02x14 - This Ball of Mud and Meanness

[bunniefuu]

Bruce: Previously on Gotham...

Alfred: Went to see a sergeant I know, and we did some digging on any M. Malones that fit our particulars.

Patrick Malone, goes by the nickname "Matches."

Selina: So you found him. What do you need me for?

I need you to get me a g*n.

So you're gonna k*ll him.

Nygma: I love you.

Kristen.

Nygma: No!

Peabody: If we can cure a man like Oswald Cobblepot, we can cure anyone.

Nobody yet has failed to regret vexing the Penguin.

And you are vexing me!

(screaming)

(grunting)

Gertrud: You don't eat.

What's the matter, Liebchen?

You are sick?

So pale you look.

Tell Mama what's wrong.

(muffled, trembling groan)

You don't have to tell.

I know.

Life is hard when you are special.

And you are so special.

So clever.

So handsome.

When you are older, with a stick you'll b*at away the women.

But only if you eat your goulash, so you can grow big... and strong.

(scream echoing)

(sobs)

Matching the Crane formula to our own enforced REM stimulation seems to be providing the desired results.

How's his behavior day-to-day?

Docile, friendly.

Appetite?

Low, but I'm not concerned.

Mm.

I'm curious to see how he responds to adverse stimuli.

Let's move on to the... ice cream test.

(gasps, screams)

(gate squeaking)

Aaron: Ice cream.

Why do you have ice cream?

(chuckles)

I'm sure I don't know.

It's unusual, isn't it?

(low growl)

My name's Oswald. What's yours?

I don't have ice cream.

Why do you have ice cream?

Please, by all means, you...

I don't have ice cream!

Why do you have ice cream?!

I apologize, sir. I don't know what...

(Aaron roaring)

Excellent. No violent reaction.

The treatment is working perfectly.

Guards.

Aaron: Where's my ice cream?!

How come you have ice cream?! I want mine!

Where is it?! Where is it?!

I want my ice cream!

What flavor is it?! What flavor is it?!

(distant siren wailing)

(cat meowing)

Hey.

Hey yourself.

What? You asked me for it.

I know.

If you don't want it...

I want it.

You look scared.

I'm not.

Is it loaded?

Ain't no point in an unloaded g*n.

g*ns aren't for show, Bruce.

And they're not for protection.

They're only for one thing.

Of course.

They're only for one thing.

(clears throat)

Lee. Good morning.

Hey.

Look, what we talked about after Arkham...

That's not why I'm here.

I wanted you to take a look at these.

It's Kristen Kringle's final paychecks.

Her paychecks? How'd you get these?

I went to Human Resources to get her new address, and they gave them to me.

She never picked them up.

They don't know where she is.

She never cashed them, never left a forwarding address.

That's odd.

Well, Dougherty has money. Maybe they're traveling.

I don't like it.

She said that Dougherty hurt her before.

Really? Have you talked to Ed about it?

No.

Maybe he's heard from her.

I didn't feel like it was right to worry him.

I just want to know that she's all right.

I can take it to Missing Persons.

No, no, that's all right. I'll look into it.

I'll let you know what I find.

Thank you.

Yeah.

Oh, Master Bruce.

You ready?

Yes.

I'm gonna need more than that.

We're on the hunt of an extremely dangerous man.

This is life-and-death stuff.

I need you to tell me that you are sure.

Now, are you sure?

Yes, Alfred, I'm sure.

Right.

And when we're on the street, you follow my every lead.

No faffing about, is that understood?

Yes.

Good lad.

Our quarry is an East Side boy.

His misspent youth, Patrick "Matches" Malone was arrested several times with a geezer called Cupcake.

I suspect there's irony at play there.

They were partners in crime until Matches's testimony put Mr. Cupcake in a Blackgate pen for ten.

Says here that Cupcake's out now, and he runs this strong-arm little firm called the Mutants.

So I guess we'll have to start there then.

Man: Solomon!

Woman: Grundy!

(man and woman shouting, grunting)

Solomon!

Grundy!

