Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Three orphans stepped off the public bus and onto the tarmac streets of a city unfamiliar to them. Unfamiliar to them physically, even if they had thoroughly researched the location before using the last of their bus money to get here. Yes, this was Gotham City.

The Baudelaire children were orphans, and worse than that, they were currently homeless orphans. Since once again escaping the clutches of Count Olaf, they’d also managed to avoid being placed with any other easily-manipulated guardian by continuing to move around the country, on buses and trains, and by foot. They stayed in so many public libraries, and by working together they managed to sketch out a plan for moving forward. A plan that resulted in their presence here at the Gotham City Bank. No one else in line had minded their presence, but they kept their voices to whispers.

“Violet, I’m still not quite sure if this will -”

“Nonsense. We all researched this together. Since a portion of our parent’s trust for us is stored here, we can invoke the local Gotham legislature’s emergency clauses to acquire a portion of it. No matter the fees, it should surely be enough to get a foothold,” Violet said out loud, (mostly to reassure herself of the plan).

“Awlaw, no Poe.”

“You’re right Sunny- Mr. Poe was not a proper replacement for a social worker.”

Violet cast a look out the windows of the bank, watching some of the cars go by. An older junker, a green van, one motorcycle, but mostly cars in neutral greys and whites. She turned her eyes back to the bank, where each teller several people behind it. Electronic banking it seemed, had not caught on in Gotham. She turned back to her brother as he spoke.

“I wonder if our parents… sequestered some of the money here in Gotham for a reason.”

“Anything’s possible. I mean, they were connected to a large underground secret society.”

“Wa en nu ciddy. No ma wo conspeaeres. Goddah billains fleasy an obvis” ‘We’re in a new city. No more conspiracies. The evil that populates Gotham tends to be flashy and obvious. Villains here are known quantities.’

“I suppose you’re right Sunny.”

Violet was always surprised to see how much her little sister had grown, it was almost impossible to believe that she was already walking successfully, without the need for being carried. It had made it easier to be mobile during these many weeks. Secretly however, she felt guilty that their lifestyle made it so their sister was developing not in a proper house, but on the run from the law and Count Olaf.

“It’s our turn-”

Mildly startled, Violet stepped up to the que and started to speak to the teller-

“Hi, I would like to prepare a withdrawal–”

CRASH! cliNCK! cliCNK!

The sound of breaking glass caused all three Baudelaires to whip around and stare at the large green van that had backed up ferociously into the building. Without a second to spare, all the tellers had slung down metal screens, separating the bank’s floor from the back room, effectively leaving the patrons defenseless. Despite the large nature of the disturbance, most of the bank goers hustled not towards the wall, putting their hands up in defensive positions.

“What?! What is happening!-” Klaus was frozen up, still standing in place—But Violet took the action she needed to. She scooped Sunny up with one arm and took Klaus’s hand in the other, forcing them to the wall with the rest of the patrons.

Klaus made to protest, “Is this a robbery? We can’t just stand as hostages, we should.. Do something!”

“No! We’re going to stay right here, and follow the crowd,” Violet hissed back at him.

Another patron cast them a cautious look, “First Riddler robbery huh? Listen to the girl, just don’t say anything stupid and you’ll be fine.”

Violet saw her brother’s hands twitch, and she knew he wanted to pull out one of the pamphlets he’d gathered from when they first got to Gotham. He probably wanted to read through it, check to remember what this “Riddler”’s M.O. was. Violet appreciated researching problems, but that was only useful in combating situations before they arose. And they were firmly situated in the middle of this one. But Sunny poked her brother’s arm, and he hesitantly raised his hands with the rest of the patrons.

Almost at the same instant, the backdoors of the van swung open and a well-dressed man stepped out, all dressed in green. The man gave a wicked smile as he stepped in front of everyone lined up on the one wall. With a single motion, he pointed his cane towards the shuttered teller’s windows and two henchwomen dressed in a similar green lept out of the van and strode towards a “staff only” door.

“Riddle me this Gotham— What’s more useful when broken?” The Riddler’s voice combined the charm of a radio host with the venom of a cobra. Violet prayed that some kind of law enforcement would arrive soon, but stayed quiet.

The rouge stepped towards the line of people, “Are we getting so tired of this song and dance, everyone? Truly, you cannot all be that… moronic. Are you all just puppets with holes bored in your heads now?” He grinned, “Or, is there not enough incentive?”

In an exaggerated motion, he moved his question mark cane to the crook of his arm, and tapped his watch in an exaggerated manner.

“The GCP won’t be here for another, oh thirty minutes? It was such a terrible coincidence that their emergency phone lines shut down the same time I arrived to make a… withdrawal. So– How’s this. For each riddle of mine that you answer, I’ll let one of you go! Ahead of schedule, no strings attached, but no second chances. So I ask again, what’s more useful— When broken?”

[He must love the sound of his own voice.] Violet thought. But in all that talk, he hadn’t mentioned what the price of getting a riddle wrong would entail. She took another look at the cane he held. The cane’s shaft was reinforced, it might have a bronze finish, but it was likely a much sturdier metal, and inside question mark, there was a smaller piece of metal sticking out. The question mark itself was not seamless with the rest of the cane either, there was a square of a different metal between them. An image of a single barrel shotgun flashed in her mind.

[It’s a gun!] Violet’s knees were suddenly leaden. At least they were just faces in the crowd. Thirty minutes was a long time to wait, but anything else she could do would only jeopardise her siblings. But she felt a spike of fear go through her heart when a voice came from next to her.

“The answer is-” Klaus stepped toward the Riddler, “The answer is Gotham City Bank.”

“KLAUS!”

The Riddler’s grin split his brown face even wider, “Oh?”

Undaunted, Klaus took another step forward, “Normally- the answer to that riddle is an egg, or even a glowstick, but that’s the catch— it’s not look at the context in which the riddle is spoken. Because the real answer is–that this bank is more useful to you when it’s broken into.”

“Your teachers must love you,” He stepped towards Klaus, and pointed his cane… Directly at Violet and Sunny.

