The Trickster

When Romero Price was just a boy, in the late 1980s, he was obsessed with the TV show, Raven Girl. This show was a live action adaptation of a 1930s comic book series by the same name, which first aired in 1959 and ended in 1962. It was a cheesy reimagining of the much darker comics, it had colourful cheap sets and a certain campiness that even to this day has a particular charm. The show wasn't good by any means, it was a ridiculous kids show, with equally silly villains. There was Ducky, the Australian gangster whose laugh sounded more like a quack (hence the nickname). There was Pebbles, a pink haired children's clown who turned to crime. Novel Man, a French sophisticated writer who drank tea and wine, who used Paris themed weapons like a wooden baguette and garlic bombs. Yet, Romero's most favourite (which coincidentally was also most popular among fans new and old) was the British magician known as Trickster. This well spoken Brit wasn't actually posh, it was all part of his act. He was actually a rough speaking Scouser behind his smile shaped mustache, black top and red suit with black & white pinstripe pants. Trickster pretended to be a sophisticated magic man whose accent would slip, every time things went wrong! It was a comedic gag, one where he'd speak formerly and pompously, only to start mouthing off in his native derelict whenever Raven Girl (or her sidekick Pigeon) would ruin his well thought out schemes. Trickster used his magic tricks to rob banks, by flooding the buildings with red smoke, then his goons would race in and out with all the money, before anyone could even see them. This particular scheme stuck out to Romero, because his father, Dave Price, always screamed about money troubles. So, if Romero could rob a bank without getting caught like his hero Trickster (who was supposed to be the villain!), then Dave wouldn't need to pull out his "metal plated belt" that he used to hit both him and his mother, whenever any of them bought unnecessary things or spent their limited cash carelessly.

"How many times you got to waste electricity watching that shitty TV show, Romero!" Dave would scream, the moment he walked in from a particularly tough shift at the warehouse. This was always followed by a beating, poor little Romero would run away in frantic terror from his horrible father, as Dave chanted; "money is a precious accommody! We can't waste it on nonsense. Now I'll keep this up until you realise that, you little shit!" while swinging his metal belt around like a terrifying whip that stung like bee stings! Romero's mother, Shyla Price, was often beaten for buying 'unnecessary' jewelry or perfume, expensive dresses or even gourmet food. Dave was only happy if his family ate off brand slop, even if it tasted like shit or made them ill, in his mind; money was far too precious to waste on pleasure, it was only for survival! Some days when Dave was in work and Romero was out shopping with his mother, she'd buy him Raven Girl comics, he especially liked ones that featured Trickster as the villain best of all. Yet any whimsical super hero adventure, even the other Alexandria Comics characters were a wonder to read about, after living such a horrid, controlled life.

For years and years, Romero hid his comics under his bed, they were a secret from Dave, shared between Romero and Shyla. However, one day when Dave was cleaning his son's room, he found the hidden stash of comics. Some of these were old and rare ones too, they must have cost a fortune! Dave was beyond furious, he smacked Shyla into a coma and when he drove Romero home from school that day, Dave hadn't even mentioned that his mother was now in hospital. Dave watched his little boy run upstairs excitedly after they got in, Romero entered his bedroom and looked under his bed, but all of his childhood comics were gone! Romero cried and screamed, "where are they?! Where are they?!" This was followed by the sounds of thunderous footsteps storming up the stairs, Romero's door slammed open with a loud, terrifying bang!

"I sold them." Dave grinned, wickedly.

"You what?!" Romero gasped, tears falling down his chubby little cheeks.

"Some of them were worth a pretty penny too!" Dave added, with a grin that showed his yellow, crooked teeth (the cheapstake was too stingy to even go to the dentist!).

"Why?! Why?! Why?!" Romero charged for his cruel father, trying to punch him, but this attempt was pathetic, as Dave just threw him across the bedroom with ease. Romero cried on the carpeted floor, his tears soaking into the fabric below him.

"Because..." Dave began, "comics and books are a waste of money! You don't need to read all of those stupid little stori-"

"They ain't stupid!" Romero whined.

