Edward's body halfway hung out of the room as he watched as a familiar pair of white sneakers disappear over the top of the stairs. He'd just been having a very undesirable conversation with his other half when he heard the pounding of footsteps from outside. He had thrown the door open, just managing to catch sight of her as she left, running away from him once again.
'Nosy nosy, Ms. Clein.' He mentally chided as he slowly shut the door to the small closet again, encasing himself in darkness once more. 'Just how much did you hear?'
He wasn't particularly threatened by her overhearing him, the girl held no power and had no means to threaten him, after all. She was really quite weak. And yet, she fascinated him all the same. Anyone could tell by looking at her that she was soft and innocent, hardly the the type of person to frequent an establishment such as this. It was also clear to him by the sight of her quivering nervousness that she was terrified of being in his presence. He smirked as he remembered her trembling when he'd approached her at the bar, her hazel eyes stretched wide at the sight of him. But she kept returning anyways, night after night to go work in Lee's little clinic. And for what?
Edward considered himself an expert at figuring other people out, just like his riddles. He saw right through Ms. Clein's facade of the caring doctor. The girl was not compassionate like Lee. He could tell she was self serving and cautious, as many Gothamites rightfully should be. Her willingness to return here just didn't add up. Every single obstacle she'd encountered should've been enough to send her running home, but she persevered anyways. She must have some circumstance outside this place driving her to come back. The slight provocation of a mystery was eating at him, an old familiar itch he was struggling not to scratch. Edward knew he had bigger fish to fry, yet the girl intrigued him enough to warrant investigation.
And why not take the time to solve a little puzzle at his leisure? Things were going great, what with his and Lee's defeat of Sampson and subsequent domination of the Narrows. He needed something to help recalibrate his brain to its usual standards, especially since Lee had informed him that his "dumbness" had only been a psychological effect. And he was just ever so curious to see what antics Ms. Clein was up to.
Edward smirked to himself. It was decided then, he'd make quick work of dissecting the girl then get back to business. And he might as well throw in the added bonus of discovering just how much she'd heard of him speaking to his other half. It wasn't as if she could prove much, but he might dispatch her anyways just for the sake of tying up loose ends.
Edward glanced at the broken shards of mirror littering the floor, grimacing at what he'd done in his rage. First he'd have to clean up this mess, then he'd investigate Ms. Clein's home. He'd gotten her address from one of his men for safekeeping, knowing he might need it one day. Ever since he saw her next to Lee, looking like one of the inexperienced interns that used to run around the GCPD, he'd known that she might come in use eventually. It was always useful to have another lackey under his thumb, blackmailed into his service using the incriminating information he was so adept at finding.
Edward's eyelids lowered as he remembered the first time he saw her. Her light hazel eyes had been so fearful as she looked up at him, pupils blown wides and dark, her entire body trembling in her curled up position. It had been the look of someone who truly recognized his superiority, someone who revered him for the genius he truly was.
He smiled slowly, savoring her shuddering image in his mind. Oh yes, this was going to be fun.
/
Clover tried to maintain her composure as she grasped the next rung of the ladder. She didn't look down as she continued to climb, the wind whipping at the side of her hood. The goal was to make it the the third window from the left on the second story of the bank, but she feared she might pass out from fear before she made it. The ladder attached to the side of the building was old and brittle, threatening to give out from under her any minute.
When she'd gone into the bank a few days ago, Clover had hatched a plan on how to get inside. After noticing the ladder leading to the roof, Clover figured she could used one of the second story windows to get in without tripping an alarm. The only ones on the first floor were at the front of the building, and they didn't open or close. The windows of the offices on the second floor did have latches, much to Clover's relief.
She had gone into the bank claiming she wanted to take out a loan. She'd then been lead to one of the offices on the second floor, and managed to jam a small eraser under one of the windows before her consultation, leaving it slightly ajar. Clover knew it was a long shot considering any smart guard would check the perimeter for breaches, but as she made it to the level the window was on she was relieved to see the eraser was still there. Unfortunately, her entrance was not directly next to the ladder. She would need to skirt her way over to the window. Clover was just glad she'd gotten one facing away from the street so no one would see her clinging to the edge of the building as she edged towards it.