“But, as clever as you might be, you seem to have miscounted. Those are your sisters, are they? That was only one riddle. You’ll need to answer two more to save your little family. Or only answer 1 more if you’re the type to martyr yourself.”

Klaus wiped his palms on his pants, “Yes– those are my sisters. If your question wasn’t rhetorical, that means… that means they can leave.”

The rouge chuckled a bit, his grin dropping by a few degrees, “I stand corrected. Your teachers must hate you. They tend to hate clever little boys who are keen enough to know the proper definition of ‘rhetorical’. Fine, fine. Your sisters can go, but you better get this last one right. We’re live.”

“Wh-”

The Riddler pointed his cane at a blinking security camera, “Yes, that’s right! This entire heist is being broadcasted, from the bank’s own cameras.” He grinned, “I sincerely hope you don’t get stage fright, Klaus, was it?”

Violet, Sunny still in her arms, made no movements towards the door. She wasn’t scared that Klaus wouldn’t know the answer to a riddle, but rather that he might piss off the Riddler to the extent that he might hurt him anyway. She could tell that Klaus’ hadn’t picked up on the Riddler’s body language and was just forging ahead, but she’d watched his progression from amused to annoyed.

“Riddle me, riddle me right:

What did I see last night?

The wind blew,

The cock crew,

The bells of heaven

Struck eleven.

‘Tis time for my poor soul to go to heaven.”

There was an agonizing moment where Klaus stood there, stock still. Violet could almost hear the gears turning in Klaus’s head. There was something familiar about the riddle, but she truly couldn’t place it. In another half second, Klaus broke into a smile–

“The fox burying his grandmother under the holly bush! It’s the unsolvable riddle from Uylesses.”

Thoughtfully, the Riddler brought a gloved hand to his chin, “Well, that was incredibly impressive. That is the answer to the riddle from the Joyce novel, but you didn’t pay enough attention to the beginning. I was actually referencing the original folk riddle— and the answer to that is—”

All the color drained from Klaus’s face, “The fox burying his… mother? But that’s an almost negligible difference!”

“Unless you care about the implications of the change within the literature—. But as I said, no second chances are available.”

Violet dropped Sunny and went to step closer to her brother. At the same time, the Riddler raised the end of his cane to Klaus’s chest, flicking his eyes towards Violet.

“Get ready to bury your brother under the holly bush.”

Time seemed to slow down as the Riddler’s index finger grazed the trigger.

Ping!

A tiny black boomerang hit the bronze cane, and the shot went wide. Violet shoved her brother down to the floor, while the cane’s bullet left another mark in the ceiling.

It was accompanied with a new voice, one with much more real humor in it than the Riddler’s.

“You were going to kill a kid? Not cool man. The Sirens totally would have got your ass if you did.”

Riddler whipped around, his grip on his cane tightening, the Baudelauries forgotten.

“YOU! You’re supposed to be in Bludhaven!” Metal clashed on metal as a pair of escrima sticks clashed against the Riddler’s cane.

A blur of black and blue condensed into the shape of an athletic man who started wailing on the Riddler.

“I got bored.”

A chorus of applause broke out through the gathered hostages, “Nightwing! Nightwing! Nightwing!”

“Everyone loves the prodigal son I suppose—QUERY! ECHO! WE’RE LEAVING!”

As the colorfully-clad opponents fought, Nightwing called out to the hostages.

“GCP is a block away, everyone move calmly and quickly towards the exit with your hands up. I’ve got this clown.”

“Eugh. Do not conflate me with that hack!”

The Baudelaires did not need to be told twice. They were a few of the first people to exit the building, and soon enough, were picked up sirens and asked that dreaded question–

“Where are your parents?”

Chapter Text

Telling the truth (about their lack of parents, the confirmation as the “Baudelaire Delinquents” and their current homelessness) had ended up with the Baudelaires being shuttled to the GCP’s headquarters where their statements could be taken while social workers were called.

This certainly wasn’t the worst possible outcome, as they had escaped the robbery without being harmed.

At present, the Baudelaires were sitting on a mildly uncomfortable bench in front of the desk of a ‘Detective Montoya’. She had long since finished taking their statements, but was still obligated to keep an eye on them until the arrival of their social worker.

She must have noticed the way that Violet was looking longing at her CPU and asked,

“Not used to computers?”

“...We didn’t really grow up with them, but… I love thinking about the engineering possible with smaller technology.”

“Andiqarions.”

Klaus translated, “Our parents raised us as antiquarians. That is, people who collect and study antiques.”

“Huh. No wonder you got on Nygma’s nerves.”

They returned to a sort of tense silence for almost half an hour. But eventually, Detective Montoya stood up from her desk and greeted a woman none of them recognized. The middle-aged woman was dressed in business casual attire, her neat locs pulled back into a ponytail. Her soft face was accented by small wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and deeper smile lines. Both women turned back to the children.

“Baudelaires, this is Elaine Thomas.”

Mrs. Thomas held out a hand to the children, “And, I’ll be overseeing your housing placements while here in Gotham. What you can expect in the next few hours is that I’ll be taking you back to my office, and setting you up with some resources. There’s already a few people that have offered to take you in, and I want to let you all have the opportunity of meeting them before we make any commitments.”

Trapped by the habit of politeness, the Baudelaires waited until Mrs. Thomas had finished to ask their questions.

“Why isn’t Mr. Poe handling our placement?”/”Are we staying in Gotham?”/”Twoble?”

Mrs. Thomas granted them a tired, but warm smile, “How about we talk about this on the way to the car?”

Violet and Klaus looked to each other hesitantly, but Sunny took the initiative and took Mrs. Thomas’s hand, forcing her siblings to follow them. Soon, they were all situated in her grey sedan, with Sunny being placed in a sunflower-yellow carseat. The car’s upholstery was soft and worn from years of use, and it smelled lightly of laundry detergent.

“Now, before I start answering questions, I want to offer you all an apology.”

“But, we just met you-?” Klaus asked.

“I know, son. And I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I feel that in the past your cases have been grievously mishandled,” she looked at them through the rearview mirror, “Arthur Poe may have been the executor of your parent’s will, but he was in no way a licensed social worker, and made grievous errors in ensuring your safety while assigning you guardians.”

