Tana sat under a tree in the park, reading a newspaper. Whenever she felt like catching up, she made sure to go somewhere safe, and populated, where the types who employed her rarely ventured. They knew that she was smart—they didn't know that she was educated. Some even thought she was illiterate. She found it to be useful, not humiliating. She always tried to know more about her employers than they knew about her.
The election was interesting. If she weren't a drifter, she'd probably be leaning toward Mayor Grange. But Grange's recent records showed some shift in ideals. She'd always put a large amount of the city's budget towards charity funding, but her targets were starting to move up. Written documents had been exposed, showing that Grange was funneling unnecessary resources into funding the rich in their enterprises. Out of charity. The journalists blamed Grange's personality. They said that she was too kind, too soft to be mayor. Gotham, of all places, needed someone who was willing to stay on task, and prioritize…and who knew how to handle money.
The biased journalists named many of the successes of Oswald Cobblepot.
Even when she was able to read between the lines, Tana couldn't avoid the fact that Grange's interests had shifted to favor the rich. So she was beginning to take Cobblepot a little more seriously.
She smirked, since it didn't really concern her anyway. She couldn't exactly vote. Folding up the newspaper, she left the park, walking for a ways before sliding inconspicuously into a nearby alleyway. It was one of the skinnier ones, that few could easily traverse, and she found it to be the best way to enter her employer's base of operations.
She finally reached the wooden door and knocked once. "Open the door or I'll break the door down and then break your fingers."
There was the sound of several latches unlatching before the door squeaked open and one of Maroni's thugs appeared, wearing an amused grin. "Girl, I'd like to see you try."
Tana shrugged. "Okay." She began reaching for his left hand, and when he intercepted with his right, she came forward with her other hand and bent one of his outstretched fingers backwards with one fluid motion. The crack was quite audible.
He screamed and snatched his hand back. "You little bitch—!"
A voice cleared its throat behind him. "Let her in, Guido."
The strongman ground his teeth and stepped backwards, letting Tana enter. As she passed, she gave him a shrug. "You asked."
She then turned to Rupert, who was wearing his signature floppy green hat and holding a glass of whiskey. He was surveying her over the rim of the glass. "The boss wishes that you'd stop damagin' his employees."
"And wishes don't get squat."
He smirked. "You're right about that. An' I've been wonderin'… why won't you act as hitgirl for Maroni? You've got no problem hurting these guys."
"Killing's a lot more serious and a hell of a lot more traceable. I'd only go for that if I had a reason or if there was a shit ton of cash involved. Get to the point, Rupert. Does Maroni have something for me to do, or no?"
He shrugged, setting down his glass and pulling a cigar out of his pocket. "Yeah. Know the big shiny building downtown? Granite base, huge green logo. It's the headquarters of Mayor Grange's campaign. He needs you to get up to office five-thirteen, on the sixtieth floor. There are a few papers there that he needs you to steal."
"In league with Cobblepot?"
The man shook his head. "No. Private vendetta."
"What kind of papers?"
"Blank ones. Boss says the inside source saw them being stored in the second drawer down on the right in the mark's desk."
Tana grimaced. "Tell him that if he wants to forge more documents to incriminate the mayor, he can find another—"
"No, that wasn't him. Those were genuine. And this isn't the mayor's desk. Like I said—this is private. It won't affect the mayor's campaign. Why are you in'erested, all of a sudden?"
"'Cause I look out for me and mine, and if he's been forging docs to overthrow Grange, then there's something about Cobblepot that denizens like me don't want to find out. Plus, I've got enough cops on my trail as it is."
She watched him carefully as he replied. "Okay. Facts are that this isn't the mayor's stuff you're stealing. Maroni wants them to get back at one of the more corrupted officials who stiffed him a while ago."
Tana shrugged. "Pay?"
"Two hundred cash on delivery."
Tana's eyebrows crept upwards. That would be enough to last her for a few weeks, at least. "Consider it done. You'll get it tomorrow night."
Tana left the building, judged that she still had a few hours before dark, and set off down the alleyway. This was why she couldn't take Cobblepot seriously before. These were Gotham politics—she had no way of knowing what was real and what was fabrication. If Maroni was backing Cobblepot, then Tana knew that she had to pull out of his circle immediately. It meant that he was more corrupt than the rest—and definitely a step down from Grange's sorry excuse for a term.
She knew that she shouldn't even care, being homeless and all, and with a fairly steady cash inflow, but no matter how she acted on the outside, she was still conflicted.
Even if Tana enjoyed stealing a tad bit, that wasn't to say that she didn't want to try and find some form honest work. Something appealed to Tana about the concept of living longer, without the constant fear of discovery breathing down her neck. Mayor Grange had said she'd introduce more programs towards helping the homeless secure jobs, before Cobblepot started his rise. Tana didn't want to help Maroni help Cobblepot, and then find Cobblepot's persona to be a fake. So, she was treading very carefully about Maroni's affairs.
But this seemed safe.
She only had to wait two hours for night to fall, casting a darkness over the city that was soon remedied by the bright oranges and yellows of the streetlamps. Leaning over the edge of the parking structure, she watched as the night life of Gotham started to pick up speed, from rich men driving their fancy cars to fancier restaurants, to corrupt cops picking up hookers on street corners. Finally, she saw the last person leaving the base of the shiny glass tower that she had to infiltrate, the one just a few feet away from where she was standing. She backed up across the pavement, then ran to the edge of the parking garage roof and leapt into the void.
She landed with all four limbs splayed on the edge of the tower, her hands and feet sticking to the glass. She had to admit, even if Maroni was a sketchy guy, she absolutely loved his first few payments. It wasn't every day that a girl got gloves that could stick to walls, emit EMPs, electrify things, and store information. Boots to match, too. And then there was the handy set of knives and lockpicking tools. And the box full of acids and sedatives. Everything she could possibly need. The frigid wind swept over her, flinging her braid to one side as she climbed up the side of the building.
She'd often heard the phrase "don't look down" when it came to heights. She now had no problem with looking down. Even at fifty stories up, She surveyed the glowing streets below her and smirked. Then she continued to climb. The room that she needed was still seven stories above.
Crawling like a spider to the window she needed, she suddenly became grateful that she hadn't been given a ridiculous name, like "Batman". She'd probably have been "Spider-girl" or something like that. But no, working with mob bosses had its advantages. She tended to be their scout, sent in to retrieve a password or bit of code that they would then use in a larger hit. Since her robberies always led to something bigger, she was seen as a kind of bad luck charm. That's what had earned her the name "Omen".
The window ran from floor to ceiling, the interior of the room a neatly stacked office space. Her eyes sought the shape of the burglar alarm box set up by the window, but moved to the office over to press her palm to the glass and knock out an identical one with a targeted EMP. Turning the glove up a notch, she watched as the palm attachment started drilling a hole through the glass. Once she'd made a hole big enough for her hand and unlatched the window, she dropped to the carpet inside and crept to the door. It locked from the inside. Unlocking it, she slid into the hall outside and found the right room. Getting in and scanning for extra security was simple, and she was soon at the desk. In and out. Quick as a shadow. That was her way.
The drawer she'd been assigned to was unsurprisingly locked, but only with a normal pin-tumbler lock, easy as anything to pick. Tana finally worked it open and pulled a stack of the papers out, seemingly blank. Trading her lockpicks for a flashlight, she clicked it on and held it experimentally underneath one of the sheets to see if there was a watermark. She cursed. And she fled.
These papers are from the desk of Marion Grange.