All the world is a stage, and everyone has their part
Who: Jack Kelly [cowboy_newsie] and Batman [kingofrooks], Black Mask [ebony_mask] and Batman [see above].
When: The 16th, post-sirens.
Where: Black Mask's hideout.
Summary: Batman finally finds out where Black Mask is keeping Jack. He goes for a rescue. Then Black Mask comes back.
Warnings: Violence. Mentions/explicit descriptions of torture, gore, drugs and drug abuse. Stuff like ( Read more... )
When: The 16th, post-sirens.
Where: Black Mask's hideout.
Summary: Batman finally finds out where Black Mask is keeping Jack. He goes for a rescue. Then Black Mask comes back.
Warnings: Violence. Mentions/explicit descriptions of torture, gore, drugs and drug abuse. Stuff like ( Read more... )
He doesn't jerk awake so much as shiver so. One moment he's lying against the wall, curled into as tight a ball as the chains on his ankles and wrists will allow-- and the next he's scrambling to stand, swaying as he does.
He's a strange dichotomy. Covered from head to toe in blood and vomit, clothes torn and filthy, body too thin, eyes dark with exhaustion and bright with terror-- but perfectly whole, perfectly healthy. There isn't an injury on him, not a cut finger or scraped knee.
He stares at Batman, dumbfounded, his chest rising and falling sharply in fear. For a few brief seconds, Jack does nothing but stare, trembling so badly the chains rattle against the wall.
Abruptly he falls to the ground, kneeling, his head cradled in his hands as his eyes close tightly.]
Go away-- go away, go away--
[He whispers it, chants it to himself, hoping it will work. If his hallucinations have gotten this bad, if the fantasy world he's been escaping to in his head is spilling over into reality, that means he's farther gone than he ( ... )
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And that self-preserving thought, along with the spiraling panic (already) about excuses...
Jack's been found. But that alone is a relief. That means she'll stop hunting.
His stomach does an odd sort of bellyflip. He's tempted to rebel and open his eyes, half-tempted, but also half-anticipating that he'll find himself midair, or be met with a sharp drop off...even if he works on the first floor.
There's a scent like leather and steel and the rot of the darkness with another familiar one, blood, a metallic tang which draws the taste of iron up past his teeth.]
We're outside.
[He chokes in a muffled whisper of understanding when the engine revs, with the very paralyzed fear of a man who's careful, who has been outside after siren fewer times than he can count off on his fingers ( ... )
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[ The answer is half-shouted into Daedalus's ear, over the roaring rush of the wind against them. He brakes, and swerves suddenly, ducking into an alleyway when he sees a group of monsters start for them. He shakes them off easily enough - this, after all, isn't his first time in the Darkness. He can count the times where he avoids the Darkness with one hand.
And he can feel the fear in the tension of the body in front of him, and not for the first time Bruce wonders what on earth keeps Daedalus to Re-l, given their completely disparate personalities.
It doesn't take very long for them to reach Skye's - it's one of the few advantages of Darkness. The vehicles outside are extremely few, and no one is there to make sure that traffic laws are being obeyed. As long as Bruce can keep control of the bike, he can go as fast as he wishes, down whichever road he chooses, and he doesn't even have to stop- which reminds him. Out of the corner of his eyes, there's a monster chasing after them by running along the walls ( ... )
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[His eyes are round, Daedalus gulps for breath maybe once every thirty seconds or so, cheeks burning in the icy wind, until he turns his face, curling inward against Batman's armoured front. His whole body cringes, knees pulling up when they suddenly swerve and there's a scattering of gravel and slush, wetting his ankles with grime. After that his breath comes fast and panicked, like a small and terrified mammal huddled behind the handlebars.
But I'm not even On Call! (I'm not supposed to do consultations or serve as attending) Why am I even-
It must be Re-l. Re-l needs me. She must have called for me. Made Batman come and fetch me.
That's a ludicrous thought, but the only motivator that keeps him from wanting to roll back his eyes and count slowly to twenty, hoping he'll pass out from overstimulation.
He is steering this forsaken adrenaline generator with one hand!
A loud sound behind him, and even with Daedalus' dangerous curiousity, he won't look back. Can't. Blackness is shrouding him.]
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Bruce blinks down, keeping half an eye on the road, the rest of his attention taken up by Daedalus, who seems to have slumped completely against him. At least it's against his right arm, which by necessity's sake will never leave the handlebars because that's where the accelerator is, and he lifts his left arm to try to shake him awake.
At the same time, he starts to brake. They are almost there, Skye's lights showing the way and keeping the Darkness monsters away from the front doors as much as possible. When he reaches the hospital, he swings off the bike, and literally lifts Daedalus up by his armpits and sets him to the ground, turning him until he fades the entrance of Skye's. ]
Jack Kelly is asking for you. He's been trapped under the basement and his healing abilities strained for two weeks. Right now he's suffering from malnutrition.
[ As he speaks, he has a hand around Daedalus's elbow and is practically dragging him into the hospital. ]
You're the doctor. Heal him.
[ And he lets go- but ( ... )
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And when he's hoisted off the bike and placed on sailor's legs, Daedalus sways on the spot- one, because he's off balance, but also because the task set before him (with that almost-gentle push between the shoulders) is unbelievable. Malnutrition and shock from hemorrhage.