“Olaf,” Sunny said in agreement.

She nodded, “Yes dear. I understand that man has been a continuous problem for you. That is something I’ve greatly considered in getting you approved for a more secure placement. More than that, I know you all just survived another incredibly traumatic incident during that bank robbery. So, I am sorry that you have had to deal with all of this.”

The siblings communicated with each other wordlessly, with Violet’s skeptical gaze meeting Klaus’s more hopeful one.

’Maybe it won’t be so bad this time…’/’We won’t be able to know for certain.’

“Ah, this building has my office in it.”

Moments later, they were situated in a second-floor office. They took up the same seating arrangement they had earlier at the police station. The locations were all starting to blend together, but at least this one had a bit more color. There was a vase of lego flowers on her desk, and framed pieces of colorful kente cloth rested on the walls. Apart from the door they came in from, there was another door to their left.
“That’s just a little lounge area. I’ll let you in there in a moment, I just want to confirm some things with you–”

Violet spoke for them, “And then what happens? Do we just go with whoever wants us, then?”

“Not quite yet– I wanted to give you all a few hours to relax before you meet your potential guardians. Officially, I will be making the placement, but I also want you kids to have an element of choice in the matter.”

Sunny gave Mrs. Thomas a smile, showing off all of her pointy teeth.

“So, what do you need from us right now?”

She waved her hand and took out a pen, “Medical information and then I’ll show you some basic information on your guardian candidates. Let’s see. You share a peppermint allergy, do you have any other dietary restrictions?”

“We used to keep kosher, with our family, but we haven’t really had the opportunity… We haven’t really made it a priority..” Violet trailed off, but Mrs. Thomas made a note of it.

“Thank you for telling me— Also, Klaus, I have a note that your parents helped you update your birth certificate with your name and gender, before they passed… Since you are around that age, would you like to approach the topic of hormone treatments with your guardians?”

Klaus shifted in his seat a little bit but nodded, “I would actually really appreciate that… Do they already know?”

“Yes, because it is in your file. But, if you ever end up having issues or conflict with your guardian surrounding that—Please, tell me about it immediately. In Gotham, we can have them removed from fostering or adopting any children.”

With that assurance, Mrs. Thomas brought out two files, “As of now, these are the individuals that have offered and are eligible for your guardianship. The Dibnys, who I’ve actually worked with before, are lovely people. And… Mr. Cobblepot, is an… eager first time applicant for… adoption.” she said, looking at the second folder with more than a hint of disdain.

“Eager?” Violet was on edge now, “I don’t want to sound paranoid, but people often don’t see through Count Olaf’s disguise right away and—”

“Oh my, Violet I’m so sorry. No, Mr. Cobblepot has lived in Gotham his whole life, he is sort of a public figure, with a… distinctively different appearance than Mr. Olaf.”

Sunny pointed the first folder, “Dibknee?”

“Alright! Sue and Ralph Dibny live in the suburbs more on the outside of Gotham. They are primarily foster parents, and are currently taking care of two girls. Lori and Mary are only a few years older than you, Violet. Sue works as a prosecutor, and her husband is a retired detective. Ralph works currently with a non-profit organization. I know you all have some concerns about safety, and I think the Dibnys would be a good fit for you, in that regard. Both Ralph and the girls are very passionate about martial arts, and Sue’s position means that she has the experience to aid in a legal case against Count Olaf if he manages to resurface.”

Mrs. Thomas opened the folder to show a picture of a mixed-race family having a barbecue behind a bright pink house, with a lawn populated with garden gnomes.

“Sue will be coming here on her own today, as the Dibny’s didn’t want to overwhelm you all with too many people to quickly.”

“And uh. This is the file for Mr. Cobblepot. Primarily, he is an… entrepreneur who runs sort of a resort in Gotham. He has a few other properties– As a result of his wealth and living in Gotham he often travels with personal security. He’s a long time member of Gotham’s Ornithological Society…Ornithological means–”

“The study of birds,” Klaus and Violet said at the same time.

Their social worker smiled, “Yes, exactly.”

She handed them the file for the Dibnys, but didn’t touch the Cobblepot folder.

“Baudelaires, I don’t want to… overly influence your final decision, but I will say that Mr. Cobblepot has a… storied past. Initially I did not want to consider him as a candidate at all, but by if I had outright refused to consider him, he would have likely found a way to remove me from your case— and if that happened I feared that you all would not get the chance that you deserved. Gotham still has a long way to go to reduce corruption.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re talking about Mr. Cobblepot like he’s some sort of supervillian.”

Violet added onto her brother’s statement, “Even if you don’t want to influence us, I still think we have a right to know about what he’s done.”

Mrs. Thomas frowned, “That my dears, is the issue. On paper, Mr. Cobblepot runs only perfectly legal enterprises. Every racketeering case that has been filed against him has been met with a claim of defamation. But, even with the apparent legality of his enterprises, it is hard to officially deny that Oswald Cobblepot is heavily associated with the Gotham Mob. Even today, Detective Montoya had to circumvent another officer's request to have you meet him early. Sometimes he’s even considered part of Gotham’s “Rogues Gallery.””

There was a heavy pause in the room for several moments. Sunny was the first to recover.

“Why? Wadda wud he wat?”

“That is a good question Sunny. I don’t know what or why he wants to adopt you three. And I’m sorry to have laid this all out on you like this. Still, you will have a chance to meet with him today, and hopefully get a… better perspective. But here, it’s been a rough day and it’s not even 3 yet.”

Mrs. Thomas led them into the lounge area of her office. The lounge was decorated similarity to her office, but instead of a desk and filing cabinets, the lounge had several comfortable chairs and a minifridge. There was even a little tub of legos in the corner, next to a bookshelf.

“Mrs. Dibny and Mr. Cobblepot will be arriving in a little more than an hour. So, please just- relax. Think about any questions that you’ll want to ask them. Oh, and I almost forgot-” Mrs. Thomas went back into her office, then returned with three medium-sized backpacks.

“These are for you— It’s just some toiletries and clean clothes for you to keep.”

Violet nodded, “Thank you Mrs. Thomas. For all your help.”