Clover slowly eased her feet onto the tiny ledge of the building, slowly moving one hand from the rung of the ladder to the first window sill. There was barely anything to hold onto, but her gloves gave her an extra grip. Quickly, Clover moved over to the next window. She was holding on for dear life as she moved her hold over to the next window sill. As she attempted to move her feet, she lost her footing. Clover gasped as her feet dangled freely in the air. She struggled to support her weight with her arms, fingers slowly losing their purchase. Luckily, she managed to catch the ledge with her foot again, stabilizing herself and supporting her weight again.
Clover grunted as she used one hand to push the window open, holding her breath to see if the alarm went off. When she didn't hear any blaring siren, Clover slowly pulled her upper body through the window. She cringed as she landed upper body first on the floor with a thump. She froze, waiting still in a heap on the floor. She slowly picked herself up after a few minutes passed and there was no sign of the guard. She adjusted her mask and hood, glancing around the room.
She'd already confirmed earlier that there was no security camera in the office, but she knew there were some in the hallway. She'd half to be extra careful and stick to the shadows. Clover opened the door to the office carefully, silently thankful when it didn't creak. She slowly made her way towards the stairs. She didn't know exactly where the safe would be, but she had a hunch it was located the first level, probably in the back area.
After making it to the bottom of the staircase, Clover looked around for the guard. From what she'd seen a few nights ago, he typically patrolled in the lobby area. Sure enough, Clover could see the thin beam of light from his flashlight as he stood in the lobby. She could hear the faint sound of music, and realized that he had the radio on. That would explain why he hadn't heard any of the noise she'd made. Without making a single noise, Clover slinked behind the front counter and through a back door.
It took her a few minutes, but Clover finally found the room with the safe. It she hadn't been so frightened, she would've thought it was glorious. It was massive and shiny, illuminated by the green light coming from a few automatic bulbs. Clover's excitement fade when she caught sight of the lock. It was electronic, not a combination lock.
She had expected a wrench in her plan, but she'd been so certain it would come from elsewhere. How sad was it to get this far, only to be stumped by a four digit passcode. Could she even attempt to hack it? Clover didn't want to find out what would happen after too many false attempts. Not one to give up so easily, she cautiously approached the safe.
The key pad glowed with a blue light, each digit revealing a different number. Clover stared at it for a long time. She was completely stumped. How was she supposed to crack the safe now? It seemed things were completely hopeless.
Some optimistic part of her piped up. 'Don't give up just yet, there's gotta be a way.'
Clover narrowed her eyes in concentration. She hadn't come this far just to come up empty handed, and she was going to crack this thing one way or another. She stared at the numbers more closely, urging herself to come up with something.
As she concentrated on the keypad, Clover's eyes widened in realization. Most of the the printed numbers were in perfect condition, the paint still dark. But four of the numbers, '2', '4', '8', and '0' were all deformed in some way. They were slightly more faded than the rest, or the black ink of the number was chipped slightly. Since all the other buttons seemed relatively unscathed, these must've been the numbers punched in most often. Still, that left 24 different combinations for Clover to try, and she had no idea how many attempts she'd get. She tried to think of a way to narrow down the combinations.
Chances were that it could've been completely random, but the password also could've been chosen based on significance. Clover remembered a picture she'd seen in the lobby from the day the bank had opened. The date on the picture head read, '6/02/84'. Clover wondered if '0284', the month and year of the opening day, could be the combination. It seemed like her best bet, and she took a deep breath as she prepared to punch it in. It was time to test her luck once again.
The keys beeped as she pressed them, and the machine seemed to take a moment to consider her attempt. Then, there was a longer beep and hissing noise as the door to the safe slowly opened. Clover would've squealed in delight if silence wasn't imperative. She couldn't believe it had actually worked. As the door slowly opened, Clover's jaw dropped at the piles of cash inside. It was more than enough to pay off her father's debt. Hell, it was more than enough to pay for her college tuition. Unfortunately, there was only so much room in her stack. After checking over her shoulder and stepping inside the safe, Clover got to work stuffing the wads of money into her sack.
She didn't keep track of how much she'd put in, knowing that a full bag would be more than enough. Maybe she'd pull a Robin Hood with the rest to make herself feel less guilty. Or maybe she'd buy a new car. She'd decide once she was out of here.