"They are!" Dave stamped his feet, "stupid superhero stories for dumb daft dipshit kids like yourself, that's all they bloody well are!"

"You're wrong!" Argued Romero, "the- they're fun! They're an escape. An escape from you!"

"Well, they're all gone now, Chuck..." Dave laughed, "just like your stupid cunt mummy!"

"Wh- what did you do to Mum?!" Romero stood, painfully as all of his muscles and bones throbbed in agony.

"Unfortunately I didn't kill her." Dave replied coldly, "neighbours saw her all bloody and beaten, fortunately they thought she fell down the stairs!" Dave laughed, sounding just like Trickster, "so an ambulance came and took her away, she fell unconscious outside, probably in a coma now. Hopefully she won't wake up!"

"Get out of my way!" Romero screamed in terror, racing past his abusive father.

"You two little twats won't be seeing me again!" Dave yelled from the top of the stairs, as Romero ran down them, "see how well you two ungrateful bitches survive without me paying all the bills, providing all the food, all th-"

Romero slammed the door behind him, silencing Dave's rant.

Romero ran to the hospital in Huyton, in Search for his beaten mother, he was only 11 years old when this happened in 1991, so traveling this small English town felt like New York city. Being a kid on these mean streets was honestly horrifying, there were so many hooded teenagers spraying graffiti that night in the dark. Every adult looked like a monster, especially the men who reminded Romero most of his horrible, horrid father. The ladies of the night seemed much kinder, but also strange and eerie too. Dressing in skimpy clothes that showed off their private areas, coated in grotesque amounts of make and red lipstick, alongside big bushy hair (which was the style at the time). In just another two short years, Romero would find these women attractive, their fashion and accessories would actually please his eyes rather than confuse him. Yet, at 11, he only saw them as strange harlequins that appeared to be in the circus. So he avoided these women too. He got lost and nearly flattened by speeding cars on the roads. All the streets looked the same too. Eventually he broke down and screamed in terror, running around in every which way. Thankfully, a police officer heard Romero crying in the streets of Huyton and came rushing to the kid's aid. She was a young lady with black silky hair, who resembled the TV character of Raven Girl a whole lot. Romero immediately felt at ease around this beautiful police woman, who didn't appear as slutty, like the other ladies around town.

"What's a boy your age doing out here?" She asked him nicely.

"Muh- muh- Mummy's in the hospital and I- I don- I don't where that is..." Romero wiped away the tears from his eyes, looking up at her desperately and cutely.

"Oh, my poor boy..." The friendly woman held him in her arms like a baby, Romero cried into her navy blue uniform, "I can take you to the hospital, ok." She soothed him, stroking the sad boy's head.

"O- ok..." Romero nodded and allowed the police woman to escort him into her car. The back seat of a police cruiser would become something an adult Romero would become far too familiar (and angered) with, but in 1991; he felt safe and reassured.

"What's your name, Miss?" Romero asked.

"Constable Clarke..." The woman chuckled, "well, you can just call me Barbara Clarke." She smiled warmly. That was the same name as Raven Girl!

"Like the comic character?!" Romero exclaimed excitedly.

"Who?" Barbara chuckled.

"You have the same name as Raven Girl!"

"Whose that?"

"Only my favourite superhero!" Romero grinned, it was the first genuine smile she had seen on the young boy's face.

"I didn't know there was a super heroine named after me..." Barbara grinned proudly, "buckle your seat belts, kid... Let's get you to your Mum, ok?"

"Sure thing!" Romero nodded and fastened his seatbelt. As the car drove off, Barbara looked into her rearview mirrors and noticed several bruises and splotches of dry blood under Romero's pyjamas. She was saddened to see this kid was a victim of physical abuse. Barbara had seen this before, a loud mouth father who beats his own kid and wife. She vowed to herself silently; that she'd track down whoever did this and put him behind bars for life!

Eventually, the police car arrived at Huyton's hospital. Romero raced out of the car, with Barbara following behind him.

"Wait!" She called, "let me help you find your mother."

"Ok." He nodded and allowed her to take the lead. She approached the reception of the hospital and the nurses looked alarmed, as the sight of a police woman could only mean there was trouble brewing somewhere.