Remember, let me do the talking.

I know how to handle this type, all right?

Alfred: Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!

Hope we find you well.

We're hoping to have a little chat with a gentleman called Cupcake.

Cupcake: You found me, sweetheart.

What's up?

Mr. Cupcake, pleasure to meet you.

My name's Alfred Pennyworth.

Now, we're on the hunt for a guy called Matches Malone.

Now, we know he snitched you up a few years ago.

So I'm sure you wouldn't mind returning the favor, if you know what I mean.

Who's your friend?

Never mind who he is.

I'm Bruce Wayne.

Boy billionaire Bruce Wayne?

That one.

I'm willing to pay you a lot of money if you can tell us where to find Malone.

Oh, really? Why?

Master Bruce, please let me...

I think he k*lled my parents.

(chuckles) That's a good answer.

(group laughing)

How much money?

How much will make you talk?

Million dollars.

(group murmuring, chattering)

That's too much.

The boy's cheap.

(crowd jeering)

Mr. Cupcake, if I may be so bold as to just...

Yo, I'm talking to the sh*t caller.

Tell you what, son, I'll make you a deal.

Give me $50,000, you won't get Matches, but you get to leave here with your fingers and toes.

(chuckling)

Steady on, pal.

I'm just messing with you.

I wouldn't hurt the little boy. I like little boys.

You, on the other hand, I'm not sure about you.

Tell you what, I'll give you that rat Matches for 50 grand.

But first... you must fight me.

(laughs)

I beg your pardon, excuse me?

Fight me, baby.

No, you see, I'm not really a, uh...

I'm not really a fighter.

Shush, I saw you step up just now.

"Steady on, pal."

Mr. Cupcake, I really can't foresee anything positive coming out of this altercation.

You're in my house!

Fight is what we do here!

Man: Yeah!

Yeah! That's right.

I'll pay you $100,000 for the name and no fighting.

I'm not about money, little boy.

I'm about respect.

No fight, no deal, no Matches, no exit.

All right, well, I suppose, you know, Mr. Cupcake, if you put it like that.

(excited chattering)

If you wouldn't mind, sir.

Will you be all right?

We'll have to wait and see, won't we?

Are you acting like this is my fault?

It's not for me to say, is it, sir?

How is it my fault?

I told you to let me do the talking, did I not?

And did you do the talking? Yes.

I think you'll find, yes, you did do the talking.

To be fair, I think the result would have been similar in any case.

If, Master Bruce, we are lucky enough to walk away from this alive, let this be a lesson to you.

And another thing.

Pick your battles.

Don't let them pick you.

Right!

On your honor, I win... we walk.

Sure thing, mister.

On my honor.

They'll understand.

Woman: But the fight doesn't stop till somebody says uncle or goes to sleep.

Now get it on.

(group clamoring)

The other thing, of course, Master Bruce, to remember is that timing is everything.

(spectators groan and gasp)

See, there's other factors at play there, Master Bruce.

There's footwork and leverage.

Stop talking!

What?! What, you want some?!

Alfred!

Uncle! Uncle!

No!

He's slowing!

See, Master Bruce, big muscles require lots of blood.

(Cupcake shouts, groans)

Strength costs wind.

Now, if you're gonna b*at a big man, all you have to do...

Aah!

... is outlast him.

Go!

No...

Uncle, uncle.

Uncle! And the butler wins.

Are you okay?

I'm absolutely flippin' peachy, mate.

Cupcake: You're a tough old cat.

Not too shabby yourself, Mr. Cupcake.

Matches.

50 grand.

Will-will a check be all right?

(group laughing)

Yeah, yeah, sure, a check'll be fine.

Make it out to cash.

Go see Jeri down at Celestial Gardens on the East Side.

She'll know where to find Matches.

Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Cupcake.

How do you feel?

A couple of hours' kip and I'll come up lovely.

Good.

You stay here.

You ain't going nowhere... till I'm up and about. Eh?

Yes, I hear you.

Promise me, Master B.

Say again?

(no voice)

Prom...

