Soothsayer ⚡ Barry Allen

The Heist

The Joker wasn't into me like he was Harley, I could see it, but I could tell he appreciated me. At the very least, I was useful to him, if not another one of his play things. His cold hands smoothed over my cheeks and I fought to keep my expression stoic. It helped some when he held his palm over my mouth, the tattooed smile on the back of his hand reflecting in his blue eyes and blown pupils. "You've got sucha mouth on ya, sweets," he grumbled. "If that silvery tongue of yours wasn't so good at getting what I want, you woulda been long gone."

With a mocking expression, I parted my lips and ran my tongue over his hand. That wasn't one of my smartest ideas, though, because his fingers easily took hold of my tongue, his thumb laying on top of it and his eyes glaring at me. His fingers tasted metallic and bitter and I tried to swallow past it but he only tightened his grip and pushed his thumb further into my mouth. "You'd better learn to bite this thing more often, or I'll keep it as a trophy."

As if to further his point, Joker moved his fingers, still holding my tongue, and forced my jaw shut on it. I ripped my head away from him and pushed his chest, my mouth quickly filling with blood. I tried to swallow it back, but the more I tried, the more I could feel the blood spilling from my lips. And the fucker just laughed. I spat the remainder at his feet when his laughter only increased in volume and glared at him as he stood a few feet away. "Dick," I spat out, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Joker's cackles continued to grow and he eventually sobered up enough to look me in the eye. "Time to make yourself useful," he giggled, turning around and shaking his head as he pushed the door open and left me alone. Holding my lower jaw, I walked in the oppisite direction into my room. I wiped the remaining blood on my face with my sleeve and pulled off my shirt, choosing yet another one of my loose sweaters. Better for concealing the gun held to my lower back by a mid-thigh length pencil skirt.

I went into the bathroom and cleaned my face properly, the blood contrasting greatly against my pale, freckled skin. Running the sink, I washed my face and rinsed out my mouth, grabbing the bottle of speed from the medicine cabinet. My poison, probably not the best of them, was the best thing I could find. I'm an adrenaline junkie, speed only boosts the effects. After taking one I returned things to their place and grabbed my purse, my tools clinking togther inside.

I passed Harley on the way out, her blue eyes shining greatly in envy. She never did like it when I had more of the Joker's attention than she did. "You look after my puddin', ya hear?" she spoke as she intercepted my path to the door with her done-up bat.

"I always do, Quinn," I snickered as I ducked under her bat and went out to the van. Several of Joker's goons were pilling into the backseat, my place reserved in the passenger seat. I put in my ear phones as the van continued to load up, only really paying attention when the driver's side door opened and the Joker slid into the seat beside mine, driving as he instructed the crew. I already knew my job.

My veins were humming with adrenaline and junk, strong drugs clouding my brain as I waited to reach the bank. I carefully traced the letters tattooed behind my ear, my other fingers tangling themselves in the cord of my earphones. My left hand held my gun steady in my lap, tapping my fingers to the beat blasting in my ears.

It was an easy job, in and out, just like the rest. I was untouchable, invincible even -- so long as I stayed behind the scenes. I had a friend once, if you could call her that. She taught me all I needed to know about burglary, even took me to a plastic surgeon to get my fingerprints removed. Most times I stayed between the lines of society. I could function well in modern society, could decently hold my own in a fight, and was smart enough to make easy money.

I guess that's all just a vague outlook of it all, though. When I was a girl, I thought I'd grow up to be a doctor. A real one, not just a pretend one to a crazy, bored clown. I thought I'd make something of myself. Sitting in a van with a bunch of other clowns, the eight of us prepped to rob a bank, I think it's fair to say that I hadn't expected this of myself. I had issues, I know it, but I didn't think I'd be swinging this far out of control.

Well, there's no turning back now.

I loved the rush, really. The drugs mixing with my own adreniline as they coursed through my body. I could've been normal, but it was so boring. Their forms of entertainment were so trivial, they got boring so quickly. The van slowed as we pulled up to the bank and I slid on a pair of sunglasses. Joker took my phone and unplugged the earphones as he held it betwen us. "You know what to do."

After popping a piece of gum in my mouth I took the phone and opened the door, giving him a sarcastic smile before I stepped out and closed the door, straightening out the tight pencil skirt over my pistol and covering it with my low hanging sweater. I ran a hand through my red hair as I walked up the stairs to the bank and the Joker drove off, slowly chewing my gum as I unlocked the phone.

Two guards at the doors, I sent as one held open the door for me. I gave him a polite smile and walked into the room, my eyes moving quickly around the room behind my sunglasses. Five customers, one teller, four cameras. Second teller is probably in the vault. "Can I help you, Miss?" I looked up to the teller who was walking towards me, slowly raising my sunglasses to the top of my head. I could feel the ear piece slide over my tattoo as I gave the man a polite smile.

"In fact, you can," I mused pleasantly. "I need to access my safety deposit box." The man nodded and led me to the counter, firing up his computer.

"Your name and birthday, Miss?" the teller requested. "I'll also have to see some ID." I reached into my small purse, feeling around the seperate bags inside and lock picking tools for my wallet.

"Selina Kyle, March 14, 1986," I cooperated, handing him the fake ID one of Joker's people made for me. He tapped the keys for the computer quickly, soon returning the ID to me with a smile.

"Right this way, Miss Kyle."