"How may I help you, officer?" A blonde forty year old woman asked from behind the counter, her well-spoken mannerisms felt forced, like she was afraid of the police lady.

"I found this little boy on the streets." Barbara replied, combing Romero's hair with her delicate hand. The nurse looked down and smiled warmly at the 11 year old.

"you ok, sweetie?" She asked.

"I think my Mum is in the hospital, dad beat her up pretty bad." Romero sulked. The nurse looked horrified.

"Oh- oh dear..." She gulped, looking up at Officer Clarke who pulled a weak smile. The nurse returned her gaze down upon Romero, "what's her name?"

"Shyla Price." He replied.

"Ok, let me have a look..." The nurse breathed, flipping frantically through the files on the counter's top, "ah, yes..." She nodded, "I'll lead you two right to her." The nurse instructed them both through the hospital corridors, eventually leading to room number 59. Before they entered, Barbara told Romero that she wished to speak with his mother. Romero didn't understand, so the officer had to explain the depressing reality of the situation to the frightened eleven year old. He didn't like what he heard, but was mature enough to understand.

"Ok..." Romero nodded, "I trust you."

With that, they both entered the hospital room, alongside the nurse. To Romero's sorrow; his mum was comatose, lying in a white bed with transparent tubes stuck into her mouth and stomach, a life support machine beside her bed beeped a slow, crushing melody of depression. The room was so sterile of colour and the night, rain drenched sky outside, shining through the cloudy window; only added to the misery of the situation. Romero hadn't felt so empty and lost in all his life, as the sight of his broken mother lay lifeless on that bed, with hideous bandages and crutches all over her bruised body.

"I'll give you a minute..." The nurse patted Romero's shoulder and silently beckoned Officer Clarke to speak with her outside the room. They left and Romero cried into his hands, before approaching his mother's side. He could see that she was still alive, as the machine kept her breathing, yet Shyla's eyes were seemingly glued shut.

"I'm going to make Dad pay, mum..." Romero wept, "I'm gonna 'Magic him away!' just like Trickster..." He chuckled a little, quoting his favourite Raven Girl villain, "you'll see, 'watch him disappear!' just in the comics..." He quoted Trickster again.

Outside the hospital room, Barbara and the nurse were speaking:

"What do you know about the father?"

"Not much..." The nurse admitted with a deep, heavy sigh, "Shyla's neighbours thought she had fallen down the stairs and got hurt that way, but when we brought her in, the Doctors soon discovered there was more to the story. She was beaten almost to death!"

"Do you have their address?" Barbara pleaded.

"Of course, Officer. Anything to help that poor boy!" The nurse exclaimed, leading Barbara back to the reception desk of the hospital, before browsing through more files, "here you are..." She handed the officer the document that contained Shyla's address.

"Ok, thank you. Take care of that poor boy, please..." Barbara begged.

"Like he was my own child." The nurse reassured her, "now go get that son of a bitch!"

"I will!" The officer winked and raced out of the hospital, in an attempt to catch Dave Price.

Barbara raced her police car through Huyton, sounding her police siren. She had kept the prectint updated on the Price family situation throughout these events, a squad of two more police cruisers were on their way to the house. When Barbara and the other Officers got there, they barged into the home, only to find that it was empty. It appeared as though Dave Price had kept his promise to his son after all, he had left without a trace. A manhunt was soon ordered, but the search would eventually run cold after many months of tracking him, they simply moved onto more serious and pressing matters and crimes. Barbara Clarke (the real life Raven Girl) never saw or heard from Romero again.

The morning after Romero arrived at the hospital, two people from child protective services came to visit him and his sleeping mother in hospital room 59 with the nurse (who was named Jacklyn Brown) that he had met the day before with Barbara Clarke. Romero didn't like the look of these two people that came in with Jacklyn, they were both dressed in black suits. The man and woman looked very sophisticated and professional, like FBI agents seen in the many Raven Girl comics that Romero had read.

"Hello, Romero Price." The tall man holding a clipboard said, his voice was Southern and somewhat posh, very much unlike his rough, northern mother and father, "my name is Charlie Peterson and this is Emily Cartwright."