Sorry.

(crows cawing)

Blood.

Life.

Throat.

Song.

Cat.

Kitten.

Mother.

Hug.

Crime.

Punishment.

Revenge.

Remorse.

Ah, remorse. Let's talk about that.

I feel it. A lot.

Remorse is progress.

Remorse is huge.

Is it?

I feel terrible about stuff.

I... (inhales) I was so mean to people.

Remorse is a healthy and natural response of the human condition.

It is a good sign.

It is a normal sign.

I want to be normal.

I want to be good.

Oh...

You must think I'm lying to you.

(chortling): Oh, no.

I can tell when someone's lying to me.

Oswald, you are making a magnificent transformation.

Your real self is emerging.

A kind, decent young man.

Just a few more therapy sessions and you'll be right as rain.

(stammers)

More therapy?

(echoing): Oh, just a little.

I know there's a discomfort factor, but after all, it is making you better.

Yes?

Oh, you do want to get better... don't you?

(exhales)

Yes, Professor Strange.

(laughing): Oswald, please.

Call me Hugo.

Yes, Hugo.

(knocking)

Hey, Ed, you busy?

I'm studying decomp rate of various colors of ink to see if we can use tattoos to help determine time of death.

Hmm. Is that a yes or a no?

Please come in. How can I help you?

I was wondering if you'd heard from Kristen Kringle lately.

(stool creaking)

I'm strong as a rock, but a word can destroy me.

What am I?

Silence. I've heard nothing.

Oh. Well, I don't want to alarm you, but we can't seem to locate her.

She hasn't cashed her last few paychecks.

Oh, my Lord. Do you... do you think that something bad has happened?

No. No, no, we're not there yet, anyway.

"We"? Who is "we"?

Oh, just me and my curiosity.

I don't know Tom Dougherty well.

What is he like?

What is Tom Dougherty like?

Rotten.

Mm. That's what I'd heard.

And Kringle told you herself that she was moving south with Dougherty?

Not in person. She left a note.

Could I take a look at it?

I didn't really think of it as a keepsake.

(phone ringing)

Right.

Uh, excuse me.

Yeah.

Again?

Yeah, okay. I'm on my way.

(door closes)

So that's the game, is it, Jimbo?

Gonna try to outsmart me?

Play me for a fool?

I don't think so.

(ship's horn blares in distance)

Well, that took you long enough.

For a butler, you sure do get b*at up a lot.

What happened?

We got his name, Jim.

The name of the man that k*lled Bruce's parents.

Matches Malone.

Bullock: Dude, we're the cops.

Thank you for sharing this with us.

When were you gonna tell us?

I haven't got time to explain none.

We got a good, solid lead from the same place that I got seven bells knocked out of me.

Now Bruce, he won't answer his phone, so my guess is he's gone after this Malone... solo.

"Gone after"?

To do what, exactly?

Bullock: What can he do?

He's a kid.

Only reason to go alone... he's gonna k*ll the man.

I mean, I-I told him not to.

I said, "You're too young for k*lling."

Said I'd do it for him.

Again, we're the cops. Do not tell us stuff like this.

You've got to understand, both of you... this is not a game.

I understand.

Tell me where he is.

Hey, cowboy.

Yes, sir.

(scoffs)

Have fun.

(siren wails in distance)

(rock music playing)

♪ I got a feeling inside of me ♪
♪ It's kind of strange, like a stormy sea ♪
♪ I don't know why, I don't know why ♪
♪ I guess these things have got to be ♪
♪ I got a new rose, I got her good ♪
♪ Guess I knew that I always would ♪
♪ I can't stop to mess around ♪
♪ I got a brand-new rose in town ♪

(music stops)

Ha! Hello, Bruce.

What took you so long?

I'm looking for Jeri.

Yeah, you are.

Follow me.

Woman: Uh-huh. Yeah.

(spanking, man groaning, woman laughing)

(Jeri sighs)

Come.

Take a pew.

Iced tea? Soda?

(laughs)

No, thank you.

(door closes)

You like the show?

