Chapter 47

I'm on the block of my apartment complex when I see two police officers carrying out a body bag, with two more lying in an ambulance truck parked by a few police cruisers. There's been a killing at the apartment? I jog up to the front steps, my black work boots pounding against the pavement until I reach the entrance. Still in my officer uniform, I'm able to easily infiltrate the crime scene without question. The trail of officers and investigators lead me to a room on the sixth floor, above both Mrs. Cobblepot's and my apartment. One open door leads into a room bathed in a greenish, grey light. The apartment appears to have been under renovation, as it is mostly empty save some plastic covers and paint supplies. Evidence markers line the floor, along with chalk outlines of where the bodies once stood. There's no blood around the body markers, and there doesn't appear to have been a struggle either. Then my eye catches a damning piece of evidence, a pink bakery box with black lining. Going over to the body markers, there are also half-eaten pastries by all of the bodies. Cannoli too. A terrible feeling builds at the bottom of my stomach. He couldn't have, but then again, he absolutely could have.

I climb down the stairs to my room, discreetly slipping into my apartment. Opening the fridge, I look for the bakery box from this morning, but it's no where to be found.

"I've already disposed of the evidence," Oswald's appeared in the doorway to my room, a satisfied smirk stretching ear to ear.

I sigh, "What did you do?"

"Like I said, I bumped into some acquaintances from school who happened to be men-for-hire. On top of that, I happened to have a job available for them, but it required...confidentiality. I couldn't have any witnesses."

I put my hands on my hips, scolding him as if I were scolding a child, "What did I say about not killing?"

"I only did it this morning, after our agreement was fulfilled. No killing for a week," he points out, splaying his arms out before clasping them together in a business-like manner.

I twist my lips, it's true I set the time for a week, but I wanted him to continue past that week. And I can only bargain so much. Maybe before I can eliminate the problem, I need him to admit that he has a problem.

"Alright, fair enough. You did fulfill the agreement," I admit, crossing my arms.

He chuckles, "I'm glad you understand."

Oswald crosses over to me and clasps my shoulders, "I just got back from work as well. Don Maroni finds me very valuable to his team...or at least, he will."

"How so?" I ask.

"I will reveal to him that I once worked for Fish and Falcone. He may distrust me at first, but soon he will realize that I am a valuable asset to him."

I smile, "I'm sure he will."

Oswald leans in and kisses me on the cheek, "I have to work the night shift for Maroni, but when I get home, perhaps we could cap off tonight with a little...fun?"

His hands move down to my waist, massaging me through the fabric of my police uniform. Wow, he's already asking for more? To be honest I still haven't fully recovered from last night, and it doesn't help that he's such an animal in bed.

"No, I'm busy tonight, and besides, why would I want to have sex with a murderer?" I ask, although I let him cling to me.

He laughs, his yellowed teeth on full display, "Haven't you already?"

Oswald pushes me onto the couch before joining me, his two arms on either side of me, locking me in place. He licks his lips, "You've made a pact with me, it's too late to back off now. All you can do is...enjoy the ride."

He leans in, and I rise to meet him as we kiss. He suddenly becomes more forceful, gripping my hips and forcing me up, our stomachs and legs grinding against each other. I grab him by the shoulders and pull him onto the couch, kissing him further. Finally, we let go, and we stare into each other's eyes in silence, only broken by our heavy breathing.

I run my hand down his chest, "Perhaps you're right," I get up from the couch, "but that doesn't give you the right to demand sex whenever you please."

"I know...it's just...last night was so wonderful. Can you blame me for wanting more?"

I relax my shoulders. While he can be very manipulative, there's always an air of innocent honesty in his voice, a pleading, puppy dog tone.

"No, I can't," I conclude, placing my hand on his shoulder. He looks up and smiles.

"Like I said, play your cards right, and perhaps we can go for another round next week," I promise, before letting go and walking to my room.

