"That'll be four dollars and fifteen cents, sir."

"Woah woah woah, four dollars for a coffee? You're outta ya mind!"

Clover sighed with disinterest as the gruff looking man shook his fist at her.

"Back in my day you coulda got better coffee for a quarter of the price!"

Attempting to refrain from rolling her eyes, Clover give the man a blank stare.

"So do you want the coffee or not?"

"Yeah, yea…" He grumbled, slapping a few dollar bills and some change on the counter. Clover attempted to count his change out, but the man had already moved on. She let out another frustrated huff and deposited his extra coins in the tip jar, not bothering to call out to him. 'He deserves it' Clover thought at she called back the order.

While working in a quaint little coffee shop had its charms, its frustrations were ultimately the same as any retail job, rude customers and all. If Clover wasn't so desperate for money she would've considered quitting long ago. But as things stood with her father's medical bills, they were barely scraping by.

The cancer diagnosis really shouldn't have taken Clover by surprise (her father was a not-so-secret chainsmoker), but the news had been a blow nevertheless. The disease was in its third stage, but Clover was hopeful that he would get better. Her father didn't share the sentiment. He had always been a pessimistic man, and the diagnosis had only worsened his pre-existing problems. First he had lost his job, fired due to a meltdown at work. Then, with his newfound freetime, he proceeded to blow most of their savings in some of his favorite pastimes. It had started with excessive drinking, then gambling, and soon he was owing a few big people some big money.

Clover had been forced to drop out of college, as much as it pained her. As much as she coveted her education, there was simply no room for it in the new budget. There was simply no money to pay for her tuition, and her scholarships weren't nearly enough to cover the financial loss. The two had been forced to sell their apartment and move to a destitute little place in the Narrows. Clover would never forget closing the lime green door to her apartment for the last time. It had felt like a funeral.

Nowadays, much of Clover's time was devoted to her job, caring for her father, or searching for a quick way to make money. All the money from their depleted savings and her father's unemployment checks were going towards his treatment, leaving Clover's meager earnings to cover living expenses and attempt to pay off her father's debt. Luckily, the people he owed money too hadn't come knocking quite yet, but that didn't stop Clover from sliding her pistol under her bed just in case.

Although the two things were in no way connected, Clover couldn't help but feel as if that night all those months ago was a catalyst for her current situation. Everything had gone downhill so quickly after that day. Clover had been constantly on edge, waiting for the man in green to come after her in retribution for what she had witnessed. More crimes had been committed later that week, and the man had made an appearance at a play in uptown Gotham and a graduation ceremony for police cadets. Clover had made it a top priority to get her hands on any newspaper that mentioned him.

Apparently the man's name was Edward Nygma, but he went by the alias "The Riddler", and as strange as it might sound, he was deadly. According to multiple stories, he had started off as the Forensic Examiner at the GCPD, then transferred into a riddle themed life of crime after murdering a cop and a woman. From there he had been sentenced to rehabilitation at Arkham Asylum and left the joint with a certificate claiming that he was now sane. After that he had worked closely with former Mayor Cobblepot, and then he went on to commit the string of murders that Clover had somehow become involved in. Little had she known that she was witnessing the debut of The Riddler on that cold night.

What she managed to glean from all her resources was that the man was a grade A psycho. A genius in his own right, but completely bonkers. For weeks Clover had lived in fear of The Riddler coming after her, but he never appeared. Eventually she began to loosen up, finally leaving her house without her father's switchblade up her sleeve. And after her father lost his job, Clover had much more important things to worry about. It was clear the wacko had more important things to do, and Clover wasn't going to complain. If anything, she was more likely to get struck by some petty thief than entangled in the plans of The Riddler again.

Clover snorted a little bit as the next customer walked up. As frightening as the man was, someone using the moniker "The Riddler" was just asking to be laughed at. At least his little gimmick that night finally made sense to Clover. He asked riddles because he had some sort of fixation on intelligence. Clover could understand placing brains above brawn, but his actions took things a little too far in her opinion.

Clover didn't realize a customer was standing in front of her until the woman began to order.

"Yes hi, I would like an espresso please, two extra shots." The woman said in a nasally, high pitched voice that grated on Clover's ears.