“Well, it’s my pleasure. I’ll be just a door away if you need anything.”

As she left the room, they all took up different positions in the room. Klaus gravitated towards the bookshelf and looked through the basic titles. Violet went to open the window. Sunny started chewing on the hard plastic of a Lego.

“We might be on the second floor, but the bricks of the building look strong enough to scale down. If we leave, I can go first, then I can help you and Sunny out.”

Klaus looked away from the bookshelf to stare at her.

“You want to… leave?”

“Klaus, every single time that we are placed with a guardian or foster community, Count Olaf shows up and ruins everything. The past few months we’ve been on the run? We’ve barely run into him. If we leave now, we could have another chance to get back onto the original plan.”

There was a bit of desperation in Violet’s voice. Alone in this room with her siblings, instead of being able to finally relax, all of her stress started spill out in her words. But where Violet’s stress was causing her to look for escape routes, and a solution, Klaus was just disheartened. He didn’t know what to do, expect that couldn’t continue on their initial path.

“The original plan? Listen, the idea of getting some of our parents money early— What were we going to do after that? Get an apartment and pray that Olaf doesn’t easily find and kidnap three kids living alone? Even if Olaf didn’t find us, someone would report us and we’d end up right back here— in a social worker’s office. And maybe it wouldn’t even be a nice one! Mrs. Thomas at least seems to genuinely care about placing us somewhere safe.”

“Safe? With Count Olaf following us, I- I don’t know if we’ll ever be safe! People have died trying to help us— Monty, Josephine, Jacques. And now we’re in Gotham! I thought it wouldn’t be that bad but then with everything that happened at the bank–”

“That was just bad luck, and we got out safely!”

“You almost got shot! You should have just stayed and waited with us! It was a stupid choice to answer his riddle!”

“I was trying to help us! That was me actually trying to stick to your plan— and get out before anyone could ask us where our parents are. But it failed, and here we are. Are you really going to make us all go back on the streets and library-hop for another three years until you’re 18? If we leave right now, we have no money, no information about this corrupt, insane city, and no protection.”

“No!” Violet strode back over to the folders, and took out the image of the Dibny’s barbecue.

“If we leave now, it means that none of these people have to die. Mrs. Thomas clearly wants us to stay with the Dibnys, and them seem like great people. But you know what happens when we’re around good people?

Count Olaf shows up, and we have to leave, and along the way, people get hurt. This family has two parents and two kids already. What if we ruin that for them?”

“Well, what if… What if we don’t? Is it so stupid to hope that maybe, just maybe— we might have the smallest chance at getting to be happy! Why should we have to suffer so much just because our parents put out fires! And it’s not our fault! It’s never us who bring the destruction!”

“So what?! Even if we don’t mean to, we have to acknowledge that us being around people puts targets on their backs!”

Violet and Klaus were both standing up now, facing each other head on in their argument.

“Stop ‘t Stop ‘t!” Sunny was standing up, tugging on both of her sibling’s clothes. She started the babble, and they stopped to listen.

”I’m tired. I’m tired too. I know we keep getting put into impossible situations, but is it too much to ask— to sleep in a bed for a few days? To have access to a real kitchen? Please Violet… I know you want to protect us, but I’m tired of just surviving.” Sunny had started to sniffle, and Violet took her little sister in her arms again, and sat down. To soothe her, Klaus handed her back the Lego she had been chewing on earlier.

“I’m sorry, Sunny, Klaus… I’m just–”

“Stressed,” Klaus answered for her. The three of them shared a nod, and sat together on the couch for a moment in silence.

“Bogether. We stig bogether.”

“Yes, you’re right Sunny. And I think… I agree with you about the bed thing.”

Violet added, “And it’d be nice if I had a space to tinker in.”

With levity restored to the room, the orphans stared at the folders on the table before them. Sunny started to talk again, thinking about the argument her siblings had been having.

”I think… we should let Cobblepot take us in.”

Chuckling a little, Violet took the Cobblepot folder, “That’s a good one Sunny.”

“Na! Nat a johe.” ”We want to be safe… but we also don’t want anyone undeserving to get hurt by Olaf.”

Klaus’ brow furrowed, “But— if he’s just as bad as Mrs. Thomas implied he is—I wouldn’t feel bad about pitting him against Olaf, but he’s just as likely to turn us over to Olaf himself. He’s like a socialite, right? It might be another Esme Squalor situation.”

“No… I don’t think so. Why does Mr. Cobblepot need us? Mrs. Thomas said he was ‘eager’ to adopt. And even if he is like— a mob boss, he must have a mind for transactions. Deals. There’s something that we have, that he wants. And if he’s already rich, it’s probably not our fortune…”

“Dower? Phame? Beutation?”

“Sunny, you have a point,” Klaus put a hand to his chin, “Mrs. Thomas said something about… defamation lawsuits. If Cobblepot already has money and power, he might be using us to improve his reputation. Because, if even ordinary Gotham citizens have a bad idea of him, Cobblepot might want to shake up that assumption…”

“We- We could use this against him! Especially if he’s incredibly involved in crime, we could eventually get evidence to… blackmail him… We could make sure he doesn’t turn us over to Olaf, or we turn him over the federal government.”

“But Violet, that’s like… starting a fire.”

Violet took out the only thing she had in her pocket, her hair-ribbon. She started to put her hair up into it as the fixed her siblings with a determined stare.

“It might be time that we fight fire, with fire.

Together, the siblings went through the manila folder containing Cobblepot’s information with a fine toothed comb, and started to draft up a sort of agreement.

Chapter Text

Oswald Cobblepot was currently seated in the back of his favorite car, a bright purple Maserati Quattaroporte. Its more modern luxury clashed slightly with his almost Victorian attire, but it was all extremely comfortable and superbly expensive. He didn’t even have to worry about driving, as his multi-talented personal security, Mr. Decondor was manoeuvring through the traffic of Gotham City.

Despite all this, Oswald was not in a very good mood. His initial attempts to meet the orphans at the police station were unsuccessful, and it peeved him that despite his efforts, there were still cops in Gotham who actually worked within the law. Those Baudelaires might not know it yet, but they would be an integral part of his mayoral campaign. Now, he was on his way to meet them in an actual social worker’s office. He could scoff at how pedestrian it was.