"Hello young man." The middle aged brunette woman said. Her hair was pulled into a tight, neat ponytail, she had a voice like that of a strict school teacher.

"Uh... Hi." Romero replied shyly, bowing his head, as these professionals sounded very unnerving to him personally, as such sophistication seemed somehow cold and robotic.

"Your mother is very sick now, son..." Emily replied with a forced smile that didn't seem genuine.

"You're not my mother!" Romero whined, stepping away from them and closer to his comatose mum.

"Now, now boy..." Charlie also pulled a forced smile, one twice as unnerving as Emily's, "Shyla can't take care of you anymore, now can she?"

"Mum!" Romero screamed, with tears streaming down his face, "mum, please wake up! Mummy please! Please! Please! Mummy!" He begged her, hit her, buried his face into her chest, all this dislodged the tubing which was keeping her alive. The beeping on the life support machine alarmed wildly, which awoke Nurse Jacklyn in a fit of panic!

"Now Romie, you better listen to the nice man and woman!" She gasped, stepping in to pull the grieving son away from his mother. Romero punched the nurse in the face, Jacklyn's nose bled.

"I- I- I'm so sorry!" Romero cried. Suddenly Charlie and Emily restrained him, he screamed in terror as Jacklyn frantically reinserted the tubing back into Shyla's unconscious body, in order to save her.

"Don't let them take me away, Jackie!" Romero begged, as he was taken out the hospital room like a prisoner, kicking and screaming within Charlie and Emily's grasp.

"I'm so sorry, Romie..." Nurse Jacklyn wept, her tears mixing in with the blood under her nose.

Within the hospital corridors, Romero punched, bit and kicked himself free! He ran, ran like the wind through the hospital, tripping over patients and doctors by accident as he clumsily fled to escape in a pursuit of frantic terror!

"Stop that naughty brat!" Emily barked after him, like a poodle that suddenly turned fierce! Huge, hulking men (like Dave Price!) came running out of the hospital rooms either side of Romero. They were the hospital's security guards who were only doing their job. Yet in Romero's scared and sleepless mind; they were ogres, orcs and trolls! Big bald men with fat bellies and arms full of muscle, standing taller than skyscrapers! The poor boy was terrified, beyond reason! So he fled away from them too, spinning around until he saw an escape! There just ahead of him now; was an open doorway, freedom! So he raced for it! His feet hurt like knives into his soles, his legs muscles ached like never before and his lungs worked overtime to keep the young lad running, sprinting and then falling! He fell, nose first onto the hard tiled floor below him, blood burst from his broken nostrils, giving him a crooked nose that ruined his once cute (and what might've been a handsome) face. The blood loss caused him to faint.

He woke up feeling rougher than sandpaper, a white bandage was wrapped tightly around his nose, that felt painful upon the touch.

"Be careful touching that, son..." Emily sat beside him, smiling forcefully, "you had a nasty fall!"

"Get off!" He snatched her hand away from his. Then Romero looked around, he was in the back of a four door car, Charlie was driving in the front seat.

"Gave us a scare back there, champ!" Charlie forced a laugh. These two gave Romero the creeps, he just knew they weren't genuinely nice or friendly, only pretending to be. He now knew escape was futile and instead just wept into his hands.

"Where's mum?" He dared to ask eventually.

"Still in the hospital." Emily reassured him, "we're just taking care of you until she's better, ok?" She clutched her hands around his knee tightly, like she was venting her frustrations out on him physically rather than verbally.

"You- you're... Hurting my leg!" He cried.

"Em!" Charlie gasped, giving her a serious look through the rearview mirror.

"I'm sorry, Pumpkin..." Emily faked another laugh.

"It- it's ok..." Romero nodded shyly. He figured it best to just stay quiet the whole car ride to wherever they were going, no matter how hard Emily and Charlie tried to make small talk with him.

"Here we are..." Charlie grinned a fake smile, "your new home."

Romero looked out the car window and saw a massive old mansion, one that looked haunted with black bricks and rusty pipes dangling from all around it, half the windows were either smashed into or boarded up. This place was a dump!

