A Nest to Roost In, Chapter One

[Pigeon]

This is a Batman Returns-universe fic centering on The Penguin.  The setting of this chapter is previous to the events of the film.  Warning: this fic does, at some points, contain sexual situations and strong language.  I welcome constructive criticism and feedback!


   The Penguin motored through the familiar, twisted labyrinth of Gotham's storm sewers in his amphibious Duck vehicle, returning from his usual rounds back to headquarters in the Old Gotham Zoo.  The console radio crackled, almost startling him.
   "Headquarters to Duck One."
   Penguin punched the microphone button.
   "Proceed," he growled.
   "We've caught ourselves a little intruder here."
   "Threat?"  His flippers tingled to think that he might be coming back to an opportunity to hurt and humiliate some lost, lone authority or vigilante.  He opened the throttle a bit.
   "Negative."  There was a loaded pause.  "But Boss, if I can say so, you gotta see this.  She says she wants to meet you."
   "Can't you get rid of her?"  Penguin preferred living secretively, and was more than a little annoyed that this breach in security couldn't be handled quickly, without his help.
   "Boss, just come see this.  We've never seen anything quite like this?she says she wants to join us."
   "Join us?"
   'Perhaps she needs a powerful ally,' he thought, 'or more likely she's making up any story she can to stay alive.'
   "Yeah, Boss."
   "All right, hold her until I arrive," he grunted, punching the radio off with a clawed flipper.  Revving up the engine, Penguin churned the waters into a foaming wake behind him until the aquatic pavilion came into sight.
   "Babies," he murmured at the sight of his beloved birds, cutting the engine so as to prevent any of them from being harmed by the propeller.  A cluster of his men stood on the central island, watching his progress.  As The Penguin brought the Duck to rest on the ramp, the head clown of the Red Triangle came to fill him in.
   "Sorry we had to call it in, Boss, I just?felt you'd probably want to use your own discretion on this."
   "Yeah, like let me kill her," volunteered a thin clown who was holding a chunk of ice to his right eye.
   "Sir," he added painfully.
   "What happened to Baldy?" asked The Penguin with interest.
   "Well, Boss, y'see, we were restraining her and?uh, she didn't like the way Baldy was doin' it and she got loose and pegged him one."
   "She's loose in here?" roared Penguin threateningly.
   "No, no, she's over there with Jojo and Grips.  Said she didn't mind it, just watch where we put our?'filthy paws.'"
   Penguin threw back his head and cackled.
   "Let's see how she feels about some filthy flippers then!" he exclaimed gleefully.  "Bring her over!"
   The pavilion rang with the laughter of the Red Triangle gang as the cluster of former performers parted and brought forth a small, placid figure between the strongman and the biggest clown.
   Penguin watched her being marched up to him, giving her a long looking-over.  There sure was a lot to appreciate, from her heavy black clodhopper boots to her skintight, snow-white bodysuit which filled out just enough in just the right places, to her long, thick dark brown hair which cascaded over her shoulders.  Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted with a hint of a smile about them.  He found this smile infuriating?she should have been scared out of her wits!  Penguin decided to toy with her, wiping away that slight smile by even slighter degrees.
   "Nice outfit," he commented dryly as the three halted before him.  The girl seemed to brighten further at his half-serious compliment, batting her eyelashes once or twice.
   "Thank you, Sir.  I didn't get it quite right, though.  I forgot the dickie."
   A few guffaws sounded among the circus people.
   "Excuse me?"  Penguin asked with mock offense, to louder laughter.
   "What you're wearing is called a dickie, Sir, the shirt-front thing.  I didn't copy that part accurately."  She looked down over her own body, her dickie-less costume.  A thin black silk cravat hung just above and between her breasts, the same that the thin clown, Baldy, had suffered a black eye for making a grab at.  She giggled to let him know that the punning wordplay was not lost on her.
   "Clever girl.  So you wanted to meet the menace of Gotham's sewers, the hideous penguin-man, and now you've got his?"  --he took a step closer, invading her personal space. "?undivided, personal, attention.  Pray tell, what do you want from me?"
   The girl's neck and back arched slightly, simultaneously, at his movement towards her, but her range of motion was limited due to the two strong men clasping her arms.  She studied his face for half a beat, raising her milk-chocolate colored eyes to his.  Penguin noticed that she appeared to be his exact same height.
   "I would rather ask the same question of you, Sir.  My needs are simple, most of them already met."
   Penguin cackled.  "You're the most determined curiosity-seeker I've ever encountered, then!"  He held up his flippers, framing his face.  "You've come to stare, huh, maybe in your wildest dreams get a chance to touch and poke at a real, live, freak!  Well, how do you like it?"
