7095/Two Women But One Man: The Eternal Division

Two Women But One Man: The Eternal Division
Date of Scene:	30 March 2019
Location:	Gotham - E-Train Tunnel
Synopsis:	Joker gets Harley-confused. Jason gets even more confused. Things don't go as planned.
Cast of Characters:	Joker, Red Hood

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Joker has posed:
Gotham City Liquor Emporium had just opened its doors, not two hours earlier. The most fastidiously stocked and overstaffed liquor store arena in Gotham City, the nearby Gotham Police Headquarters was sure to bring in plenty of money. To the owner, that meant they had to have plenty of skin on hand, to show off the place to the police, plus the occasionally smartly dressed middle-aged wine demonstration representative from the sunny shores of California to show the steno pool the offerings of a suave and exquisite gentleman running a glorified alcoholism profiteer meant to prey on cops.

But, some things bring disaster, even in a moment of victory such as the Gotham City police getting their own palatial liquor store, so close to their headquarters.

There was a subway car halted in the subway beneath the district, full of models from the exposition. Some thirty terrified women were on a subway car, frozen in the tracks, with Joker there, staring at them all, swelteringly psychotic and sweating, staring at a bodaciously figured woman in a Harley Quinn outfit. It wasn't tasteless, per se, to dress as Harley Quinn, but it was if you were better looking than her because of the work you had put into your body.

Hoodlums with shotguns stood around the models, and Joker held a huge handgun, pointing at her.

"Harley, don't toy with me," Joker say, his words emoting too hard and around his thick lips. "Just talk like Harley again, use your words. I don't know what those men did to you, but you aren't my Harley anymore, not until you talk to me like I was your Puddin, sweet thing."

The police have already been alerted to the hostage situation, and have the tunnel sealed off, press on the street turning the liquor store opening into the worst thing in recent history for Gotham small business.

"Please don't kill me, Mister...J?" the woman says, with an irrespressible French accent, terribly different than Harley's accent.

Red Hood has posed:
This is the reason why Gotham can't have nice things.

Red Hood knew that the opening was going to draw more than the police and the pale-skinned nightbreathers who are only out to see and be seen, filling their Instagrams and other social pages with pictures of themselves posed and poised in the latest 'It' place to be in Gotham City.

As much as the inevitability of death and taxes, someone from Gotham's underbelly would make their appearance and bring the evening's fun to a screaming halt.

The surprise was when it turned out to come from the eavesdropped conversation of the Subway Authority's comms that one of the E-trains had gone late and an investiagtion had brought a request for assistance. Especially after one of the models on the train, this one dressed as the oft-forgotten Roxy Rocket had set up her live stream subtly, showing the entire hostage situation live from inside the car. "Trains. Love trains." cames Hood's response as he swung away on a grapple line from the Liquor Emporium and to the subway tracks. It didn't take long too long for the Hood to arrive on the scene.

But then it was a note of who has taken the hostages that brings the ice into the veins of the helmeted vigilante. Leather and armored clad fists grip tightly as he fights off the urge to decide that the collateral damage would be enough to blow up the train car here and now to rid Gotham of the maniac clown's smile forever.

But other drivers come into play, and eventually that urge is shoved away and boxed for use another day. The hoodlums were going to be the bigger task. And getting the girls cleared of the scene. Though the fact that Joker himself had taken an interest in an 'enhanced' Harley Quinn was not helping the situation in the least. The Hood's lens' dim for a moment in thought of the man within the helmet, and then he gets out his phone, sending a message to 'Roxy's' cellphone. 'Gather the girls at the back of the car, opposite the clown. Quietly.'

Hopefully she's as smart as the real Roxy, or this is going to get too real, too quick.

Joker has posed:
"No, no, no," Joker says, his lips puckering as his chin tilts upwards, making a gesture of his fingerpads of his fore and thumb on the left hand together, pinky splayed up and palm nearly level with the Earth.

"Mistah /J/," Joker says, looking to be honestly disturbed in a pained way. "Please, Harley, come back to me. What did that Batman do? You and all these ladies, what is Batman doing?"

The hoodlums spot the girls shifting to the back of the car, as Joker keeps his pistol aimed at the French pinup model, one of them speaking up.

*BANG*.

The hoodlum that was about to warn Joker, drops to the car, legs splayed in a triangle as he drops his shotgun, bleeding in a basin of blood at the base of the smooth, plastic curled seats of the subway car.

"Boys? Keep quiet. This is some serious stuff here, guys. This lady is Harley Quinn. Batman has brainwashed her, into being French. There are two Harleys, now, and there is only one Harley, you see? How can there be two Harleys?"

