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Post by Oracle on Aug 20, 2012 0:54:44 GMT -5
The sporadic droplets of water that fell upon her face was the first thing that stirred her to consciousness. There was movement beneath her lids and soon they began to bat slightly. Her mind was working a lot slower than her own physical reactions and Barbara Gordon was still trying to mentally collect herself to this specific moment in time. Green eyes were slowly exposed as the lids gave way and blinked; once, twice – three times before they finally opened by at least a decimeter every second. Her lids struggled to open both from being extremely heavy and unwilling to break and in an attempt to protect her eyes from the bright light positioned atop her.
The dropping water suddenly became more apparent as her eyes finally adjusted to the light. It was a mild temperature, originating from the ceiling above her and produce by a small trickle of water that found its way through a small crack somewhere. Trailing her eyes across the cracked and ragged ceiling, Barbara slowly moved her head. Finding that it had been arched back over the back of her seat, she heard her cervical crack as she slowly aligned it back into place and checked tried to make sense of her own surroundings.
She was in a room – detective skills at their finest. Wrinkling her nose she moved her head, slowly to the left, then slowly to the right allowing her muscles to ease and release themselves from the tension created from her prior positioning. Whilst stretching, she studied the room, taking into account the rather cracked and broken hard plaster, the peeling paint and the chiseled holes on the ground scattered around her. Any other notable markings of her surrounding went unseen as her own fluorescent light provided about a three feet radial field of vision.
Barbara attempted to reach out to the wall adjacent to her but with no success. Her eyes lowered, looking down at the rope that bound her hands to the arms of her chair. Further inspection found that her feet were not put in any sort of entrapment and that she was in fact still pretty much attached to her wheel chair. Pursing her lips she tried to pry her arms from the rope, she wondered what sick bastard put her in this kind of situation. Her method of confinement was rather purposeful with the intent of ensuring she couldn’t move while taunting the uselessness of her second pair of limbs. Gritting her teeth, Barbara pursued her struggle against the ropes for several more seconds before realizing how drained she had become.
Relinquishing her attempts at any kind of struggle she backtracked and decided it best to reassess the situation. The situation, yes – how had she gotten into this room. Who had put her here? The questions ran through her mind as she looked around the room, looked down at her own body trying to recall anything. Were their bruises or wounds from a potential fight on her? No. Her clothes were they ruffled or torn? Not that much. Her hair was it completely disheveled and unsightly? Well she couldn’t tell, but she certainly didn’t feel that way. Huffing in her seat she suddenly winced in pain, the sudden forward breath of air bringing pain to the bag of her head. At that point she realized that the method used to bring her were was blunt trauma. A good hit to the back of her head did the trick and whoever did it, did a very fine job. So fine that Barbara was absolutely sure she could not recall any of the events that occurred prior to her awakening.
’Photographic memory for what’ she thought harshly to herself, her own voice somewhat unfamiliar. ’Seriously, whoever hit me did a good number on me. How did I even let them get that close?’ the thoughts were beginning to fill her mind and this was the first time since she had risen that her subconscious was finally active. Sitting still and attempting to remain calm she ignored the beating of her heart that threatened to drown out her ears. She was not afraid at least not afraid of what was to come, who could be the perpetrator or the likes. It was the uncertainty that unsettled her and made her realize how lowered her defense must have been to be forced into this kind of situation. Barbara Gordon was always prepared and always aware. What had gone wrong?
’The Joker could be behind this.’ Barbara thought, clearing her mind and attempting to rationalize in what could potentially be little time alone, ’But this isn’t his style he would have me up and front, on display somewhere for his entertainment.’ she shook her head, internally tallying of suspects, ’Harvey? No he could never hire the right guns to get this close to me.’ another one struck off the list. ’Poison Ivy? No she wouldn’t be holed up in such a man-made dump.’ she paused looked around again and smelling the air. ’Damp, moldy… there is water vapor in the air… I can feel it. I can also hear the faint sound of running water. Am I somewhere in the sewers? That would mean Killer Croc is behind this. But he isn’t… smart enough.’ her eyes narrowed as her list was beginning to become slimmer and slimmer much to her vexation. She moved to stroke her chin in thought, but was reminded of her bought hands and clicked her tongue in frustration.