As I close the door, I comes to terms with the fact that I feel like, for lack of a better term: a whore. Is sex really the only advantage I have over him? And if so, how far will it take me?

I open my closet door and, shoved into the corner, is a mysterious duffel bag. Upon opening it, I discover that it's filled to the brim with money, just like the bags in his closet back at his room. It looks like he hasn't disposed of all of the evidence.

I open my bedroom door, "Oswald, come here."

Still sitting on the couch, he gets up, limping to the door, hunching forward as he waddles along. I walk to the closet, picking up the duffel bag and holding it up in front of him, "What is this?"

He smiles over a guilt-ridden face, "A, a rainy day fund."

"Oh really? Just like the one you have downstairs?" I retort, lowing my voice, "The cops who found the bodies are going to come up here any moment now. So I suggest you take the money and hide it somewhere where they won't find it."

"Y-yes, of course," he takes the bag and hobbles over to the fire escape, "I must say...for a police officer and government agent, you're very good at breaking the law."

I take a firm stance, crossing my arms, "I'm willing to do bad things for the right reasons."

Oswald contorts his lips into a smug grin, "So am I."

I wait until night falls before I stuff my Trickstress costume into a small backpack and head up to the roof. Luckily, Oswald has to work the night shift at Bamonte's, so at least I'm free of him for now. Speaking of Oswald, what am I going to do with him? I should've figured he'd want more sex, and truth be told, I want more too. But, while being with him feels so...right, at the same time I know it's incredibly wrong. He could drop me at the tip of a hat if he so chose, and if I ever lost his favor, or worse, angered him. Who knows what he could do…

I hop from rooftop to rooftop, something I'd learned to do with ease back when I was just a street kid from the Flea. And it's a city, so the buildings are all close together, close enough to easily jump from building to building. As I traverse the rooftops of Gotham, a swarm of bats can be seen fluttering around against the reflection of the moon. Guess they're active tonight.

Several blocks away from my apartment, in the middle of the financial district, I spot the Gotham Jewelers. Changing into my Trickstress costume on one of the rooftops, I leave my stuff on a nearby rooftop and hop down to ground level. I pick up a loose brick from a construction site and carry it to the Gotham Jewelers. Precariously, I toss the brick at the front window, sending it smashing through. The alarm goes off immediately, and I scale back up to the rooftops via a drainpipe. Now it's only a matter of waiting…

A blunt punch to the back of the head sends me soaring off balance, catching myself on the edge of the roof. I turn around just in time to see the masked vigilante, donning a black and red costume, coming right at me, fists at the ready.

"Hiaah!" she cries, and I catch her punch right on time.

"Hey look, I'm not here to fight, I want to talk, I wanna help you," I tell her, holding back her fist.

Without stopping, she sideswipes me with her leg, knocking me to the ground. I hit my head on the concrete roof, and I roll over just as she tries to punch me again. Grabbing her arm, I pull her to the ground, bringing her to my level.

"I'm the Trickstress, from Central City? I busted the Trickster," I explain, letting go of her arm.

Panting, she wipes the droplet of blood from her lips, "Really? That explains the ridiculous outfit."

I push myself up, "Eh, it grows on you, and look who's talking! What are you, a vampire?"

"It's a work in progress," she stands, her voice light and feminine.

Just as she stands, something on her side begins dispelling a static sound. She takes out a small transistor radio from the black belt on her hips. Turning the knob, she leans in to listen, "...robbery...24th and...alright."

She turns the radio off and puts it back on her belt, "I get police frequencies on that thing. Pretty cool huh?"

"Yeah...intercepting police frequencies, that's how you're able to get to crimes before the police do," I realize aloud.

She shakes her head, "Nope, this is how," she takes out a pair of keys from her utility belt and presses a button on the chain. Suddenly, the screeching of tires come from somewhere in the distance, before a sleek black and red convertible speeds to a stop in front of the building.

"Oh, that's why you chose those colors, they match the car," I joke as we slide down to street level.