Clover glanced up at the woman, her eyes slowly roving from the woman's tacky attire to her face. She was skinny, and an older woman if Clover had to guess. She looked to be in her late 30's, and her hectic fake blonde hair only reinforced the idea. She was rather tall, or at least compared to Clover's own unimpressive height. However, she did have the aid of some pretty painful looking stiletos. Everything about this woman reeked of "crazy cat lady", but Clover always obliged customers whether they creeped her out or not.

"Of course," She said, punching the woman's order in, "that'll be $4.50."

The woman gave her a tight lipped smile and swiped her card. Luckily, she didn't complain about the price.

Clover's day carried on much in the same way. There was an annoying customer every once in awhile, but things were quiet for the most part. She took a break at around four and walked to the sandwich shop across the street, enjoying a hot ham sandwich before returning to work. By the time the shop closed at 8, early on Sundays, Clover was happily closing up shop. She was exhausted, but contented herself with the dream of hot tea when she got home. The kettle set she'd received on her eighteenth birthday had faithfully held out for many years, and she was hoping to milk it for a few more.

After locking the front doors, Clover gave them a solid pat before turning on her heel towards home. She adjusted her scarf so that her mouth and nose were tucked beneath it. Now only her eyes stung from the gusts, tears quickly forming from the sting only to be blown away. Luckily the coffee shop Clover worked at wasnt in the Narrows, so walking out of it at night wasn't too much of a risk. If Clover found herself working a late shift, much like tonight, she would make her way towards the bus stop and ride public transport home. Usually she didn't encounter too much trouble after getting off the bus, considering that her stop was only a block or two after from her apartment. It was a very fortunate arrangement to have.

Clover jolted as she heard a noise emanate from a nearby alleyway, her fingers instantly wrapping around the blade situated on the inside of her coat. She paused for a moment, waiting with baited breath for another sound.

"Psst! Over here!" A vaguely familiar voice called. Clover felt like she was in some sort of horror movie as a shadowy figure stepped out of the alley and into the street light.

Clover raised an eyebrow as the face of the person became clear. It was the woman who had come into the coffee shop earlier, the one with the annoying voice. Clover would have laughed if she wasn't so damn frightened. Instead of standing there like a deer in headlights, she decided the best course of action would be to just pick up the pace. As Clover passed the woman, she heard the uneven clacking of heels as the woman attempted to catch up.

"Wait please, it's me, I came into the coffee shop you work at earlier! My name is Myrtle, Myrtle Jenkins!" The woman exclaimed as she attempted to catch up to Clover.

"Yeah, I remember you. Unfortunately I'm off the clock right now, so whatever you want, I can't help you." Clover said in an irritated tone. She felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder, and quickly jerked around to face the woman, the blade in her hand glinting in the moonlight.

The woman backed away looking startled. She slowly raised her hands up in a non-threatening position, her empty palms exposed to Clover. The woman, Myrtle apparently, was still breathing erratically from their "chase". Yet somehow, being threatened with a knife still wasn't deterring her.

"Please, please listen. I have a... business proposition for you."

Clove couldn't help but balk at the first implication that came into her mind. Was this lady trying to solicit her for…

Before her thoughts could go any further, Myrtle piped up again. "Just hear me out. I have a job for you that could earn you a lot of money. I noticed how miserable you looked at your job today. Don't tell me you couldn't use some cash."

Clover knew, she knew, that hearing this crazy lady's proposition out was a bad idea. But the mention of money was too intriguing to her desperate wallet.

"How much money are we talking." Clover asked hesitantly, slowly lowering her knife.

The woman gave her a little smirk. "How does $1000 dollars sound?"

Clover's first reaction was to balk, but it was immediately followed by suspicion. No one who pays that kind of money for a job has an easy task in mind. Whatever this seemingly harmless lady wanted done, it was risky no doubt

Despite her reservations, Clover's interest had been peaked, and there was no going back. "What's the job" She asked in a deadpan voice.

"I need to...steal something...and it's located in a place that I need to get into. You ever heard of the Iceberg Lounge?"

Clover had only heard of it briefly and didn't know much about the establishment, but nodded anyways.