Worse still, was his inability to contact his lawyer. Since his calls hadn’t gone through, he opened up FaceTime with a sigh. This time, the call picked up. He was greeted by half of a man’s scarred face, before the camera pulled back to reveal more of the figure, who was standing on a balcony.

”Whadda want Oz? It better be good, and it better be legal.”

“My god, don’t tell me you two have really gone straight?And Two-Face, what hell are you wearing–?”

”You’re the one who woke us up, jackass. I like leopard print, he likes pinstripes. Put ‘em together, that’s compromise.”

“I digress, what do you know about family and adoption laws?”

”I don’t know shit, but Harvey might have an idea. If you want me to pass o the message for him, you know our rate.”

“Yes, yes of course. Above or under the table?”

”Keep it above board Oz. Anyway, why the hell do you need to know about family law?”

Oswald mused on how much he should share with Two-Face, “Hmm… I’ve recently been registered as a foster parent, and I’m looking to— foster to adopt.”

Two-Face actively bristled at that, ”Foster to adopt?Well ain’t that a fucking brilliant idea, the majority of foster kids only need temporary housing! The point of the foster system is to eventually reunite kids with their family– What the hell are you even doing with kids!”

“Calm down. We don’t need to discuss the details, if you turned on the news you’d probably figure out what I’m doing–”

”If you are taking in kids you better not fuck ‘em up.”

“What’s got you so passionate about orphans these days–” Oswald took a better look at the background of the FaceTime, “Wait a minute. Is that a gargoyle behind you? You don’t own any property that looks like that.”

Two-Face shifted the camera angle closer to his face, ”It’s none of your business. I’ll get the message to Harvey.”

“I think I recognized that gargoyle! You’re at Wayne Manor, aren’t you? So that’s what you’ve been getting up to!”

”Give me a break, I’m doing this today. I’ll be seeing you, Oz. And for the record, it was Harvey’s idea.”

The call was hung up, and Oswald grinned to himself. This new information was very entertaining, if not particularly useful. Despite himself, he did like Two-Face and Harvey. They had long gone from being rival gang leaders into an area closer to friendly, and he knew better than to betray that. Even if Bruce Wayne was an objectively terrible choice of partner. That thought turned Oswald back to the matter at hand.

The Baudelaire orphans… In the past few hours he’d had to prepare for meeting them, he’d prepared a bit to ensure his success in acquiring their guardianship. The only issue now was winning the orphans over. He’d watched the live feed of Nygma’s bank robbery earlier, and it proved to him that they would be fairly good candidates to boost his public image, without getting on his nerves too much.

The older girl, Violet, she’d been the one to tackle her brother away from the Riddler’s shot. It could have been a risky move, but it was well-timed. It made him assume she had more self-control than her brother. Klaus, the boy, was clever, even if he needed a little bit of schooling on when it was more appropriate to use that intellect. The baby, or perhaps toddler was more accurate, was the only wildcard. Damn, he had forgotten—

“Mr. Decondor? After we arrive, would you mind going to pick up a carseat? Then of course, return posthaste.”

“Are you quite sure you want me to leave you along, Mr. Cobblepot?”

“Please, we’re not in the Bowery,” he tapped his umbrella on the floor of the car, “I’m fully capable of defending myself, I simply prefer not to.”

“Of course.”

In another few moments, the Maserati had pulled up to the side of a building. Oswald rolled his eyes at the small ‘Wayne Enterprises’ sign on the door, and strode into the building with confidence. All good business rotated around the principles of trade. And in this exchange, the scales were tilted farther in his favor.

When he finally entered the office of Elaine Thomas, he was greeted with thinly-concealed hostility from the social worker, and a surprise second person in the room.

“Why, you must be Mr. Cobblepot. It’s a pleasure to meet you,”

“Good afternoon Mrs. Thomas. I’m so very happy that these children have someone so dedicated to their case,” he glanced at the other woman with a charming smile, “And who might you be, ma’am?”

“Sue, Sue Dibny. I was also informed of the Baudelaires case, and my husband and I are looking to take them in as well,” she said with a smile, but her eye’s didn’t match it.

Elaine fixed him with a stern look, “Sue just finished meeting with the kids. I’m considering both of you for the Baudelaire's guardianship, but ultimately I want this to be the choice of the children.”

“Oh, well that’s just wonderful. Can I say that not many in this field would… prioritize the agency of the children in this manner.”

Oswald was aware that neither of the women in this room believed in his integrity or his ability to raise children. Sue, particularly, posed a problem. She and Elaine seemed to know each other, which meant she was a returning foster parent, and thus able to offer comfort and platitudes to the children. His initial strategy for wooing the children was to appeal to their greed, offer them the opportunity to go to a private school, to have access to a nice manor. But if they had already been raised in wealth, that might not appeal to them as much as typical orphans.

In that instant, Oswald changed his strategy. Sue would represent normalcy to these traumatised children who’d left a string of guardians dead in their wake. But Oswald… he could offer reality. It might be a gamble, but he’d see if he could appeal to the more jaded, cynical nature of the children.

“So, where are the Baudelaires?”

With a distinct lack of speed, Elaine disappeared into the side room of the office. He could hear her talking through the door.

“Mr. Cobblepot is here, do you want me in the room with you all for this meeting?”

“No, we’d prefer to have the door closed.”/ “If that’s alright,” came two younger voices.

Elaine returned shortly, and held the door open to Oswald, “The kids requested to have a bit of privacy, but I’ll be out here if they decide to change their minds.”

“Of course! And really, thank you so much for arranging everything,” his tone was perpetually calm, even if this social worker was starting to get on his last nerve.

He had to keep his temper in check, any outburst could be cause for disqualifying him, setting a torch to his carefully-laid plans. Finally, he entered the room and sat down across from the three Baudelaire orphans.

As first impressions went, he was honestly quite impressed. The older two looked a little peaked, and certainly pale. But impressively, all three kept up a rigid posture, even the toddler. Despite everything they’d presumably gone through, they had kept their clothes and appearances neat. He could tell they were certainly siblings because they shared the same piercing dark eyes. They were certainly wary of him, but not necessarily afraid. They’d prepared something, he could tell.

