* J *

Part Twenty-Six: Chapter 191: That's What Friends Are For

The white powder was sucked up through a crisp new hundred dollar bill. It hits the nasal passage, like pollen on a flowers stamen, and is caught by thousands of tiny hairs. Then is instantly absorbed by the capillaries in the Penguin's nose. He snorts back hard and sits up with wide eyes. He picks up the crystal glass on the table and brings it to his lips. He throws it back, the warm liquor going down his throat, and sits the glass down. He leans back on his couch and stares at the fire in the fireplace, tranced by its snapping.

His thoughts run rapidly, analyzing his current situation. The Joker indirectly played a part in the things that Jason was doing. Ninety percent of the criminal underworld feared the Joker. Oswald can admit that the clown was a brutal man with the power to destroy whoever he chooses. The Joker was merciless, unforgiving, and relentless. He would go to any length to eviscerate people who caused him problems. Not many were stupid enough to cross him. A man with his level of power doesn't get to that position by being weak.

The press painted the Joker as a laughing psychopath. They called him insane, too insane to be a part of society, too insane for even prison. Those who knew the Joker well knew he was more than a basketcase who told shitty jokes and laughed all the time. That was only the Joker's cover. He was far more serious than the jokester moniker he had adopted. That was all for show, just to keep himself out of prison. Honesty plays no role in being a dominant leader.

But the Penguin is a man of great position and power as well. He knows that as a leader one must appear fearful to his subordinates. The greatest form of control was fear. The Penguin controlled his piece of the empire with fear too. However, when Oswald was alone he wasn't the same person. And neither was J. Beyond the crime, aside from the power, and under that fear conjuring persona, was a person that Oswald saw as a friend. And friends were supposed to help one another.

Those guns that Jason had foolishly stolen needed to disappear. They needed to go far far away with no possibility of ever being found again. Being an arms dealer himself, Penguin already knows that the Irish engrave an insignia on their weapons. He's always thought this to be rather dumb. It was equivalent to a serial number. If the cops confiscated one from a crime scene, they'd automatically know that the Irish gang was involved. But the Penguin doesn't go around giving seminars on how to be an arms dealer. He prides himself on being the best one in Gotham. Why help anyone get as good as he was? So to each his own. Screw competitors.

The Irish gang already knew that Jason, in the guise of the Joker, had ambushed them, killed nine of their men, and stolen their guns. Now they would be on the lookout for their marked merchandise, knowing Jason would most likely sell them. The Joker wasn't a man that many people could find. Therefore, the Irish couldn't exactly go to his penthouse and take him out. They had to track him down through the guns. Anyone the Irish found in possession of them would be tortured for information on the Joker's whereabouts. The Penguin knew he wasn't someone that could take torture. Truth be told, he'd been known to crack in police interrogation. Though, he would never admit to any such cowardice. Regardless, he had to get rid of those guns.

The Penguin saw it as a favor, not only to himself, but to the Joker. J had basically been dethroned, but only a hand full of people knew. Anything that Jason did would automatically be the Joker's actions to own. If that crazy plant lady could fix him, he would be returning to a city that was being torn apart by the underworld. The Penguin honestly didn't want that to happen. He didn't wish to go to war when that imposterous child disturbed the balance of power. The Penguin couldn't do anything about what Jason decides and does to the city. But at the moment he's in the position to possibly clean up his mess.

The Pengiun's phone began ringing. He sits up quickly and looks at it laying on the coffee table. He already knows that it's from one of his goons, the one in charge of removing the guns from the Joker's warehouse. He reaches out and picks up his phone. He answers and raises it to his ear.