I liked it.

Are you Jeri?

(chuckles)

Some people call me that.

What? What can I do for you?

Oh.

Sorry. You know my name, so Cupcake called you.

I assumed you already know why I'm here.

I just want you to say it.

I'm looking for Matches Malone.

Why?

He k*lled my parents.

What you gonna do if you find him?

Ask him some questions...

... k*ll him.

(laughs)

Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

k*lling people isn't, you know, that easy.

Hey, maybe you've k*lled people before.

You k*lled people before, blood?

No.

But no one's k*lled my parents before.

Well, Matches has k*lled dozens of people.

Men, women... children...

He's a professional.

And what, exactly, are you?

Do you know where he is?

Course I know where he is; he's a friend of mine.

You gonna give me a good reason to tell you where he is?

Justice.

(laughs) Please.

Money.

Nope.

I don't care about money. Try something else.

I have a g*n.

That's a good reason.

Please.

Tell me where he is.

Come on, kid... you ain't even pointing it at me!

(chuckles)

What is your problem? (laughing)

I've been told it's unwise to point a g*n at someone if you're not ready to sh**t them.

And I'm not.

Very wise young man.

Thank you, Jeri.

It's been... interesting... talking to you.

Matches lives in that big building on Grand Street between 9th and 10th.

Apartment 9B.

Why did you tell me that?

I thought he was your friend.

He is. Well, he was.

Matches is gonna be happy to see you.

You, my boy, are the childish hand of fate.

Well, that makes me God in a way, doesn't it?

(laughs)

And who doesn't like to play God?

(psychedelic rock music playing)

(indistinct chatter, rock music continuing)

Bruce!

Bruce! Hey!

Please let me go.

Bruce, listen to me. I know what you're doing.

Alfred told me everything.

He shouldn't have done that.

I understand how you feel.

No, you don't.

No, you're right. I don't.

And it doesn't matter. This is as far as you go.

You're gonna take over from here, are you?

Yes, I am.

I'm sorry, Detective Gordon. That doesn't reassure me.

Bruce, I can't let you do this.

GCPD! One, two, three, four!

(punk rock music blaring)

Hey!

♪ I got a new rose, I got her good ♪
♪ Guess I knew that I always would ♪
♪ I can't stop to mess around ♪
♪ I got a brand-new rose in town ♪
♪ See the sun, see the sun, it shines... ♪

Officer: Step back!

(siren wailing in distance)

(faint indistinct chatter)

(lock clicks)

(door opens)

(sighs)

(stammering): Matches Malone?

Mm-hmm.

I want to hire you.

(chuckles)

Kids now.

So, you want to hire me?

I want someone to die.

Wait a while. They will.

I don't want to wait.

You're kind of young to be putting out a contract.

I'm old enough.

Are you a proficient k*ller?

I thought you wanted to hire me.

You didn't say nothing about a job interview.

I have to be sure I'm getting the right man.

Don't you know a k*ller when you see one?

Actually, you look very ordinary.

Have you k*lled a lot of people?

I k*ll all kind of folks.

Just about every way you can.

Rich, poor, guilty, innocent.

By hand, by blade, by g*n.

Burn just one guy to death, they call you Matches the rest of your days.

(train clacking past)

Life's funny, isn't it?

Cat got your tongue?

What's the matter, kid... you sick?

Sorry.

I'm fine. Nervous is all.

You seem to be the right man.

Damn right I am.

Where is Bruce Wayne?

You are so angry.

I'm sensing a personal relationship.

Maybe like a surrogate father type of thing.

Where is he?

He is... he's a really good kid.

He's got steel in him.

He's gonna grow up and be a strong man one day.

Well, if he lives long enough.

This is gonna go a lot better for you if you don't make me angry.

Angry is your natural state, isn't it?

You are the infamous Jim Gordon?

Everybody knows about your temper.

This isn't about me.

There's a kid out there in danger.

Oh, there's lots of kids out there in danger!

Why is this poor little rich boy got your special attention?

You're trying to make me angry.

