[thread; complete] From Jack to Joker.

[letsputasmileon]

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

Comments

[heypuddin]

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.

It was almost anti-climactic when he asked for her lipstick; the hair stood on end at the nape of her neck, skin shivering with the phantom touch of his face hovering so close to hers. He smelled like blood, dust, and cleaning agents. She slowly removed her purse from her shoulder, rummaging through to her make-up bag, and pulling out her lipstick - hot tamale, it read. She dared angle her face ever-so-slightly towards him, trying to keep him within range of her eyesight. "What, blood isn't... red enough for you?"

She immediately regretted saying such a thing - but she was quickly realizing she was in no means in possession of her normal wit; it was as if someone had tossed her head apart and hastily put it back together again, leaving out some crucial bits. She was provoking a lunatic. This was sure to end well.

[letsputasmileon]

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 almost respectable on some level in that; or useful.

He emitted a small hoot of laughter. "I like your thinking, Doctor," Jack nodded with a lick of his lips, his body shifting weight from side to side. The man continued in a harsh whisper as the blade pressed into her skin, but had yet to break it, "I think we could make good friends." There was something dangerously lustful in his tone.

[heypuddin]

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--

And there was the half-naked nurse, sprawled lifelessly like some rag doll forgotten by it's owner. Her heart skipped a beat. You're a moron. You're going to die like this all just because you couldn't keep your mouth shut! She should be panicking. She should be breathless and lightheaded, pleading for her life; these are normal responses to a situation of this calibur. But she wasn't. She was... smiling?

Exhilarated. Excited. Perhaps in more ways than one. She knew that he had the strength in those arms of his, in those fingers holding her back and pressing her against him, that he could kill her and without remorse. He'd not so much as think twice. She was afraid... but of what? Of dying? Of him? Of her last moments in this world consisting of providing lipstick to a lunatic in a dress painting his face with her make-up?

I like your thinking, Doctor. He was figeting, edgy. Not nervous, just edgy, edgy edgy edgy, like a string pulled taut and ready to snap at any moment. I think we could make good friends.

"We can't be friends if you kill me," she reasoned, her knees beginning to feel like jelly. Was she shaking? Was he shaking? She didn't dare try to move, but she wanted to see his face. Not knowing what he was doing, not being able to see him, was making things worse than they already were. "But I'm... sure you already knew that. Right, ah... I don't think I got your name."

[letsputasmileon]

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 enough to have her on her toes, but enough to make her feel like she should be.

His head tipped making the gesture one would make as if they couldn't or didn't quite comprehend or hear what the other did. Of course this wasn't truly the case. "You're talking logic to a loony Miss Quinzel," he laughed almost heartedly tightening the grip up around her neck.

His head than rolled to the side slowly. Dark hues settled upon her blues as he spoke in a lower tone, "do you fear for the end, Doctor?," he spoke with a soft lull of his head. His hand tipped her head back a touch; enough that she wouldn't be able to see anything beyond a few inched below his shoulders. His other arm moved to a lower pocket.

He lifted his chin to match as he spoke again, taunting. "does the idea of you dying here, right now, in a hospital gone rampant fill you with dread?"

[heypuddin]

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 she afraid that he could - no, would? Yes. Her heart was racing in her chest. She knew she could die at any moment.

Her fingers moved slowly but with purpose towards his face, smearing an uneven spot of creamy white on his forehead. "M-missed a spot," she noted with a half-smile, and gave a breathless, silent laugh.

[letsputasmileon]

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 finished his work by rubbing it carelessly around his eyes.

He took a few things once he was finished. Terra ID card being the first. Hospital ID - he held it up and flipped it between finger and thumb before wiping off the blood that smeared it. Credit card, bank card - and of course, the black make-up. He placed them in a pocked and looked over his shoulder at the figure laying lifelessly on the ground before pivoting toward her again.

"Pardon me," Jack whispered, bending down to pick out the tube of lipstick and place it in his own pocket before tapping her cheek twice, "need this."

He moved away after kicking her body onto its stomach. Feet carried him forward toward the nurse. He paused for a moment, his body tilting to the side. Jack than grabbed an ankle and pulled her out of the nurses room moving down the hall toward Mikami's office once again. He only stopped for the scattered security guards to remove their weapons. And take someone's shoes as well.

[heypuddin]

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]

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.

A pause. The deck was tossed back into the drawer and shoved shut. Jack pivoted and moved out of the room making a motion to those still left to follow on their way down the hall to a less heavily manned exit.

9:01 the clock said. 29 Minutes. That gave him time to scavenge useful tools and chemicals. A foot kicked over one dead inmate on their way down the hall as he made directions with his hands for where his men were to go.