The woman, now sobbing at the gunshot and isolated from the rest of the beer girls, looks up at Joker, her make-up getting wet.

"Joker is p-p-puddin'?" she murmurs, as Joker leans inwards, nodding slowly and tearing up. He touches her face with his left hand, the gun in the right beside her head as it smokes, seperated from her cheek by his fingers.

"Don't worry, Harley, we'll fix whatever that Batman did to you. Now we know he likes French girls. That's good, isn't it, that we know his weakness? I know a doctor, or two, and we'll have them talk to you."

He smiles.

"So you can be my doctor again. I don't like doctors, unless it's you, Susie-Q."

Red Hood has posed:
The lingering blast of the large caliber handgun, the flash of light, in and out in an instant, much like the hoodlum's life - was brief, and it spurred action. The women in the train scream at the shot, whimpers and cries of panic. That is nothing unusual of course. The Joker's idea of spreading discontent is as much as the spring spreads pollen.

Harley didn't get moved. That poses a problem. Jason can't go all out as he planned to. Instead, from the back of the train, where the women are gathered, the Hood pokes his head up for a moment and glances at the women inside. Perfect. The prey has been mostly seperated from the predator. Though in every prey pack, there is always the one, the sick, the wounded, that must be sacrificed for the whole. Is Harley to be this pack's sacrifice tonight? Moving to the roof of the car, Jason takes out a pair of smoke pellets and drops them in through the emergency exit and ventalation of the roof, causing them to erupt and one of the girl's to scream "Fire!"

Hopefully the smoke creates just enough confusion for the back doors to open from their emergency pulls and give the women a chance to run down the tunnel - if they have the common sense to rid or break the ridiculous heels that they are wearing in the process.

As the last woman is running out, a figure will be waiting for the first hodlum to come out and the Red Hood will immediately jump him, intending to take him down and drive the rest of them back into the car in fear. At least that's his /hope/. "/Joker/." comes Jason's voice over the comm. "Didn't you pay attention to the consent forum that White Rabbit was so nice to set up with her tea. Consent-tea - if she doesn't want the tea, you don't force her to have the tea. In other words. No means no."

"Not that it's gonna stop me."

Joker has posed:
Joker swerves up from Harley, clutching the crying woman to his bosom as he points his gun over her shoulder, at the smoking cabin. As the models escape, he shouts, "Get that blasted Batman!"

The writhing woman held against him, he points his gun around the smoking subway car, as two remaining thugs with shotguns peer about in the smoke, looking for Red Hood, pointing their shotguns towards the open door and waiting for his shadow to emerge. They hold their guns at their hips and tilted upwards, experienced enough to know that a Gotham vigilante comes at you from above, and that a boomstick has one shot at taking one down. They don't, however, know that a shoulder mount is a faster trigger pull.

"Haven't you ever felt, Batman, that this homophobic behavior that you display, is a sign of latent homosexuality?" Joker raves, not only thinking that the Red Hood is Batman, but clearly in a state of projected sexual confusion. "I'll tell you what you are, Batman - you're a bully! You took my beautiful gal, and you turned her into the villainous French!" He pulls backwards, dragging the woman with him, towards the other end of the subway, holding the revolver down the passage, at the smoke.

"You know how it is, Batman! I just fell in love with a butt model, and she's right here, against me, with a broken heart! Just let me save love!"

Red Hood has posed:
If it's one thing that Jason's learned from his time in the All-Caste, its to use all directions. After falling the first hoodlum from above, the Red Hood is staying low, below the rising smoke. The next thug is slammed into with a shoulder into his side, and a taser blast from his escrima stick that is meant to drop him. But there's no fooling around tonight - especially when Joker refers to him by /that/ name.

He is not, and possibly never will be the Bat. And that much he makes clear as from his hip, a silvered .45 is pulled and as one hoodlum goes down, a rapid pair of shots are fired into the center of the mass of the second hoodlum. Not to kill. But a shoulder wound and a hit to a hip should be more than enough to take down the shotgun armed man and make him rethink his life's choices.

"Sorry, no Batman here to answer your crooning tonight, Joker. No, tonight, you get me." Rising from the smoke and shadow, the gun's barrel is raised, pointed, and poised at Joker's head. The Red Hood is unmistakable, the black combat armor, brown jacket, and red bat emblozzened on his chest.

"Heard you were sick. I have your cure. Let go of the girl!" he barks, red helm reflecting what's left of the dim light in the subway car, villain and hero with guns turned on the other.

Joker has posed:
"Not until I get a helicopter in my Happy Meal!" Joker screams, furiously, at Red Hood, with equal rage and certainty.

