Prince of Darkness ~ Gotham

~ Chapter Fifty Four: Secret in The Attic ~

Late into the night, the snowstorm began to pick up as Jim, Harvey, and Oswald drove through the woods and turned down the winding roads. They couldn't admit it out loud, but both detectives couldn't shake off the feeling that they were walking into another death trap. Considering they were miles outside the city, and if anything were to go wrong and they called for backup, it'd take them a while to get there.

As the car drove up one steep hill, onto another snow-covered road, the car came to a slow halt as Bullock pulled off to the side of the road, looking through the windshield to find a two-story home in much need of repairs. From the outside, it appeared that it wasn't abandoned as the porch lights were on and candlelight flickered in the windows. "You sure about this, Penguin? You're telling me this is where Loeb keeps 20 years of dirty secrets?" Harvey squinted, glancing through the car mirror at Oswald. "It doesn't feel right,"

"Well, maybe that's the point. No one would suspect it," Jim reasoned. But Oswald rolled his eyes, muttering incoherently under his breath. "What would you prefer, Detective Bullock? A sign saying 'Super-secret blackmail hoard?" His voice dripped with sarcasm and exhaustion. "You know, the last time the three of us took a ride, you were in the trunk. I liked that better," Harvey reminded, leaning into the back. "I told you I overheard Falcone on the phone to Loeb. He said the farm was safe," Cobblepot assured, his words more so aimed towards Jim. "Now, I'll wait here, and when you're done, flash the lights or something," 

"Uh-uh, you're coming along," Jim shook his head, unbuckling his seatbelt. "But if whoever's inside sees me and reports back to Falcone..." Oswald tried to protest but Harvey cut him off. "Then you'll be in some really deep doo. What'd you think, huh? We were gonna do your dirty work and then you were just gonna waltz in and take through the leavings? Have some respect!" Harvey scoffed. A sudden knock came from the passenger window, and Oswald gasped as he peered at the dark figure on the other side. Keeping their hands on their guns, Harvey rolled down the back window, revealing an older man with a seemingly concerned look on his face.

"You fellas lost?" He asked. "Good evening, sir. We were sent by Commissioner Loeb. Might we have a word out of the cold?" Oswald took the reins of the conversation, leaving Jim and Harvey staring at each other with uncertainty. One wrong word and their entire mission would be for nothing. "Well, Marge is putting on some tea," The old man replied. Oswald nodded gleefully as the detectives quietly sighed with relief, though they weren't out of the woods yet. They followed the old man across the road and inside the house where they sat at a circular table covered in green cloth, in the center lay a small white cake.

Jude's wife soon entered the room, carrying a steaming teapot, and poured everyone's drinks. "I love your house, it's so cozy," Oswald complimented. "Thank you," Marge smiled. "How long have you two been here?" Jim asked. "Oh well, about 20 years," Jude answered. "Ever since Mr. Loeb bought the place. Hard to believe. Time boy, you should've seen Margie back then! Hot to trot," Marge chuckled and looked up at her husband as she finished pouring Oswald's tea.

"What were you doing before that?" Harvey questioned. "Nothing much, Margie was a nurse over at Arkham. And I was working on the railroad. Whoo-whoo!" Jude chuckled as Oswald imitated his gesture of the train's whistle. But while Jude seemed to be doing most of the talking, Marge's friendly demeanor grew a little suspicious. "Why are you men here?" She inquired. "Inspection. Commissioner Loeb has some security concerns," Jim lied. "We didn't hear nothing about it," Marge claimed. The chatter in the room grew dangerously quiet as Jim set down his teacup, and Jude leaned back in his chair.