Clover continued to stuff her bag, momentarily losing focus of everything else. All of a sudden she heard footsteps behind her. Clover clutched her bag tightly, preparing to bolt at any second Before she could run, a smug voice spoke.
"I come in the night and take with my hands. I'll get you at home or right where you stand. What am I?"
Clover froze, every muscle in her body tensing imperceptibly. The good news was that the guard hadn't discovered her; the bad news was that someone much worse had.
"W-what are you doing here?" Clover whispered, refusing to turn around.
"Ah ah ah." Nygma tsked, speaking casually at full volume. "That's not the answer to my riddle."
Clover gritted her teeth. "A thief." She answered harshly. "What are you doing here?"
Nygma ignored her question, approaching the safe slowly. Clover kept her back turned, trying not to reveal to myriad of emotions crossing her face. How had he known she would be here? All common sense seemed to point at him following her. It seemed to be the most likely explanation, but why? It couldn't possibly be because he wanted the money for his own. She doubted he needed her to gain access to a bank for him. Clearly a criminal genius should be capable of that by himself.
"And what a thief you are, Ms. Clein. I have to say, I'm slightly impressed that you cracked the safe on your first try. Although, you did take your sweet time getting to it."
Clover finally turned around, taken aback at how close he'd gotten. Her eyes scanned him from the tip of his dress shoes all the way to the hat that sat on top of his head. He towered over her crouched form, eyes full of playful malice hidden behind his reflective glasses. Clover didn't need to see his eyes to read his expression. No, the self satisfied smile on his face told her more than enough about how he felt.
She ignored his backhanded compliment and repeated herself for the third time. "What are you doing here?"
Nygma scoffed. "Can you say anything more intelligent than that? And I should be the one asking what you are doing here. I was under the impression you were a far better member of society than this."
He gave her a look she couldn't decipher. It was horrendous to endure, but Clover slowly stood up, attempting to hold her ground. She wasn't sure how this was going to end, but there was no point in taking it lying down.
"Shouldn't you already know, you're supposed to be a genius after all. What, the old thinkbox not working today?" She bit at him.
Clover was surprised by what came out of her mouth, but didn't take it back. Nygma narrowed his eyes at her, clearly not appreciating the blow at his intellect. Slowly his expression evened out again, a hint of arrogance still remaining.
"Daylighting as a barista and moonlighting as a thief. I must say, you hold some quite interesting hobbies, Ms. Clein."
Clover wasn't even going to ask how he knew where she worked. If he knew she was going to be here tonight, she didn't doubt he knew all sorts of other things about her.
"Did you come here just to mock me, or was there a point to this? If you haven't noticed, I'm a little busy."
Nygma crossed his arms, leaning against the frame of the safe. Clover had only now noticed that he blocked her way out. She felt like cornered prey, and it evoked a sort of fight or flight feeling in her. At the moment, she was definitely leaning towards flying away.
"Oh on the contrary, there is a point." He enunciated the 't' loudly, raising up his gloved hand in an actual pointing motion. Whereas Clover's own gloves were a worn leather material, his looked like plush velvet. Maybe they actually were, his tastes were expensive enough.
"You see," He started, pausing for a moment to survey her again, "You are contradictory Ms. Clein. A living paradox, you could say."
Clover wasn't sure what that meant, so she just put a hand on her hip in an attempt to look confident, or perhaps just to find a place to put her shaking hand. She distantly wondered how long his little speech would take, and if she had time for it.
"You are a survivor, like most people in this city. You work long shifts at your tedious job, pay your taxes, do what you can to get along. You're content with just scraping by. By all accounts, you live off of subsistence. You're too complacent, too afraid to want more." Nygma tilted his head to her. "You're not one to put yourself in danger. You'd rather flee from a burning building than help the others trapped inside." She flinched at his dig, trying not to remember that night.
Nygma gestured at her sack of cash. "And yet, here you are, trying to make off with everything you can carry."
He suddenly leaned in very close, causing Clover to stagger back slightly. Nygma didn't yield, pursuing her until she was close to the interior wall of the safe. His closeness elicited a surprised grunt from Clover as her back thudded against the wall. He didn't lay a hand on her, but she was pinned in place by his eyes. They almost looked black in the light, pupils blown wide like bottomless pits.
"It makes me wonder." His eyes fell to the crimson scarf she had wrapped around the lower part of her face, then back up to her eyes.
