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letsputasmileon in neo_logs

[thread; complete] From Jack to Joker.

Jul 31, 2008 01:00

Who: Jack/Joker (letsputasmileon) ; Harleen Quinzel (heypuddin)
Where: Terra // Asylum & possibly outward.
When: July 31 XXXX - 7:13AM and onward.
Summary: Liberation, tranformation, mayhem, and dress up.
Rating: PG 13 to be safe.
Other: tl;dr

( Now I'm always smiling. )

harleen quinzel, joker, *complete

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heypuddin July 31 2008, 06:49:42 UTC

Dr. Quinzel was at the office early - or, more specifically, late. Paperwork had been left on her desk from the days prior; she'd been left with taking care of the excess with some of the others out of commission or conveniently on vacation during the escapades involving certain inmates. It's taken her most of the night to finish looking through the stacks to discern the important from the mundane, and by the time she'd checked the clock, it was simply inconvenient to return home. By the time she got back, she'd have to haul herself right back again.

Leaning back in her swivel chair, she hid a yawn haphazardly behind the palm of her hand, fingers feeling across the front of her desk for her coffee mug. Functioning on little sleep was bad enough, but mindless paperwork was just...

The sound of something popping in the distant caught her attention. Her head shifted lazily towards the door, glazed glass offering no insight to the happenings behind it as another pop resonated, slightly closer. And then another. And another. ( ... )

I counter tl;dr with tl;dr! heypuddin July 31 2008, 06:50:06 UTC

"Th-they're everywhere," he was stammering; one of the orderlies, his eyes wild, corners of his mouth wet with saliva and bile. "They're out of their c-cells. You gotta get o-outta here, or they'll eat us a-alive. A-ah, I d-don't... ahaha... I don't want to..." He dislodged his fingers from their death grip upon her before racing down the hallway, slapping open the door without further pause and running out of her line of vision. He hadn't gone more than a yard before the smoke had swallowed him whole ( ... )

letsputasmileon July 31 2008, 20:07:55 UTC

The smoke gradually lightened up enough to see just how loony the loony bin had gone. Figured danced about like shadow puppets on stage. The asylum was a wild house with patients and staff roaring in hysterical laughter as they beat the shit out of each other and raged on outward to the streets of Terra. Jack however just kept on trudging down that hall until he reached the Nurses room. He'd knocked out several patients and staff alike on his journey that's destination had finally been achieved; and by the time he'd gotten there, Jack was splattered in blood ( ... )

heypuddin July 31 2008, 21:13:37 UTC

Harleen stared ( ... )

letsputasmileon July 31 2008, 22:45:25 UTC

First things first. Not much would get done if his jaw fell off. Most would describe Jack as one of the craziest of crazies, but he was truly not crazy. As Harleen took to staring, Jack finished the stitches on the other side of his face. It was a poor job not for lack of knowledge but for lack of any real care, and also time. He was versed enough to know how to treat infections as they came so as he clipped the last stitch he pulled out some clear medical tape and a bit of gauze and finished his work up. Now to part two.

His head slowly turned over a shoulder as he heard the laughing from the woman. A grin curled up and tugged at the freshly placed stitches and tape. He turned slowly, upper body tilting over to one side watching her performance so to speak. Interesting. The man laughed as well, but not nearly to the level of hysterics she broke down in, and stepped to the side away from the sink as she asked.

"Miss Harleen Quinzel," an arm rose and hand made an open gesture, "be my guestHis jaw clicked at the end of the last word ( ... )

heypuddin August 1 2008, 01:26:33 UTC

He knew her name. No, of course he knew her name. She was still wearing her ID tag. She averted her gaze to the sink, breaking the eye contact that had sucked her in, yet she couldn't help but watch him out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't concerned for her safety, strangely enough; in place of paranoia or worry for her well-being, there was only a sort of... pleasant thrum. A freedom she hadn't felt before. It was empowering. She didn't care why she felt it - there was no reason to rationalize. It simply was, and that should be good enough for her or anyone else ( ... )

letsputasmileon August 1 2008, 02:51:46 UTC

Simply was.

"Harlequin," he mused aloud in a cheerful manner with an ever so cheerful look over his patched up and messy white face. Jack tipped his head watchful of her expression and movements.

"You look a little nervous," Jack commented as he slowed down his steps forward. One step, two step, three step, four, until his body was well in arms reach. Those dark brown eyes looked hawkish and predatory in their study of the figure he began to circle. He looked her up and down before stopping behind her and leaning in with his chin a hair away from the top of her shoulder. "Can't say I blame you, it's a riot out there," Jack laughed, but quickly turned the topic.

"You have any red lipstick? I need something red," he asked with a slow smack of his lips.

heypuddin August 1 2008, 03:51:16 UTC

His face was a mess of uneven creamy white, making the stark darkness of his eyes a harsh contrast.

Harlequin.

Of course. She'd been teased many times in the past; it was nothing new. But the way he said it, so chipper and friendly, made a shiver run down her spine. She didn't like it. It was almost like some joke she didn't quite get. But she almost laughed anyway.

Her body tensed as he drew closer, all but invading her personal space, walking around her like a lion circling it's prey. She was a slab of meat, a piece of eye candy slowly being unwrapped. Goosebumps rose to her skin. She knew she should be afraid - and she was. Everything about this man - the way he walked, the way he spoke, the manner in which he took her apart with his eyes... they all were like the sirens blaring their warning in her ears.