His autoreivs could handle that, without manual command instruction.
It's both the highest commendation and the most ludicrously banal and offensive task that's been set before him since 'Here is this comatose specimen, Doctor Yumeno. Your Purpose is to keep it asleep.'
So he laughs. It's Batman who teases it out of him, not Joker. It's more like a heady, hysterical little scoff, as he stumbles two steps forward then wheels around, pacing backward towards the double doors, flinging one arm out for emphasis.]
There are a slew of capable, trained medical staff in this building!
And yet you drag me, from my job, through the night, and expect me to just-
[His mouth hangs open, and ( ... )
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And a little farther back, sitting right where Batman had set him, is Jack Kelly. Fear and anger switches back and forth in his expression, fighting for dominance; a nurse stands next to his gurney, looking hesitant. She holds an IV drip on her hand, and it's clear she wants to slip it in-- but it's equally as clear, from the way Jack keeps glaring at her, that he absolutely won't let her.
He gives Daedalus a tight smile when he catches sight of him.]
Evenin', Doc, and how are you?
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One look at Jack, sitting up, speaking, churlish with the nurses- and it's almost painful, how unnecessary his own presence here is. He releases a long sigh, swiftly surveying the situation. And comes to the sudden striking realization that he probably left his good bedside manner- oh, in the settling dust on some gritty street corner now covered in charred monster guts.]
Vitals? The nurse chirps status in return, and he shakes his head with a little roll of his eyes ("Stable!")
[It's singsonged, with a brisk click of irritation. He hasn't exchanged pleasantries with the patient yet, and some of the passing staff seem surprised to find him here in the night clinic, the bottom half of his trousers (not scrubs!) stained with mud.]BP? (in units ( ... )
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[He doesn't bother to keep his voice down, too exhausted for that. One of the nurses glances back, attracted by the tightly held fury in Jack's tone, but the others hustle her away.]
Well, excuse me, Doc. Why don't you go home? Get some beauty rest. I didn't mean to wake you up. I'll just be rescued from torture at a more convenient time, oy? Say, nine AM, that work for you?
Fuckin' hell, I don't need this, I can take care o' meself--
[He slips off the gurney-- and for a moment, the world spins sickishly. Jack sways, his face paling, his hands gripping at the bed in an attempt to steady himself.]
Just call Sirius and I'll nurse myself back and you can go back to bed.
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[And that's really more like doctor's orders, straining to curtail the tired, trying patience of one who's be hauled through hell to get here and play cooperation staredown with a boy too stubborn to take a needle.
It's little wonder Dr. Williams was so quick to turn over attending position.]
You are probably quite dehydrated, and could use some overnight observation. So sit down, stay awhile. Since we're both here till sun up now.
[Daedalus frowns, in no mood.] And let Sirius get some rest too. He and Re-l have been combing the city for you, for days.
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I don't fuckin' like needles and I can drink water on my own. Go home, I don't want to be in the damn hospital and neither do you.
[But he's trembling with the effort of speaking, and he's covered in enough blood and dried vomit and tears and god knows what else that he's getting looks from every person in passing.]
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[But his tone is leveling, gradually, adjusting to that place where the dynamic meets into something workable. Because he's really not so stuffed (Diego Armando would never have compromising if he wasn't.)
Daedalus looks him up and down with sympathizing crease in his brow, although the vomit doesn't help the queasy feeling in his stomach from the jostled sandbagging and the ride over.]
You wouldn't like to change into a gown, and have some towels bought over right now?
[He finally leans in and cajoles, wondering just how long Batman left him waiting here, that no one's gone ahead and cleaned him up.
Then, in one of Skye Medical's fine off-cuff traditions, one that he still hates clearing his throat and hollering clear across the ER and all too casually for, the coded language of a hospital that certainly doesn't run on SPGH's kind of behavioral restrictions-]
Heeeey! How far do I have to go for a hand towel!
[ "White ( ... )
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And when he thinks Daedalus isn't looking, he presses the damp cloth to his lips, sucking out a bit of water there.]
You know I can regenerate. I'm fine, I know how to take care o' malnutrition. Daedalus, please. Let me go home.
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I really don't want negligence to be on my hands, particularly given the person who just brought me here.
We need to run a few tests to be sure your blood- regenerative or not, hasn't been contaminated by whatever's been done to you. I know you don't like needles. And I know you've probably seen enough of them. But this is with your best interests in mind. Now that I'm here, that you called for me, please trust in me.
[And then, because he knows these boys well, ( ... )
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How long do I have to stay? And tell the other staff here I ain't lettin' them near me.
[He glances back toward the other man, his expression still hard-- but there's fear there as well, subtle and tense, if Daedalus is looking close enough.]
I've had needles in me for the past two weeks. Like hell I'm lettin' anyone but you or me put another in me.
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The thought that Jack Kelly trusted him and him alone was something he couldn't argue- not even on behalf of his colleagues, as long as they weren't in earshot.
After all, it was the simplest way to do things, between the two of them.
The confidential mark of a personal physician. Which he still longed to me, no matter the swirl of the system around him.]
Alright. [He reaches for the hanging bag his nurse had abandoned, when staff had cleared off, and the needle.] This is just a fluid replacement drip.
I'm only going to do it for you, because I've been watching you wash yourself off- and your hands are trembling.
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