"What happened to make a survivor like you…" His eyes fell to her scarf again, and in her panicked haze Clover wondered what was so interesting about the damn thing.
"...into someone who desires?" He finished, his eyes lingering on the patch of skin near her collar bone revealed from under the scarf. It looked pale against the dark red shade, unmarred and smooth. Nygma quickly met her eyes again.
Clover didn't know how to answer his question, or if she even should. She supposed she could tell him that it wasn't really about her wanting more money; that it was about the necessity to survive. But knowing her business with the mob would give him leverage over her. The last thing she needed was to have something else to be extorted over. Clover tried to think of an adequate response, but it was hard to concentrate with his eyes boring into her and his body so close. She could almost feel the heat radiating off of him.
She finally settled on, "I don't know, aren't you supposed to be the one with the answers?" She whispered it quietly and with uncertainty.
Everything was quiet for a moment before Nygma huffed, finally pulling his body away from her. The stifling heat was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. Clover tried not to sigh audibly.
"Well I am certainly pursuing answers, although I'm sure you won't give them to me willingly." He paced over to her bag, inspecting the contents with an amused look. He clearly wasn't impressed with her haul.
"Perhaps we could come to a trade of sorts?"
Clover raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I'd ever do business with you?"
"Why, when you have no choice of course." He responded, inspecting his suit in a relaxed manner as if he hadn't just made a threat.
"No choice, are you cra-"
"I'm NOT crazy, I assure you." Clover winced as he raised his voice slightly, afraid he would alert the guard. Every sentence he spoke edged her closer to a 5 year sentence in prison, if she was lucky.
Nygma took a second to compose himself. "We'll meet later this week, in a public setting if it makes you less antsy."
"And what makes you think I'd show up?" Clover retorted, back still glued to the wall.
Nygma gave her a snide chuckle. "Because if you don't, the GCPD might just get an anonymous tip about the recent robbery of Gotham Central Bank."
"You bastard." Clover whispered, her face contorting in anger.
"It's all up to you Ms. Clein. I'm not a man to be ignored."
Clover rubbed her face with her palm, sliding it up to grip at her hair. She was feeling so many things, mainly confusion and frustration. "W-why are you doing this? I'm nothing to you."
"Oh if only that was true. You are something to me. You are a conundrum Ms. Clein, one that I intend to solve." And just like that, he was back to looking at her dismissively as if she was a fly at his picnic.
Nygma slowly backed out of the safe, adjusting his suit which had sifted during his pursuit of her earlier. Clover could only stare, rendered immobile with pure bewilderment. What did he mean she was a conundrum? Was he really just doing this all for his own sick amusement? Clover was indignant more than anything. He was taking her life and twisting it into some sort of puzzle he could solve. Well if that was the case, she might as well make it a damn difficult one.
Nygma checked the expensive looking watch on his wrist. "Well it looks like that's my cue, I'll be seeing you very soon Ms. Clein. Don't worry, I'll be in touch."
He strode towards the door, and it took every ounce of control for Clover not to pounce at his retreating back. He stopped in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at her.
"Oh, and I would hurry if I were you. The owner unlocks the doors in about...half an hour."
As soon as he disappeared from the door Clover went into action. She could be angry all she wanted later, right now she had to finish what she'd come for. After stuffing the last of her money into the bag, Clover retraced her steps to the window. It was still open, and she vaguely wondered how Nygma had gotten in. Not stopping to consider it, she hefted her bag over her shoulder and made the treacherous climb over to the ladder. As soon as she hit the ground, she was homeward bound.
Any other day she would've been worried about a thug approaching her, but the thought didn't cross Clover's mind. She was still reeling from the events of the evening. She couldn't believe this was her life now. It seemed like something life altering happened to her every single night. She had hoped that her robbery would put a stop to at least a few of the problems in her life, but she'd managed to open up an entirely different can of worms instead.
Dealing with Robby and his gang, though terrifying, was fairly simple. Clover knew what they wanted and she knew how to get it to them. But Nygma? She had no idea what his game was. He'd said he wanted to "solve" her, but that didn't give Clover much of anything to go off of. She couldn't help but wonder if this was his round about way of trying to manipulate her. It would make sense, with his newfound knowledge Nygma could make her do anything he wanted. The smug man had her in the palm of his hand, and he knew it too.