He skipped a greeting and all of the pleasantries he’d used in talking to the women outside.

“If I were to give each of you one hundred dollars each, what would you do with it? Just tell me whatever comes to mind first.”

His comment granted him a confused look from all of them, but the oldest was the first to reply.

“Keep it as cash. Hide it on my person so it couldn’t be easily stolen, and use it when the need arises.”

“... I would probably try and place it in the bank. If I were able to secure it in a certificate deposit instead of a savings account, then I could get a better return on it in several months, as opposed to yearly interest.”

“Fud. sibbings.”

The boy translated for his sister, “Sunny says she would have us each pool our money so we have more options with 300 dollars.”

Oswald considered these answers, “Very pragmatic of you all. Many people would have answered that question with an idea of what they’d buy with the money. It seems you all are more… forward thinkers. That’s a useful skill.”

Violet tested the waters, “Useful for us, or useful for you, Mr. Cobblepot?”

He let himself smile at that, these children were indeed clever. He was right in his attempt at honesty with them.

“Useful for all parties. I presume you understand that I am something of a businessman. I don’t necessarily make promises with people. I prefer to make contracts— where both parties can gain what they need.”

“Meed us. Por beutation.”

Oswald actually understood what the baby said at that moment, “Oh? You believe I might need you three to improve my reputation, is that it?”

“Not just believe. We learned from Mrs. Dibny that you’re actually a mayoral candidate. But it seems your campaign is heavily overshadowed by a mountain of lawsuits and criminal charges. You need to do something big to change the public perspective on you. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Keen and clever indeed, these Baudelaires, “Perhaps. But I am a very powerful man, and there are other ways to flip public perspectives. Even if I did want to do it though building the image of a single father, I could likely find different individuals to adopt.”

“Expect— we’re the best option. We’re extremely self-sufficent. If you choose to enroll us in school, we would be dedicated to getting spectacular grades—Reflecting well on you. We understand how the press exploits drama, and trauma, and are willing to overplay out past. With us, you could construct yourself as a redeemer of sorts,” Klaus’s argument was so concise it had to have been rehearsed.

“Sebatary.”

“And Sunny has a great deal of secretary experience,” Violet added.

Oswald was appalled, “The baby?”

Sunny looked at him and nodded, presenting him with a stapled packet of paper with writing on it, and a pen. Once again, all three Baudelaires affixed him with serious stares, and Violet spoke for the group.

“You said that you were a man of contracts, so we have one for you. We will let you adopt us, we will help your mayoral campaign. What we want from you is simple.”

He raised an eyebrow and started to read through the contract, his many years of experience granting him a deft eye.

“Hmm, food, housing, medical expenses, school access. You three really put your ducks in a row, didn’t you?” He turned to the next page of the contract, “Security protections, and the support of Violet Baudelaire’s legal emancipation after the completion of the mayoral campaign. Fascinating.”

He looked back up at the children, “I can’t argue with the first page of demands, but I’d like to make some amendments to the second. Then, if my amendments are well, amenable— We can have this taken to my personal notary. That way, even despite your minor statuses, it can be better evidence if it is violated.”

Normally, Oswald wouldn’t have explained the final part, but the Baudelaires had earned that advice from their commitment to arranging this.

“... We are open to some alterations,”

Oswald prepared his pen to mark up the contract, “Mayoral terms in Gotham are four years, but there is a very real chance of being removed from office before that time. I’d like to offer an alternative. Instead of emancipation after winning the election, I propose to instead cede legal guardianship of Sunny and Klaus to you after you turn eighteen. That way, there is a three-year buffer. For you, that buffer means establishing yourself with a better hold and reputation and Gotham to either survive it, or leave it easier. For me, that buffer provides an air of legitimacy to my win, and preserves the possibility of an incumbent run.”

Violet pursed her lips, and looked to her siblings. They exchanged a flurry of glances, and Sunny babbled a bit. Klaus took over as the spokesperson for the next exchange.

“We might except those amended terms if we add an amendment to the security clause. If Count Olaf steps foot in Gotham, we want him behind bars.”

“Surely you realize, imprisonment is a temporary solution…”

“...Gotham has incredibly difficult parole procedures. There’s a high likelihood he’ll incriminate himself further within the system.”

“I could help put him away for… 30, or 40 years. The details of which I can explain away from Good Samaritans. If– I can add another amendment.”

Violet nodded, “Go on.”

“You three will not attempt to aid in any legal testimonies against me. Hypothetically, if you were to see me engaging in behavior that seems illegal, you cannot use that information in a court case against me. Essentially, you will sign an NDA after the completion of this contract.”

“Any illegal behavior?! But if evidence against you arises without our input–”

“If it arises without your input, then the contract still holds. I know that might sound incredibly daunting, but I’ll add on a clause about a weekly allowance in return. How does 100$ each sound?”

“If you’re really going to pay for our silence, at least–”

“200$ weekly.”

For a moment, he saw the desperation in their eyes. These children had been living in some sort of homelessness for a while, while being pursued by an abusive stalker? They knew that they were making a Faustian bargain. But, he knew it was resonating with them. These were children that understood that there are no good options in the world. Only lesser evils.

Oswald knew the look in their eyes well, he’d seen it in the mirror years ago, when he was just like them. A child, trying to live in spite of a world that wasn’t helping them. It was accompanied with a strange sort of twisting feeling, deep within his chest. Instead of pondering it further, he shoved that feeling down deeper, and locked it behind a veneer of self-assurity.

He clicked the ball point pen, and looked at the Baudelaires, “Do all parties agree with the amendments?”

“Yes.”/“Ya.”/”...Yes.”

He made the amendments in the paper as cleanly as they had discussed it, had it approved by all of the children, and let them sign it. He then took the pen and signed it in his own hand.

“For now, this will do. But after we have Mrs. Thomas approve the adoption, and leave this building, I will have this translated into a real legal document and prepare the appropriate NDAs.”

“And then?” Klaus asked.

