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

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[vivian_red]

People are getting out? Vivian wants out. He presses his face to the little window trying to peer around corners. It works just as well as it never ever did before.
He sees John walk past him though.

"Hey! Let me out. I want out."
His forehead thunks against the thick plastic.
"Plleeeease? With a cherry on top. And.. some apples. And sugar. And just open the door, John."
He sneers at this Englishman who isn't going fast enough.
"Quick. Like a bunny."

[laughing_magus]

John hates Vivian. He hates him for scaring him and for robbing him of the tiny bit of sleep he used to be able to get. Hates him. He wants to leave Vivian here. He wants the asylum to burn down with the man inside. However, that would make him the killer people already think he is. It would also contradict the 'instructions' the Joker has given him. He's never been big on authority, but he doesn't know if the madman will just kill him if he makes a point of skipping someone. Damn it.

He stares in the small window a second, then unlocks the door.
"Make a move agains' me, sunshine, and I'll tear yer balls off. Now go on. Scarper!"

[vivian_red]

Vivian probably had no reason doubt he'd be set free. Not because Joker willed it so, but because he's off his fucking nut enough that he sort of takes things as they go. Even these things. He stands in the open door looking at John and not really taking any stock in the threat. He's considering violence.

Instead he pushes John out of the way. Red hair in a blur straight for... the open door of John's cell. Yay! Finally.

[laughing_magus]

Ready for attack, John lets out a slight sigh of relief when Vivian just strides right past him. He tilts his head in confusion when the redhead wanders into his own awful cell.

"What in buggery are you doing? Hell with it. I don't want t'know."
He waves Vivian off, not interested in this madness. He has more important things to worry about, like finding a pack of smokes and getting a change of clothes.

[arkham_warden]

Geoffrey storms into his asylum. He's only a short way down the hall and past the nurses station when he hears it; hears the fire alarm and all of the doors unlatch at once. Chaos ensues, and quickly.

He leaves a few, poor patients twitching painfully on the floor for daring to try and make it for the doors. Filthy animals. He switches to a handgun full of rubber bullets and quietly wishes they were real as fire sprinklers soak his clothes and screaming mad men run around in the indoor rain. He will not allow this. No sir. Not in his asylum. Where are the troublemakers hiding? Not their cells, not the guard station, not outside.... The infirmary maybe? Perhaps?

[vivian_red]

Vivian was doing well. This wasn't his first break out from the nut hatch after all and he could do it without even being there if he wanted (figure that one out) but it all comes crumbing down once those sprinklers hit him

[myownluck]

Someone else, to judge by the occasional unconscious or dead guard en route, has had the brilliant idea to head for the infirmary. And they've had some fun, upon arrival.

The place is in a state of disarray. Drawers and cabinets have been thrown open and supplies tossed about. Sheets and mattresses have been mussed and overturned, and now grow sodden under the sprinkler spray. No patients, at least -- or maybe they all fled. The night nurse wasn't as lucky. She lies thrown over her desk, obviously dead -- the angle of her neck might be a clue as to how, or maybe the way the left side of her face is as good as pulverised, pounded or bashed to hamburger.

There's rummaging sounds in the supply closet. Breaking glass.

[glasgow_smile]

While a trail of felled rent-a-cops isn't exactly shocking, given the circumstances, the visible traces of ransacking are a detail worth his consideration. You never know who might be in there, after all. It could be that one of these gents (or ladies, you never know) has put his hands on a firearm, somehow. Hey, it could happen.

In light of this, the heroic Mr. J clamps one of his long, chilly hands down on Harley's shoulder and ushers her toward the infirmary door-she's been leading all along, anyway, so she'd might as well continue. He gets right up close behind her, peeking just over her head. The toxic spray bottle creeps up along her other shoulder, ready for action. Shuffle, shuffle, in we go.*

Quietly, almost too quietly to be heard over the rustle and clatter, as if he's speaking only to himself: "Anybodyyy...home?" He seems partly distracted by his own movements, his own looks here and there.

* That is, of course, unless Harley decides to put up a fuss about it!

[icd10f60pt7]

The only way she'd put up a fuss is if he suddenly decided to spray her in the face with his fancy toxic bottle. Maybe even not then.

The dead night nurse does get a bit of a raised eyebrow and a face made. The disfigurement is a BIT troubling, and does make her a bit apprehensive about being the lead-in here. Not enough to say something about it, though. Shuffle forward and move ahead ten spaces!

Harley will, however, toss her soggy book on the floor. It's pretty much useless now!

[laughing_magus]

John has had time enough to catch up to the A-Team here and bring up the rear, as it were. He takes a step over one fallen staff member, only to recognize a familiar and glorious smell on him. John leans down and pats the pockets of the corpse until he finds a pack of Marlboros and a lighter.
"Cheers, mate. Now, at least, you didn't die in vain."

He lights up as they step inside, breaking their attempt at silence a bit.
"What a fucking mess."
Ok, a lot.