The situation aggravated Clover to no end, but she knew this wasn't the moment to dwell on it. She should be feeling happy. Her mission had been successful and her father was saved. But Nygma's appearance had permanently dimmed her mood. She couldn't even muster up the energy to feel guilty about what she'd done. It was like an oppressive cloud had fallen over Clover, following with its storm wherever she went.
Clover took the back way to her apartment, taking great measures to avoid the street cameras and traffic lights. She had done a good job at covering up her identity, but if any camera caught her returning home it would be a dead giveaway. Clover made her way up the fire escape to her apartment. She climbed through the window into her dark home. It seemed her father wasn't home. If he had been, he would've most certainly been passed out on the couch as usual. Clover couldn't remember the last time he'd been in his bedroom.
Clover went about securing the money, lining the wads of cash under her mattress. She stashed the rest far in the back of her closet, praying that no cops would come by asking to look around. If everything went according to plan, they'd never suspect her. She had no criminal history, and was wearing so many layers she hardly looked like a woman anymore. Clover relished peeling all those layers off, dropping each item on the floor until she was left in her undergarments.
Clover changed into her pajamas and deposited her heist clothes into a garbage bag. She'd take them down the curb later in the morning. It was a little over the top, but Clover wanted to make sure she disposed of all the evidence.
After making sure everything was in its correct place, Clover flopped down onto her bed. She was exhausted and sweaty. Even in her tank top and shorts, Clover felt like she was in an oven. She spread her body over the top of the comforter, her chest moving up and down with her gentle breaths. She tried to lull herself to sleep, but there was one last pesky though nagging at her mind.
How had Nygma known she would be at the bank? She hadn't told anyone, and she'd been very discreet about visiting it. She supposed he had just followed her there. Paranoia began to set in. There was no way to tell how long he'd been watching her. He knew about her job as a barista, and that wasn't on her college file. He must've had someone watching her for a few days. What if they were watching her now?
With that thought, Clover stared down at her pajamas and bit her lip. Despite feeling even hotter than before, Clover slowly moved herself under the blanket until only her eyes peeked out. She stared at her window, her upper face illuminated by pale moonlight. She gazed out at the building across the street. Was it her imagination, or could she see someone looking out at her from one of the windows. Clover blinked, and whatever she thought she saw was gone.
She quickly turned over, facing away from the window. There was no way to know if she was being watched for sure, but she sunk further under the blanket anyways. For some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were looking upon her.
Clover didn't sleep well that night.
/
Edward studied the glass of scotch in his hand, lost in thought. He wasn't usually much of a drinker, but he felt the situation deserved celebrating.
Tonight had gone exorbitantly better than he'd expected. After seeing Ms. Clein's attempt at being discreet in the bank a few days ago, he knew something was up. He just never imagined he'd catch her doing something like this. He'd come looking for clues he could use to solve her, and found more puzzle pieces instead. He had thought that Ms. Clein was gradually easing herself into to world of sin that Gotham had to offer, but instead she'd dived right into the deep end. Right into his waiting arms.
Edward had to chuckle. He'd had the means to manipulate her before, although he suspected she had enough fire to fight back. But now? She was a practically under his control. She'd have to tell him everything, or he'd make her. It was almost sad how quickly the game was ending.
'Someone's sounding and awful lot like me.' The other whispered, his reflection rippling in the warm brown liquid.
"I'm in control, I'm in control." Edward chanted under his breath. He heard the faded echo of his other half laugh mockingly.
He shook his head dazedly. What had he been thinking about? Oh right, his game with Ms. Clein coming to a close. He hadn't expected to get the upper hand so quickly. He wouldn't give her any leeway, but perhap Edward would allow things to drag out for a little longer. He knew he would figure her out inevitably, so why not toy with her a little first? Perhaps he could even create something new from the puzzle pieces of her life. Maybe he could create something entirely new after he broke her down, something much more suited to the things she kept buried under that facade of hers, the things only he could see. It might even be beautiful, like a butterfly emerging from the chrysalis of a soulless survivor.
Edward leaned back in his seat, taking a long sip from his glass. Ideas were already forming in his mind, and he took advantage of his privacy to give a smile of pure glee. Things were not over yet for Ms. Clein, not by a long shot.