call it what you want || nygmobblepot x oc ✅

I Did Something Bad

POV Five Jackson

There are two more meetings ahead of us, and between them, Penguin makes nasty cracks at the people from the last one. Sometimes he'll ask my opinion on what had happened, and I try to take the safest route and agree with him. But mostly he sticks with talking to Nygma. That's fine. I know my place.

The third meeting is... special. From the moment the club owner saunters into the room I know he's trouble. And from the way Penguin's fingers tighten around the head of his cane, he knows it too.

"So. What do you have for me?" Penguin asks, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, hello to you as well," he says, and I absolutely cannot believe he's doing this. I can be a cocky guy too, but I know better than to try to engage a mobster in pleasantries. This means one of two things- he's either knee-deep in trouble and is trying to cover it up, or he thinks he's hot shit and can outsmart the Penguin. I've seen that look on too many people on the streets and it never ends well. And either way, he's in for a rude awakening.

Penguin fixes him with a hard stare. "How much are you pulling in?" He asks, and from the man's hard swallow we all know that whatever he's making, it isn't enough.

"15,000," he says. Penguin makes a tsking noise and rises from the chair. I press my body against the wall to let him pass me. Nygma's wearing a creepy little smile. Penguin circles the other man, hands landing on his shoulders.

"And what are you supposed to be making?" He says. He doesn't need any emphasis, everyone in the room knows this guy is fucked.

"30,000. Sir." the businessman stutters.

"Yes, and you're making half that." Penguin looks up and locks eyes with me. "One of my men could run your business better than you. Do you water down your drinks?"

"Actually," he continues, removing his hands. "One of my men will run that place better than you. Because this is the end of the line for you, Owens."

Owens goes pale and I can see a nervous sweat start to form by his forehead. He's fucked and we all know it. Penguin takes a handgun from his pocket and aims it between the man's eyes.

"What do you think, Five? Kill him now or make him suffer?" He doesn't look at me as he asks. I know it's another test. It's still terrifying to be on the receiving end of his intense focus.

"I think," I say, "That you should make an example of him." Owens splutters. Don't open your mouth, Owens. You're lowering the IQ of the whole street.

"You're having one of your cronies decide this? You really are crazy," He spits. I glare, and Penguin turns and places the gun on the table. If anyone's crazy, it's this guy for being a dick.

"Take him away," he instructs the other men coldly, and Owens is dragged from the room. The tension is gone from the space like a string being cut. I stay silent. I don't want his temper turned on me. 

"Senile." he sighs, reaching up to rub at his temple. "Some people don't know respect, do they?" It seems like a question I'm not supposed to answer, but I mutely shake my head if it is. Nygma does the same.

"I think-" he starts, but he doesn't finish because the door is blown off its hinges and two burly men with insane tattoos and guns face us.

"Penguin. Where's Owens," the first one growls.

"Owens broke the rules. That means punishment," Nygma says smoothly, covering for Penguin's shock.

"He's got friends in high places," the second one says. "You'll regret this."

"I don't care," Penguin says. "Nobody in Gotham is higher up than I am. Now get out before I have this one mop the floor with you." He gestures towards me with a finger.

The first goon looks over at me and laughs. "This guy? Yeah. Sure, do it," he dares. The audacity of some people. I flick open my switchblade but then think, and put it away. I won't need it for this one.

"Come on, pretty boy, do your worst," he taunts. Penguin looks at me, but I'm watching them.

I'm pulling a gun from my pocket and shooting the second goon dead between the eyes. I don't care about him. It's the first one I want to handle. The next two bullets shatter the bones in the first goon's hands. The gun drops to the floor. He screams and I just grit my teeth and stalk over, stowing the pistol. I tuck my foot behind his ankle and place my hands on his shoulder. A little pressure and he goes to the floor. I'm behind him in an instant and put him into a nice chokehold.

"What'd you call me?" I growl. He just gasps and squirms. "What'd you call me," I snap, tightening my grip ever so slightly..

"P-pretty boy," he gasps out. I grin wickedly down at him.

"Exactly. Say it again."

"Pretty boy." I never did trust a narcissist. Thinking they're hot shit. But apparently they love me.

"I'm flattered," I say, voice lower. "I don't know why you insist on using it as an insult. I want to be the prettiest boy you've ever seen," and I tighten my grip. He flails and tries to kick me loose, but every movement jars his hands and he lets out whimpers occasionally. He's still trying to hide the pain. Idiot.

After a few minutes, he goes limp.

I stand, nudging his body to make sure he's no longer alive. I look up and Penguin's smiling at me, a small, devious smile. 

"Very nice," he says and offers polite applause. I return the smile. Nygma's watching me appraisingly. 

"Thank you, sir," I say and brush imaginary lint off of my black shirt. He smirks.

"We should be going." He says. He's not even shaken. Of course not. He probably gets death threats every day. "I have some things to attend to." I nod.

I don't pretend to know what he means but I nod anyway, following him out of the building. The car ride back is short, and when we walk into the house, he turns and tells me he's going to plan some things out with Nygma.

"Alright," I say, flopping down into an armchair and cleaning my knife on the hem of my shirt.

God help me. This whole thing throws a wrench in my plans to kill Nygma somehow. To put him through something. Make him suffer for what he did. Because he's my boss' best friend, right hand man. I can't do this with me this close to Penguin. Fortunately, what I've got for Penguin is a crush, an infatuation bound to leave any day now. Once it does, I'll go after riddle boy.