2424/A Heart To Heart

A Heart To Heart
Date of Scene:	12 September 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Penguin, Joker

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Penguin has posed:
A late summer rain drizzles outside from the overcast sky, the lights of the Iceberg Lounge dim and the streets dark. It's past closing time, which means that the club's clientele of dangerous criminals and supervillains are invited to meet with the Penguin, for anything they may need. Penguin, for his part, is in the smoking lounge in the far back, enjoying a bucket of shrimp cocktail. He sits in an upholstered chair, his umbrella leaning against it, a small metal cup of cocktail sauce in his left hand. To his right is an table, with a white plate on it to deposit the spent tails. The rest of the club is humming with a soft attentiveness of activity, ward bosses and criminal specialists and corrupt officials mingling beyond the prying eyes of the majority of Gotham. While Gotham sleeps, the rats eat.

The Joker has been invited to meet the Penguin, now that the Joker is out of Arkham. His latest spree of killing off gangsters has come to Penguin's attention, and Penguin feels threatened, simply because he knows that it will bring Batman down on all of them. Joker, after his last murder, received a small hatbox left on the stoop of his hideout. Inside was a pecan pie, made with a Cobblepot family recipe passed down over the centuries, with an invitation to the Iceberg Lounge. A free Kobe steak was promised to the Joker, as a gift for 'his work to the community. Yours, Ozzy.'

Penguin may not be good with people, but he's good with monsters.

Joker has posed:
How could the Clown Prince ignore such a polite invitation? In truth, he had murdered the heads of two seperate gangs: a triad on the north side, and a local off-shoot of the Crips in the Narrows. It was brutal, but each had more then a hint of flair. The new leaders were also happy to work with the Joker...unlike their predecessors. He's killed others here and there as well, but...strangely...he's been quiet on the larger scene since getting out of Arkham. He hasn't done anything worthy of big headlines...which has a lot of people worried.

Several of the Joker Gang move past the bouncers, glancing about the place to take everything in a moment before their boss passes them by. The male members are dressed like knock-off versions of him, while the female ones look a bit like wannabe Harleys. There is little consistency between their outfits other then that, making it obvious that it is something they each strive for themselves, instead of a 'uniform'.

Joker adjusts his ribbon-tie and sighs to himself as he glances about the Lounge. He then twirls his clown-tipped cane and begins to cross the establishment. Two of his people wait back near the door, while two others follow him. He loops a chair across from Oswald with his cane and spins it, before sliding down into it backwards, leaning over the back of it to face the man.

"I certainly hope the shrimp aren't meant to be some sort of metaphor, Ozzie. You're better then that."r

Penguin has posed:
"I'm British, Joker, we're a mariner culture" Penguin replies, as he gestures for a waiter that followed Joker in. Penguin already has a carefully orchestrated plan in place, as a subtle show of sophisticated danger with a completely passive veneer. "Get the guest his Kobe, Walt. And a Coca-Cola for me." Penguin turns his attention to Joker, smiling. "No alcohol for either of us tonight. This isn't a social call, I have some business in mind." He picks up a cloth napkin and dries his fingers, before slipping on his leather gloves, stretching them over his flexing fingers.

The waiter leaves with clockwork motion, as Penguin leans forward in his chair, placing his hands on his legs. "Kobe steak is the best steak in the world, you know. Ever try it? I wanted you to try it tonight. The Japanese guy that butchers it, he knows karate. He punches the sides of the cow," Penguin explains, lifting a hand and demonstrating a loose fist, "With those conditioned hands. Make it nice and tender, the natural way. Sweetest beef cut you'll ever taste." He smiles as Walt returns, the waiter - an Englishman that looks like he was once a hitman, and according to the tattoo briefly on his wrist, operated in Sicily - setting down the carefully prepared and garnished steak on the table before Joker, along with a pair of Coca-Cola cans, closed and frosty fresh. The steak appears to be nearly a cube, but a large one, with a brown wooden-handled knife beside it, and a fork.R

Joker has posed:
"Always business. Always business. All work and no play, Ozzie Boy. You know how it goes. See, I find a good life-work balance. It's why I'm so on-kilter, while you're so off." He reaches out and snatches a shrimp from the side of Penguin's bucket, tearing the meat from the tail before tossing the tail towards the receptacle for the tails. He misses.

"Have you ever had panda?," the Clown Prince asks curiously. He glances down as the plate arrives in front of him, and he seizes the knife for it. He doesn't cut the meat yet, but brushes the tip over the meat with just enough pressure to not -quite- cut it. "Elephant? Rhino? Have you ever eaten an animal that is on the verge of exctintion? It's an interesting sensation to know that each mouthful helps eliminate a species of life from the planet." He takes his can of Coke and turns it slightly, glancing at the ingredient list on the side.