"Look at that huge wonderful palace, Romie!" Emily failed to sell it to him, "I wonder what magic awaits inside, aye?! How exciting?! Maybe there are little elves or fairies in there, aye?"

"I'm eleven, not five..." Romero replied bluntly, a look of toddler-like disapproval across his face.

"Well, I eh..." Emily grimaced, "you like comics don't you?"

"How do you know?"

"Nurse Jacklyn and Officer Clarke told me." She smiled somewhat wickedly.

"You saw Barbara Clarke?!" Romero asked, a look of hope across his face, "what did she say?"

"That she shared her name with Raven Girl, that's your favourite superhero, right?"

"That's right!" Romero actually smiled, for the first time since meeting that lovely police lady.

"Well she told me... That she really is Raven Girl!" Emily pulled a ridiculous expression of false surprise, Romero frowned and rolled his eyes.

"I'm not that stupid!" He sneered.

"We're here now. Let's go." Charlie said, as he parked the car nearby the hideous, huge, haunted mansion. They all got out and led Romero closer to the ugly building. It looked worse up close, he always imagined living in a huge fancy mansion. This grotesque antique wasn't what he had in mind however, this looked more like a nightmare than a dream come true. They opened the door to the sound of screaming children, it was like walking into the set of a horror movie! Romero was so scared, he hid behind Emily like she was his protective mother. She was just nice enough to allow him to do this. Inside were troubled teenagers running around the place, throwing plates and hitting each other! The girls here looked terrified and on the verge of crying. There was a fat old lady in a rocking chair, she was supposed to keep law and order in this mad orphanage but she evidently didn't give a shit anymore. This place was like prison, worse than that because there were no guards to keep an eye on the inmates. It was a jungle run by angry teens.

"Please don't leave me here!" Romero begged Emily and Charlie, he hated these two, but they seemed like loving parents compared to this hellhole!

"Aww..." Emily grinned that fake awful smile of hers, "don't be afraid, Pumpkin, you'll make all kinds of new and exciting friends here!"

"Somehow I doubt that!" Romero trembled, as a huge gang of 15 year old lads were eyeing him like candy, with menacing looks upon their faces.

"It's only temporary, until your mum is well enough to look after you again. We'll be back. I promise..." Charlie knelt down and hugged him, he embraced his surrogate father, "maybe introduce yourself to Mrs Jones over there, she looks after all of you, ok."

"Ok, Charlie." Romero replied and wouldn't let him go, Charlie delicately wrestled out of his grasp without hurting the poor boy.

"We're really sorry, Romie, but we have to go." Charlie wept and this time he seemed genuine. Then he and Emily left, the door slammed loudly behind them, leaving him in the darkness of this cruel, horrible place.

"What's up new kid!" The bullies across the mansion's lobby laughed, "what's up with the fucked up nose, are you Jewish?". Romero kept his head down and walked towards Mrs Jones, who was asleep in her rocking chair.

"Ha!" The tallest teenager snorted, "that old hag, won't do shit, Hook nose!" He kicked Romero over.

"Leave me alone!"

"Shut up!" One of the cronies bashed him across the head with his giant fist. They weren't half as tough as Romero's father, but they still packed a mean punch. Romero cried hysterically, burying his face into his chest, looking and sounding like some scared screaming baby, as tears ran down his face yet again. In that moment, Romero knew, he had to get tough or die. It was survival of the fittest and he was just a lamb, in a mad mansion full of wolves!

