and asking, “So cold, damp and dark I am. To stay you would refrain, yet those who occupy me do never complain. What am I?”
Dodging his unforgiving eyes, you whispered, “A grave.”
His cold fingers ran along your jaw, down your neck to play with your dress collar. “Something I couldn’t quite figure out is; someone as smart as you scrounging around in small time jobs, stealing instead of just going to school. Why is that?”
You shrugged, still unwilling to look at him. “I-I don’t know.”
Edward got eye level with you, “I’ve really gotten tired of you saying those words.”
Feeling foolish every time you had to admit, you sighed and explained simply, “It’s… fun.”
“More fun than having a stable high paying job?” You shrugged. Edward stood back up and gave a great laugh to that.
Shifting disheartened, he suddenly caged you with his hands slamming on the walls, brimming with energy, “No no! I get it! Unsuspecting, too dumb to pull off, ‘oh but she was such a nice girl.’ Even if you got caught, just about everyone would stand by your defense. Maybe even the Judge when he got a look at your vestal eyes. But that’s not enough is it?” You gave him a curious glance and he finished, “It’s the slightest-the teeniest tiny chance someone won’t believe you. That you’ll get caught and you have to use every trick in the book to get out. If you were a higher up in a bank no one could care. Steal millions and no one bats an eye, steal a couple hundred and now you’re a real criminal. It’s the idea of the challenge always sitting under your nose, ready to take on at a moment’s notice, that’s where the real excitement is.”
You went to argue when he added, more like a thought to himself, “That’s way you kept stealing, instead of just running with what you had.”
Something about that chilled you, clicked in all the wrong places.
“You ran from all your other employers when they might of started catching on. Yet you didn’t run from… me.” He tilted his head, smiling in a day-dreamy way. While Ed was ready to over-romanticize that bit, you were faced with a truth you long denied, it was the hint of danger you enjoyed most. The downfall often imagined as epic and poetic, as some untouched adventure waiting around the corner.
You didn’t like thinking on it, finding this all too risky territory. Quickly you changed the subject. “What do you want?”
It seemed to throw him off, asking with a sincere confusion, “What do I want?”
“Yeah. You haven’t told the police, so what do you want from me?”
“Oh… uh… I had planned on killing you and making it look like an accident but, well now I feel a sort of kinship here.” Edward stood up straight, adjusting his glasses as he thought. You glared at him as he did, wanting to shout out how unbelievable this was. The only thing to stop you was how offhandedly he was ready to kill you a few moments ago. He gave a clap of his hands, “You can be my lackey!”
You had to blink to comprehend that. “…your what?”
“My lackey! Like Oswald with Butch! And-and Galavan with the Maniacs!”
Crossing your arms defensively, you gawked at him, “You want me to be your errand idiot?”
Completely unfazed he pointed out, “Isn’t that kind of what you do now?”
True as it was, you were still offended. “I put a lot of work into my persona! It fooled you!”
“Which makes you perfect for this! Think of all this like an audition, and you passed!” Despite how positively excited he was, you scoffed, throwing yourself back on the wall in a pout. He shrugged, “I could always kill you.”
“Or turn me into the police!” You countered.
Ed gave an opposing hiss, “That’s too much of a risk you’ll get away with it. Besides, this will be fun! For now keep playing into your act until I call upon you in my time of need. Also tell no one of this conversation.” You didn’t agree or disagree, just stared up with an annoyed glare. “See you at work tomorrow!” He pinched your cheek hard and walked away.
“What do I do with the money!?”
“Keep it for me.”
“If I get caught I’m throwing you under the bus!”
With a final wave out the door, Ed called with proud delight, “Pleasure doing business with you and remember, I can always kill you!”