Chapter Text
Even for Gotham, this was too much.
Oswald rubbed his eyes to make sure it wasn't a hallucination before gazing into the mirror again. But no, it was as real as it gets. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, Gotham's ex-mayor and current kingpin of its underworld, stood naked — save for the briefs and socks — in his mansion's master bedroom, sporting a pair of huge cat ears on his head and a furry tail nervously swishing from side to side behind his back.
He groaned, once again turning around and studying his new appendage. The tail was long, reaching the floor when it wasn't swishing and coiling around completely out of Oswald's control. It was a bit less than his wrist's thickness at the base, covered by short silky black fur and crisp white at the tip. Oswald caught the tail in his hand, feeling how warm, solid, and real it was.
Too real.
He dropped the tail, letting it resume its anxious movements. It was so uncanny. He could feel it moving but had absolutely no control over it, like a twitching muscle. Cat ears on top of his head felt the same. Oswald took a step closer to the mirror, studying them. They were big, also covered with short black fur. Their skin was thin, with tiny red veins visible in the morning light seeping through the curtains. Oswald tried to control their movements, but it was impossible: his left ear flicked involuntarily when he barely touched the tip. It tickled.
Oswald realized he was beginning to hyperventilate when he noticed the rapidly spreading condense on the mirror from his frantic breaths. There was panic in his reflection's eyes. More vibrant than his usual green eyes with slightly elongated pupils...
"Calm down," Penguin told himself out loud. His voice sounded so small and pathetic to his ears. To both pairs of them, as his human ones remained intact. "Just breathe."
Contrary to what he tried to do, his breath hitched as Oswald noticed that his teeth also changed: his canines became longer and sharper, both upper and lower ones. Oswald carefully traced them with his tongue. His.. much more thin and flexible tongue with a myriad of tiny translucent white spines angled to the inside of his mouth.
Penguin released a whimper, taking a couple of shaky steps away from the mirror.
"This isn't happening, it's not real, it can't be real," he muttered frantically, running a hand through his hair and flinching as it stumbled upon his big cat ear. The discomfort from a sharp tug on it confirmed the terrifying reality of his predicament.
Oswald never should have come to that magick shack yesterday. He should've just sent Zsasz or someone else to force that 'wizard' to join his licensing system or get rid of him permanently. But the first time Penguin sent a crew of enforcers to the damned place, only the leader returned, convulsing as if struck by lightning in the middle of the Iceberg Lounge for all patrons to see. Before dying, he managed to croak that the wizard will speak only to Penguin personally. It wasn't merely a refusal to bow down to the Pax Penguina, it was a challenge, a glob of spit in his face. Oswald couldn't ignore that, his hard-won reputation was at stake.
To his surprise, the wizard didn't seem hostile at first when Penguin bashed on his door, flanked by Zsasz and Ivy. He was certainly a colorful character, suitably 'extra' for Gotham: a blue robe with purple runic patterns, a belt with potions and scrolls attached to it, a long white beard, and a pointy hat. He held a wooden staff with a raven figurine carved at the top with a blue glowing crystal in its claws. The man seemed somehow ageless, it was quite hard to tell if he was forty or seventy under the shop's shifting lights. The place itself was as authentic as its owner: 'magic' gems, charms, spellbooks were sold at not-so-humble prices. And potions, lots of potions, for seemingly any issue one might have. Taking a brief look at some potion tags, Oswald wasn't all that surprised that the rabble believed in this 'magic' and threw money at the wizard to make their problems disappear.
The man invited Penguin, Ivy, and Zsasz inside the shack and tried to talk him around with cheap tricks and fortune-telling via the big crystal ball in the middle of the room.
"I see, I see. So much anger, you wield it like a shield," he said then, stroking his long beard as he looked into the shifting mist inside the ball. "But anger is not the answer to what you truly seek, young one. My blood spilled won't mend your broken heart. But I do have something that will."
Naturally, Oswald would have none of that wizardly psychoanalysis, and when he told Zsasz to shoot the man, all hell broke loose.
It must've been some kind of hallucinogen in the air inside the shack, the three of them decided later. Because those sudden bursts of bright colors, booming voices echoing around them like a storm, and weird elemental amalgamations appearing out of nowhere could not have been real. No way, not even in Gotham. Unfortunately, the dart with a small vial attached to it was undeniably real when the wizard sent it flying from under his robe's sleeve. The dart needle plunged into Penguin’s neck, but he was quick enough to take it out with only less than a third of the liquid in the vial having been transmitted into his bloodstream.