"Well there's something there I need, but I can't get in. Every time I attempt to, the bouncers turn me away. But you, you're still young and beautiful, there's no doubt in my mind that you can get inside."

The woman was speaking so fast and erratically that it was hard for Clover to follow, but she got the gist. Although she suspected that the real reason Myrtle couldn't get in was her general aura of craziness

"What would I do once I got inside?" Clover asked, still astonished that she was entertaining the ramblings of this crazy woman.

"There's a back entrance to the club in the kitchen. All I need you to do is unlock it and let me in. After that, you're free to go. Easy peasy"

Clover couldn't believe what she was hearing. Some stranger she had just met was going to pay her $1000 to go into a club and open a door? It was almost too be good to be true. No, scratch that, it was too good to be true.

"If the job is so easy, why are you paying $1000 dollars to get it done?" Clover asked skeptically.

Slowly, a somewhat dazed look came over Myrtle's eyes as she seemed to be thinking deeply about something. Finally she took a deep breath and snapped out of her reverie.

"What I need from that lounge is priceless. The job may or may not be risky, depending on who's there that night. If $1,000 dollars is what gets the job done, then so be it. So are you in or not?"

Clover's eyebrows knitted together in a contemplating look. $1000 was more than she made in a month, and though it wouldn't pay off her father's debt, it was a definitely a start. But would she really assist someone in a crime just for some extra cash? The thought of money flashed through her mind. Then again, she wouldn't really be committing the crime. She'd only be opening a back door, and that was no crime (it would technically make her an accomplice but that was only an afterthought). As Clover took a deep breath and stared at Myrtle's outstretched hand, his words echoed through her head again. 'You should probably run…'

But who was gonna take advice from somebody called "The Riddler"?

Clover slid her hand into Myrtle's, yanking her hand up and down twice before pulling back as if she had been burned.

A satisfied smile came across Myrtle's face as she took out a piece of paper with some words scribbled on it. "Come to this address tomorrow at 10 o'clock, and bring something fancy to wear. Make sure you look presentable."

Clover nodded silently, pocketing the piece of paper and giving Myrtle one last glance before walking off into the night.

'What the hell did I just agree to?' Clover thought as she continued her journey towards the bus stop.

Clover stared into her closet in deep contemplation over what to wear. Her arms were outstretched, each hand clenching onto the doorframe, knuckles turning white with the exertion. There had been a time, long ago, when she'd be having this problem for a very different reason. In a past life, past Clover would be moaning about how she "just had too many dresses" and didn't know how she could possibly make a decision. Now she was limited to only two options.

The first of the only two dresses she owned was a yellow sundress dotted with white flowers. Clover had bought it at a boutique when she was 15 and then proceeded to not wear it for 5 years. It was in pretty good condition, but Clover had no idea if it was appropriate club attire. Admittedly, she'd never been a huge fan of nightlife. She'd never had the type of friends who wanted to drag her out partying (she'd never had many friends at all), and she wasn't one to go by herself. Clover didn't know much about the Iceberg Lounge or how fancy the patrons there usually dressed, but something told her a sundress made for a teenager would not get her passed the bouncer.

The second dress hanging in Clover's closet had never been worn, or at least not by Clover. The dress had belonged to her mom, and though Clover had never thought she would wear it, she couldn't bare to part with it. It was a deep purple colored dress with a sweetheart neckline and straps that perched themselves just outside the collar bone. Clover felt some reluctance in wearing it, but it was definitely a step above the sundress.

Clover removed her work uniform and slowly slid the dress on. Fortunately, her mother had a fairly similar figure to hers, and the dress fit fairly well. Clover glanced at herself in the old dusty mirror leaning against the wall. The dress came down to her knees and hugged her hips tighter than she would have liked. Clover tried not to dwell too long on her reflection, knowing that the longer she looked the more flaws she'd find. She then went about applying her makeup in a fairly simple yet elegant way. In a way, it was fun to do her own makeup again. It wasn't something she had really had the energy to do in months, and it somehow made things feel more normal.

After she had finished, Clover slipped into a pair of glossy black heels. They were practical little things, far from the stilettos that Myrtle had been wearing. Clover glanced at her watch, noting that the time was 7:15. For a brief moment, Clover worried about what her father might think if he saw her exiting the house dressed the way she was. Luckily, a few moments later she heard his voice coming from outside her door.