But she was also exhilarated.And it was very hard to take a man seriously who was dressed in women's clothing as unconvincingly as he ( ... )

letsputasmileon August 1 2008, 20:30:57 UTC

It wasn't long after those words were spoken - What, blood isn't... red enough for you? - that his hand was tightly bound in the long blond hair; fingers latching and digging violently into her scalp. He pulled back so her body was tight against his and slid his other arm around her waist and up her chest to the fingers that held the tube of lipstick which he took and sloppily applied over her shoulder. Once finished, his head tilted just a touch to the side meeting her angled face. Fingers slipped the tube of lipstick into her breast pocket, and his hand moved down for a moment. The troscar he pulled from his pocket was raised to the side of her jaw away from his own, tilted just at the right angle. The blade still slicked in blood from the other woman in the corner. A sight in which Jack jerked Harleen's body in line with to view, hushing any protestant or fearful noises that emitted from the intern. His grip was painfully strong.

She was frightened, but not resentful to that fear. She seemed attracted to it. There was something ( ... )

heypuddin August 1 2008, 22:25:38 UTC

A surprised outcry left her lips as he grabbed her hair, jerking her head back and pulling her against him, his hands climbing up her middle to grasp for - the lipstick? Her breath had caught in her chest; she was almost tempted to exhale a sigh of relief, but she knew she wasn't out of hot water yet. The fact he hadn't done worse was almost... disappointing, and she knew somewhere in the back of her head what an utterly foolish and irrational thought that was - but she couldn't seem to care.

He was smearing the lipstick haphazardly across his face, his mouth; she knew it should occur to her as odd, but really, at the moment, it seemed almost fitting. After all, he was wearing that nurse's dress. Hot tamale, indeed. A chortle of laughter caught in her throat, but sounded deceptively like a choked cry as he slid the black tube into her pocket, the cool press of steel against her cheek, her jawline. He was moving her, changing the angle of her head so that her eyes caught the corner ( ... )

letsputasmileon August 2 2008, 01:37:26 UTC

His breath was heavy matching her own, but he wasn't nervous. Was he shaking? With adrenalin; with excitement, or perhaps it was a show, a method to add to the intensity of the situation. She was trembling, he could feel it. What was going on in that mind of hers in these moments that just may be her last? As he pulled her hair back running the smooth side of the cold blade across her neck. Not a process of anything socially classed as normal, he knew. In these seconds, spare few seconds, he had found out just about everything there was to know about Harleen Quinzel. All those hidden little secrets and emotions not even the most aware of people were aware of sometimes.

The hand tightly grasping her hair released with a jerk, but he didn't give her much time to scatter away if she would have wanted to try - he didn't think she did. That made him smile just a touch. He pushed her around to face him. The web of his his gloved hand splattered with white cream and powder pressed against her esophagus holding her still and upward. Not ( ... )

heypuddin August 2 2008, 03:00:12 UTC

Harleen found herself abruptly whirled around and facing her assailant, his face looking both utterly demented and hilarious at once in compilation with that nurse's dress - but she didn't have time to dwell. Seconds later, his fingers were digging into her throat, lifting her up, the phantom feeling of being momentarily suspended washing over her before she realized she was still on her feet. Squeezing; her breathing became quick and shallow pants, blue eyes wide and fixed upon him. He had her complete attention as her hands fumbled clumsily at his wrist.

Do you fear for the end, Doctor? Does the idea of you dying here, right now, in a hospital gone rampant fill you with dread?

What a question. What a question indeed. "I-I... don't want to die, if th-that's-" hard to talk, hard to breathe, with him gripping at her throat as he was. "-that's what you're asking." Was she afraid? She was, in a way - she didn't want to die, certainly not by being stabbed to death or by having his blade cut her into pieces where she stood. Was ( ... )

letsputasmileon August 2 2008, 05:32:59 UTC

The man laughed as she laughed thinly and choked, missed a spot. Some sort of glee, inappropriate to the situation, filled his features as if he was acting and making it obvious he were doing so. Cruel and mocking. The hand around her neck moved. Jack caught that reaching hand with fingers crushingly tight and jerked it down away. The other hand pulled out a syringe from his pocket. He had placed it there since he went over to the medical cabinet. In merely no time after, the needle was plunged into the side of her neck. All of it. A high and highly concentrated dose. She was out in seconds, and may well die from overdose.

He released her and watched her crumble to the ground. Slowly, Jack crouched down picking up her one wrist to check the time. 8:45AM. He made an unimpressed noise with his tongue and facial expression to go with it as he rolled back up again. Fingers picked up her bag and brought it to the counter to rummage through the contents. A large amount of make-up lead to a convenient find of black cream eyeshadow. Jack ( ... )

heypuddin August 2 2008, 05:52:08 UTC

It happened far too quickly to so much as hope to prevent it; the syringe was weilded in seconds, jammed into her throat in less, and before she had time to react, she felt her body falling backwards, static overtaking her vision as he blurred up and away as she fell back and down.

"'s not funny," a slurred nothing slipped through her lips - swollen and heavy, or so they felt, before there was nothing.

letsputasmileon August 2 2008, 06:29:44 UTC

Jack continued down the hall. There were a few people still lingering. Some too frightened to leave, the other's, followers. The man ignored them for now as he kicked down Mikami's office door and dragged the nurse through. She was lumped on to the doctors chair with little care in positioning before he walked over to one of the filing cabinets pulling out a file. He'd placed the profile picture there earlier of Mikami.

The man brought it over to the desk and pulled open a drawer where the nicely lined markers and pens resided. He drew a smile in red and dark circles in black around the eyes before sticking it to her face with her own blood and writing scattered 'ha ha ha's over her body. He shuffled over to where he knew Mikami kept a few instruments for psychological tests. Gloved fingers came across the deck of cards and pulled out the joker. He slipped the card just under the top right side of the nurse's bra ( ... )

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