Being Evil 20 Dollars at a Time [Ozzy and Edward]

[Deleted]

The search for this 'Riddler' was going off like a fart in church. Scareface had gone all out with the crew. Meaning it was Wesker, Mugsy, and Rhino. Quality over quantity  They were aimlessly wondering the streets of uptown Gotham.  Whenever they found someone staniding alone, Scareface would take the lead and approach them. They didn't approach crowds. They didn't approach duos. No, they only went up people who were alone. They figured this Riddler character had no friends. After all, who could trust someone who sent texts, emails, etc in a Riddle? Nope, can't be trusted.

Whenever Wesker, Rhino, Mugsy, and Scarface would approach a poor and unsuspecting prospect it would go something like this. "ARE YE THE RIDDLER?" Scarface would poke the person, men in the chest, women in the arm. "NO? ARE YE SURE? RHINO."

Rhino, the six foot ten former linebacker for the Gothan Knights would then growl. "ALL RIGHT, YE AIN'T THE RIDDLER. MUGSY, TAKE DA WALLET." Mugsy would point a pistol in their face, and the next thing you know, the group was twenty dollars richer.

This went on for a few hours on the north side of town.

So, when Scarface told all of them they could take five and go into the stacked deck for a few drinks, everyone was happy. Rhino and Rhino hurried to the bar like hungry children being fed for the first time in 24 hours. They ordered drinks then scattered like roaches into the club. Mugsy saw a nice brunette and went to go flirt while Rhino went to 'take care of business' in the restroom.

This left Arnold Wesker and Scarface to their own devices. "OH GREAT, AH'M STUCK WITH YOU. LET'S GRA'G A DRINK!"

Arnold and Scarface made their way over to the bar.  Wesker gently placed Scarface on a bar stool and took a seat next to the mob boss.  Wesker reached out a finger to the bartender, "Excu---excus--excuse me.  Can we get some service please?"  Ten minutes later, the bartender came over to Wesker and took their orders.  Two shots of rum.  Both for Mr. Scarface.  Of course the two shots sat empty on the bar counter the entire night.

"Yo DUMMY.  Ah've G'EEN SCANNING DA ROOM FOR DIS RIDDLER.  WATCHA THINK A'GOUT DAT GUY?"  Scarface motioned over shorter fellow sitting alone in a booth.  The man at the booth was odd looking.  A short fellow, even shorter than Wesker, and a little plump around the waist.  He had a pointed nose that hooked downwards and sharp features to the majority of his face.  The man dressed in a fine suit and carried an umbrella. 

Wesker scanned the rest of the bar.  Arnold Wesker was able to deduce that this fellow had at least more than a handful of people working for him, all situated around the club.  Wesker shrugged,  "I d--don't know Mr. Scarface.  I mean he could be the Riddler.  I mean, anyone could be the Riddler."

"NOT YOU, MUGSY, OR RHINO.  NOPE.  NOT ONE OF YE HAVE THE CAPACITY TO 'GE DA RIDDLER.  TO STUPID  ALL OF YE." Wesker turned Scarface around in the stool.   "HEH.  HE'S G'ALDING LIKE YOU DUMMY.  MAYG'E YE COULD START A CLU'G OR SOMETHING.  C'MON LET'S GO INTRO-DEUCE OURSELVES."  

The pair left the bar, with Wesker making eye contact with Mugsy before making their way to the booth.  They cast an odd looking shadow with Scarface resting on Wesker's forearm.  Mugsy came up right beside them and placed a cuban cigar in Wesker's hand to be given to the boss later.

"YO, 'MR FANCY PANTS, ARE YOU DA RIDDLER?" Scarface confidently asked to the gentlemen sitting in the booth. 

[Oswald Cobblepot]

Oswald's search for the perpetrator of yesterdays stunt had been more structured but just as fruitless. If not even more so as he hadn't even been robbing people in the process.
He'd acquired some tech people to look in to how it was done to hopefully recreate it for his own means. He'd enquired with everyone in his mob to see if they'd heard anything about this mysterious Riddler. He'd assessed every message his men had been sent, whether they wanted to show him or not. A few really hadn't wanted to share but after word got around that the first one to refuse had choked to death on his own phone following the disagreement with the Penguin things went more smoothly and the worst of it was mostly just his men doing their jobs and sounding predictably dodgy in the process. He'd only had to shoot two of his own people, he'd call that an acceptable loss considering they'd been betraying him.