"But yes, punching a cow is nice." He smiles that smile of his.

Penguin has posed:
"I don't see symbolism, Joker, but I appreciate art." Penguin takes his soda and cracks it open, drinking a long drink, his gluttony apparent as he fiends on the sugar and carbonation. "Your problem, Joker, is that your symbolism is inverted. You should be worried about doing that, because it will bring a legendary beatin' on you from our mutual foe, but you just have to pull the trigger instead of pulling the lever. Personally, I can do either, it's just a matter of knowing which one to do." Penguin belches from the heavy draught of Coca-Cola. "But that's why we're here, isn't it?"

"You're out of Arkham, and you're already popping off gangleaders because they don't fear you. If they fear you, that means their boys don't listen to them. And if they don't recognize you, you kill them. Now, I understand what it's about. I know you, Joker, I've thought about this. See this monocle?" He taps his right eye. "Bad vision. Left eye, perfect. That's the Cobblepot secret. We look at people as numbers, we don't know what's going on in their head in terms of insanity. You want to push buttons on people, and that's the entire point of everything you do. But let me suggest something to you, Joker."

Penguin spreads his hands, his right hand extending two fingers with the bottom two holding the can. "You go for a longterm strategy, instead of a short term one. Instant gratification is easy for Batman to deal with. Batman, will do what he does forever, until he dies. So will you. But he is Vince Lombardi with this game, Joker. He never takes a single risk. He just keeps bouncing us around like dice. You play him by using him as a die, that's how I do it. But you, want to piss him off. And all he has to do is wait until you make a shortsighted decision, then you're back in Arkham. You have a fine lady, Joker. You know comedy. She knows psychology." He sips his soda. "If I had a lady like that, I'd be fifty pounds lighter and I'd be Governor. Play a shrink prank, not a plot twist."

Joker has posed:
The Joker sits back in his seat and idly twirls the wooden handled knife as he listens. He glances down to watch the metal glint as he rolls the blade beween his fingers and passes it to his other hand. He is likely listening, as he doesn't actually say anything until the Penguin's speech is finished. He simply twirls that knife and smiles softly to himself.

When Oswald finishes his statement, the Clown glances up. As he talks, the steak knife drops into the sleeve of his suit with the flair and skill of a -master- magician. Look here, not there. Gone without drawing attention to it being missing.

"That is one of the many differences between you and me, Penguin. You are so detached from everything around you, while I live in the middle of it. You worry about every little detail, wringing those sausage fingers of yours at it all. It's worked well for you, of course." He gestures. "Look how well it's worked for you. All the fancy little top hats and buckets of chum you could ever want."

Joker chuckles softly and leans forward a bit in his chair, cocking his head to the side as he watches the man across from him. "But you focus so much of your come-to-Jesus speech on the idea that I have an issue with our Mutual Friend kicking my teeth in and sending me back to a padded cell. It's just a held breath in our song, you see. No big deal. It aggravates him -far- more then it does me. And...clearly it offends your delicate gangster sensibilities."

"Also, if you mention Harley in reference to that corpulent carcass of yours again...I'll cut you up and serve you to some guests. Don't worry, though. I'll punch the meat a bit first." He laughs, clearly amused with himself.

Penguin has posed:
The Penguin frowns as his sausage fingers are referenced, a faint crunching sound audible from his grip on his soda can. But his face barely shifts as he watches, nodding as if Joker has made an eminent point about his life. In reality, he's got something deep behind that poker face of his, that bear visage, that he's decided about the Joker. He lifts his soda can as Joker continues, making a deliberately loud slurp from the can, a very shallow sip.

"Everyone in this city that pisses Batman off, has something in common with Batman. It's how we all understand him, and our relationship to him. A business management expert could explain it, consult Sionis sometime. But this is where we come together on something. You and Batman, you both get aggravated at matters of respect. I get aggravated too, Joker." He sips more of his soda.

"I get very aggravated. When you get aggravated, you make threats, you posture, you attack people, it's just how you are. Want to know what Batman and I have in common?" He finishes off his soda with a slow, polite draw, before setting it down on his end table. "We treat people like money. Batman is a tax collector, I'm a union representative. Batman is high and mighty about his position, and everyone has some sort of function to him. You, are an insurance liability. I, am someone that represents a lot of interests. That's how he sees us. Now, you know my insight into Batman?"