Do you want me to hurt you?

Could you? I got nowhere else to be.

No.

Tell me where you sent Bruce Wayne... now.

You are a lot less fun than advertised.

What time is it?

What time is it?

Yep, he should be there by now.

So you could get there just in time for the cleanup.

(indistinct radio communication)

Price starts at ten grand or so for a simple hit on an adult male vic.

Then there's a sliding scale, depending on how hard the job is.

Charge double for women.

Triple for kids.

No babies. I won't k*ll babies.

"Ten grand"?

That's cheap.

Hmm, low overhead.

Who do you want dead, son?

You really don't remember me, do you?

Remember you?

No.

We've met before?

Yes.

We've met before.

You k*lled my parents.

Oh.

Keep your hands where I can see them.

Relax, kid. I won't jump you.

I could if I wanted to, but...

I'm too tired.

Who are you, now?

My name is Bruce Wayne.

And when was this we met before?

Two years ago.

An alley in the theater district.

You k*lled my mother and father, Thomas and Martha Wayne.

I was there.

Rings a bell.

You looked right at me.

Ah, I was busy that year.

(voice breaking): My parents were important people.

It was a big deal in all the newspapers.

I don't read the papers much.

Don't watch TV.

Always the same bad news.

You really don't remember?

Oh, hey... some of them stick with you.

There was this mustached fella.

He was a big fat crybaby.

Comes back to me in my dreams all the time.

Like he's important.

I can't even recall his name.

Did I s*ab him? Toss him off a roof?

I don't know.

My parents were in evening clothes.

It was cold and wet.

You-you grabbed my mother's pearl necklace; it broke.

Oh...

Oh, yeah.

And the beads went everywhere.

Coming back to me now.

It was a nice-looking blonde lady... silver-fox-type dude and a kid.

That was you?

That was me.

Who hired you?

Maybe nobody did.

Maybe I just saw some rich suckers.

Somebody like that walks into a dark alley, they deserved it, 'cause they let it happen.

It's the way of the world, isn't it, son?

Don't call me son.

Why?

If I did what you think I did, then I made you what you are.

Just like Gotham made me.

Just like the rich folks like your parents made Gotham.

I might as well call you son.

I can make you tell me who hired you.

You think so?

I can hurt you.

I can sh**t you in the knee.

Or the stomach.

But you can't make me tell you a damn thing.

k*ller's code ain't much, but it's what I've got.

If I did what you say I did, and someone hired me to do it, you'll never know their name.

Not if you take me apart piece by piece.

You better believe that.

Well, then I guess there's nothing left to say.

(cocks g*n)

Here's to you, son.

(wry laughing): You've been a long time coming.

You want me to k*ll you.

Why?

Little rich kid like you wouldn't understand.

(wry laugh)

Try me.

A man gets tired... doing wrong and going unpunished.

Nothing happens.

You start to wonder if... there is a God.

(sets glass down)

Tighten your left hand grip.

Aim right here.

A little low.

She'll kick.

Come on, pull the damn trigger.

No.

Don't lose your nerve now! Do it!

Look at me!

I'm a monster.

You need to k*ll me.

I wish you were a monster.

But you're just a man.

Bruce!

He's in there.

(g*nsh*t)

(dog barking in distance)

(gasps)

Orderly: Good luck, buddy.

Hey, hey!

Hey!

I think there's been a mistake!

(exhales)

(gasping)

Hey.

Who's there?

(grunting, shouting)

Remember me? I'm the man with the ice cream?

(grunting, gasping)

Oh, yeah.

(anxious laugh)

Yeah, you knocked me around pretty good.

Guess that ice cream must be delicious, huh?

(laughing): It was pretty good.

You look kind of uncomfortable.

(panting)

I have a sharp Kn*fe here.

What say I help you out?

Help me out?

You have to promise to be nice, okay?

There's no ice cream in here, so there's no reason to get mad, okay?

Promise?

Okay.

(laughs)

(nervous laugh over speaker)

There you go.

Thank you.

Strange: Bravo, Cobblepot.