He'd come up with nothing though. Ozzy's contacts in the underworld weren't being helpful and the police he had on the books didn't know anything though he'd put them on notice to tell him when any investigation progressed. The Stacked Deck was his next choice to visit. To sit, think and listen to the gossip of career criminals who might know something.

Despite bringing ten men with him he had no intention of sitting and socialising with them. He'd had them clear out a booth towards the back of the room for him to sit alone in peace and then they'd cleared off to drink and chat with others under strict orders to let him know if they heard anything. Save for one who brought Oswald his drink before disappearing to drink with the rest.

So Oswald was alone, searching on his phone for the latest news when Scarface, Arnold and co arrived. It wasn't long before the sound of Scarface at the bar drew his attention and he briefly glanced over...then had to look again, one eyebrow raising at the puppet. Gotham had become weirder and weirder. He was about to dismiss the man and his doll as unimportant when they seemed to be looking at him...and then coming his way.

Straightening in his seat Cobblepot put his phone back in his pocket and picked up his drink, looking relaxed about the fact a rather unimposing man was coming to show him his toy. A couple of his men seemed to take notice and watched but they made no attempt to rejoin their boss yet. If he needed them Oswald will make sure they know.

It was weird that the dummy asked the questions. Oswald understood what ventriloquism is but it was still weird. He played along however because he had little desire to disturb the reality of crazy people right now. The question is answered with a raised eyebrow, directed at Scarface "This is your approach a mystery? Who is asking?" he avoids answering the actual question and of course he doesn't need to know why the puppet is looking for the Riddler, everyone is right now.

[Edward Nygma]

The Batman. The Gotham City Police Department. Fools. Idiots. All of them. He despised them all. How that random woman…and a man dressed as a bat. Despicable! Insulting! They cheated! Cheaters! They were all cheaters, and it was the only logical explanation! Edward had done everything right. He had spent months preparing his revenge, and it crumbled in the end. The stupid Bat! Who dresses as a god damn Bat! How did he find his location? How did he know?! He had barely gotten out of there alive, and his damn partners! His grip tightened on his glass to a point he might break it, but he took a sharp breath through his nose to calm himself. Cheaters. Cheating cops and a cheating man bat.

Edward sat at the bar, taking large sips of a scotch. He was on his fourth glass at this point, and he looked simply like shit. He had a busted lip and blossoming black eye. His outfit had dirt and dust all over it because the only way he was able to get out of Wayne Tower was through the air vents. His jacket was ruined and had been tossed in the trash at some point during the night. His crisp white button-down shirt had blood and dirt on it. His purple tie loosened, and his green pants were so covered in dirt, the color was not quite visible. His hat was lost in the scuffle, so his hair was completely disheveled. It was clear that he had not gotten any sleep, and he evidently had not taken a shower. He had it all planed, but he never considered actually getting caught. He never considered the police determining his true identity and locating his safe house or working with Wayne Tech to find his hidden accounts. For that reason, he didn’t have a place to go, which is why he currently found himself at the Stacked Deck, blending in with all the other criminals as he was now being called on the news. He also needed a drink.

The one benefit to yesterday’s events was that everyone appeared to know his name. It was the constant chatter of everyone on the streets and in the bar. Who was the Riddler? The GCPD had not yet released his name to the public, but he suspected it soon would be if they did not locate him. He enjoyed the shroud of mystery, and he smirked occasionally when he caught a few people sounding impressed with what he had done. Even though his plan had failed in the end, it seemed even in failure he could accomplish more than most in this unbearable city. His name was being mentioned so often that he no longer glanced up at it, so he did not notice as thugs left and new thugs came in. He pouted and bitterly thought to himself how the cheaters had won, milking his drink as he did so. It was not until someone practically shouted his name did his attention pull out of his internal thoughts. He saw an old man and a dummy….what was Gotham coming to these days.