Suddenly there was movement and from behind. Her body tensed up and her eyes began to slowly move to their corners attempting to look behind her. Barbara dared not to turn her head or make any sudden movements. If the noise had been an accident they she thought it wise to act as if it had gone deaf to her ears. Straining her ears and holding her body taunt she waited, perspiration forming as she braced her body for further abuse from her captor.
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Post by Red Hood on Sept 16, 2012 4:28:45 GMT -5
Preparation.
Jason Todd had grown accustomed to rigorously planning out nearly everything he did, from the moment he woke up to the moment he went to sleep. When you were the son of a deadbeat dad, abandoned by your birth mother, and left in the care of your drug addicted step-mother, preparation became your friend. Preparation is what got you food at the end of the day. Preparation is how you kept your only care taker from overdosing. Preparation is how you got food at the end of the night.
His skill of preparation was one of those things that was further honed after that one fateful night where he hadn't prepared enough and was interrupted by a Dark Knight who bore witness to the young man attempting to steal his tires. That wasn't the first time that Jason's ability to plan ahead failed him.
Today happened to be another example of his preparation not being enough.
Exactly how the former Boy Wonder found himself in his current predicament pretty much amounted to a mystery, one his mind was too foggy to even begin to piece together at the moment. The last thing he remembered--well, he couldn't remember. Yeah, that's sure to help him out of his mess. Not much he could do half-conscious anyway.
In order to keep himself calm, the current Red Hood flared his nostrils with a hard exhal and slowly began to sync his breathing up with the soft, slow beating of water behind him. He could hear the liquid make contact with...something, and feel excess splatter against the back of his head and neck. It was this that alerted him to the fact that he was, at the very least, not chained to a wall. Freedom of movement will be beneficial to him once he managed to muster up enough energy to make his mistake.
And in that case, might as well try and stand up.
Except that he couldn't move; the agitating sound of inhibited body shifting a sign of his failure. And so, he tried again. This time, Jason nearly toppled over. A Mild growl in frustration and some quick shifts in momentum allowed him to rock back on to all four legs of his seat and maintain a decent level of balance, but not before having the unfortunate experience of cracking the back of his skull against something delightfully hard.
Jason let out another muttering of pain for good measure. It wasn't until well after the rush of pain started to set in that he realized that he brushed up against something that felt awfully like hair. Was there someone behind him? Were they unfortunate enough to find themselves in the same situation as he? And more importantly; were they alive? A telepath he was not, so Jason set out to find out the only way he knew how: by using his big mouth.
"Hello? Are you real, or did the assholes who left me here decorate the furniture with wigs?"
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Post by Oracle on Sept 18, 2012 14:20:54 GMT -5
T he bang and clatter were clear signs of somebody behind her and what she thought was some sort of blunt object brushed through her thick red locks. She froze up very suddenly, realizing the proximity of a potentially dangerous foe, one that she was completely helpless against. Her eyes trembled in their sockets as they tried desperately to see through the corner of her eye – threatening to roll to the back of her head. Beg for mercy, she would not do – but that was pretty damn enticing right now when her life dangled dangerously on the loose ends of a thread. She opened her mouth to speak, pink lips parting ever so slightly and cracking as the dry skin was forced from its stagnant position. But nothing escaped her lips – they couldn’t – because whoever was behind her, spoke first.
Her ears deceived her. That was her first thought as the voice danced throughout her head and a visage appeared in her mind. The red mask appeared in her mind, crude and daunting as the eye slits glared at her with such undefined contempt. Her heart began to race as she considered the possibility and realized just how close she was to someone whose bonds were so severely severed she was unsure of just how they got mixed up into the same situation. She swallowed, her own saliva like a stone as it struggled down her throat. Her voice was somewhere down there, trembling in the slight bulge of her larynx as it tried to get out.
“J-J-Jason?”
It finally found its way out, escaping like old air that had been locked away for years. The name although so common was estranged in the way it removed itself from her mouth. The trembling she could not help as she felt a wave of relief and fear in knowing that she was with family, but at the same time not understanding what this entire situation entailed. This was either completely random and a stroke of luck or the jerk who was behind this knew exactly what he was doing. You didn’t just put Jason Todd and Barbara Gordon in a room together – that kind of stuff never happened. There are no such thing as coincidences – their aged mentor had taught them this and she mouthed that to herself as she began to rock her hips causing her chair to teeter-totter, side to side.
The brakes on her chair had been activated and so she could not gyrate her hips and force the chair to move. Of course- why would they make this so easy?