“Then, I think—dinner, and possibly a tour of Cobblepot manor. Do you all enjoy goulash?”

None of the Baudelaires expressed any particular feelings about the promised goulash. Instead, Klaus went out into the office to thank Mrs. Dibny for coming, and share their final decision with Mrs. Thomas. Half an hour later, the placement was finalized as a foster, and a home visit was scheduled for confirming a later adoption.

And, when they left the building, the Baudelaires stepped into a bright purple Masterati with three things of note in it. The first was Mr. Decondor, who in addition to being a very good driver, was also a licensed notary. The second was the portable printer and laptop that had been set up in the car. They were used to quickly produce an official version of the contract that the Baudelaires took pains to re-read over and confirm with their original contract before letting Oswald sign them. The NDAs took even longer to read through, but were eventually signed by the Baudelaires as well.

The third, and perhaps the most important thing yet, was that a carseat had been prepared for Sunny. And with that, they started out onto the streets of Gotham.

The Baudelaries did not know what waited for them at the end of the road, but they were resigned to find out.

Chapter Text

Dinner, was in a word: Uneventful. To be sure, the dining room of Cobblepot manor was impressive, with crown moulding and expensive light fixtures, but there was little in the way of additional conversation, due in large part to the absence of Mr. Cobblepot. After ushering them into the manor, and calling upon the housekeeper, he had excused himself to the Baudelaires.

“I need to see to my other affairs. Mrs. Egret will serve you dinner, and show you to your rooms. Good night, Baudelaires.”

“...”

Now, they all sat on one side of the expansive dining table, politely eating their goulash. It was actually quite good, and Sunny would tell so Mrs. Egret after the meal.

“Gud-laush!”

Half of Mrs. Egret’s mouth lifted into a smile. Much like her namesake, she had a reedy neck, and a shock of white hair. But she was also unlike her name in two ways, in that waterfowl do not typically have Eastern European accents, nor a persistent partial facial paralysis.

“Ah, I’m glad you liked it. Goulash is usually served with sour cream, but I was told of your preferences,”

“Thank you, very much, ma’am,” Klaus said.

“It is no trouble. You are all part of The Family now, and in The Family we take care of each other.”

Violet noticed the way Mrs. Egret emphasized her words, and kept on with the topic of conversation,”So.. How long have you worked with Mr. Cobblepot?”

“Ah, it’s been many years now. Even before he had so many fine things, eh?”

“Would you say he trusts you, then?” Klaus asked.

“Pah! Oswald does not even trust his right hand enough to know what his left hand is doing. He doesn't trust me, but— we have good credit between us.”

“Uh, could you elaborate on that, at least?”

“Hm. No. But I will help you around the manor. I set up one room, with three beds. It is above us, on the second floor.”

The four made their way outside the dining room and through the hallways of the manor.

“Hausbeekeper?”

“Essentially. I do many things for Mr. Cobblepot. I take care of birds, house, and now you three.”

Klaus looked around, “There are birds here?”

Mrs. Egret hummed, “There used to be many more,…. But at present the aviarary is empty. Cobblepot owns two yard peacocks, some chickens,” she grimaced, “And there is a very stupid crow he is watching, but that one is not my problem. And well, chickens are also not my problem, they are more Waylon’s.”

Violet’s brow scrunched, “And who is that?”

“Ah, ha ah. Waylon is our groundskeeper. He also makes a very, very effective… security specialist. He lives further away on grounds, you will likely not meet him.”

“Do you think he knows about us?” Klaus asked.

“Certainly, it is likely that Cobblepot went to tell him, in fact. If you were mistaken as trespassers? That would be quite unfortunate. I believe right now, it is me, DeCondor, Waylon, and possibly Finchley who know about you three. But only Cobblepot and I have files of information on you.”

“Finby?”

“The Family’s accountant. He is a spineless thing, you will likely only speak to him in regards to money matters. Allowances, school expenses, and the like.”

“How will we get in contact with him–?”

“Do not worry. Cobblepot had me buy some necessities. Phones, laptop. If you need more clothes than in those little backpacks, I will call tailor, or send you to the department store. If you need anything scheduled, ask me.”

The group approached one of the many doors on the floor, and Mrs. Egret unlocked it with a key. Klaus wrung his hands together in thought.

“What about… School?”

She scoffed, “School? We’re still in July. We will have to set up for that. If you want to study, I recommend learning more about Gotham history first. I hear you had a nasty run in with Mr. Nygma.”

“Is that– The Riddler’s name?” Violet asked.

“See, you have much to learn. That boy is vile, but his henches can be pleasant enough,” She finally opened the door, and led them to a desk with neat papers on one side, and boxes of electronics on the other.

“The location and tracking services of the phones have been turned off, but I have faith you finish setting them up. These papers have important contacts on them, some important dates, and your allowance for this week. If you want to get a card instead of cash, you will have to talk to Finchley. I don’t care to handle that stuff.”

“Um, thank you again. You’ve been really, very helpful.”

“Like I said, the Family works to ensure the success of everyone. I will be in the East Wing if you need anything,”

With that, Mrs. Egret left them to their own devices. The first thing that they all did, was lock the doors and windows of the room. It was only then that they could appreciate the scope of the room. It was plain, but not necessarily unwelcoming. The walls were a pleasant almond brown, with a darker carpet, and the beds were made up in eggshell white. There were a few empty shelves, a standing wardrobe, and two desks off to the side. Everything except one desk and the beds were covered in a layer of dust. Opening the other two doors in the room revealed an ensuite, and a walk-in closet. The closet was still dusty, but the bathroom had definitely been cleaned before their arrival. Mrs. Egret had even placed their backpack’s from Mrs. Thomas’s office there.

Violet started to gravitate towards the boxes of electronics, and Klaus to the papers on the desk, while sunny began to unscrew a wooden bedknob.

“Here Sunny, let me help you with that–” Violet carefully unscrewed it, and removed the metal part of it, handing it to Sunny.

“Fank you.”

“You’re welcome. I wonder, what time is it?”

“I don’t know, but it can’t be too late, the sun hasn’t set yet.”