In less than 24 hours, he had seen a man dressed as a bat and now, this. He noticed as the man gave the dummy a drink and talked to him like it was a real person. It seemed the city had gone crazy. He would have gone back to his drink, if not for the fact that the dummy and the man seemed to be dead set in thinking that someone here was the Riddler, and it wasn’t him. He subtly followed the older man’s gaze to a booth, and he had to withhold a laugh. The Penguin? They thought the Penguin was him? He had never met the man in person, but he knew of his dealings in the black market and that the man was a force in the criminal underworld. It seemed the idiots were actually going to ask the Penguin, and when they did, Edward actually laughed. He could not help it. He was slightly drunk, exhausted, and this…this was ridiculous! He knew the Penguin was looking for him. He had heard it through the words of those around him in the bar. He shouldn’t draw the man’s attention to him, but this was actually happening. An old man with his dummy quizzing the Penguin on whether he was the Riddler, whether he was him when the Riddler was actually a few feet away! He laughed harder, keeling over the bar with Penguin's response.

It was too late anyways. His identity would be released to the public, and soon everyone who was looking for him would be on his tail. It would be best to smooth rough edges now. He finished the rest of his drink with a large smile and spoke briefly to the bar tender, telling him to send over another to the booth. He got off the chair and turned, doing a glance around the room to determine if any other major players of threat were in the room. It was evident that Penguin had men here, and the dummy did as well. He was out numbered. He still had trinkets from the night before, but his best weapon had always been his tongue. He brushed himself off and tried to run his gloved hand through his hair to tidy it. “I am the Riddler,” he announced and gave a bow like he was on a stage. He then walked to the booth. “Mr. Cobblepot, I have heard you have been looking for me. It is an honor to catch your attention. May I join you?” he asked, knowing who the actual power player in this room was and flatly ignoring the crazy man with his dummy.

[Deleted]

"How rude!" Arnold Wesker didn't show to much emotion outside of timidity, apprehension, and stoicism. But when Edward 'vultured' in on the beginnings of what could have been a beautiful conversation, the Ventriloquist began to show annoyance, "How dare you interrupt us? Don't you know who this is?" He motioned holding up the mobster, "This is Mister Scarface!" Wesker's voice was raspy and low, but loud enough for Edward and Cobblepot to hear.

Scarface took a moment to observe the new comer.  Dirt, blood, and dust.  No shower.  No sleep. 

"HOLD ON DUMMY. DON'T TWIST YER PANTIES in a G'UNCH. THIS GUY LOOKS LIKE SOMETHING I FLUSHED DOWN THE TOILET THIS MORNING."

That's when Scarface and Ventriloquist simultaneously looked at each other "HE'S GOTTA G'E THE RIDDLER,"  Scarface said.  "Uh-huh." The Ventriloquist replied.

This is when Edward would feel a piece of cold steel pressed against his back waist.  Mugsy the goon smiled as he had a revolver.  The revolver was hidden by a suit jacket.  Classic gangster.

"LISTEN KID.  AS MY ASSO-CIA-ITE WAS SAYING, WAS 'GOUT TO INTRO-DEUCE MYSELF TO THIS GUY G'EFORE YE IN-TER-UP-TED.  LEAST YE CAN DO IS ACK-NOW-LEDGE US TOO!"  Scarface said as Arnold placed a cigar in his mouth.  "YER LUCKY MUGSY DON'T PLUG YE RIGHT NOW,  IF YE REALLY ARE THE RIDDLER, THEn NO ONE WOULD CARE IF WE PUT YE IN A CHICAGO OVERCOAT."

Scarface and Wesker turned to address both the Penguin and the Riddler.  "DA NAME'S SCARFACE.  LIKE EDDARD STARK OR ROOSE G'TOLEN, AH'M DA WARDEN OF DA NORTH.  NORTH SIDE OF TOWN DAT IS."  Keeping a stoic expression, Scarface continued.  "WE'RE A SMALL GANG, G'UT WE PACK LOTS OF HEAT & GUMSHOE.  WE'RE RESPONSIBLE FOR LOTS OF CAPPERS AND MOST IMPORTANTLY WE'VE G'EEN A'GLE to AVOID THE COOPERS AND DA G'AT.  NOW, YER ON OUR TURF, WE'RE GONNA LISTEN AND G'E INVOLVED WITH WAT YOU TWO WISEGUYS HAVE TO SAY, CAPICHE?" 

Scarface took off his hat, with the help of Arnold of course.

"IF YER THE MR COGGLEPOT, DEN ITS A PLE-SURE TO HAVE YE ON THE NORTH SIDE OF TOWN."  Arnold helped Scarface put his hat back on.  The mob boss then turned to the Riddler, "KID IF YER REALLY ARE DA RIDDLER, DEN YE GOT 'GALLS.  WE LIKE DAT, RIGHT DUMMY?"

