Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

Trickster's Favor

   "I thought I heard something in those vents," the Trickster smiles triumphantly, "I just didn't expect it to be so...big."

He grabs me by my shirt and pulls me up, aiming his flamethrower directly at my face, "Who're you? Who do you work for?! I'm a very dangerous man and I'll stop at noth-"

He stops, his face frozen on my t-shirt, "Teddy bear...those are my favorite!" he smiles gleefully as he pulls me closer to him, "You're a woman after my own heart, huh?"

So that's why Harrison decided on the teddy bear t-shirt. I decide to take this opportunity and use it to my advantage.

"Yes...Mr. Trickster...I...I'm a big fan of yours," I lie, smiling.

He with his flamethrower in one hand he wraps his free arm around my waist. I look over and see that his flamethrower has a DIY quality to it, being comprised of mostly household objects.

"Oh, a fan?" his tone becomes grizzled and gruff, "I didn't know I had fans."

That's understandable, considering he's a crazy psychopath, but you'd be surprised at the kinds of psychopaths that have fans.

"Help me," the Trickster commands, tossing me a cloth bag, "start filling this up. Also, put this on."

He opens the palm of his hand to reveal a thin, light blue satin mask that just barely covers my eyes, "A disguise, so no one will know your identity. I'm sure somewhere else you're a fine, respectable young woman who wouldn't want to be caught with a dastardly criminal such as myself," he explains as he wraps the mask around my head, allowing me to tie a knot at the end.

He walks around the vault, pulling out the various black drawers full of cash and dumping their contents into his similar cloth bag. I walk around the rows of storage drawers, making sure to check the tiny labels on the drawer handles.

"The hundred dollar bills are over here. You're grabbing from the ones," I point out.

He looks down at the dollars in his sack, "Oh...I knew that."

He dumps the money onto the floor and strides over to me, slowly sauntering and winking.

I want to puke. This guy looks old enough to be my father, even with the clown hair. But I'm suppose to play the part of the fan, right? Old guy or not, I have to keep a straight face, if I can.

Wraps his arm under my shoulders and pulls me close, "Kid, I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful relationship."

The alarms in the bank sound off. The Trickster grabs the nearest drawer, yanking it out and emptying the contents into his bag, "Shoot, one of those damned tellers must've gotten free!"

I nod, before I start to fill my own bag with stacks of hundred dollar bills. As I'm just finishing filling the bag, the Trickster looks over at me.

"Oh, wait!" he puts his bag down and pulls out a black marker. On my bag, he quickly draws a large dollar sign on the front, "perfect."

Two officers walk in through the half-melted vault door, "Freeze!"

The Trickster blasts his flamethrower at the officers until they're burned to a crisp. He cackles out loud, "Barbeque on a badge!"

I laugh too, although I didn't find it funny. We walk out of the vault, the Trickster apparently in no rush to leave. We make it to the main lobby to find several officers ready to open fire. I take cover behind the corner while the Trickster slides behind a nearby column.

"Time to prove your stuff, sweet cheeks!" he declares, sliding something to me.

The object arrives to me and I realize the item is a handgun, the CCPD label stamped on the side. I pick up the gun and load it. The gunfire on the other side slowly comes to a stop. Now's my chance. I step out of cover, hitting three officers before I have to step back into cover again.