“I guess I’ll start setting up some of these electronics, then. It’ll be a bit of a learning curve, but I think I can manage.”

Klaus nodded, “It’s weird, it almost feels a little anachronistic. These are clearly brand new electronics. But this mansion is preserved in a traditional style, Mr. Cobblepot’s suits look like they’re from the 19th century–”

Violet brushed dust off of a lampshade, “I don’t know if we have room to talk. All our clothes are a little old fashioned, we aren’t exactly ‘modern kids’. And besides, it’s kind of like the city, right?”

“Darboyles. An scrapers.”

“Hm. That’s a good point. Gotham’s architecture varies a lot too, it has a bunch of glass skyscrapers next to things that look like Gothic Cathedrals. Even if Cobblepot has a preferred aesthetic, quick communication is still important to run a business.”

“Or a crime family,” Violet said bitterly.

“Well. Yeah. Do you need help getting those boxes open?”

“No, there was a nail kit in the bag Mrs. Thomas left for me. I’m using the nail file to get the tape off.”

“Na need bone.” ’I don’t need a phone Violet, you should see what you can make out of its parts.’

The two sisters shared a smile.

“I think that’s a great idea Sunny! Just give me a second to get this laptop– hold on.”

Violet tied her hair back, and opened the laptop, exploring the features for a second.

“Got it, I just set it up with a password. L’albatros is the code.”

“Like that… sad poem?”

Violet nodded, plugged the laptop in and passed it to Klaus, as she took up residence at the desk.

“I’m going to start working on the phones next, see if you can find more information about Gotham.”

“Good point. I really do prefer to use microfilm— But I guess I’ll have to learn how to use the internet at some point.”

They settled into a relaxed silence, content with their respective tasks. After a while, Violet had started to use her nail kit to deconstruct one of the phones, carefully pulling the pieces apart to get a better look at the components. The nail file and the cuticle trimmer were especially useful in this regard.

Klaus was seated in the armchair, browsing online articles. He’d opened up the word processor and started to compile the most useful information in to a bullet list, with different documented tabs. He would have preferred to be doing it on paper, with physical copies and a stapler, but made due.

“This is actually quite interesting— I’m trying to start with more recent history, because I want to be more prepared if we encounter any more trouble. Gotham has a weirdly large issue with career criminals. There’s a whole database for them, and for sightings of them. Not to mention all of the vigilantes!"

“Is that what that guy at the bank was? The Nightwing fellow. I had assumed that was just a really weird police uniform. But we know about Batman, he’s real, right?”

“Yeah, don’t you remember that broadcast our parents let us watch? The one when the Justice League was formed?”
“Aba?”

Violet looked to Sunny, “I don’t think you were born yet. But it was like, the formation of superhero team. Our parents never put much stalk in them, so I guess we didn’t either.”

Klaus continued, “What I find really interesting, is the lack of articles related to organized crime. Oh wait— here we go. There’s one writer who seems really passionate about it. Huh.”

“Well, of course there wouldn’t be a large article that points out exactly how Mr. Cobblepot leads the Gotham mob.”

“I know, but let me tell you about this Vicki Vale article. She talks about how the rise of costume criminals sometimes overshadows mob activity and corruption. She implies that this guy called ‘The Penguin,’ took advantage of that divide, and used it to take over the mob while making deals and truces with the ‘Rouges.’”

“That is interesting. Is there any connection between The Penguin and Mr. Cobblepot?”

Klaus looked at her, “Wel, he does kind of look like a Penguin. He’s got the build– Eugh!”

Sunny had rubbed the wet bedknob on Klaus’ leg.

“Bad!”

“Sunny, I’m not trying to mean! I’m just trying to draw connections–”

“Hem.”

“I know it’s not very polite, but I do think that he is ‘The Penguin’. With everything we’ve learned today, and what seems to be the general opinion of Gothomaites on Mr. Cobblepot, I think it's reasonable to assume they’re the same person.”

“Well of course they’re the same person, why else do you think he had us sign those NDAs?”

No one had a response to Violet’s comment, so they continued along with their tasks. It took another hour or so, but Violet had produced a new object from the pieces of the phone.

Klaus looked up from the laptop as his sister stopped working. He’d switched from researching Gotham’s criminals to the school options, and setting up an email account.

“What’s that?”

“A lock! I designed it so that even if we leave this room, we can lock it behind us with a pin-pad. That’s how I ended up repurposing the screen.”

“But what about Mrs. Egret? She unlocked it with a key, wouldn’t that still work to unlock it?”

“Well, the pin-pad will cover the keyhole from the outside, and we can stuff the keyhole with some fabric as another precaution. And I’m sure she won’t mind having one less thing to do, we’ve always cleaned our own room.”

She strode over, and started to tinker with the original lock in a way that linked the two contraptions together, setting a code. She returned the door to it’s locked form before she told her siblings the code.

“I’ve also been looking at schools,” he picked up the piece of paper that had the contacts of people within the Cobb Mob, “Should we start adding these contacts in our phones?”

“Baff. Bed. Rowmow wobbies.” ’Let’s get clean and go to bed. We can worry about more things tomorrow.’

They all agreed with Sunny’s plan, and changed into some of the clothes they found in the backpacks. Soon enough, the curtains were drawn, the lights turned off, and they were all situated in different beds. It was both a combination of extremely pleasant, and very worrying. They keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Violet thought that Count Olaf might break through her new lock. Klaus worried He might start in the East Wing, and remove Mrs. Egret before trying to come after them. Sunny was afraid He was under the bed, and started to sniffle.

“Oh dear…” Violet sat up in the darkness, and she moved into Sunny’s bed.
“I’m here. And Klaus is still with us. You don’t have to worry.”

They continued to lay awake in the dark for another few moments. Then it was Klaus who sat up.

“Would you mind if I…?”

“Come on. I don’t think any of us will be able to sleep unless we’re together.”

“Ya!”

“Thanks…”

Each sibling’s individual thoughts of the dangers that laid ahead of them did keep appearing, but each time they did, the presence of the other two would reassure them. Soon enough, they were able to go to sleep. For the firsts time in a long time, they had no dreams, good or bad, that disturbed them.