"Of course Mister Scarface.  The Kid has testicles." 

There was an uncomfortable pause.  The Ventriloquist smiled.  Arnold cracked a grin.  The bottle framed glasses for the myopia slipped down to the bridge of his nose as he chimed.

"A wise old owl lived in an oak
The more he saw the less he spoke
The less he spoke the more he heard.
Why can't we all be like that wise old bird? Heeeeee."

[Oswald Cobblepot]

Oswald couldn't help but notice the dishevelled man apparently losing his mind with laughter at the bar as he was speaking to Scarface but he just assumed he was drunk or crazy. This was clearly the town for crazy. As Edward came to join them and claimed to be the Riddler Oswald hide his surprise. Not that such a man might actually to introduce himself to Oswald but that crazy doll mans plan apparently works! He looked back to Arnold as Scarface is introduced, crazy example number one there. He'd heard of a Scarface in passing about some gang but apparently his information had missed the part where he was made of wood. Ozzy's eyebrows raised as he looked at Edward, choosing to focus on him because the alternative would be to roll his eyes when Arnold/Scarface decided Edward must be the Riddler, a gesture he had a feeling wouldn't go do well.

After a quick glance up and down over Edward, assessing him, Oswald gestured to a chair, agreeing that he could sit "Apparently there is something to be said for the direct approach. Though I have no doubt of my colleagues investigative skills" Scarface did think he was the Riddler a moment ago so his judgement wasn't exactly inspiring confidence for Ozzy "Might I request some proof? The demonstration yesterday has turned quite the number of heads...though I understand the evening did not go according to plan" Edward didn't look like he was drinking to celebrate and he'd clearly been beaten and dragged through the mud or something, he can't imagine that was intentional. If he was the Riddler something clearly went wrong.

He only had to glance at Mugsy to assume the classic gun in the back trick was currently being played. He wasn't concerned as Scarface made his threats, if anything Ozzy was quite interested to see how this Riddler would react away from their technological trickery. Still, it would hardly do to find him and have him shot within minutes "I may be inclined to care about the, as you so charmingly called it, Chicago overcoat" it was the politest of objections to someone getting shot but for anyone who knew Oswald it carried weight and more of his men were watching by this point.

"You say that this is your turf" something Oswald debated, he'd make it his turf in an instant if he were angry but truth be told he was finding Arnold to be somewhat of an amusement. He smiled faintly "A fact I would not debate but I perhaps might consider it a favour should your friend there" he gestured at Mugsy "Go to the bar and fetch us all another drink instead" his favours were worth it, provided he wasn't angry enough to find loopholes. He did consider it a minor favour though. Life wasn't worth much to Oswald unless Edward could prove himself useful fast.

The random owl poem causes Oswald to pause and narrow his eyes at Arnold. Was that supposed to be making fun of him? Was it a compliment? He honestly couldn't decide if it was or if it was just a random outburst of insanity.

[Edward Nygma]

Even in a slightly intoxicated state, Edward did not particularly like the idea of wasting his time with the mentally unstable in Gotham, which was the best description for this Ventriloquist parading as a mobster. However, he also did not particularly like the idea of being shot. He felt the gun against his back, but he continued to stand there confidently as if it wasn’t even there. Though he did not like its presence, it was fairly easy to conclude that it would be a low probability that this Mugsy would pull the trigger and an even lower one that he would kill him. One, the position of the gun was not deadly, only threatening. Two, he was far more valuable to many alive. Third, he still had his own small pistol in his sleeve that would pop out instantly if Edward decided to use it. Instead, he provided the puppet a simple smirk, “Pleasure, and if you would like to be like the wise owl, certainly be my guest.” Because the poem to him suggested that the old man simply wanted to listen to be privy to all the information that might be shared, and at this point, Edward had nothing to hide. His plan was already foiled with the GCPD and the Batman looking for him.

“However, if this is your turf, I would suggest checking into the house on Waymoth. They are doing quite a bit of business,” he offered the information as bait to the puppet. He had heard it on a police scanner while he made an escape this evening, some random criminals trying to take advantage of his Riddle to make a big drug transaction. The police would likely be there or on their way by the time the puppet arrived, should he decide to go, and from there the police would probably keep the puppet’s little crew busy.

