It was the first time business had arrived at Oswald Cobblepot's doorstep. To say he was surprised would be a mild expression of his feelings. He had gone to great lengths to keep his home secret and therefore safe.

He had no idea who she was. When she knocked, he would have thought she was selling something (and it was true that she was) if not for her appearance. Battered old boots, puffy brown winter coat with a fur lined hood, gap toothed, and a mess of reddish hair stuffed beneath a newsie cap. She smiled, flashing the gap teeth and in her grey eyes was a glint of something Oswald was very familiar with although he did not recognize it in himself. Her eyes were the color of insanity lurking just below the surface.

"What do you want?" he asked through the chain bolting the door while his mother hovered behind him, parroting the same sort of questions.

The woman stuffed a business card through the opening, proffering it with a greasy fingerless glove. "Ailis O'Grady," she said. "Grady to most. Surprised you don't know me."

Oswald glanced from the business card which said something about O'Grady Clandestine Mechanics to the wild looking thing peering through the door and then memory served. His grip on the handle tightened while his other hand scraped his pocket for a knife.

"You work for Fish Mooney," he said.

"Who is this? Why are you not showing me who is at the door?" Mrs. Cobblepot repeated.

"Mother, get back," Oswald hissed.

"Take it easy friend. I work for a lot of people. You could find me quite useful, Mr. Cobblepot and you, I find very interesting."

"How did you find me at all?" His blue eyes darted past her shoulder, searching the hall for others but Grady was alone.

"Got my ways. You know my trade," Grady raised a large tin work box.

"Will you not show me who is at the door?" Mrs. Cobblepot interrupted.

The minute she laid eyes on Grady she took a deep breath and puffed up like an angry hen. "I knew it! I knew when you were missing you were out with some hussy!"
Grady let loose a yelping laugh.

"Honestly mother. This is the hussy you think I made off with?" Oswald gestured at Grady's unkempt hair and bulky jacket. "No offense, of course." he added to Grady. "I only meant to say that clearly you are no hussy."

"None taken," Grady shrugged.

"What do you want with my son?" Oswald's mother demanded.

"Simple business deal ma'am," Grady spread her gloved hands innocently.

"Always with this talk of business," Mrs. Cobblepot mumbled as she unhooked the chain and gave Oswald a dark look. "Now this business brings strange women with metal boxes to our door. What is next, I ask."

"I'm sorry mother, if you could give us a moment..."

Mrs. Cobblepot rolled her eyes and disappeared into the kitchen in a cloud of foreign muttering.

"This way," Oswald gestured to the couch. Grady plopped to the sofa and flipped the lid of her work box.

"I want to know how you found me," Oswald fixed her with his glacial stare.

"First thing you should know about me Mr. Cobblepot is that I don't I just trade gadgets, I also trade secrets," she continued fishing in her work box. "So what I'm trying to say is: that would be telling."

"I saw you sell something to Fish once but that was ages ago," Oswald said more to himself than Grady as he searched for ways she could have any idea who he was or any interest in him. "Do you sell to Maroni too?"

"On occasion. Maroni doesn't care much for micks though. Never liked my father and the circles he ran in." Grady dropped a seemingly random collection of objects on the coffee table.

The name O'Grady was vaguely familiar to Oswald. They must have had some significance in the Irish mob but whatever it was, it was history now.

"I understand you like secrets," Grady continued. "This is good. See this tie pin? If you look very, very closely at the center you'll find a camera smaller than a grain of rice. You collect more secrets with that than you'll find fleas on a dog."

Oswald took the tie pin but found no hint of a lens in it's dark, glassy interior. "I don't see anything."

"Well I don't expect you take me at my word." Grady switched on a tiny black and white battery operated TV. Oswald found himself staring at his own eye on the screen. "Fascinating," he breathed, brain flickering with possibility. "Is there sound?" he asked.

"Not on this model. But for best results you want a device specifically designed for sound. This suits your tastes, I would think," Grady handed him an ornate antique pocket watch. "Pull the pin on top, start recording. Push the pin, it stops. Six hours of material, great definition. Your Mum drops a pin in the kitchen, we'll hear it. Now wind it up."

Oswald twisted the top and the last minute of her instructions sounded back, clear as a well tuned radio.

"Hook it to a speaker for better results," Grady said with the confidence of someone who knows they have an easy sale.

"It is elegant and ingenious Miss Grady," Oswald said. "But I understand your fine work does not come cheap."

Grady gave a lopsided grin. "You're not wrong. But I don't just accept money. You can buy it for a secret."

Oswald was wary of this game. As intriguing as it was, it was very dangerous too. "What kind of secret?"

Grady gave a dramatic shrug. "A secret worth what such a useful device could do for you."

"I could tell you a secret and you might say it's not valuable enough. I'd be out one secret with nothing in return," Oswald frowned.

"You know the same as me that in this business we have to take well calculated risks," Grady smirked. "You do want the watch though?"

"Yes. It's a simple and elegant solution to complicated problems which arise. But is it worth the price of a secret..." Oswald slumped in his chair, chewing his lip.

