Round Two: FIGHT

[glasgow_smile]

Isolation Wing, last medicine run of the night; the latest run, the fewest stops. The med cart, manned by two large male orderlies, makes its way down the hall. It pauses only at the cells of the patients who are restrained and therefore, presumably, require no armed cover or extra bodies. A cell opens, one man goes inside, the other waits in the

Comments

[myownluck]

When the first guard runs by his cell, Harvey doesn't even really notice.

The next three, though, do get his attention.

By the time people start coming the opposite way, he's up and alert, peering out the little window. Then he starts to yell and pound on the door. If he can get anyone's attention, guard or inmate, that's all he needs.

[laughing_magus]

"I'm comin, I'm comin'. Keep yer trousers on."

John hurries to Harvey's door and unlocks it quickly, constantly keeping his eyes out for security. It seems that there's enough chaos that he's far from the focus, though.

"There you are, old son. Free as a bird. Don' say I never gave you nothin. Now run!"

[myownluck]

"Don't have to tell me twice." He looks up and down the hall, trying to get an idea of where they are. "Which way's the infirmary?"

[laughing_magus]

The infirmary is, luckily for Harvey, one place John knows exactly how to get to. He's made several visits there, you see.

"Down that hall, mate." He points, but cocks his head curiously. "Doubt the nurse will be in at this hour."
Maybe he's just going to steal drugs, which is all well and good, but John would put it off until he's on the outside. To each their own, though.

[laughing_magus]

John is awake. John is awake most nights. So of course he's alert when the commotion starts up and his door is opened. He arches one of his own brows at the look he's given, gives the unpleasant state of his mental faculties a moment's consideration, then follows the Joker out.

"Cheers, squire."
He takes the keys when they're tossed to him and goes about opening every door he passes like a good lackey. After all, the more looneys there are in the halls, the less likely it is that he'll be caught before he makes it outside. From there...he has no idea where he'll go.

[glasgow_smile]

Well, John could walk out and hail a cab. Or he could follow the man who has just burst from the supply closet, now dressed in orderly scrubs (slightly too large), with a paper dust mask pulled up to a jaunty angle on his forehead. In one hand he carries a squirt bottle full of something. Behind him comes a pharmaceutical cart, which is now on fire. Some things in the closet are also on their way to going dowwwn in the blaze of glory: a big pile of paper towels, rags, a mop, and a bunch of aerosol cans. He shuts the door behind him, jams a key in the keyhole and snaps it off.

He managed this with items found on the supply shelves-a couple of brillo pads, batteries from a flashlight. Voilà. Add his very own orange jumpsuit, and the cotton balls, bandages and things on the cart, and you have a portable bonfire.

So, here he comes and there he goes, and all the while he's humming something under his breath.

[laughing_magus]

Well, that's certainly an impressive show. John may not know where he's going or even where the Joker is going, but it feels like the right way. Hell, 'away from that door' seems like the right way. He takes off after the traveling bonfire and its custodian.

"Where to now, squire?"
He still stops to unlock doors quickly as they go. It's only fair, after all, and leaves more cannon fodder in their wake.

[glasgow_smile]

"Where do you think?" Outside, maybe? Duh, John. Never mind the particulars just now, he's still working that out. And he is not waiting up for the man, either, despite his own time-consuming demands. If they happen to bump into each other elsewhere, that's dandy, but at the moment he's set on running down the hallway with his fabulous cart, so the little fire doesn't go down entirely before he can do this. Just one security door, and a turn, and there it is...

[arkham_warden]

Oh Arkham, don't you know your loving superintendent is always watching you? Why must you act up like this? It only makes him have to punish you. No one wants that.

Geoffrey is at home in his modest Narrows apartment when the escape gets underway. However, his home computer steadily cycles through the security camera views on two of its three monitors. Only the third displays his game of Warcraft. When he sees the Joker on one of the other screens, he closes his game abruptly.

"No!" He watches other doors being unlocked and patients set free. "No! No! NO!"