That was all he provided as acknowledgement to the man that really did not deserve any of his attention. The Penguin, on the other hand, was a man with power and respect with a large network within the black market, a network that Edward could find use for in the future. He could sense the shorter man’s surprise, even though it was not clearly evident on his features. The mention of proof slightly annoyed Edward, and it showed in the slight frown that graced his lips. He rarely could hide his emotions, especially after an evening like this one. Before the gun even lifted from his back, he went to take a seat. He did not like being asked to perform like a zoo animal. However, he understood the man’s skepticism. The chances of them being in the same place tonight and him responding to a man with a puppet were so slight that fate must have brought them together, not that Edward believed in fate.

“Mr. Cobblepot, out of respect, I’ll play along with this demonstration,” he offered and pulled out his phone. One of the bartenders dropped off the drink he had requested before he had moved to booth, and he took a giant gulp of the scotch with little care for formalities. They were at a dive bar. His fingers raced across his phone in quick succession, and he chuckled softly to himself, “You had your men disconnect quite a few of their devices. Interesting.” The comment was to himself, still with the breath of the internet and the connectivity of technology, he was able to break through the varying systems. He took another gulp of his scotch and then clicked enter. The whole event had taken three minutes.

He turned his phone, which showed the Penguin’s itinerary for the next month, each schedule appointment, location, and contact that he had pulled directly from multiple calendar sources. “I could state your schedule aloud; however, I suspect you prefer your privacy.” He kept his phone out long enough to ensure that the man could see it before bringing it back to his pocket. He leaned against the booth of the chair, “Now, I do hope the reason you wished to meet me is not to simply put a gun down my throat. As you already noted, my night took an unfortunate turn, and I am not in the mood to be part of any current revenge schemes because I provided the truth to Gotham.” He finished his glass off and waved for another, because yes, he deserved to drink as much as he wished tonight.

[Oswald Cobblepot]

Oswald tilts his head slightly when Edward mentions the house on Waymoth. It was one thing to get information after the police have started to move on it, it was another to know who that information was connected to "Ah, I presume the deal has begun by now" Oswald knew enough to have heard some talk of a quick drug deal being done while things were in chaos. He's in the business, he'd been offered a price beyond what it was worth and had been ignoring the dealer's attempt at negotiation since. He knew Scarface was not involved despite it being on his territory but the finer details of when things were happening he was unaware of, he just made an educated guess when the Riddler mentioned it. It seemed effective in removing the insane toy mob boss from the situation to deal with it at least.

Oswald was not about to believe that the first dishevelled person who turned up and claimed to be the Riddler when the entire city was talking about it. Proof was a requirement and at the same time a test. Was yesterday's stunt a one off? A trick that had been patched to stop him? Or could he still get that information again at any time?

He sipped from his drink but his eyes were watching Edward work closely for any clue to his methods "It was fairly easy to realise where the information had been gleaned from" he said regarding his men stopping devices from listening under pain of horrible death at the hands of the Penguin.

He himself didn't have any because he was a little too old school to conform to this new technology and he refused to touch anything from Waynetech out of spite so he had been considering himself safe until Edward pulled up his schedule. Naturally he was not the sort to write down every detail about his criminal enterprises anywhere. That was how the cops get you. Nor did he share his complete schedule with anyone because he didn't even like his own men knowing too much. He used codes for locations, people, details, everything he could to ensure if it was put before a court it would prove nothing.
From the meetings missing that he hadn't told his men about he could make a guess who was still accidentally sharing these things.

That Edward could get that information so easily mad him angry and his jaw tightened as he reminded himself he'd asked for this demonstration and to keep calm. He forced a smile "I believe that will suffice. Do you prefer Riddler or do you have a name?" proper introductions are important.
Oswald made a light note of amusement when Edward mentioned shooting him as a possible motive to their meeting "Lay your concerns to rest, I have no plan to involve guns. I merely wanted a conversation. You laid bare the secrets of Gotham" which will probably get some corrupt officials thrown out of their jobs and cost Oswald time and money trying to get new ones in his pocket "I am curious to know why and what you mean to do for an encore...I would also be interested in that" he gestured to Edward's pocket with his phone in it "Or more accurately how it is done"

[Edward Nygma]

The flash of anger did not go unnoticed, and Edward could not help the slight smirk that pulled on his features. These criminal empires were rather simple in structure. Yes, each organization had different codes, hidden scheduled, and higher risk of death for their employees, but each was simply a business. A business that dealt in illegal drugs and arms, but a business nonetheless. Businesses with cost overhead, supply streams, and consumer demands. Edward had no interest in starting his own, competing with the others, or joining any of these black-market businesses. Each organization was incredibly predictable and dull. The Penguin dramatic flair to his activities did nothing to excite the same mundane daily routine of ensuring that supplies are shipped and goods are sold. No, Edward did not have an interest unless he was a consumer of the black market good, which was the only reason why he felt some benefit to this conversation with the Penguin.