“It’s me…” She paused, looking around the room to see if there were any kind of surveillance equipment or monitoring devices in sight. Unable to actually further than her own light, she turned, leaned her head down and whispered, “Barbara.”
Her desperation for companionship in her time of need – though she would not admit it – had clouded any feelings she had for Jason prior to this situation. The man that had terrorized her pseudo-family and who was infamously notorious was someone she had come to on some level loathe. She could understand on some level where Jason was coming from – God knows she could share the same pain and despair that he held. But she could not agree with his actions thereafter. Devastation lead people to many different things, but Jason – Jason had gone too far in his actions against the Batfamily. Could she forgive him for the wrongs he had done?
As she opened her mouth to speak once again, a door about eight feet away was unlatched and the sound of the heavy metal scraping against the concrete floor announced its opening. Barbara stiffened, looking intently at the doorway, forgetting her own doubts and furrowing her brows in anger as she watched as figures were displayed through the doorway and the light that spilled through.
Masked of course, crude ski masks on men whose builds suggested they were hired thugs who either juiced or lived in the gyms. She moved forward, soundless and their body language unable to be deciphered further than, obtain the goods. She clenched her fists as one stepped forward, and brushed the loose strands of red hair away from her face. The other laughed and mocked Jason who was dragged off the floor with a single heave and set upright again. What to say? What to do? Her green eyes stared into the man that stood before her, his auburn eyes making contact and his hand fixated on her cheek where he had last left her. Barbara dropped her gaze momentarily, letting it fall to his waist and to the cheap leather belt around his hips.
There was a glint at the left side of his hip, and she noticed the small switchblade pressed between the pants and shirt. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at her own hand, calculating the distance and angle required to allow just her bare fingers to pull it from the man’s side. Looking back up to him, she rolled her eyes, focusing on his forehead, Time to take one for the team. She thought to herself as she suddenly, violently rocked her head forward and slammed the smooth, hard surfaces of their skulls together. Pain vibrated throughout her head and she sucked in air as the man cried out in surprise. Anger flushed in his eyes and Barbara felt something hot and wet slide down her forehead. Blood.
He grabbed a handful of hair behind her head and leaned in closed, his body intimately close to her own. He growled, called her a bitch, released his grip and then smacked her across the face. The pain was bearable and not without cause. The fingers on her left hand clenched tightly as she concealed the switchblade that she had relinquished from the man. Ignoring the stinging that spread across her cheek and the blood that trickled down her face, she looked up rather submissively, watching the man look at her with heavy contempt and then disappear behind her as he gripped the handles of her wheelchair.
“Boss says to bring them to the showroom.”
The man said, as Barbara felt her chair rock forward and they began to move. The doorway inched closer, and they passed through to enter a rather dank hallway of concrete and aged piping. Barbara Gordon looked about, bring her concentration to studying her surroundings while on another level she worked quickly to cut the crude tape that bound her to her chair. She listened to each tear, going unheard by her captor and then finally, her left hand was free.
That definitely didn’t go unnoticed. A sudden “Hey” signaled that she had been exposed and just as quickly, she thrust the blade into the side of the man’s leg, just over the knee and forced it to drag across the meat. The tensor fasciae did not cut easy, but she ripped through enough to send the man crumpling to the ground and howling in pain. He would have difficulties getting up, let alone support his own leg.
The other man was coming and with a roar, Barbara slashed at the tape on her right arm and just in time to wheel backwards to narrowly avoid the man – who stumbled gracelessly. She side glanced to Jason, handing the blade over and turning back to the man who came again. This time, she pushed out of her chair, exerting her body weight and forcing herself upon him. Her legs acting as dead weight, she nimbly rotated upon his body, taking his back, and wrapping and arm around his throat to place him into a rear naked choke. He bulged, the muscles in his neck sporadically flexing as they tried to fight her off, but Barbara would hold on. He roared, ran backwards and slammed her into a wall and repeated this, intent on taking her off.
She felt her mind begin to scatter and her vision become less – reliable as he continued his onslaught. Her grip was loosening and she looked weakly over to Jason to check his progress and in what little movements that she could to reach out for help. |
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Post by Red Hood on Oct 6, 2012 15:06:56 GMT -5
[style= font-family: verdana; text-align: justify; padding: 5px; width: 445px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px]
“J-J-Jason?”