Three months later, it was the beginning of 1992 and Romero had just turned 12, his first birthday without Shyla and Dave. He had changed a lot in that time, taking his own advice by toughening himself up. Thanks to his father's brutality, the beatings he got from the older kids in the orphanage were pathetic in comparison. He had let his guard down with those bullies on the first day here, likely because he was already experiencing the worst day of his life. Yet now he could take a thousand punches to the face and keep fighting! He eventually began to enjoy it, because every now and then, he'd win a victory. There was even a video game console on the upper levels of the mansion. His favourite was the Raven Girl fighting game they had there, all the teenagers played it, perhaps in preparation for the real fights that took place here. Of course, Romero always played as Trickster (and Raven Girl on rare occasion), he even incorporated the villain's cartoon-like catch phrases and fighting moves into his real life combat. Of course, he still stood no chance against the older kids, especially those bullies he met on his first day here. He planned on getting his revenge eventually, but settled on beating on the younger kids for now, becoming a bully too without fully realising it or caring anymore about wrong or right. This place was corrupting young Romero into a blood thirsty maniac! One that preyed on the weak to satisfy his own insecurities. Then, the second worst day of his life happened. At first it began hopeful, as at last, after almost four months of living in this prison-like mansion, Charlie and Emily had returned. They burst through the huge doors of the mansion, a golden light behind them, shining like the heavens above. Romero's heart raced, a feeling of joy and relief filled him with happiness, but that all came crashing down the moment he saw their grim, sad faces. They didn't even have to say it, but he still had to hear it.

"I'm so, so sorry Romero, but your mother passed away last night."

Shyla was dead. Charlie had told him the bad news. Romero felt suddenly small and insignificant all over again, just like he had done on the first day he arrived here. Just like before, Charlie gave him one last hug of farewell and left with Emily, this time forever. The loud bang of the doors shutting behind them was more traumatising and louder than ever before! That was it, he was alone. Everyone he ever loved and cared about had abandoned him, his horrible father, his mother, Officer (Raven Girl) Clarke, Nurse Jacklyn, even those child protective service twats (the ones who brought him to this horrid place) had abandoned him too! He was all alone! With only the torment of cruel bullies to keep him company again!

"Awww, what's up hook nose?" The tall bully from three months ago approached Romero, just like he had done before, with all of his gang, following their leader like wolves. However this time, Romero wasn't afraid, he was brave and full of wrath. He punched first, so hard it knocked the biggest bully over into the ground. The rest of the orphan kids roared like hungry apes, screaming, jumping, wailing and cheering as Romero embodied the character of Trickster completely! And no, not the silly TV rendition of the character, but the enraged psychopath from the mature comics. Romero snatched the big bully back up, bit his fucking nose off and spat it out, blood and gore hit the wooden floorboards and splattered messily all over the place. The teenager screamed in terror, trying to feel his missing nose, but it wasn't there anymore.

"I got your nose!" Romero laughed maniacally, a crazed, unhinged look in his broken eyes, "I magicked it away!"

"You're a fucking psycho, kid!" The noseless bully screamed, crying like a little bitch.

"I'm gonna magic you away, all of you!" Romero barked like a rabid dog and threw the bully down onto the ground again. The rest of this teen's gang were too busy pissing themselves in fear to step in and help, some of them ran away crying, others stared because they were too scared to move! The scene was so loud and terrifying even Mrs Jones had awoke from her eternal slumber and hid away inside her private room, like the scaredy cat coward she was. Most of the kids here hated the gang who bullied Romero, so they were practically dancing and singing in triumph over their defeat.

"Ha- have mercy!" His former bully, that Romero now nicknamed 'Pigface' begged, squealing and snorting like the animal he now looked like, because his missing nose messed with his breathing.

"Join me." Romero smiled psychotically, suddenly speaking in a Southern, sophisticated accent, one that was posh and pompous, completely unlike his Northern Scouse accent. It was like Trickster really had come to life, straight out of the pages of a Raven Girl comic book. Of course, the character of Pigface wasn't a comic book villain, but his old bully certainly fit the role of one.

"Fuh- fuh- fine..." Pigface whined, his nasally voice making Romero laugh.

"Listen folks!" Romero turned around to face his audience of adoring (and terrified) fans, who were still cheering like England finally won the world cup!

"That was fucking awesome, Romero!" Someone in the crowd roared.

"No, I'm not Romero anymore..." He grinned and chuckled, "Call me... Trickster!"

