Scruffy graverobber Victor and ghost Oswald
Characters: Victor Zsasz, Oswald Cobblepot
Fandom: Gotham
“If you’re looking for valuables I’d recommend the crypt over there,” a voice said suddenly causing Victor to jump from his skin and drop his shovel. He blinked rapidly as he saw sat on the pale grey gravestone was a young man, about his age, grinning at him and swinging his legs. He was wearing a Victorian looking suit, and had eyes that were an eerily bright green. Comparatively, Victor was underdressed, in a loose t-shirt, an old raincoat and worn jeans. His hands and face were covered in mud and filth, and he certainly wasn’t dressed to meet a weirdly formal young man in a graveyard.
“Who the fuck are you?” Victor said, picking his shovel back up and holding it in front of him defensively.
“Just a guy who’s grave you robbed, you’re cute. And erm, you’re currently using my femur as a door stop back at your house, my skull as a paperweight, my rib cage as a nice bit of decoration, and my finger-bone as a keyring,” the young man said with a shrug and a cocky grin.
“Don’t screw with me.” You’re not… you’re not a ghost or something. You’re just some kid trying to scare me.” Suddenly, in front of Victor’s eyes the young man disappeared into thin air, and then there was a cold sensation on his shoulder. He turned slightly, raising his eyebrows and staring forward at the cackling ‘ghost’. “Okay, that’s a nice trick that is pretty hard to explain.”
“What’re you looking for?” The ‘ghost’ asked, approaching Victor curiously causing a cold sensation to penetrate his coat. “So far I’ve only seen you take bodies, but they can’t be worth much.”
“Nope. Not selling. Just… Working,” Victor said cautiously. He reached out, poking the young man’s chest with a finger. It was strange, like touching cold water. It didn’t instantly go through exactly, he felt the sensation of liquid and then when he pushed he easily submerged his hand in it. He pulled it out suddenly, staring at the young man in confusion. He did it again, this time however the ghost was less accommodating.
“If you don’t mind it’s kind of rude to just shove your hand into someone’s…” The ghost paused and thought for a moment. “Someone’s… well not lungs but you know.”
“So. You’re a ghost. Great. Ghosts are real. Or I’m hallucinating,” Victor groaned. He lowered his defensive shovel and stuck it in the ground to lean on it instead. “Are you like, stuck here?”
“Well, I’m stuck with you. I’ve been following you. Since you robbed my corpse I’m kind of bound to you I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Before that I was stuck to the apartment where my mother killed me. Then you rob my corpse and suddenly I’m being dragged across the country and I wake up to you are carrying my remains in a bag.”
“Huh. Wait, so you’ve just been following me for … how long?”
“Three days.”
“Three days…” Victor thought for a moment cycling through the graves he robbed the previous Friday. “Two older women and … one young guy. Oswald Cobblepot. That’s you.”
“That’s me,” Oswald said in a sing-song voice. “Must have misspelt my surname. Mother would’ve been distraught if she’d bothered to visit my grave.”
“Cold-hearted bitch,” Victor said, not because he meant it but because it seemed like the sort of thing he was supposed to say.
“Eh, not her fault,” Oswald replied with a shrug. “She got put away for a while and when she finally came back to the apartment they’d… I don’t know. She had a big scar on her forehead. They… messed with her brain. She wasn’t the same. But I haunted her until the day she died.”
“Lobotomised her. They lobotomised her,” Victor said. The gravestone said ‘death: 1953’, so apparently he was out by a few decades with Victorian. “So… erm, can I get back to this or-”
“I can make it easier for you,” Oswald shrugged. Victor watched as he saw Oswald disappear into the ground and then reappearing dropping a coffin at Victor’s feet. “Fuck that’s heavy,” he complained. He sat down on the grass and watched as Victor stared at him in amazement.
“What, you’re dead and they don’t give you super strength?”
“Well, it’s not really lifting exactly- anyway, what are you doing with the bodies?”
“Take them back to my basement and I fuck around with them-” Victor stopped for a moment. “Wait. If I take apart this old chick am I gonna have her stalking me too?”
“Don’t think so. You don’t have anyone else attached to you. I think it’s just because you kept my bones, or wanted to keep my bones? I don’t know,” Oswald shrugged. “Anyway, are you going to get this thing open? I want to watch.”
Victor grinned and picked up his shovel, smacking the metal head into the old wood of the coffin.
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Sleep deprived
Price: What's wrong with you four?
Gaz: We had a bet on which one of us can stay up the longest
Ghost: It's been 6 days
Price: I can tell...
Oswald and Soap: *Fighting each other for the coffee pot*
Gaz: *Looking at Oz and Soap fighting* I'm so gonna win
Price: Uh huh. By the way, you're pouring salt instead of sugar in your cup
Ghost: *Bangs head on table, asleep and snoring*
Gaz: Haha! One down! *Sips his salted coffee, unfazed*
Price: I'm calling Laswell for a transfer...
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He paused at that, eyes narrowing. “Doc,” He said, slowly, “Who, exactly, did you reach out to on this matter?”
The amusement in Leslie Thompkins’ voice said everything he needed to know. As did the sudden thunder of feet as his security team began to swarm him - a few skidding on the ice, though recovering admirably - and make their way to the front door, guns at the read. “You’re clever Mr. Cobblepot, I’m sure you already know.”
The worst part was that he did.
Oswald felt a headache bloom behind his eyes as he realized the chaos about to invade his home.
--
Chapter 8 is (finally) here!
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Clara Oswald, or, a ghost story
The Snowmen, Doctor Who // Interstellar (2014) // Snow and Dirty Rain, Richard Siken // Hide, Doctor Who // ‘As Strong As Death’ published in ‘Eight Ghosts: The English Heritage Book of New Ghost Stories,’ Jeanette Winterson // ghost I, Christina Marie Brown // Hide, Doctor Who // Danse Macabre, Steven King // Hide, Doctor Who // Landscapes with Fruit Rot and Millipede, Richard Siken // Death in Heaven, Doctor Who // Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places, Colin Dickey // Interstellar (2014) // Black Hole, boygenius // Unbidden, Rae Armantrout // “A Ghost Is a Memory.” On Bodies, Belief, and the Places Ghost Stories Live, Genna Rose Nethercott // Faces in the Crowd, Valeria Luiselli // Hell Bent, Doctor Who
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