The door to the Rogues' latest hideout opened with a bang that sent the vermin scurrying, and the assembled crooks found themselves gaping at an enraged Pied Piper framed in the doorway. They were gaping because none of them usually found the skinny twenty something all that intimidating, and often questioned the life choices that made him think super villainy was for him. However, with that expression on his typically haughty face, they could kind of see how he might be able to freak out the Flash if he really needed to. "Which one of you unholy assholes pulled the job on Rathaway Publishing House yesterday?"

The Rogues traded confused looks with each other. They might have been sketchy, lowlife, professional crooks, but they still had a shred of honor, and that meant not pushing around your fellow Rogue's family. Specifically, Digger, Mark, Sam, Mick, and Roscoe traded confused looks. Len looked irritated, and James Jesse let out a low groan.

The Trickster had only just recently started attending the larger team-ups. The kid hadn't worked extensively with anyone other than Len, and there was still a lot he didn't know about his compatriots in crime. And he'd been bragging about a surprisingly lucrative score just that morning.

Piper zeroed right in on his discomfort and strode across the room. "You son of a bitch. You son of a bitch!"

To everyone's further surprise, Piper charged forward and managed to get one good hit on Jesse before Mick and Sam pulled him back. James' head snapped back from the force of the punch, and he ended up spitting out a tooth.

Digger's eyes widened. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. The fairy can hit, eh?"

"It was a cap," James said. "I have a few fake teeth for cons. Shit, that was one of the molars. That's going to cost me."

"Then I guess it's a good thing you made out like a bandit going after Piper's family," Len snarled.

James looked startled. "Wait, you're that Hartley Rathaway? Well that explains why you're all pissy and punch-happy."

"That Hartley Rathaway?!" Piper exploded, yanking himself away from Mick and Sam, who were still keeping a wary eye on him lest he make good on the threat his very presence was proving to be to the Trickster. "I'm the only Hartley Rathaway! Only my parents would be cruel enough to give a name that awful to a child."

"Come on, Piper, calm down," Mick urged. "You don't even like your parents."

"I may be mad as hell at my parents right now, but that doesn't make it open season on them! My issues are my own and I'll thank you all to keep your distance from my relatives. Besides that, I love my baby sister dearly and she was there! Trickster, you scared the ever living shit out of her!"

Some of the Trickster's bravado fell, and it looked like he might have felt some genuine remorse for his misdeeds. "She was? Uh…how old's your sister?"

"Twelve."

"Twelve? Oh, well that's not so bad."

"She's twelve, but she's also developmentally impaired and had a difficult time processing what happened when she was visiting Dad at work. She has a difficult time forming those kinds of connections, and she had no idea everyone was safe the entire time. The civilians never realize we're not actually out to kill people. You hurt my sister, Tricks. So help me god, I will make you suffer for that."

Threat successfully made, Piper stormed out of the hideout, this time slamming the door hard enough to break it off its hinges.

The Rogues mostly shrugged the tantrum off. Mick went to inspect the door and see if there was anything he might do to fix it, while Digger went to get himself another beer. Mark flopped onto the couch, muttering something about Piper being a melodramatic drama queen, and Roscoe threw James an imperious sneer. "Attacking family really is poor taste, Trickster."

"I didn't realize it was his family! And come on, I didn't notice a kid was even there. I couldn't have scared her that much."

"Clearly Piper thinks differently," Roscoe pointed out.

Len narrowed his eyes in a glare. "Can't say I'd behave any differently if it were my kid sister, and she's an adult. And not, y'know…how'd Piper say it? Well she's not retarded, anyway. That was outta line, Jesse."

"I didn't know! Guys, I really had no idea. It's not like we sit down and have heart to hearts about our families and our issues. I don't even know Roscoe's last name!"

"It's Dillon."

"Whatever. Look, the point is, I won't hit the Rathaways again even though they have more money than they know what to do with, and that should be good enough for Piper."

"At least you ticked off the nance," Digger said. He sat down on the arm of the couch, and Mark immediately scooched away from him, as though the stupidity of anything he might say could be contagious. "I mean, think about it, are you really going to be shaking in your boots because the Pied Piper is mad at you?"

Several of the Rogues laughed at this suggestion, but a few of them knew better.

A few days passed without incident, leading James to believe that Captain Boomerang had made the right call. Maybe Piper had looked scary as fuck in the throes of his anger, but he'd cooled off substantially. The crook just didn't seem to have the stamina for any kind of grudge.

Unbeknownst to James, Piper was merely making a study of him. The others weren't exactly wrong in dismissing Piper as a physical opponent. He could throw a punch when he needed to, but it wasn't really his style. He was much more a plotter than a fighter, and he was trying to figure out how best to get under the Trickster's skin in retaliation. During his period of study, he figured out a few things about his opponent.

For starters, James was a vain young man. He cared about his looks, his image, and how he was perceived by the other Rogues. Even though he made himself the butt of a lot of jokes, he had to be the one making the jokes, and he was only ever the subject of ridicule if you took his comments at their most superficial meaning. Dig below the surface, and he was usually mocking someone else entirely. The kid was proud. Despite the silly vertical stripes and pixie boots, he had enough dignity to need to be seen always coming out on top.

Piper could work with that…

James Jesse showed up at the Rogues' hideout Saturday night feeling eager to please. He might have dismissed Piper as a threat, but he still worried over the criminal faux-pas he'd committed by going after one of the other guys' families. Len and Roscoe were being shits to him, Mick had privately tried to shame him on behalf of little Jerrie Rathaway, and even Digger had called him a scumbag.