Running to his bedroom closet, Geoffrey takes out a duffel bag and shoves a few guns into his waistband and hangs a small but heavy bag off of his belt. The bean bag firing shotgun is the last thing out and he runs out the door. He will not suffer a riot or a large scale escape. No sir. It's only a couple of blocks on his scooter to the asylum where he intends to tazer, bean-bag, and rubber bullet patients into submission and nip this break-out in the bud.

[glasgow_smile]

Poooor old Warden. What else are a bunch of stir-crazy crazies going to do but riot? What can they do, really? How many doors do you suppose will be open by the time he gets there; how many of Gotham's worst running amok through the halls? Could someone have instructed a pack of the wild-eyed man-beasts to make their way to the nearest security station and bully their way in there? Will they succeed? And if they do, will they get a prize? Will this prize be accompanied by confetti (perhaps a shot from a taser gun)? How many questions can possibly be asked in this one paragraph?

Back home, where nobody is watching, the screen will show someone emerging from the maintenance closet in white orderly scrubs, along with, you know, some things on fire (see above). The first guard that manages to get close enough to constitute a threat will receive a few squirts in the face from his new friend the spray bottle. Say hello to liquid drain solvent!

[arkham_warden]

If you're crazy enough to see the metal probes and sparks of a taser gun as 'confetti' and a bean-bag riot gun as a 't-shirt canon', then this will be very festive and a lot like winning something. Yes. Otherwise, this will be very much like being faced down with venomous hatred from someone who wishes they could legally murder every unpleasant and unruly patient here. Because he cares. Truly.

Anyone who would spray decent men in the eyes with drain-o should be lobotomized. Honestly. What has this world come to?

[icd10f60pt7]

You know what's convenient? The fact that Harley is still in the library. Apparently, if you were friendly to the guards before your incarceration? You get to stay in the library a little longer than usual.

And maybe it's a bit convenient that whatever the hell is going on here happened right before anyone managed to come and take her back to her cell.

She's certainly not going to knock convenience. However, she is going to peek out into the hall and see what's what.

Maybe take one of the thicker books with her. Just in case.

[glasgow_smile]

Heads up, Harley, here comes a flaming hall-rocket. The cart, in all its glory, is headed directly for the library, and there is nobody at the helm. Further down the hallway, however, amidst the chaos of scrambling bodies (has The Button been pushed yet? who knows), there comes a holler: "Hooold the door!"

Right. Like the library is an elevator, and the blazing cart is late for its job interview. Move it or lose it, woman!

[icd10f60pt7]

Right now, Harley, is not the time to gape at the flaming car heading towards the library. Now is the time to bounce, yes bounce, out of the way and still manage to hold the door open. "Okay!" ...yes. Okay!

That hall-rocket has places to be, after all!

[glasgow_smile]

Indeed it does. Places like an ever-so-flammable book repository. Sure, some staff-related bodies might try to stop the cart's progression once it's free of his hands, but how many of these people do you suppose are in the kind of shape required to chase after such a thing and catch it? Crazy people are pretty strong, you know. Look it up, it's true.

Anyway, 'Chuck' is now standing in the hallway, fists raised victoriously. To onlookers, this pose may suggest something poignant, such as GOOOAAALLL. Next, it alludes to whoops, gotta go as he dodges the furious swiping of one heroic orderly. For his efforts, this man gets a shot of draino to the eyes and a chance to suck face with the nearest brick wall.

[commissioner_jg]

In the small hours of the morning, Gordon is still at the station having fallen asleep on top of half-read files on his relatively new desk. This has become a frequent occurrence, much to Gordon and his family's disappointment. The building is not completely empty, a few detectives are perhaps working on the most pressing cases, a handful of officers down in the bull pen, perhaps a janitor or two... so it's mostly quiet this time of night. Gordon certainly wasn't one-hundred percent prepared for all the sudden commotion.

The phone is ringing, but it takes frantic shouting just outside his office door to finally bring Gordon out of sleep.

He wakes with a jolt, immediately answering the phone. This can't be good.

Panic is what follows close behind the commissioner as he slams down the phone, grabs his coat and flies out of his office, hoping everyone and their mother is already on their way to Arkham.