Muted senses suddenly became heightened as he became privy to the identity of the person that was bound behind him. Part of him was overcome with a sense of joy over the fact that he wasn't in this situation with someone unfamiliar to him. Barbara Gordon after all, was family, estranged as they currently were. But she was still family. Everything tended to be easier when you had family involved. Yet on the flip side of the coin, the unmasked Red Hood was also hindered by a roaring sense of uneasiness.
How the hell did Barbara Gordon and Jason Todd, the former Batgirl and Robin, both get attacked, kidnapped, and tossed into the same location together?
His brain began to dance around with the thought, struggling in its current weakness to piece together random threads of information, most of it likely unrelated to each other, as a means to figure this out. Ultimately, this feat would prove unsuccessful, but that didn't mean he wouldn't struggle with it in the meantime. He did interrupt his fruitless thoughts in order to properly respond to his Bat-sibling, careful to avoid being antagonistic in their desperate situation. Eventually, the two would have to play off of their mutual strengths in order to escape.
Which meant that being a dick now would just make things harder for the two of them.
"....hey.." He muttered softly as his mind struggled to say anything that could compromise either of their positions in the dark, secret world of masked crime fighting. If their identities weren't already compromised, that is. And even if they were, no need to give out any more information than what their captors may already have. "How're you doing?" Redundant question. She was knocked unconscious, kidnapped, and bound; life couldn't have been too great at the moment.
Babs never got a chance to further the conversation; the massive steel door to their makeshift door was slowly moved to the side, providing another source of light to the room for the briefest of moments. The room becoming momentarily brighter than it was before didn't help Jason in the slightest and he winced once more as his eyes slowly began to adjust to the miraculous sensation of vision once more. Through his eyelashes, he caught on to the figures of a handful of men; tall, heavy men. Their faces were obscured. Smart, though unnecessary.
You know, since the chances of their survival just decreased 55% by even coming into the room.
One of the muscular goons yanked Jason away from Ms. Gordon by his chair. haphazardly dragging the civilian clothed vigilante away from the one piece of familiarity he had in this situation. Jason didn't cry, moan, or struggle; he knew that his time for action would come. Now wasn't the time, not until he had a solid opening, And to his luck, an opening would come sooner than later.
Not even five seconds after the former Boy Wonder was hauled to the other side of the room, the former Batgirl lashed out at one of their captors, ramming her head into his own. The sickening crack of bone against bone surely caught everyone's attention; Jason paid more attention to Barbara's body movements than on the actual impact itself. Given their training, he was well aware of the fact that she wouldn't have done anything if there wasn't something that they would benefit from. No payoff now, unfortunately. But minutes from now? Half an hour? He didn't know how long it would take, but he was certain of its certainty.
As a result of her boastful act, Barbara was repaid with a solid slap to the face; a move Jason was sure that the musclebound goon would learn to regret before their night ended. Not long after, the two captive crimefighters were hauled through the threshold of the room, off to wherever. Vision now went to work, making note of any significant landmarks in the otherwise insignificant hallway, all the while paying no significant attention to the wheelchair bound friend as to not draw any unnecessary attention on her. The former Robin had a feeling that she snagged something from the goon she headbutted and didn't want to tip these guys off by staring at her the entire time, just in case she attempted to free herself now.
"Hey!"
Jason's interest piqued at the shout, his eyes locked down on Babs as her left hand reigned free. So she managed to grab something sharp? Good, Jason liked sharp. Soon enough, the tool that was used to free herself from her bindings was used to essentially cripple one of their captors with a solid, meaty slice through his thigh. No way he would be getting up from that. As the second guard moved in to reign in Barbara, she freed her remaining hand and with a wheelchair enhanced sleight of hand, pawned the knife off on Jason while she dealt with the much larger man.
Had she been in better form, and Jason didn't mean if she had use of her legs, he was certain that the man would've gone down without too much exertion on Babs' part. After all, the countless martial styles that the two were versed in weren't just restricted to hands and feet, and she had become adept to defending herself from her chair. In this case, she was having a bit of trouble reigning the guy in, struggling to choke the consciousness out of him while he rammed the tired woman into the wall.
All the while, Jason worked feverishly to slice away at his restraints, not knowing how much longer his sister-in-arms could hold out. And then, when it seemed like she couldn't possibly take any more, his right hand burst free.
The blade was airborne not long after.
Loosened grip meant exposed neck.
Exposed neck meant knife into the side of the carotid.