"I also accept cash or check," Grady said.

"That may have to do. As much as your methods interest me."

Grady's crooked grin returned along with the mad glint in her eye. "Fair enough. Besides Oswald, I already know your most interesting secret."

"I very much doubt that," Oswald laughed as he reached for his wallet.

"Your employer isn't interesting? Your true allegiance?" Grady's smile was gone, her childish face quite serious, but Oswald didn't see, his eyes were on his checkbook.

"What's so interesting about Mr. Maroni?" he said.

Grady giggled. "Right. Maroni."

Oswald felt his blood run cold as his heart missed a beat. No. She couldn't. How could she? She wouldn't laugh. Wouldn't sit there cool as you please armed with such dangerous information. His gaze met her own wicked, glittering eyes. She knew. Or at least she thought she did.

"Miss Grady... I do hope you know that there are some secrets that will kill you by night fall."

"Oh, I don't think so. See I might be dead, but you would follow shortly after. I know exactly how to get your secret into the right hands and I know how to do it quickly. But you know that. You're very smart, Mr. Cobblepot. That's why I'm here. Do I want to sell you a watch? Sure. But I'm much more interested in what you know. In your potential. I can see the seeds of what you're trying to create. Work with me and your chance of success doubles."

"You don't know what I want," he sneered.

"What do any of us want?" Grady slapped her hands on the coffee table, eyes full of fire. "We want to write our names all over the history of this city and get so far above the others we can't be touched."

Oswald didn't know if what he was feeling was hate or admiration but it burned him. He had slipped up. The only people that knew his true loyalties were himself and Mr. Falcone. The fact that this Grady creature had found out meant that either he had made a mistake somewhere along the line or she was good. Very good. Better than him. She left him no choice but to keep her close until he learned her well enough to trap her and dispose of her.

"What exactly do you want from me Miss Grady?"

She had started packing items back in the box. "I want to help you. I want you to help me. I want your knowledge and your ideas. I want you as an ally."

"You haven't left me much of a choice," Oswald glared. "A successful partnership is built on some level of equality."

"Oh, we are equals. You have every right to say no," Grady shut the box with a snap.

"You can't say that when you know so much about me and the only thing I know about you is that you know too much."

"Believe me, I have no interest in ratting you out to Fish or Maroni. So please, don't force me to do it to save my own skin. That would be a terrible, boring waste." Grady stood and wound a scarf around her neck.

"What do you think of Fish Mooney? Do you like her?" Oswald tested the waters, tried to find her angle.

Grady shrugged. "I don't like anyone much, really."

"Ah," Oswald said for lack of anything else to say.

"Keep the watch," Grady said and Oswald noticed she had left it on the coffee table. "On Thursday I'll be at Don Maroni's restaurant to add an installation to his bar. We'll talk then."

Oswald led her to the door. "I think it's only fair you tell me how you found out where I live."

"Come on mate, I just gave you a free watch."

"A watch is not worth my life," Oswald said a little too loudly. His mother's head whipped around the kitchen door to stare at them. "I'm joking mother," he said.

She withdrew but not before eyeing Grady suspiciously.

"True," Grady agreed. "It was a simple process. I followed you a bit for one. But all I'll say is that I make good use of the bums on the streets and so should you. Another pair of eyes like the cameras. They're dead useful. Nah, the real question is how I found out about your plan which was really a brilliant one, but you take risks. Don't go on his property in person again. See what I'm saying?"

"I do," Oswald said slowly. "I thought...it seemed...No one would think to look for me there."

"Well I did, didn't I?"

"I have the impression you're not normal Miss Grady," Oswald said.

"This is true," Grady laughed. "But that's a factor you have to consider, isn't it. Truth is, I didn't expect to find out you were on Falcone's property. I was very surprised to learn that. But once I did, I put the pieces together. I took a guess when we talked just now and you as good as told me the answer. It's not very difficult for me. I see people and their schemes as working very much like the pieces of my machines. Everything is connected, cause and effect, logical process of elimination. There's that emotional element of chaos at times, but that just makes it more fun."

It was Oswald's turn to smirk. She was better at this than him, but he could use that. He would learn from her and then he would eliminate her just as he would Don Maroni, Fish Mooney, even Falcone. She had beaten him at his own game and how he hated her for it. But she had some sort of charisma. He would enjoy working with her as much as he would enjoy figuring out how to tear her apart. "I couldn't agree more," he said.

"And you think we won't work well together. You'll see. Separate we're deadly. Together we'll be unstoppable." Grady tipped her cap at him. "Tell your Ma I said have a nice day."

Oswald locked the door behind her. His mother bustled back into the room. "You won't be bringing that scarlet woman back here again, will you?"

"I'm afraid she may be very hard to get rid of." He moved to the living room window and watched the street below.

"She tries to snare my handsome son. I will not have it..."

"This is all about business mother, I assure you." He watched Grady emerge on the sidewalk below. She leaned on a traffic sign, looking both ways up and down the street. A bum with a shopping cart rolled past her and Oswald could have sworn he saw Grady hand him something although the bum did not slow down. What was this damnable girl planning?