Guy stepped inside. The room was dark, with bleak grey concrete walls and a white tiled floor. A wooden table had been set out in the middle of the room, with an orange plastic chair on either side. An iron chain linked to a iron hoop embedded in the floor. The other end attached to a manacle around a thin man's wrist.
Rocking on his chair, the inmate giggled.
"Oh goodie. My favourite visitor. Won't you have a seat. I had a pillow brought in to make you more comfy. Anything for my biggest fan."
"I'm not a fan."
Guy squinted at the pink pillow set on his chair. The inmate had a smile all too innocent for his liking. Carefully, Guy removed the pillow to reveal the whoopee cushion underneath. He inspected the pillow briefly, before throwing it in the prisoners face.
"Nice try, James."
James Jesse shrugged and grinned. "Worth a try. I get so few chances for practical jokes in this place."
"What's in it?" Guy said, placing the cushion on the table. "Gas?"
"Just an ordinary, run-of-the-mill tooter, hehe. Can't get any of the fun stuff in here."
"You shouldn't have this."
"But, ahah, I do. You can get anything in here, if you know how. There's a trick to it."
Guy rubbed at his temples. Barely a minute in, and he was already tired of the Trickster's babbling. If this was what he was like on his meds, Guy had no intention of meeting him off them. It reminded him of Plastic Man on a sugar high.
"What have you got for me, Trickster?"
"Oh, down to business already? Fine. I'm not one to complain. Where to begin…?" Trickster leaned forward, tapping his chin in an exaggerated manner. "How about the old Mickey Rooney? It'll have to be a super-duper extra dose for a speedster's metabolism, but once he's conked out, the fun begins. It takes a little planning, which isn't my strong suit. I'm a impulsive kind of guy. Then again-"
"What's the gag, James?" Guy grated.
"Oh, right. You frame him for murder. I'd go with that intrepid reporter, Iris West. Leave the Scarlet Speedster in a pool of her blood, with no memory of what happened and all the evidence pointing right at him. See, what you do..."
Guy rubbed at his face. Why did he ever think this would be a good idea. The guy was a maniac, a psychopath who couldn't see the line between funny and fatal, let alone the difference between a joke and a crime.
"How about something less criminal?" Guy muttered in exasperation, cutting short the Trickster's babbling.
"Huh? Oh. Spoilsport. Well, I suppose you could skimp on the killing. Frame him for a murder that was never committed. Far less fun."
"Pass. What else."
"The old water fountain gag. As Flash goes to take a sip of cool, refreshing H20, the hijinked dispenser shoots a steady stream, not into his mouth, but onto his crotch. So it looks like he wet himself."
Trickster fell about the place laughing at the idea, raking his fingernails through his ragdoll hair. Some were overgrown and dirty, while other had been bitten down to the quick. Finally, he finished convulsing, and collapsed back in his chair, panting heavily.
"Of course," he tittered. "I'd switch the H2O for HCI. Acid adds a certain sting to the prank."
Ignoring the last comment. Guy thought back to his last attempt to use water in a prank on Wally. Instead of making Flash look like a bedwetter, he'd come away looking like a wet blanket himself. No, he needed something more immediate. Something Flash couldn't dodge. Something speed couldn't hope to avoid.
"Try again."
"Make him look through a microscope, leaving a big black ring around his peeper. My version makes them bleed to death through the eye socket. Chinese fingertrap, rips the fingerprint clean off. Tie his laces together with tripwire."
"Is this the best you got, Jesse?" Guy growled, standing. "No wonder you can't get one over on the Flash!"
"My A-grade material is weapons grade material. Not my fault you don't want to go all-out."
"I'm done."
Guy marched to the clear cell wall and banged twice, waiting for a guard to open the door. His fists clenched tight, knuckles turning a bloodless pallor. Somehow, one way or another, he would get his own back on Flash. And it would be so masterfully done, nobody in the known universe would ever sneer at the Green Lantern ever again.
"There is one other choice. The false letter. Convince your victim, hehe, that someone who means a lot to them needs them to do you a service. A romantic interest, a respected partner, an authority. It doesn't matter at all! Then you use their desire to impress as the means to humiliate them."
"How?"
"Make them undertake a foolish task which they will inevitably fail. Have them publicly admit a secret which will ruin them. The possibilities are endless."
The cell door slid open.
"Not half bad, James."
"So, does these mean you'll get my sentence shortened? For co-operating?"
"I never promised anything of the sort. You helped me brainstorm a prank, Trickster. You didn't bring down a crime ring. This was a bit of fun to you."
Guy paused just outside the door, and went back for the whoopee cushion on the table. Best not to leave anything there he shouldn't have. He'd hand it in to the Bell Reve warden. And when he found out who smuggled it in there in the first place, there'd be Hell to pay. But for now, he had a prank to plan.
"Wait, come back! That's not how this works, Lantern!"
"Wanna hear my advice, cowboy?" Harley drawled from a cell farther down the hall.
"No."
"Go with a classic." The high-pitched sing-song voice of hers was actually more irritating than Trickster. "One year, I put paste on ol' Mistah J's hand while he was sleepin', and tickled his nose with a feather. He scratched his snout and smeared paste all over his mush. Haha!
Guy kept walking, leaving the giggle madwoman to her own devices. But her voice drifted along the hallway again, now with a solemn, heartbroken note. When he glanced briefly over his shoulder, she was up against the glass, like a puppy in a cage, tears in her eyes.
"...then he made a paste outta me. Guess it's true what they say, y'know? You can't kid a kidda."
Can't kid a kidder, Guy thought bitterly. She might be right. But he was about to prove that you can fool the Flash.