Adding yet another tally to his kill list, Jason used his free hand to remove the rest of his bindings as he shifted his attention from Barbara and the newly made corpse she just toppled on. |
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Post by Oracle on Oct 19, 2012 9:55:45 GMT -5
Barbara Gordon’s face was flush with a brilliant red sheen that was amplified by the sweat that had collected upon her skin. Jason’s rapid response had been a life saver, even though she had to disagree with his methods. Killing was well beyond her moral code and it was something that had been instilled by her mentor and her own father. At the same time however, deep within her mind there was a darkness that existed and it considered that sometimes death was the only way. Their enemies were willing to extend the same favor for them, why not even the playing field here and there. Barbara could after all list a name or few whose persistence could be easily remedied by their excise from this world. These were dark thoughts and before she could delve any further she relinquished her grip on them and furrowed her brow as she made eye contact with Jason. “We could have interrogated him.” She muttered, her tone coming off as rather ungrateful as she pushed herself off the limp body. In the moment of silence Barbara realized the violent shaking of her body as her hand landed in a pile of blood and she clumsily made way for her chair. The fall had not shaken her; she had after all the man to cushion it. Instead she deduced it was her own nerves. This entire situation was, unprecedented and if the red head could revisit the situation that put her in this she would be a little more relieved. Looking to Jason, she wondered if he was as lost as she. “Do you… do you know how you got here?” Barbara asked rather shakily, hating that weakness was present in her voice. She was finally at the foot of her chair, and attempted to resituate but found that her shaking body had grown weak, limp and allowed her no strength to heave herself into the chair. She looked rather pathetic, but still forced her body language to resist any help from Jason. It wasn’t because of him in particular that she was resistant, it was the fact that this entire situation had her on edge and if their captors were watching she didn’t want to show any more vulnerability than she already had. There was that and the fact that Barbara needed to distance herself from Jason Todd and make sure that whoever was in charge of this whole show didn’t know that they had any ties. She was Barbara Gordon, daughter of Gotham City’s commissioner and a humble librarian at the City’s local library. There was nothing more to her story and she had to keep it that way. Hopefully this was just some ransom situation and Jason just happened to get caught up for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The pair of them had to keep their cool, they definitely had the means to get out of this place – but they couldn’t let their captors be aware of this. Looking back to Jason she awaited his response, hoping that he may be able to shed some light on the situation. Above them, the intercom speaker began to crackle and fizzle with life and Barbara’s eyes narrowed as they were silenced by the eerily present white noise. TAG: The Joker [/div]
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Post by Joker on Oct 22, 2012 18:30:35 GMT -5
The Joker sat patiently in the control room of the labyrinth of underground cells he kept his two newest playmates in. He was borrowing the bath water sink hole from Killer Croc - not that he actually used the words “borrowed” or even actually told Croc about it. As he waited for the two to rise and shine from their pretty little concussions he wasted a majority of his time eating. Ham burgers, chilli cheese fries, slurpees, ice cream, anything that his henchmen could find from across the street fast food chains. And every time they came with the extra cheese combo, he’d direct them right back outside for some super sized soda. His appetite was insatiable, his high metabolism and naturally jittery and movement prone body needed the consistent fuel. Right when he was about to bite into a delectable bacon donut, he found on one of his alerted cameras that tweedle dee and tweedle dum had finally gotten around to waking up. Immediately he grinned and put aside his sweet and savory treat and looked intently into the electronic glow of his monitor screens. As he watched them wake from painful sleep and stupidly try to make sense of the situation he laughed raucously, he oo’ed and aww’ed at their mysterious recognition of each other, and was moved so deeply by their fighting scenes he pretended to be fighting along side them. In sum, he acted and felt as if he were watching a movie, rather than watching his kidnapped victims trying to escape their dark and dank prison. When Red Hood had permanently incapacitated one of his goons, which he felt no remorse for; he tentatively made the decision to reveal himself. After he impatiently waited for them to give him his cue to intercede into their ruminations, he pressed the button for the intercoms. A scratchy and loud bit of static flooded the halls in which Barbara and Red Hood were and it soon died down to introduce a soft chuckle. “Hello kiddies.” His black stain voice slipped through the loud speakers audibly. “I’m oh so glad you two woke up without brain damage, you know how sloppy the help can be.” There was a pause, as if to give his