Out of Maroni, Falcone, or Cobblepot, he would rather do business with him. The man was not living in the past, and instead, he was recognizing the change in Gotham. The Bat. Edward wondered if Oswald had yet to met the infuriating man who dresses like a rodent. “Edward Nygma,” he answered, lifting to tilt a hat, only to realize he had lost his hat some point earlier in the night. He mentally scoffed in annoyance and returned to sipping his drink.

Concern? Hardly. If Oswald planned to bring about some revenge, it would be a mere annoyance, but he kept the thought to himself since the man was keen on revealing his interest. He let out a half laugh, “You should know that no man gives away their skills for free.” Absurd thought indeed, and even if Edward provided the method he used, Oswald would not understand any of it. Pointless for both of them. “As for what is next? I will start with a shower,” he bit out, not fully ready to move past his failure.  Ridiculous.  He had spent months putting it together.  Night after night securing the system, only to have it foiled.  His former partners still having breath in their lungs. They all had cheated, and he hated those that cheated.  They needed to learn a lesson, especially that meddling over grown Bat. 
 
“Then I will kill the Batman," he bit out.

[Oswald Cobblepot]

Oswald had naturally tried to guess what the Riddler's game might have been. If he wanted to be rich he probably wouldn't have given away all that information for free. There was the possibility it was a demonstration but if that was the giving a glance of his powers it was throwing a lot of cards out of play in the process. Ozzy's current guess was inexperienced computer genius with a grudge or someone who wanted to send a message. Since speaking to Edward he was steering more towards the last option.
Though he was still betting on inexperienced as anyone with knowledge of the Gotham underworld should really have gone to ground after pissing this many people off. Just because Oswald had said he wasn't going to shoot Edward didn't mean everyone else with a secret to keep would extend the same deal.

There was a slight smirk of amusement for Edward's name. Oswald saw the E. Nygma thing instantly and assumed accordingly that it must be a fake name. He'd check it out later of course and perhaps Edward was real but it would be smarter not to provide Oswald with personal details so he wasn't surprised by lies and he doesn't point them out "Edward. A pleasure. You have made quite the notable first impression upon the underworld of Gotham" As a fellow hat tipper Oswald recognised Edward's motion and annoyance for what it was but he had the good sense to hide the fact he found the lost hat entertaining.

"Who ever said anything about working for free?" Ozzy replies smoothly, an eyebrow quirked as he smirked and sipped his drink. Snorting once a note of amusement at the mention of having a shower, Oswald removes his own hat to place it next to himself on the table. He was trying very hard to be nice.

Killing Batman made him laugh. It came out as a bit of a squawk as he was genuinely entertained by the thought and not just pretending to laugh "Hwahaha. Well, I no longer need to ask what went wrong" he raises a hand quickly as he imagines the outburst will cause offence "I mean no offence, many have tried and found the winged vermin to be a stubborn thorn in our sides. If you can kill him it would be a service to the city, one I would very much like to see he couldn't help but run his hand over his jaw as he lowered it. He was very familiar with Batman and in particular Batman's fist, he could practically still remember the punch from the last time he'd tried to plot some way to destroy the man. It had not gone well.

[Edward Nygma]

Edward was well aware that many in Gotham would have a personal grudge against him for the hidden secrets he revealed. Many would likely target him, especially those dealing in crime, and yet, he did not care. He knew the limits of the residents of Gotham, and personally, he found most incompetent. Edward did not consider it inexperience. More likely arrogance, not that he would admit such a thing either. Both the Gotham City Police and Gotham’s less flattering residents were searching for him, and he could avoid both with ease. For that reason, he did not go into hiding. He was more than prepared to handle any person with a grudge or a hero complex. No, his actions were to make a point. A clear point that everyone in this city was a hypocrite, and he revealed their hypocrisy. If Gotham City wanted him as a villain, then the villain he would play, and he did so impressively. While Oswald may consider that he had thrown far too many cards out on the table, Edward knew he still had many in his sleeves.