Trickster (formerly Romero Price) grew up to become a mastermind criminal, exactly like the comic book supervillain he named himself after. The boys at that orphanage became his very own gang, calling themselves The Orphan Boys, with Pigface being the second in command. The old mansion became their gang hideout by 1999 when Trickster reached the age of 19. Child Protection Services simply abandoned that place as a suitable home for orphans in 1998 (which was something they should've done in the early 1980s!). They were nothing but a nobody street gang around the city of Liverpool in those early years, but Trickster had more vengeance plans in mind than simply causing a nuisance. He had been searching far and wide for the whereabouts of his father, Dave Price. His true maker wasn't Pigface, as some many gang members believed, the origins of the real-life Trickster went further back than that, to his early childhood, when he had a loving mother named Shyla and a money obsessed loser of a father. Just like the comic book villain, Trickster often slipped back into his former rough speaking self, the pathetic kid who died long ago named Romero, refused to die forever. Trickster wanted to shed himself of his past entirely, yet the only way he could do that (at least in his mind) is track down and kill the man who was supposed to protect him in the first place. His true maker, the father, the ass hole who fucked his mother and fucked him up with that horrible metal belt! So Trickster did everything in his power to find him and then one day, Pignose informed him that a lower ranking Orphan Boy saw an old man in a little decrepit pub in Liverpool Central, boasting about how his son was the real Trickster of Liverpool. Even if this wasn't actually his real father, Trickster still wanted this fucker dead and soon a manhunt commenced. They found Dave Price drunk outside the same pub in Liverpool, one rainy night in December, Trickster recognised his horrible father immediately. He was old now, weak, fat and bald.

"Let's fuck him up!" Pigface laughed, exiting the car with a baseball bat.

"Easy Piggy..." Trickster chuckled, pulling him back inside the car, "he's mine."

"Here you are, boss." Pigface handed him the bat, Trickster held it tightly in his hands, staring at his pathetic father.

"What you waiting for?"

"Not like this..." Trickster shook his head, "no, I want this to be more... Personal."

"So what you thinking?" Pigface asked.

"We follow him, see where the fat fuck goes..."

"All right, boss..." Pigface ignited the black car into drive and followed the drunk dad all the way home.

"Nice house." Pigface commented, as it was a big fancy one, with white picket fences and two nice sports cars on the drive.

"We lived like peasants!" Trickster cried, tears soaking his waxed mustache, "you don't understand, Barry..." He said Pigface's real name, Barry looked emotional too, he had only heard his nickname 'Pigface' since 1992, "we couldn't do anything... Me and mum, we were..." Trickster sniffed, crying into his hands like a sad child, "we were his prisoners! We couldn't watch TV without him getting mad, I couldn't read comics without him getting mad, we couldn't eat decent food without him getting mad. We couldn't do a fucking thing, without him getting mad! We lived on the ends of our means, Barry... He hit us with his belt, like we were slaves. Slaves Barry! Fucking slaves!"

But Barry just stared, his eyes red with tears too. Deep down inside, Barry always hated Romero, ever since he bit his nose off and called him 'Pigface', but hearing this horror story, then remembering how he and his gang treated him. Barry understood. He actually forgave Romero entirely within that moment, as impossible as it may sound, to forgive someone who disfigured you so horrifically, he honestly did.

"A man like that..." Barry breathed, looking up at that beautiful (ugly) house, "doesn't deserve to live."

"No..." Romero shook his head, wiping away his tears, his voice returning to normal (posh and pompous) becoming Trickster yet again, "a fellow like that needs to... Magic away!" Trickster grunted, exiting the car. He lockpicked the house doors and entered, everyone was now asleep inside, including Dave Price. The interior only added insult to injury. A massive TV stood in the living room. Fancy couches lined the walls, even the wallpaper looked much nicer than the dump Trickster was raised in. This house looked twice as expensive inside as it did on the outside. Trickster crept upstairs. There were three bedrooms. One was evidently a boy's room, another a girl's room. Dave's new son appeared to be about 13, he had posters of edgy video game characters all over his bedroom wall, as well as a huge collection of comics (which 1980s Dave wouldn't allow) some of them Trickster recognise, some of his own were among the collection. Trickster wanted to kill his little brother right there and then, in his fucking sleep. But he didn't, not yet anyway. So he ventured into his little sister's room. The walls were fashioned in pink and purple paintings of unicorns and princesses. She had a huge wooden doll house made of oak and a giant fluffy unicorn. The girl only looked around seven years old. They were both spoiled children, whose father (the same cunt who killed Trickster's mother and abandoned him!) had given them all the love, attention and money in the world. This stung Trickster more than he ever thought possible. He wanted to torture these rich kids, the same way his father tormented him! Yet, Trickster still hadn't entered his father's room. He found that Dave Price now had a beautiful wife, one who appeared twenty years younger than him, 'how the fuck did such a fat, lousy drunk score a super model like this?' Trickster wondered. Dave squirmed in his sleep, almost like he could feel his first son's presence.