listeners a moment to digest what he had said. “Barbara,” His mouth enunciated the B’s in her name so intimately and lovingly, “It’s been too long. How are you holding up?” He snickered, “I’m kidding, in all seriousness, I’m truly very sorry for what I’ve done, truly, deeply,” his voice rumbled deeply in what sounded like mock repentance. “And as for you,” he directed Red Hood, “I just don’t like you. I’d go so far as to say that I’ve met rotting corpses that are less offensive than you.” The smile on his face was evident, “So, as an effort to kill two birds with one stone, I’ve decided to invite both of you. If you’ll simply go into the stairwell and follow the green arrows you’ll be right at my door step. I know, I know, sounds to good to be true? Well, I guess you’ll both have to go and see if it is.” The intercom went out and the Joker leaned back into his swivel chair. Now it was time to play the waiting game. TAG: Red Hood |
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Post by Red Hood on Oct 23, 2012 3:05:34 GMT -5
[style= font-family: verdana; text-align: justify; padding: 5px; width: 445px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px]A poorly disguised sigh of relief escaped the unmasked vigilante as his eyes bore witness to the gruesome sight he just created in order to rescue his estranged friend and family member. Yes, Jason Peter Todd had a penchant for using violent and often lethal methods against his assailants. Yes, he tended to do so often. Yet, despite the persona he tended to portray to the world at large, the taking of lives was not something he did lightly. Yes, often times, the people he killed deserved it, and in his fits of rage he might think nothing of it.
But even to him, murder was not the first option (it was the second). But sometimes, the health and well being of someone close to you tended to blur your morals.
Babs and he may not have been on speaking terms, hell, they may have had some unspoken malice toward each other, but seeing someone close to him be beaten and brutalized before his eyes was not something he sincerely wanted to see. The time it would've taken to fully remove himself from his binds was time the now-dead brute could've used to not only free himself from Barbara's choke hold completely, but turn around and do more damage than ramming her into the wall ever could. And at the very worst, he could've killed her then and there. After all, the two former sidekicks of the Dark Knight were famished and fatigued and their captors were likely well fed and rested in comparison to the two of them.
While he probably would've just beaten the ever living shit out the guy under any normal circumstance--desperate times and all that. The guy is dead. The world wouldn't shed a tear. Neither would he.
With another, final sigh, Jason, now freed from his trappings, rose up to casually inspect his carnage as he moved in the general direction of the information broker to the superhero community; he quickly froze in his tracks when she spoke and his calm, relieved demeanor mutated into an all too typical scowl. While a "thank you" was something he didn't expect to hear given the person he was dealing with and his brutal thug dispatching methods, he was at least going for some unspoken glance of appreciation before the two of them moved on to the next subject. But no, instead, he was treated with a ginger's impression of Bruce Wayne. And to think, he was going to help the struggling woman into her chair.
Now was not the time to call Babs out on it, and he was far too tired to argue. Really, he just wanted to get out of here; the sooner the better.
"Not a clue. I don't even remember---"
His train of thought was disrupted by the pulsing sound of static, and the two of them would get the answers they sought not too long after. And for a brief moment as the malicious voice spoke in a rather relaxed tone over the intercom, Jason was washed over with shock and disbelief. And of course, quickly consumed by rage.
Jason Todd and Barbara Gordon were two people who had their lives drastically changed by their captor--The Clown Prince of Crime--with the latter ending up paralyzed and the former ending up dead. The miracle of his rebirth was another topic altogether. Fact was that the two of them were damaged by the Joker and were now reunited by the Joker for some twisted sense of enjoyment.
And for that, Jason planned to make the jester the second person he killed today.
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Post by Oracle on Oct 29, 2012 13:36:16 GMT -5
She thought herself to be a strong person. Potentially the strongest out of anyone she had ever known, not that she was taking an ample amount of credit or anything; but it took a specific type of personality to do the things she did and most of all to endure. Barbara Gordon could not say the same the moment she heard the every familiar and chilling voice fill the spacious hallways and her own head. Her green eyes seemed to dull over and they began to tremble as the eerily laughter seemed to fill the hallway with terrible imagery. The clown prince of crime spoke, but she failed to hear anything he had just said.
Catching only the last bit of his rhetoric, she looked around her eyes noticing for the first time the green arrows that were crudely painted on the walls. Her eyes followed them as far as her vision allowed and she pushed her glasses up against the bridge of her nose finally allowing a breath of air to filter through her lips.