"Batman, is having sex, with some poor lady, every time you break out of Arkham. You're Batman's version of viagra."r

Joker has posed:
"The guy in blackface? No thanks. That's in bad taste, even for me," he replies in response to the mention of Sionis. He brushes his fingers back through his green hair and he ends up letting out a loud, staccato laugh that draws more then a few nervous glances towards the conversation. "I bet he keeps the cowl on," the Joker mutters to himself.

He ends up finally opening his soda, though he has not touched the delicious Kobe. He doesn't take a sip from it, instead tipping it just enough for the dark, bubbly liquid to spill onto the metal rim and pool there a hint. "You're a union representative, and he's a tax collector. I get the analogy. I do. It's clever. It is. Really." Those intense green eyes of his lift and lock onto Oswald's. "Do you know what I am, Ozzie Boy?"

"I'm sure you can wax poetic as a reponse, right? Try to outtalk me? Puff yourself up a bit by thinking you're better then me, and trying to convince me of the same? Heh." He gestures to the plate beside him. "I'm not hungry," he grunts to the ex-hitman waiter. "You can take it away."

"I'm a performer, Penguin. That is what I am. Batman, whether he knows it or cares, is part of the show. I think he enjoys the standing ovation we get everytime we clash." If the waiter moves in to take the plate, Joker moves with surprising speed and grace. He is more then just words. If he manages it, the knife drops from his sleeve and is jammed solidly into the man's side, deep into some very vital organs.

"Also, while I might work hard to make people laugh, Ozzie Boy? I'm no Joke. Wise to remember that, and treat me as such." If he connected the blow he yanks the blade up, making the killer's insides out. "Do we have an understanding?"

Penguin has posed:
Walt shouts out in a panic as he's stabbed in the midsection while bending over for the plate, the steak and plate falling to the floor as the ex-hitman lurches into Joker. The twist upwards causes him to go mortis, blood and guts splashing out, before he falls onto the floor. Penguin, nonplussed, pulls out a leather satchel from his jacket, withdrawing his cigarette holder and a black pack of French cigarettes. He fixes a cigarette into the holder and clenches it between his teeth. He sets the leather satchel down on the table and rises from his chair, walking over to the dying waiter and lighting his cigarette with a brass lighter. "Sorry, Walt boy. I don't like the fact that your wife has been screwing around the place and you've been making an issue of it. You can't control your woman, you can't work for me, and you've been lying about it. I thought we had an understanding. Joker and I have an understanding, why don't we?"

He turns to Joker, his lighter in hand, an eye on the lighter facing Joker, six stars held inwards. He flicks his flame out, and exhales smoke. "His son'll make a pretty good shooter, once I get the wife out of the picture." Penguin points at Joker. "You see what I just did? You just did my work, for me. Planning is all about relying on gravity dragging things down, not throwing things up in the air." He pulls his cigarette holder out of his mouth, the poisonous fumes wafting from his now menacing face. "You can go now, Joker, if you don't want the steak. Remember." He points his finger again. "Trust your lady. She's with you because she wants to help you, not because you seduced her. Men don't seduce anyone, they just decide on thinking they did it."

Joker has posed:
The Clown Prince steps back to let the man slump to the ground, Joker leaving the knife in him. Even if he was worried about fingerprints, he was wearing a fine pair of dark green gloves. He glances down at his blood-spattered suit and chuckles to himself as Oswald makes his statement about the man that the Clown just killed. When he is done Joker steps back from the body. He tugs on the tablecloth, the fabric sliding out swiftly and without dislodging anything, like some birthday magician. He dabs some blood at his lapel and then drops the tablecloth on top of the body.

"You think I am far more stupid then I am, Penguin. That's the real joke. You think you're such a clever, fat little man. Outthinking everyone around you." He tosses his head back and straight-up cackles before he reaches down to pick his cane up again. He twirls it and turns to go.

"Maybe I just wanted to kill a man tonight, and I didn't think the steak knife could dig deep enough to do any real damage on you. Maybe I'm more then a number. Either way..."

He begins to leave, his gang moving to flank him as he passes them. "Payment for that Harley comment will be forthcoming. Have a lovely night. You host one hell of a party."

Penguin has posed:
"Vince Lombardi ruined football, Joker!" Penguin calls after Joker. "Try to figure out why Hunter S. Thompson said that, and you'll beat the Bat at your game, not his!" Penguin turns about, moving back to his chair and taking a seat. He puffs on his cigarette, relaxing. After Joker leaves, he raises his left hand so a man in a black suit comes over, leaning in. "Contact Sergeant-Detective Reyes, in the psychiatric monitoring unit. I want his phone tapped, direct line to the Fresh Catch Fish. No cop monitoring, just us." The man in the suit nods, moving away. Penguin eats another shrimp, chewing balefully.