"I'm going to the bar Clove, don't wait up!" He called as his feet thudded down the hall and the door slammed closed.

Clover desperately wanted to tell him to stay home, because her father going out on the town would only lead to him getting in trouble. But she couldn't stop him, he was her father after all. Even after becoming an adult, she was still acting subservient to him. Sighing, she caught her own empty gaze in the mirror for a moment before picking up her purse and leaving the house, making sure to lock the door firmly. Luckily it wasn't dark yet, and though she heard a few jeering voices and catcalls from some street thugs, no one attempted to seriously harass Clover.

Clover was surprised to find that the address, which she assumed was Myrtle's home, was located in a relatively nicer part of the Narrows. Of course it was still the Narrows, but there were a few less potholes so it was fairly classy in Clover's standards. She trudged up the steps to the apartment and knocked on the door firmly. After a few moments the door swung open and Myrtle was standing there.

The first thing Myrtle did was look Clover up and down with a pensive expression that soon evolved to one of disgust. "You are not wearing that." She said before yanking Clover inside.

All Clover wanted to do at that point was pry the woman's cold talons off of her forearm. 'Like you know anything about fashion.' Clover thought, eyeing Myrtle's get up distastefully.

Just as Clover was working up the courage to hit the woman, her anger was replaced by confusion as she glanced around the apartment. However nice it had looked on the outside was completely betrayed by the inside. The place was dimly lit and looked like a hoarder was its resident. Things from clothing scraps to mannequin torsos lay scattered around the apartment. Something large and black lay on an old wicker chair.

"Is that… a blow torch?" Clover asked incredulously.

Myrtle, continuing to drag Clover towards a closet, paid no attention to the astonishment in her voice. "Yep, it'll come in handy for what I have planned tonight."

Clover tried not to gulp too obviously. Just how nuts was this lady?

Myrtle finally released her when they made it over to the closet, then furiously began to tear through the countless items of clothing hanging in the closet. She began to talk as she did so.

"I assumed that when I said to bring something fancy that you actually… had something fancy. But no matter, I have just the thing!"

Clover fiddled with the hem of her dress self consciously. She didn't know whether to be offended by Myrtle's criticism or frightened that she was going to make her wear something from her wardrobe.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" She asked, trying to sound rather nonchalant.

"Oh, it's a very pretty dress, but The Iceberg Lounge is a very classy establishment and you won't be able to get in unless you look the part. Luckily I do have an old piece and some jewelry that would look splendid on you. Aha! There it is!"

As Myrtle yanked a dress out of the depths of her messy closet, Clover could only pray that it wasn't some obscene thing like every other dress there. Luckily, the entire item was a solid black color, which was a start. It looked to be a form fitting dress by the shape, but Clover supposed she wouldn't know unless she tried it on.

"There's a bathroom over there. Go ahead while I go get you some shoes and jewelry." Myrtle said before dashing off to go find something.

Clover walked over to the bathroom and locked the door before stripping. She carefully folded up her mother's dress and set it on the countertop, then slid into the black dress. Surprisingly, considering their height difference, the length of Myrtle's dress was a bit short for Clover's tastes. It stopped a little bit above mid thigh, and the part of Clover that still resided in the influence of her conservative upbringing snorted at how this thing could be called "classy". While the length was unexpected, the way the dress fit her way not. Myrtle was a very skinny woman, and though Clover wasn't the curviest woman in the world, it was clear that she had more in that aspect than Myrtle.

Clover couldn't help but balk at how her cleavage was very evident over the off the shoulder neckline of the dress. She cringed at the pudge of her belly showing as she angled herself to the side. Though she despised the way the dress hugged every single one of her flaws, Clover did have to admit that it was far club-esque than her mother's dress. After staring at her reflection a little longer and giving her mother's dress a forlorn look, Clover sighed and exited the bathroom.

Myrtle was waiting on the couch with a pair of silver heels and some jewelry resting beside her. Her eyes lit up when she saw Clover.