She gets in the driver's seat, but I hesitate to enter. Even though her mask obscures her entire face, I can tell she's smiling, "So Trickstress, wanna help me stop a robbery?"

I stutter slightly, amazed that she could produce a car seemingly out of thin air, "Uhm, uh, yeah. I'd be honored."

"Then hop in kid," she insists.

I get into the passenger seat as she starts up the car, "Buckle up and hold on!"

The car flies off, going at top speeds as we zoom through the Gotham streets.

"Are you sure this is safe?" I ask over the roar of the engine.

"Don't worry, I went joyriding all the time as a teenager, and besides, with the gas crisis, you're not going to find a single car on the street, even in the busiest parts of town," she informs me, taking a sharp turn to the left and pulling us with it.

"Then how can you afford a car?"

She smirks through her mask, "Let's just say I have a benefactor."

We roll up to a small convenience store where two men in ski masks are escaping through an alleyway. I'm the first to jump out of the car, tearing off after them. One of them shoves a couple of trash cans in my path, but I easily jump over them, continuing my pursuit.

A shadow passes me overhead, and I see that the vigilante is chasing them from the roofs. Smirking, I continue to follow the thieves through the alley. The crooks reach a dead end and the masked vigilante jumps down from the roof, her red cape fluttering in the wind. She reaches into her utility belt and pulls out a gun. She aims for the thieves and fires, and a long rope with two balls attached fly out, tying up the criminals.

"Wow...guess you didn't need my help after all," I realize as she pushes the men to the side.

"That's not entirely true, you helped chase them down," she points out.

With the same gun, she aims it at rooftops and a grappling hook fires out of it. She extends her hand, "C'mon."

I grab ahold of her hand as the grappling gun sends us up to the rooftops just as the sirens of police cars can be heard in the distance.

"Will they find the car?" I ask.

She shakes her head, "I had it drive off just as we got out. It's radio-controlled."

I raise an eyebrow, "That sounds dangerous."

"Well, that's why we do this, right?" she asks as we start running, leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

I twist my lips, trying to conceal a frown, "I have my reasons. I take it your reason is just that: danger?"

"Of course. The media springs me off as some dark avenger of the night looking to get revenge on the mob, but there are far more effective ways of hurting the mob then stopping a couple of robberies and drug deals. I just do this for kicks, to blow off steam."

We climb the ladder of a tall building overlooking most of the city. The bright lights on the tallest high-rises seem to reach for the sky itself, as if they too are struggling to escape.

The masked vigilante adjusts her radio, listening in on police frequencies.

"Hey, what's your name?" I ask her, "I mean, if I'm the Trickstress, then what are you?"

She shrugs, "I honestly haven't figured a name out for myself yet. I was going to try to impersonate the Gray Ghost, or maybe the Green Hornet, but my costume doesn't fit with either of their color schemes."

I scratch my chin, trying to come up with a suggestion, but nothing seems to come to mind, other than stupid names like "Vampire Girl" or "Huntress".

Just then, the flock of bats I'd seen earlier swafts by, fluttering around the round yellow moon before disappearing again. I then turn around to the vigilante, her dark costume and black and red cape, and her full face mask sticks up in two particular places, probably her hair sticking out...but the out-of-place hair sort of looks like...ears...

"Batgirl," I suddenly suggest aloud.

She turns to me, "Seriously? I think I'm a little old to be going by 'girl'. Batwoman, now that sounds more...respectable."

"Alright then, Batwoman it is," I agree.

She smirks, but just then her radio goes off with an operator reporting another crime. She holds her ear up to it, "...mugging on 27th. Let's go."

I nod, as we run across the rooftop and leap off of it, bounding into the dark Gotham night.

Author's Note:

Narutoske: Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy it. As for Natalie and Oswald, I recently read an interview with Robin Lord Taylor where he explained that Oswald has never really had a chance to explore himself as a romantic partner, so anything can happen. Also, I update on Tuesdays and Fridays (PST), just so you know

Thanks! :)