“The pleasure is mine,” he said with a smirk, appreciating the compliment of his riddle. Yes, everyone knew him, and people would quickly learn not to trifle with him. They would learn he was the smartest person any had come across. The offer of payment did not go unnoticed, but Edward had no intention of selling his technology. He would happily share information, but never the algorithm. It would hold little value if everyone in Gotham had access. As Oswald likely knew, it was the information itself that was valuable. However, he barely had time to voice it before he heard the outright laugher.

Edward’s jaw locked, and his brown eyes narrowed on the shorter man across from him, rightfully taking the laughter as an insult. He tried to keep his own temper in check as the man tried to remain polite. “I will kill him,” Edward stated stubbornly. He would. The Batman was a man, and Edward was smarter than any other man, “And yes, that is what went wrong because he cheated.” His grip tightened on his glass, “I hate cheaters.” He finished his drink, slamming the glass back on the table. His interactions with the Batman clearly written on his body, with the blossoming bruises on his face and the parts of his tattered clothes revealing skin.

Admittedly, he was curious about the rest of the underworld’s interaction with the Bat. He not considered the false myth of a man dressed as a Bat to be any concern to him, and yet it was the Bat that defeated him. “Have you met him?” he asked, his curiosity piqued, wondering if Oswald already had a manner to deal with the annoyance.

[Oswald Cobblepot]

Where other criminals in the city saw only as far as their anger and would no double seek revenge for the little stunt the Riddler pulled Oswald had moved past it when he'd found an opportunity. Revenge was a great motivator for Oswald but there was perhaps only one thing that trumped it for the Penguin and that was greed.
Oswald had lost a lot of secrets in a day. Many officials in his pocket were now in trouble and trying to call in favours. He had every right to be angry at the inconvenience Edward had created but if he could just get his hands on that technology he could rebuild that network of secrets and backroom deals better than ever. All he needed to know was what made this man tick and how to bring him in to the fold because despite the display of power Oswald didn't consider Edward equal to himself, he thought of him more as someone to employ currently.

Flattery seemed to work but then flattery worked on practically everyone to some degree. Laughing clearly did not. Noted. The man does not like to be laughed at or perhaps doesn't like his skills brought in to question. Every bit of anger was a window in to what happened and and Edward's mind. He hated cheaters, Oswald saw someone who played things like a game and possibly an ego. Perhaps he thought no one could ever win against him but didn't expect anyone to break the rules he'd made. Of course Batman would break them, Batman broke everything.

Oswald maintained his slight look of amusement as he was studying Edward but the question couldn't help but cause Oswald's jaw to tighten slightly. He was considering how truthful to be yet at the same time also remembering which teeth had been knocked out on one of those meetings. He goes with truthful as his smirk has already taken on a hard edge. He finishes his scotch and wordlessly places the glass at the end of the table to be refilled before he recounts his personal experience "Yes, I have crossed paths with him. He is the reason I get the pleasure of drinking in this charming rat hole instead of enjoying the comforts of my mansion. I imagine your plan, much like my own, to have gone perfectly. The police clueless as is their way and then suddenly there is a maniac in a mask and cape come to pick the thread which unravels everything. How he found the thread, how he even knew where to look, well...as you say, he cheats"

His drink refilled by one of his men lurking nearby Oswald takes the new scotch to roll the glass between his fingers "Now he knows you he will be back. To fight him, to kill him, you need to know what lies beneath the mask and...between the Batman and the mob bosses out to stop their leak of information you are in quite the predicament" Oswald doesn't say that he would be willing to help with Edwards situation but his tone implies it.

[Edward Nygma]

Edward had little to no trepidation about his fellow Gothamites, including those that held vast political, financial, and social influence. Even when he attended high class gala and gatherings with Gotham’s elite, he was constantly disappointed with even their simple attempts to form a creative intellectual thought. Clearly, most had succeeded only through a trust fund. Politicians lacked knowledge or an ability to discuss basic policy, and financial experts could barely predict a market gain. To Edward, Oswald was simply another Gothamite, and he had done nothing, as of yet, to suggest otherwise. He was a man parading about with a false sense of power. Edward was the one that didn’t consider Oswald equal to himself.