   The Penguin quickly grabbed her as his burly henchmen repositioned their hold from her arms to her wrists, restraining her while allowing him to get a couple good, webbed handfuls of her admittedly luscious body.  A cacophony of hoots, hollers, and applause erupted from the gathered members of the Red Triangle as he pressed against her forcefully, kneading and squeezing her anatomy wantonly, waiting for a scream, eagerly anticipating a struggle heavily weighted in his favor.
   But all he heard was a quick little gasp, paired with the closing of her eyelids in an expression that looked?almost?pleased.
   "You misunderstand me, Sir," she said rather breathlessly.  "I thought I'd inquire as to what I can do for you.  And if I may be so bold, you've given me a good idea of where to start."
   Penguin ceased his aggressive fondling, yet found himself unwilling to remove his flippers from the perfect curves of her hips.  The laughter of the Red Triangle gang had quelled to an occasional snicker or murmur.
   "You're joking," he smirked.
   "I'm as serious as a heart attack, Sir.  And I would love to get you back, if you would have your men unhand me."
   The Penguin's mirth reverberated against the walls of the aquatic pavilion.  He found it within himself to remove his hands from her, stepping back to slap his leg.
   "Oh, that's a good one.  Expecting me to fall for the oldest trick in the book."
   The girl waited for his laughter to quiet, her faint Mona Lisa smile returning.
   "I forget myself, Sir.  Of course, you don't know yet that you can trust me."
   They regarded each other for a long moment as he tried to make some sense of the attractive, flirtatious woman before him.  The entire situation reeked of a trap, but Penguin was at a loss as to how.
   "Have them let you go so you can punch me in the eye?" he questioned, indicating the clown whose eye was beginning to swell shut.  The girl squared her shoulders as best she could, tilting her chin up slightly.
   "Sir, I kicked him in the eye.  He attempted to fondle me, and I didn't appreciate that.  My body is your privilege and yours alone."  She cast a filthy look at the injured clown for good measure as he sneered back.
   The Penguin attempted to compose an effective riposte, but came up unable to find anything wrong with what she'd just said.  He found it rather aggravating.
   "Sir, I assume that most, if not all of you are armed.  I am not.  I left the only possessions I brought up there," she added, indicating the skylight with a nod.  Turning her gaze back to The Penguin, she added in a low voice, "You can frisk me if you want."
   He considered her proposition, the implicit bargain being that if she came up clean, he would allow her arms to be released.  The idea certainly was tempting?of course, he could do whatever he liked to her, regardless, but her suggestion seemed like a game he'd win either way.
   "You've certainly found my weak spot," he cackled half-seriously, coming forward and starting at her elbows.  Her attire was so tight she couldn't possibly have been concealing anything, but it didn't stop him from giving her a very thorough going-over.
   "A little more to the right," she breathed as he passed his flipper over the left side of her ribcage.  He locked eyes with her as he completed the suggested circuit, watching her eyelids half-close as he caressed the firm mounds of each of her breasts.  He held her there for a moment before progressing down her torso and legs.  Nothing there, of course.  He tugged at one of her boots, which she lifted slowly, allowing him to inspect the ordinariness of each in turn.
   "What are these possessions you've left outside?" he demanded, straightening back up.
   "Rock doves.  Four of them, white, in a regulation racing carrier."
   He squinted at her, wondering if he'd heard right.
   "Homers," she added helpfully.
   "Pigeons," he clarified.  She nodded.
   "Well, Sir, am I clean?"
   Penguin nodded to the strongman and clown, who grudgingly let go of her forearms.  She smiled as Penguin shooed them back, advancing toward her.  She took a small step in his direction, glancing down, then back up shyly.  She reached forward, careful not to move too quickly, and ran her fingertips up his arm as he placed his flippers back at the small point of her waist.  The tips of his claws nearly met in the middle of her back, and she allowed him to draw her in, resting her left arm across his shoulder.
   A million thoughts derailed in his head as she began to tilt her face to the side, bringing her full, pink lips steadily closer to his.  What the hell was she about?  Here was a pretty girl with a beautiful body, of sound enough mind to reason, alone and unarmed, who brought birds along with her on some sort of suicide miss?
   Here his thoughts were cut short as her lips gained their destination, imparting a suffusing warmth that tingled in his extremities even as another round of catcalls erupted from the circus-peanut gallery.  He found himself instinctually imploring her searching caress as she ran her palms in meandering patterns across his back and shoulders.