"Oh I knew that would look good on you! That was the dress I wore to my first junior high dance. I always like to keep clothing just in case it can be scrapped for one of my new creations!"

Clover didn't know whether to laugh at the fact that she fit perfectly into a dress bought in junior high, or that Myrtle actually created all the monstrosities she called clothing. Either way, it was humorous.

As Myrtle stood up and began to size her up, Clover spoke.

"Listen, if you want me to do this, you're gonna have to pay me now. If things go wrong, I want the money upfront."

Myrtle raised an eyebrow. "I'll give you half now, no more, no less. You get the other half after I'm inside the lounge."

If Clover had been a bolder person she would have argued, but instead she simply nodded and accepted the $500 Myrtle handed to her silently. If all went well, she would be seeing the other $500 very soon.

After a little tweaking and a bit of coaching from Myrtle as Clover attempted to walk in her stilettos, it was finally time to put their plan into action. By the time they arrived at the club it was dark, probably around 11:30. Myrtle stopped Clover a block away from the entrance, just out of sight from the bouncer. Clover's heart was pounding at the thought of what she was about to do, but Myrtle seemed unfazed.

"Okay so you know the plan right? The club closes at 2 tonight, so you get in. mingle a little bit, and then open that back door so I can slip in before the club closes. You can exit through the door when you let me in. Okay?"

Clover nodded stiffly, trying to ignore the condescending way Myrtle had explained the plan to her. She wasn't a dolt, she could complete a simple task. Myrtle patted her on the back swiftly and sent Clover on her way.

As she approached the line to enter the club, Clover tried to remember to walk confidently, like she was a high end socialite that regularly frequented this type of establishment. But after looking around at the other patrons, it felt glaringly obvious to Clover that she didn't belong. Compared to these millionaires decked out in designer brands, Clover looked like a child playing dress up. It was evident that she wouldn't even make it passed the front door. Yet, despite everything in her screaming that this was a futile task, Clover knew she had to persist. It was for her father after all, the only true family she had left.

After anxiously waiting for what seemed to be forever, Clover approached the bouncer. He was what one would typically expect from a bouncer, tall, buff, and an expression that was colder than ice. And by the dismissive way he looked at Clover, it was clear she wasn't getting anywhere with him.

"No entry for you." He said gruffly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

'I still have to try…' Clover thought, trying to quell her nervous shaking.

"Um...My friends are in there, please let me through they'll be worried if I don't show up.

The bouncer just shook his head, and Clover sighed dejectedly. There was no way she was getting in. Just as she prepared to move out of line, a voice stopped her.

"Well don't be leavin' so fast beautiful." A voice spoke behind her.

Clover turned around to find that it was the man behind her in line speaking. He was a portly little man, looking to be mid 40's and a very obvious toupee perched on his head. Two identical looking blonde women were latched onto his arms, their breasts practically spilling out of low neckline tops. Clover tried not to look too disgusted. He reeked of cologne and cigarettes.

He approached her slowly, the two blondes at his sides giving her sneers and the bouncer still deadly quiet. Clover coughed a little when she saw the man's eyes travel up and down her body, his gaze lingering on her chest. Finally he looked her in the eyes.

"Ay, you're a, you're one of them Chinese broads ain't ya?"

Clover tried not to look surprised. Her grandmother had been Japanese and her mother had been mixed, so while generally people could tell Clover's heritage if she informed them of it, most people simply assumed she was white. Due to her mother's disconnection with her family, Clover had been raised in a very westernized home with little influence from her mother's family's culture. She was surprised that he could pick up on the small traces of her Japanese features, even though he'd ignorantly put her under the category of Chinese.

"I uh...yes I am!" Clover exclaimed upon a sudden realization. Maybe she could get in with this man if he took an interest in her.

The man gave her a smug smile, a gold tooth catching the light in the back of his mouth.

"I always wanted me an exotic dame. Hey Rocco, why don't ya let the gal in? She's with me." He said, shooting Clover a wink.

She gave him a tentative smile back. Luckily, the man seemed to hold some standing with Rocco, and the bouncer allowed them in after a moment of consideration. Clover followed the man and his ladies into the club, the scent of alcohol and smoke filling her lungs immediately as she entered. She had made it in, now she just had to last the night.