Honestly, even if Oswald were to employ Edward, he would quickly regret the decision. Former employers and supervisors could waste hours of Oswald’s time with bad references. Of course, not to Edward’s work product, but. . . Edward had no respect to schedule an appointment and interrupted any meeting to share another one of his useless “great ideas”. Edward constantly degraded fellow co-workers and staff. Edward took action without seeking approval. Edward walked out in the middle of the meeting because he did not like the conversation. Edward went behind the Board’s back even after the action had been disapproved. Edward does not listen to other. Edward constantly complains. Edward has created a hostile work environment for multiple staff and employers. The list goes on and on and on and on and on. His most recent co-workers having the most drastic negative review: one dead at Edward’s hands and the other suffering severe traumatic distress over the 'riddle' he barely escaped.

Yes, Edward was far better as his own boss.

The slight tightening of Oswald’s smirk provided the answer. Yes, the Penguin had met the Batman, and he appeared to have had a personal experience as well. He listened. The slight tension Edward had held onto from Oswald's prior laughter slowly began to loosen within his shoulders. It seemed he was not the only one having these difficulties, and if it impacted both Oswald and himself, then the Batman had likely infiltrated and interfered with almost everyone who ventured into criminal activity. Quite an annoyance indeed. He swirled his own drink in his glass, nodding in agreement. “That he does,” he repeated, and let Oswald's remarks sink in. He let out a half laugh, “This is quite a terrible establishment.” He lifted his glass to the air, as if showing it off, “Though the options are limited.” Especially considering his current attire, but Edward did not like messes, dirt, grime, or the slums. He preferred the finer things, and he would make certain even while avoiding the law to have such finer things. Thought, after he drinks himself silly tonight. Tomorrow is a new day.

Blame the intoxication, but Edward felt like he could read the man across from him like a children’s book. The man wanted Edward’s information, or possibly how he accesses such information, neither of which Edward would offer. They both clearly understood, or neither would be sitting at this table having the discussion, that information was power. Far more powerful than any weapon. He would be a fool to offer it for anything, especially Oswald’s current offer. Mob bosses and Batman, neither concerned Edward. Edward did not need help. While Oswald had not explicitly offered help, it was clearly implied. Edward smirked, “I respectfully disagree. Falcone, Moroni, and the others mobs per se are a dying breed. A year from now, I suspect most will be asking, who? The Batman is an annoyance, but an annoyance is far different than a predicament.”

[Oswald Cobblepot]

In a normal workplace Edward may be a pain but little rules like not breaking your employees fingers when they annoy you didn't really apply to Oswald. Ozzy finds incompetence annoying yet employs many stupid men who typically get the idea of not bothering him with their idiocy before the Penguin kills them for it.
It may be just as well for both of them the Riddler doesn't wish to be employed of course. If Edward started interrupting Oswald's day with complaints and Oswald started breaking things the spiral of plots against each other could take Gotham down with it.

Oswald raised his glass in agreement that the bar was terrible and that it was also one of the only choices "The reputable establishments of the city simply cannot be relied upon to keep their eyes to themselves and their mouths shut. If they are not in league with the police they are lining their pockets from the mob" and while the mobs may be perhaps somewhat friendly or neural to some other rogues Oswald was not consistently welcome since he had taken over some of their land and operations to build himself up as a mod boss too.

Chuckling quietly Oswald found amusement in the idea of the other mob bosses becoming a forgotten relic of the past "That would be a future I'd wish to see. These crime families are thugs, passing their titles on without the hard work required to bring themselves up from the gutters" says the man who had a mansion. Oswald sips from his drink before continuing "But a gun is a gun and I suspect you, my friend, are not bulletproof" he certainly didn't look fist proof given his state "A target has been place upon your back by the Bat when he spoiled everything, a target many will be seeking to take advantage of" he gestures to the door the Ventriloquist left by as the insane puppet had already been out for blood today "I merely offer the assistance of experience. You wish to see Batman destroyed, so do I" he might want that even more than Edward's technology. He knew Edward's trick was possible now so with Eddies help or not he would find a way to do it. Batman was such a wildcard thrown in to all his plans though that to get rid of him would benefit everything he does and if whatever plan Eddie comes up with fails...well, it won't be Oswald with his neck on the line "I have resources, men to command, places to lay low and prepare your next move...whatever that may be"