Sir?

This is an official certificate from the Gotham Board of Health and Hygiene.

It states that Oswald Cobblepot has passed all mandated tests, and by the laws of Gotham City is hereby declared... sane.

I'm sane?

You are as sane and normal as any other citizen.

Ms. Peabody, even.

Do you know what that means?

No more therapy?

Oswald, you are a free man.

I don't follow you.

You are sane; ergo, there is no reason for you to be in a mental health institution.

You are free to go.

I'm fine right here.

Oswald, Oswald, Oswald, you are just feeling anxious about change.

That is totally normal to feel that way upon release from care.

Okay.

I guess, if it's normal.

You are a sane, gentle, good man.

And good things happen to good people.

They do?

I-I've never heard that before.

A true thing.

Trust me.

Well, you've been right so far.

(chuckles)

Thank you, Professor... Hugo...

(laughs)

... for being such a kind mentor and friend.

That's very touching, Oswald.

Thank you so much.

And now, why don't you go back to your room and get your belongings together?

Okay. (Laughs)

(laughs)

(lock buzzes, door opens)

Are you sure about that, letting him go?

Not really. He's an experiment.

He's a notorious criminal.

There'll be an outcry.

The outcry will pass.

People are afraid of progress, Ms. Peabody, and yet, somehow, we keep progressing.

I hope you'll at least alert the police he's been released.

Enough input, Ms. Peabody.

I have other reasons, deeper plans for Cobblepot, that you can't know about now.

For your own safety.

Deeper plans?

Deeper than building semi-human creatures in the basement?

I'm sure I don't want to know, thank you very much.

On your head be it.

(metallic creaking)

There's a reason why we might have missed Malone.

Okay? His record goes back to nursery school on up... as*ault, robbery, battery, a couple of hits for the mob.

But this is way, way back.

Last few years, nothing.

That's why his name never came up as a potential suspect.

Flying under the radar, I guess. It happens.

Guess we'll never know if he really did it.

Nah, the boy says he confessed.

That's good enough for me.

Malone k*lled the Waynes.

The question is, who paid him to k*ll the Waynes?

That's a question I no longer care to ponder.

Hey, Ed. How you doing?

Oh, getting along just fine.

Keeping busy.

Any news on the Kringle front?

Uh, no.

Damn. Sorry. I've been a little busy.

I'll get into it. Don't worry.

Me, worry? (chuckles)

Yeah.

I'll let you know as soon as I know anything.

Detective Gordon, do you have a second?

Uh, yeah.

You'll let me know.

I bet you will.

Acting like you forgot all about Kristen Kringle.

Sure you forgot.

You're ready.

Thanks, Detective.

Nygma: You suspect me somehow, that must be it.

You're trying to lull me into a false sense of security while the claws of your investigation close around me, eh?

Is that it, my little man?

You take me to be a fool?

We'll see about your clever little plan, Jim Gordon.

We'll see.

I can make plans of my own.

(insects trilling)

Alfred: Master Bruce!

Bruce: "Alfred, I have left home for a while to live on the streets with Selina. Please, wait and listen before you react. You need not worry that I'm in danger or that I've lost my mind. I've thought long and hard about this decision and I know it's the right one. Malone's death made me realize a couple of things. You can't k*ll m*rder. You can't get revenge on evil. You can only begin to fight such things by not doing them. And you can only fight them where they live, not just at Wayne Enterprises. In the streets, in the slums, in the bad parts of town. So that's where I'm going."

He's lost his mind.

Bruce: "I'm not going to start battling muggers or anything. But one day, I am going to do something to help the people of Gotham.

(g*nshots)

"I don't know what yet, but I will. Meantime, I need to learn stuff. Number one: I need to learn how to live in the same world other people have to live in. Selina's giving me a place to sleep and will show me the ropes, so, like I say, there's no need to worry. I'll be in touch soon and I'll come home eventually. Please, Alfred, trust me and honor my wishes. Don't try to bring me back. I need to do this. Sincerely, your good friend Bruce."