In all that chaos, while Zsasz tried to shoot down a huge stone creation and Ivy stomped down a swarm of living flames, the wizard escaped. All Oswald managed to see was a gust of coiling blue smoke as the charlatan disappeared, announcing his gloomy prophecies, casting spells and curses upon the Penguin. After that, all illusions faded too. The giant stone golem turned into a simple armored manequin, and the flames were just a bunch of dried peas scattered around the wooden floor.
Oswald began feeling the effects of whatever that bastard had injected him with only hours later back at the Iceberg Lounge. First, he was beginning to get cold despite his three-piece suit. Then he felt nauseous and disoriented. Through the rapidly growing headache, Oswald called Zsasz and told him to take him to the Van Dahl mansion. He wanted comfort, and his sofa in the Lounge office wasn't the best place to get it. Halfway to the car, Ivy noticed them and tagged along, doting over the very irritated Penguin who just wanted to be left alone and perhaps also scream from the pain splitting his head in half.
Oswald didn't remember the drive or how he got to his bedroom. He did, however, remember the fever and unbearable itching all over his body. Writhing on his bedsheets, he tugged his clothes off one by one until only his briefs and socks remained. It did nothing to lessen the burning and itching of his skin, his whole body hurt.
Oswald thought about going for a shower, but then realized he couldn't even open his eyes anymore, much less get up from the bed. He couldn't raise a hand to scratch his itching and tingling head; calling for help didn't work either, his voice was quieter than a whisper. Finally, Penguin succumbed to oblivion, bitterly calculating how long will it take for someone to find his dead body.
He was surprised to have woken up in the morning. Even more so when he noticed that he felt great, no trace of last night's torments anymore. He would've thought it was just a dream if not for his clothes carelessly thrown around the bed and floor. Oswald wrote it all off as that witzard's failed attempt to poison him. Not enough liquid from the dart entered his system, after all. Penguin has escaped death's clutches once again, just another day in Gotham. With a sigh, Oswald got up from the bed to get to the bathroom.
Then something brushed against his leg as he took a step.
His heart dropped as a natural reaction to unexpected contact, and Oswald looked down to see what it was. Nothing in his years of legal and illegal activities could prepare him for this. He didn't even scream in terror as he discovered his newly grown furry tail, too shocked to form a proper reaction at the time.
But now, after examining all the new additions to his body, he was freaking out like never before. Oswald was pacing back and forth across his bedroom, deliberately not looking in the mirror anymore. He's seen more than enough. He involuntarily growled deep in his chest every time his tail touched his bare legs or knocked on the furniture as it violently flailed from side to side. Oswald felt his cat ears being turned sideways and half-flattened to his head. And the mere realization that he can feel it threw him deeper into the panic.
"Morning, boss! Did you install a treadmill here or something?" Zsasz entered the bedroom without knocking or any other warning. "Oh," he said as his eyes fell on Oswald's almost completely naked form.
Oswald's head snapped to focus on the intruder. He froze in place, vividly feeling how the fur on his tail began to rise from both shock and outrage.
"Knocking, Zsasz?!" he shrieked, promptly picking up the first clothing piece from the floor before his feet. It happened to be his suit slacks, and Oswald hastily pulled them on, trying to cover his nakedness. "Get out!" he yelled, now even more frustrated because he couldn't get his pants fully on with the tail blocking the way at the base of his spine.
The assassin didn't seem to even notice the command as he eyed the fluffed-up tail, stiff and tilted straight up behind Penguin. Zsasz curiously arched a hairless eyebrow and stepped into the room.
"Huh, kinky. Didn't know you were into furries, boss, but I'm not judging," he smirked, taking a couple of steps closer to Oswald gaping at the man's audacity. "I knew a guy who was full into puppy play: tail, muzzle, leash and all. We played fetch. Fun times."
"I said, get OUT!" Penguin growled, balling his fists and baring his teeth. His ears flattened back against his head, and his tail angrily snapped from side to side, hitting his shoulders and the mirror's frame in the process. He gave up on trying to pull on his pants properly, fastening them low below the pelvis.