And when Digger Harkness was calling you a scumbag, you'd most definitely fucked something up.

James arrived at the poker game with treats for everyone. He had everyone's preferred form of booze, he'd ordered pizzas, and he had some tech upgrades he'd even consider giving out for free if the food and booze didn't work (but considering the Rogues, the food and booze would most definitely be enough).

For some strange reason, everyone was delighted to see him. Whereas free pizza and free alcohol did sometimes have that effect, there was something kind of eerie in the smiles that broke out when they saw him. And…was Sam actually giggling?

"Hey guys. Uh, what's shaking?"

Then some over touched not-quite acoustic guitar chords started playing out of nowhere. James dropped everything he was carrying with the horror of realization. He recognized the song even before the assembled supercriminals began singing along.

Oh shit. He'd had nightmares about this sort of thing. Though usually those nightmares involved him stepping out onto the high wire bare assed as the humiliating song played for the spectators.

"You're struttin' into town like you're slingin' a gun, just a small town dude with a big city attitude, honey are ya lookin' for some trouble tonight? Well all right…"

"No, guys, please…not this. Anything but this!"

They were all singing, even Len. Digger was even sporting a tacky cowboy hat for the occasion. Piper was conspicuously absent, but he had to be nearby. Music buff with a grudge, James had no doubt in his heart that Piper was responsible for this torture.

Clearly he'd underestimated the skinny musician.

"You think you're so bad, drive the women folk wild, shoot 'em all down with the flash of your pearly smile, honey but you met your match tonight. Oh, that's right!"

Of course they had to wildly gesticulate at him with every iteration of "you" or "you're." Even though a few of the guys could kind of sort of carry a tune, the memory of the Flash's Rogues Gallery warbling along with a Cher song was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

"You think you'll knock me off my feet 'til I'm flat on the floor, 'til my heart is cryin' Indian and I'm beggin for more, so come on baby, come on baby show me what that loaded gun is for!" And here a few of them made finger-guns and pretended to fire at him.

James would have thought they were under hypnosis from the evil son of a bitch, but Piper had a thing against using his hypnotic abilities on his "friends" (for lack of a better word). Besides that, Len and Mick looked like they were doing their best to keep from busting a gut laughing.

"If you can give it I can take it, 'cause if this heart is gonna break it's gonna take a lot to break it I know tonight, somebody's gonna win the fight, so if you're so tough, come on and prove it, your heart is down for the count and you know you're gonna lose it, tonight you're gonna go down in flames, just like JAMES JESSE!"

He couldn't take anymore. James ran out of the hideout, but the horrible music kept following him. He was granted one small mercy; he couldn't hear the guys singing along anymore. That had most definitely been the worst part.

But he hated that song. He'd been teased about that song since it had come out. He'd lost track of how many times assholes had mocked him with a line or two from that cheesy as fuck, god awful Cher song.

And it was following him like a damned shadow. Had to be Piper's doing. James must have had some kind of music…bug or something on him. Or maybe the entire area was rigged with invisible speakers to just keep blasting the damn thing. Piper would play it on an endless loop until he went insane, because clearly the guy wasn't just some soft, queer criminal. He was a sadist. He was clearly the most evil Rogue in the entire fucking gallery.

James was going to murder someone if he couldn't shut that damn song off!

He dropped to his knees and started rocking back and forth, scratching at his ears. "Stop it! Stop it, uncle! I give! I'm an asshole and I should have realized those Rathaways were your Rathaways! Just stop with the fucking Cher!"

James didn't see where Piper approached from, but suddenly the music was gone, replaced by the oddly soothing and familiar noises of Central City in the distance. James had tears in his eyes when he looked up at Piper standing above him.

"I…I really am sorry."

Piper crouched in front of him, a concerned frown on his face. "Did I hit some kind of nerve? I did mean to embarrass you, but this seems like a bit much."

James let out a shaky breath. "I think I deserved it though. Uh…how's your sister?"

"Better. I stopped by for a secret visit tonight. I'm…not technically allowed to be in the same room as her just now. But anyway, she's doing much better. I told her that I was friends with the strange man who attacked our dad, and that I made him promise he'd never do it again. She said she'd be able to drop right to sleep after that. No more nightmares."

To distract himself from the fact that he'd driven a vulnerable young girl to nightmares, James latched onto the other significant part of what Piper had said. "You told her we were friends?"

"Yes." Piper narrowed his eyes at James. "I'd thought we were, anyway. That's why I was so pissed about the low blow."

That did actually kind of explain a lot.

Piper held out a hand and helped James to his feet. "I accept your apology. Just make sure you really don't do it again. Jerrie…she gets really worried sometimes. Especially about me."

"I'll be good, I promise." James awkwardly scrubbed a hand through his hair, and threw Piper a self-conscious smirk. "Uh…can I ask you something, though?"

"You can ask me anything. That doesn't mean I'll answer it."

"Cool. I just, uh…can you please never, ever, ever weaponize Cher against me again? That song…I don't have a good history with that song. I'm an idiot, and I fail at friendships, and I fuck up a lot. I will piss you off again at some point, I promise. But please…however you take your vengeance out, and I'm actually kind of afraid of what you're going to do now…just don't use Cher."

Piper did his best not to laugh, mostly failed, but managed to be solemn enough when he agreed.

Unfortunately for James, he got no such promise from the rest of the Rogues.

A/N: My sisters are preparing to see Cher in concert, and the other day when we were driving around they played Just Like Jesse James. The fic kind of wrote itself after that.