   It felt like an eternity to her, something primal, yet something to be savored.  She relaxed her body against his, allowing the moment to consume her, knowing her trust would be the only thing to bring her through.  She'd waited for so long.
   An abrupt bang from the electrical generator caused her to startle, the only thing that could possibly spoil such a moment.  As she trained her gaze upon the rusted, bobbing air conditioner's occasional sparking display, Penguin felt somebody practically breathing on his neck.  The fat clown had clearly been enjoying the show.
   "Haven't you all got something better to do?"  He swatted at the clown as if he were a pesky insect.
   As the cluster of goons began to dissipate away to other tasks and conversations, Penguin's gaze returned to the girl, whose hands had slid down to his flippers.  She was holding them as nonchalantly as if they'd been?normal.  She giggled bashfully, tilting her chin coyly.  Penguin noticed a dark smudge at the corner of her mouth, recognizing it as a bit of his own, inexplicably blackish saliva.  He ventured to reach up to her face and she unflinchingly let him wipe it away with the tip of his one unconjoined finger.  He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as the smudge disappeared without a trace, answering a question he'd idly speculated upon at various times.
   "Have you got a name, girl?"
   She blinked and her smile widened.  "You've already said it, Sir."
   He raised one eyebrow.  "Pigeon?"
   She executed a slight bob that rather resembled a curtsy.
   "If you like, Sir, Pigeon.  But you can call me what you will."
   He reviewed her form, her outfit.  Really, she had done a decent job at copying his clothing, for the most part.  Certainly she'd added a few feminine touches, or perhaps it was only the overpowering femininity of her body.
   "So what're you supposed to be, my sidekick?" he asked, reaching up to stroke her hair as one might stroke a pet or doll.
   "Well, Sir, I prefer not to fight, although I will if you need me to.  My talents lie in the?" ?here she pressed her cheek against his palm as he drew downwards, looking at him with siren eyes? "?opposite end of the spectrum."  She pressed her full, dewy lips to the inner surface of his thumb as he stood there, transfixed by sensations that he'd heard about, read about, but never let himself believe he'd ever experience firsthand.  She trailed her hand to his wrist, caressing his mutant hand with her dainty fingers as well as her mouth.
   "You're?fascinated by me," the birdman stated matter-of-factly, feeling like his brain was running some sort of short-circuit.
   "I am attracted to you, Sir," she corrected gently, glancing up from her attentions momentarily.
   "My flippers, you?like them."  So many had wanted to see over the years, he remembered, to see from a safe distance?but never to touch or to be touched by his strange hands.  Right now the girl seemed to be engrossed in tasting them.
   "They're very handsome, Sir.  And I imagine they're quite strong."  She smiled, a tiny hint of prove-it-to-me challenge in the arch of her eyebrows.
   The Penguin's lips drew back in a smile which quickly became a hearty chuckle, and without warning, he seized the girl Pigeon by the waist, hoisting her over his shoulder in one surprisingly swift movement.  She squealed excitedly as he swung her around, holding her up with just one flipper which rested triumphantly on the region of her rear.  He found lifting her was easy as well as enjoyable.
   "How much do you weigh, anyway, Pigeon?"
   "A hundred and five, Sir!" she chirped back with a grin as she watched the stares of the clowns from her upside-down perspective, which shifted precariously with the Penguin's ramshackle gait.  "Where are we going?" she added with a giggle.
   "The Rookery," replied Penguin enigmatically.
   She smiled to herself as she bumped along on his shoulder?Pigeon knew exactly what a rookery was?the winter breeding grounds where thousands of wild penguins would congregate every year to start new families.
   And the only question on her mind was what had taken him so long.

[johnnygobbs]

Great stuff.  You're a good writer.  Will you be writing anymore Batman related fanfic?

[Catwoman]

wow this is good! although kind of disturbing when i try to visualize it. ew. lol jk.

[Pigeon]

Great stuff.  You're a good writer.  Will you be writing anymore Batman related fanfic?

Thanks!  Well, this one is up to eight chapters now, I will post the rest if anyone is interested.  Don't know if I should clog up the board with separate posts for each chapter, though.  I thought I might do an epilogue...don't know if I could do many of the main villains as much justice as I could Pengy, but I will be bringing more villains into this one...possibly Scarecrow.

wow this is good! although kind of disturbing when i try to visualize it. ew. lol jk.

Thanks!  Yeah, as I mentioned...weird taste in men.  Pigeon's obviously all about it, though.  If it bothers you too much, just visualize the Burgess Meredith Penguin instead, LOL!

[Catwoman]

lol!