"Oh, squirm all you like, you fat little old cunt, I'm going to enjoy this."

Dave Price awoke to the sounds of screaming, his wife, daughter and son were all tied up in his basement!

"What the devil?!" Dave roared in terror, "looking around the room for the culprit who did this and there, standing in the dark right corner of this room, came the silhouette of the Raven Girl comic book supervillain, The Trickster. It was unmistakably him, wearing the classic black top hat, smiley shaped mustache, red blazer, with black and white pinstriped pants. Even Dave's second son, Bruce Price, recognised the comic character almost immediately. Dave realised who it really was, his original son, the one he abandoned all those years ago, come back to enact his revenge!

"Romero! Romero!" Dave pleaded. Trickster had the look of a man who ate too many sour lemons, hearing his true name, after all these years made him feel sick.

"It's Trickster!"

"You're not a comic book supervillain!" Dave cried, "you're my son, my first son!"

"What?!" Bruce cried.

"Daddy, you're scaring me!" His daughter winced.

"What are you talking about, honey?!" His wife asked, screaming in terror!

"You want me to tell them, ok, I'll tell them, all right! All right! I'll tell them!"

"Go ahead..." Trickster snickered.

"I beat my son! I killed his mum! I abandoned him! I beat him half to death and succeeded in killing Shyla!" Dave confessed, a mess of absolute tears, his face red like a pig, reminding Trickster of his own side-kick Pigface. This made Trickster laugh, manically, in a psychotic fit of absolute joy!

"Th- th- that's what you want to hear isn't it?!" Dave laughed too, "how I took out my belt and beat you for watching too much TV, how I sold all your comics!"

"Why are you laughing?!" His wife screamed and cried, her crying was so hysterical, that too sounded like the howls of hilarity. Trickster roared with laughter, it was like that of a circus clown, loud, deafening and sickening.

"Why the fuck are you laughing!" The wife's cries turned to horrified laughs. Everyone cried so hard, it sounded like the audience of a late night comedy show! Anyone nearby would think they were having the time of their lives, an absolute circus show full of the funniest jokes you've ever heard. Pigface sat outside the house, in Trickster's car. He laughed along to the sounds of terrified screams and psychotic laughter coming from within the Price basement, it was contagious to hear, it would make you howl with giggles too!

"I still got most of your comics, you know?!" Dave laughed, "I gave them to Bruce here!"

"I know!" Trickster exclaimed, with the biggest smile on his face, "what a funny joke! What a fucking joke that was!"

"You really thought I sold them?!" Dave howled, "you can have them, if that's what you want?!"

"As if I come all the way here, tracked you down and tied you all up, just for a bunch of old comic books!" Trickster was in an absolute fit of hilarity now, practically rolling on the floor in stitches. The daughter didn't understand what was really going on, so she laughed too, giggling sweetly like this was her favourite cartoon show.

"This isn't funny, Abigail!" The wife's laughter-like screams only added to the comedy of it. Bruce was so afraid and confused he found himself laughing too, completely unintentionally, inside he was crying, but outside he howled gleefully, choking on his own giggles.

"I don't know why I'm laughing!" He wheezed, "I don't know why I'm laughing!"

"Me either son!" Dave added, "I haven't got a clue why, we're all going to die!"

"Nooooo!" The wife roared.

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!" Trickster sang.

Pigface watched from outside the house, suddenly the laughter and screams stopped. Then the light in the basement went out. For a long time, there was nothing but silence. Then Trickster opened the front door, he was covered head to toe in blood and gore, with the biggest smile across his sick happy face.