Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

Back in a Flash

   Harrison opens the folder, revealing several documents and photos held together with a paper clip. He holds the first document up, which includes a picture of a plain, clear face mask.

"This is what Amanda intended for you. It changes your facial features to however you want them to be," he explains.

That's all good and well, but there seems to be a problem.

"Okay, but why don't you have the tech with you? Amanda said this was just going to be a simple pick up," I tell him.

He sighs. Oh boy, here comes the catch.

"You see, that's where things get...complicated. Yes, this was suppose to be an easy job, but on the way here, our tech was stolen by a local criminal," he swaps out the first document for a single picture of a man with wild clown hair and a ridiculous multi-colored jumpsuit, "the Trickster."

I scoff in disbelief at the picture, "Is...is this for real? Because, that man looks less like a criminal, and more like a children's birthday party performer."

"The elaborate costumed outfit, as well as his manic antics, are his signature. He specializes in eccentric weaponry, making our tech his ideal target."

I point to the abnormally large gun strapped to his back, "What's that? One of his toys?”

Harrison nods, “Yep, an ‘acid gun’, if you can believe that. Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Good thing I deal in crazy,” I half-joke, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckles, covering his mouth as he recovers, “Oh you think this is crazy? Just wait until the guys with freeze rays start showing up.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he excuses himself, “back on topic. We’ve pinned down his next...uhm, shall we say: appearance. He’s going to rob the Central City Bank in approximately,” he pauses to check his watch, “an hour.”

I nod, although the time is oddly specific. But there’s something not quite right about this situation, and I think I know what it is. I lean back in my chair, “So let me get this straight, you want me to wrangle stolen tech from a deranged criminal because...let me guess, you let him slip past you?”

“Hey, the stuff had already been stolen once I got there, there was nothing I could do,” he raises his hands in defense, “look, I’ll help you, of course. I need the tech just as much as you do. But I can’t do it alone.”

Crossing my arms, I twist my lips, “Alright, I’ll help you. Just one question: what’s in it for you?”

“Huh?” he tilts his head up in surprise.

“I mean: what sort of tech would be so valuable as to interrupt a bank heist by an insane criminal in a clown suit?” I clarify.

He glances around the mostly empty cafe, before leaning in, “All I can say is, it’s a computer prototype, and if he figures out what it can do, well, then it won’t be just the two of us who’re in trouble.”

Alright, as a fellow agent, I can understand his need for secrecy, and considering he’s probably already told me more than he should, I can accept that.

“Well,” I shrug, “what’s the plan?”

  Ed shuffles past the rush of officers in the GCPD, balancing a full stack of papers that rise just above his head. With Natalie away on business, he is once again left to operate on his own. You’d think working for the police would be a social occupation, but it never feels like he interacts with more than a few select individuals. But perhaps it’s due to his specific  position, part coroner, part tech support, all underpaid. Or at the very least underappreciated. Like right now for example, this is the third paper errand a random officer has sent him on. Yes, yes, their jobs are very hectic, but shouldn’t this be a job for the teenaged interns? Do they even still employ those?