This was very typical of the Joker and surely at the end of the long tunnel there would be something sick and horrific in store for them. At the same time, being prepared was never enough when it came to this psychopath and without the knowledge and equipment that enabled her to be the Oracle, Barbara was far from prepared. From this point on Barbara and Jason would have to rely on past experiences to aid them in figuring out just what exactly this madman wanted and most times it was never good.
First step, and what Barbara thought was the most logical was to not follow the Joker’s instructions and to instead find their own way out. Even if it did end in failure or to a hallway of doom, there was a chance it would be better than standing in front of the Clown Prince himself. She brushed her thick red locks back, looking to Jason who she noticed for the first time absent of his mask and all the defenses that had kept them at a distance for so long.
There was a resemblance in him that reminded her so much of Bruce and she suddenly felt a little more confident knowing that she was in more than capable hands. Jason, despite all his regressions ( is what she wanted to call it ), was still a protégé of the Dark Knight and like those before and after him, he had a greatness in him that was unparalleled to people of his age and circumstances. He too had suffered under the wrath of the Joker, but much like her he had persevered through some miraculous act of faith. If there was anyone that was capable of outsmarting and out besting the Joker it was the two people he had placed under his captivity.
He either had to have something really smart planned, or really dumb to allow hell to linger in his presence.
“He’s baiting us.”
Barbara began, the intensity in her eyes returning as she put her gaze on Jason. She wanted to smack herself for stating the obvious of course.
“I haven’t figured out where we are yet, but from what I’ve gathered we’re underground. Maybe a water treatment facility or a sewage plant.” She continued, rolling over to walls and running her fingers down the slab of damp concrete. “Joker probably holed himself up either in the chemical treatment center or a main office, I’m assuming.” She raised her brow, knowing well that she had to add that last part for good measure, “If anything, he’s arrows may lead us deeper into this facility… I say we keep as far away from them as possible.”
With that said, she looked to Jason, her hands hovering over the rims of her wheels and waiting for any retorts, objections or a silent agreement to allow them to move on their way. TAG: [/color] Red Hood[/right] |
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Post by Red Hood on Nov 11, 2012 2:20:22 GMT -5
Had Jason been alone, the only certainty was that he would've taken the bait. It wasn't something he would've typically done, but he was angry, beaten, fatigued, and held hostage by the Joker. Rationality was not something that he would hold tightly to at the moment. The miraculous twist of fate that partnered him up with the wheelchair bound Barbara Gordon probably saved Jason's life tonight. If she wasn't present, if she weren't bound by her chair, he would've taken off.
But he had a compulsive need to protect his family and remained.
And fortunately, the situation didn't cause her to lose her common sense. It wasn't until she spoke up on the situation did he truly take a look at his surroundings and absorb the information, specifically the green arrows that adorned the hallway.
Yes, the Joker was baiting them, and Jason almost chomped down on the hook. He was probably bothered more by that than anything else at the moment. Instead of voicing his frustration, the former Boy Wonder let out a hesitant, frustrated sigh and looked over at Babs. "The arrows may send us into a trap, but they might also lead to a way out." Babs had the right idea; moving away from where the arrows directed them to would certainly keep them away from the Joker and any sort of traps he may have placed to ensnare them, but he wouldn't put it past the Clown Prince to have done the opposite: have the arrows direct them to a possible escape route knowing full well that they would try to avoid those areas given their circumstances.
Not knowing which way to go was bothering the hell out of him; being unarmed and not knowing where to go was practically making his blood boil. So, before taking off behind Barbara, Jason moved over to the deceased Joker lackey and promptly removed the knife from his neck. The blade would come in handy down the line, even if he didn't use it to kill another person.
"Whichever way we go, we need to be prepared first, and I have a feeling this knife isn't going to cut it." The vigilante paused for a moment before he got an idea and turned back to the chair he was once bound to. He moved over in a single bound and then utilized some quick, albeit destructive maneuvers to pretty much demolish the piece of furniture, making a bunch of debris, a handful of possible shanks, and four makeshift tonfas out of the legs and back rest. They weren't the best weapons, sure, but they were better than nothing.
He handed two over to Barbara. Holding the weapons while moving herself would be kind of difficult, he knew. But if anything, she would make a handy storage device for the time being.
The thought, as distasteful as it was, really didn't bother him at the moment.
"You be the brains and choose the direction we go in. I'll try to make sure we don't get killed along the way." |
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