He wrenches the girl around as she struggles, before he pulls himself and her to the door to the back of the subway, leaning against it, moving his pistol between his head and Red Hood's gun with the precision buckaroo of a Texan trained two-gun Marine back from two tours in Vietnam. One that fought with a Colt six-shooter and rode a buffalo on the beaches.

"You may not be Batman, but I know where you got that idea for that trench helmet! Red Hood, eh? Tell me, Red Hood, how do you know what that even looks like, from all sides?!" he retorts in rage, not aware at the moment that he was the first man to wear the outfit.

"She is the same, but she's not the same! How did you manage that? And now, she's shaking her cans for the dog pound they run in that police department? How much chow have they been feeding my Harley, anyways?" He turns away, for a split second, his grip on the girl loosening, head to the side as his left elbow hits the door release and the exit to the subway door unclicks, sliding open.

Red Hood has posed:
"You /don't/ know, do you?" Red Hood is actually paused for a moment and he /laughs/. He laughs for a few moment, as he steps forward through the smoke. "Do you want to see what it looks like from all sides, Joker? Do you really?" it's said in the same tone as Uncle Johnny asking his nephew if he really wants to put his hand in the box and see if what's inside bites him.

As Joker is backing up, Red Hood lifts his hand up to his helmet. It's released with a rush of pressurized air, letting in Gotham's dank spring and dark within the helmet again as it comes apart on it's seams. The helmet is removed, set to the side. Stepping into the remaining harsh light of the subway, he wears the domino mask that he always keeps on for extra security when he's in the field - but there's no denying the face and mask.

"And here I thought you'd appreciate the homage." Jason responds cooly. As Joker is reaching for the exit, Jason flings his the helmet forward at him in a 'think fast' moment - "Bomb!" he calls to Joker. Would Jason be insane enough to plant explosives in his own helmet? Who knows for sure - but the idea is clear.

Distract the clown, drop his gun and reach to grab the girl and yank her, her cans, and everything else behind him so that she can flee in the direction of the other women.

Joker has posed:
Joker's eyes widen, jaw drooping.

"Robin? It's you. I thought I beat you to death for stealing Aunt Matilda's brillo pads instead of going to promenade..." he says hollowly.

Then, he snaps out of his madness, and begins laughing, belting out laughter. "You came back, Robin! You came back to life! Now you're me! Now you're me!" He pushes out of the train and pushes the woman away, forward, into the career.

"Insanity! It's all sheer insanity! I kill a man, he's me! They kill me, a man becomes me!"

His feet echo down through the tunnel through the wetness and the dirt and mud, his purple dress shoes flapping down through the dark.

Those uproarious echoes are heard going farther away, as Joker runs. Not particularly to get away, just out of the raving joy of the stars, as his mind comes back to him.

Red Hood has posed:
The Harley Quinn smacks solidly into Jason, giving Joker time to get out and get the door closed as he takes off - at his gait of victory. The woman stares down at Jason. "Thank you thank you thank you..." she starts to sob. The former Robin doesn't even notice as he pushes the woman off of him, and grunts. "Next time don't dress as someone that attracts the Clown's attention." he manages as he races back to his feet, kicking the door to force it open and out into the mud beyond.

"I'm not you! I'm nothing like you!" Jason roars at the Joker as he flees. Racing out of the subway car, the Hood lower his pistol, aiming it down the range. He's been trained by some of the best marksmen in the world. Even as Joker gets further and further away, he knows if he fires in this moment, he has a higher than normal chance of winging the clown.

Of killing him.

Take the shot. You have him. This is what you've /waited/ for! the voice in his head is screaming at him. The pistol raises, the aim held. The breath drawn in shallowing, and then held. The finger tightens, muscle memory kicking in as he prepares to pull the trigger.

And then what? You've spent the last several months following his rules. Doing everything you can to be /right/. And he's given you some leeway. You know he won't let you get away with this. What would he say? What would he do?

"It doesn't matter..." Jason rumbles.

What would /she/ say?

That brings pause. She. The bright spot that's suddenly come into Jason's life. The sudden and incomprehendible complication of his life that has arrived with a bright smile, dark eyes, and warm heart. Would she allow him to go through with this cold and callous act of shooting a sick man in the back?

Jason's teeth bite down down on his bottom lip, hard enough to draw the copper taste into his mouth, swallowing the blood into his mouth. Blue eyes cloud over with tears, anger and just pure pain as he is reminded of every strike of that madman's crowbar against his skin.

It'd be so easy.

The steeled weapon drops to the mud. And Jason soon follows after it to his knees in the mud between the tracks. He had his chance. It was there. It was in his hands.

And he's letting him walk.