"That's freaky," Zsasz muttered and quickly closed the remaining distance between them.
He tilted his bald head and nimbly caught Oswald's tail, holding it in one hand despite the furry appendage's desperate attempts to free itself. A guttural mix of growl, mewl, and hiss escaped Oswald's throat as he lashed out at the audacious employee. On some newly acquired instinct, he clawed at the offending arm instead of punching Zsasz in the face. Both men looked with equal astonishment at how Oswald's nails easily sliced through the fabric of Victor's jacket and leather glove. They left thin red lines on his hand, drawing a bit of blood.
Zsasz didn't show any signs of pain, but let the tail go to resume its angry lashing. Still more furious than confused, Penguin pushed the assassin away, not too successfully. Zsasz stared at him with his mouth ajar and stretched in a lopsided grin, dark eyes gleaming in pure childish amusement.
"I need you to go to the magic shack and bring that potion-loving charlatan to me," Penguin snarled, turning away and limping to the closet.
"Holy cannoli, boss, you have a tail!"
"How very observant of you," Penguin scoffed, not even looking at the hitman as he fumbled inside his wardrobe, trying to find something he could wear comfortably with his...tail.
"Are these real too?"
A hand stroked one of Oswald's new ears, once again provoking him to hiss, sputter, and try to scratch Zsasz. The man dodged his attacks this time, having way too much fun with Penguin’s predicament.
"Keep your hhhands away from me," Oswald hissed, baring his teeth, which seemed to entertain Zsasz even more.
"Daaamn, your eyes are doing that weird cat-thing."
Penguin released a deep breath through his nose.
"Zsasz, focus! I need you to find that charlatan," Oswald spoke as calmly as he could with the fury and frustration boiling inside, glaring at his insubordinate employee. "Right now."
"Sure thing, chief," Zsasz tilted his head, that deranged grin never leaving his face. "But there's no one to leave on the lookout."
Oh, of course, the lookout. For the Riddler. Unsurprisingly, he didn't get over Oswald freezing him in a block of ice. And now that he's been accidentally thawed and freed a couple of months ago during a power outage, he was out for Penguin’s blood. At least it seemed that way, judging by the threatening riddles that kept arriving in Iceberg Lounge and Van Dahl mansion by the weirdest of ways. They didn't let Oswald forget about Ed's threat and made him keep his guard up. Penguin wondered why Riddler made no actual moves against him or his newly rebuilt throne yet, but couldn't find an answer. Perhaps Ed was preparing some grand plan or just wanted to torment him a little longer, make him anxious with fear and paranoia. It's not like he succeeded too much, but Oswald did keep Zsasz or at least a few bodyguards with him at all times.
"I'll be fine, just go, now," he rushed the assassin.
"Okie-Dokie."
Finally, Zsasz left the room after eyeing Oswald up and down once again. It made Oswald want to cover himself and claw Victor's eyes out at the same time. He gritted his teeth and resumed looking for an outfit.
Oswald thought about stuffing his tail into one of the pant legs but quickly dismissed that idea after he caught the furry appendage and realized how uncomfortable it feels restrained. He didn't plan on leaving the mansion looking like this, so he decided on wearing midnight blue silk pajamas with a soft elastic waistband on the pants and a long shirt reaching the middle of his thighs. He also donned his father's embroidered dress robe and headed to the en suite bathroom.
"Hey, Pengy! What's gotten into Vic?" Ivy walked into his bedroom without knocking like it was her own. "He was acting weird.. well, weirder. Cackled like crazy and-..."
She trailed off, held by both Penguin’s glare and his thrashing black tail.
"Would someone in this house knock before barging into my bedroom?!" he growled, involuntarily wincing every time his tail banged on the nearby furniture.
They stood in a silent staring contest until Ivy squealed and skipped to him to get a better look.
"Aww that's so cute, you're such a kitty cat," she cooed. "Can I pet you? Pretty-please?"
"NO!" Penguin shrieked, resuming his way to the bathroom. "Get out and do something else."
"Bad kitty," she pouted, but promptly retreated under Penguin’s death glare. "I have to tell Selina, she would never forgive me if she missed this..." she muttered excitedly, as her quick steps and voice faded away.
"Don't you dare!.." Oswald tried to stop the girl, but gave up, mournfully accepting that this will officially become the worst day of his life.