"Oswald Cobblepot."
"Don't you remember, Mr. Thor?" The Penguin's tone was pleasantly conversational, the kind a man uses when he already knows the answer. "The Riddler sent you to kill the Mad Hatter. And then?"
"I got caught."
"You got played." He smiled. "Our friend has been watching you for a while. He may not have confirmed the betrayal outright — but he's noticed the pattern. A lot of people have left his operation recently. Poison Ivy, Firefly, and Mister Zsasz are basically all he has left. Supervillains don't exactly disappear of their own accord." He paused. "So he sent you to the Mad Hatter, and if I hadn't been involved, you'd be spending the rest of the Battle of Jokes and Riddles as cannon fodder in a clown collar."
Jude considered this. "I should thank him for not just shooting me."
"Honestly? I think he was too concerned with saving face to do that," the Penguin said. "What's the point of handing you off to be killed by someone else? If you perform well here, he'll regret it. But—" he waved a hand — "that's his problem."
"Anyway. The situation is what it is." He straightened his jacket. "The Riddler is down to almost nobody. The Joker has you and me — two men playing both sides — and nobody else he fully trusts. You've already delivered on most of the original arrangement; between you and Batman, you've cleared most of the major pieces off the board. Now we move to the next stage. Take down the Riddler and the Joker together — and if the numbers thin out a little more along the way, I won't complain."
Jude glanced at the remote control in the Penguin's hand. "You've got the controller now. Why do you still need me? You could keep the whole arrangement to yourself."
"Because you can't run this city and I can't do what you do." The Penguin's voice was patient, as though explaining arithmetic to a slow student. "You need me to manage the organizational side — the assets, the intelligence networks, the financial infrastructure the Joker took from Falcone. I can do all of that. What I can't do is what you've been doing on the front lines — getting close, creating the openings, working the angles that require someone willing to be in personal danger. We have different functions, Mr. Thor. That's not imbalance. That's a working arrangement."
Jude said nothing.
"Besides," the Penguin continued, "I offered generous terms. After this is finished — a share of the assets, an ongoing percentage of profits. The kind of arrangement that sets a person up. You turned it down. All you wanted was a flat fee for services rendered." He tilted his head slightly. "To be perfectly honest, if I'd taken that same fee to Slade or someone comparable, they'd have done the same job and collected a commendation for it."
He turned the remote over in his fingers. "I don't particularly care what your reasons are — whether you're frightened of the Joker and Riddler's future attention, or whether you're an undercover operative who wants payments that look clean on paper, or something else entirely. Right now, the only thing that matters is that you're willing to finish what you started. I'll triple the original fee. The Mad Hatter's control is already released. And all you have to do is complete what you already agreed to." He held the remote up. "So. Are we still doing this?"
"No problem," Jude said immediately. "You have my word."
The Penguin's expression didn't change, but something behind his eyes did.
Damn. He'd overplayed it. The man had been ready to agree at the original price, and the Penguin had just given away triple for nothing. This was the specific kind of mercenary who would walk straight into a burning building for the right number and not lose a moment's sleep about it afterward. No ideology. No hesitation. Just a number, and then a job.
The possibility that he was dealing with an undercover officer or a Batman operative quietly dropped several percentage points in the Penguin's internal ledger. Good people fought for reasons, which was why they were so reliably brave. This one had no reasons. His disregard for personal safety was purely transactional, which made him something the Penguin found both deeply useful and faintly unsettling.
A genuine desperado.
The rest of the drive to the Joker was uneventful.
The Joker himself barely looked up when they came in. He waved one hand in a loose, dismissive arc — the gesture of a man depositing something in a bin — and told the Penguin to take Thor directly to meet his assignment for the night.
"Man-Bat's waiting. Give the controller to Victor for now; he's running the op. And I don't trust that animal—" He nodded in Jude's general direction. "—so keep him on the leash." A pause. "Don't you find your current situation interesting, Thor?"
Jude said nothing.
The Joker's lip curled. "Okay, it's not that funny. You can go."
"Yes, boss."
Mr. Freeze's office, or whatever room in the theater the Joker had designated as Mr. Freeze's operational base, had the temperature of a walk-in storage unit. Jude felt it through his robe the moment the door opened.
Freeze himself stood near the far wall, still and formal, with the particular expression he always wore — deep, cold resentment, directed at nothing specific and therefore at everything. Beside him, occupying most of the remaining space in the room, was Man-Bat.
Literally: a very large humanoid bat. Kirk Langstrom, per the Penguin's introduction, though the creature standing in the corner bore only a theoretical relationship to the biochemist that name belonged to. The claws were not built for handshakes.
"Thor, these two will be working with you going forward," the Penguin said. "Mr. Freeze, Victor Fries. Man-Bat, Kirk Langstrom."
Mr. Freeze extended a hand, correct and formal. "Mr. Thor."
Man-Bat did not move. His lucidity had clearly come and gone already tonight.
Jude, naturally, did not respond to either of them.
"Let me explain," the Penguin said, reading the question in Freeze's expression. "Mr. Thor was dispatched by the Riddler to assassinate the Mad Hatter last night. It didn't go as planned. He's currently under hat control — basic behavioral functions only. He can follow instructions, but he can't reason or react to external stimuli." He produced the remote. "This is his controller. Victor, keep it secure."
Freeze's posture eased visibly. "So he wasn't turned voluntarily? He didn't come over to our side of his own accord?"
"Correct. All his actions are directed by whoever holds the remote."
"Good." Freeze accepted the controller with both hands, turned it over once to examine it. "I've seen the Mad Hatter operate one of these. I imagine the interface is similar."
"It is. One final note — please avoid releasing the control unexpectedly. Keep him under until you need him to act independently, and even then, not without warning. He'll follow any instruction you give him. Just don't catch him off guard."
Freeze nodded. "Understood. I have no reason to release him carelessly."
He studied the remote for another moment. "Though — just to be thorough — could you confirm which button is the release? I'd like to be certain before I need it under pressure."
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