WHO: Cathy Hyatt, Jaenelle Angelline, the Joker, Lindsey McDonald, Remy "Thirteen" Hadley WHAT: Welcome versus Unwelcome WHERE: the Los Angeles Welcoming Center WHEN: early evening RATING: HIGH for VIOLENCE STATUS: log ; COMPLETE
The Los Angeles Welcoming Center. He'd been curious about it for a while now. Ever since he had first seen mention of it. And been warned away from setting foot inside.
Really, would these people ever learn?
There were those who would claim that the Joker had no plans. Never plans. He would be inclined to agree, if he were honest (which he was... when the mood struck). There was little room for plans, for schemes in his views of the world. Those kinds of things required control, and there was no control in anarchy. Just the illusions of control.
But without plans... someone could be observant. And being observant could sometimes give the illusion of a plan.
Though really, it was far more entertaining when there was nothing to go by. No plans, no schemes, no rules. That left far more possibilities open. A few basic precautions, and you could have the time of your life.
Basic precautions. Like shooting the one person who controlled the defenses of the Los Angeles Welcoming Center in the back of the throat the moment the Joker crossed the threshold of the building.
The discussion with Jaenelle was unlike any talk Thirteen had ever had before. The young woman - still a teenager, honestly - had a finer understanding of the human body than anyone she had ever known. Except for House. And that was really where the line was drawn. Because where Jaenelle understood all about the body and how it was supposed to run and work and be tended and cared for, her knowledge of diseases, viruses, and ailments was rudimentary. She didn't know any of the medications Thirteen had referenced, but she could name at least a dozen herbal remedies that the doctor had never even heard of to every one of Thirteen's chemical remedies.
Given Jaenelle's pleasant nature, House would have written her off as a quack and likely tried to open up her skull to see what was wrong with her brain. Because anyone this kind had to have something wrong with their brain.
Kutner had hated how often House had been right about that. Thirteen privately had agreed it was the more likely human condition. Now this girl was blowing that all away.
The crash of the gun was a far, far distant second to the shock of being splashed with Jaenelle's blood. Thirteen was shock-still for a heartbeat, and another, and then she was tearing around the desk to where the girl had fallen, sapphire eyes glazing over and slipping closed. At the same time, the dark jewel in the necklace she always wore flashed with an internal light.
Ignoring the man in the doorway, who was aiming the gun in his hand lazily, Thirteen pressed her hand against Jaenelle's throat where the blood was pulsing in tune with the girl's heartbeat, and pressed as hard as she could manage, hand angled to keep from crushing the windpipe.
When she looked up to scream for help, the words died in her throat, and she wondered briefly if she'd officially gone insane this time. The painted face with a gleeful smile was holding a large gun in one limp wrist, watching her.
"Excuse me," the clown said, suppressing laughter. "Can I get a little welcome here?"
The last of the spreadsheets were printed and hung on the wall of the room that had somehow ended up an 'employees' lounge of sorts. At the time, it had seemed as if technology troubles would be the most of Cathy's worries--and she would have been grateful, had she only known.
While several rooms had been completed and were merely awaiting residents, she liked to take the quieter days to get ahead of the game. And thus, Lindsey's help had been requested for the physical labor that was moving furniture this way and that, until she found a medium that worked. She had just opened her mouth yet again to suggest another maneuver (having a particularly difficult time fitting a dresser into one bedroom in particular) when the commotion started downstairs.
At first, it hadn't registered that the sound had actually been a gunshot. It seemed too out-of-place, an impossibility. A split-second later and she was diving for the door, climbing over the corner of the bed and all but sprinting to get to the lobby. The stairs were tackled most ungracefully, her eyes immediately drawn to Jaenelle, stomach twisting and heart stopping at the sight of the blood. The painted man holding the gun came next.
She was frozen in the doorframe, body locked in a way that made it impossible to clear the remaining distance. Her hands rose in front of her, palms facing the clown, fingers tense and spread. A defensive position. It took time until she was able to speak, and even then she was at a loss for words, certain that she was about to die. Again.
"What do you want?" Her tone was compliant already, willing to give him anything he so desired. She didn't have much by way of money, but what little she had to her name was his. There had to be some answer to this, something she could do to prevent someone else from getting hurt. Thankfully, what few boarders she had were out of the building...and hopefully, would not return any time soon. The faster they could reach a resolution--and this was the best case scenario--the quicker Jaenelle could get help. Because she wasn't--...she couldn't be--...dead.
When Cathy had asked him to help her move furniture and given him that smile, Lindsey had agreed. Now stuck between the wall and the dresser while she pondered the next best move to fit it in to the bedroom, he wondered if there was any way he could get himself excused. While he awaited her orders, he slumped against the wall, arms crossed on top of the dresser as he took a breather. "You know, maybe we should just sw-"
The sharp crack from downstairs made him forget the rest of what he was about to suggest, his breath catching sharply in his throat. Then Cathy was running and he was calling her name, telling her to stop as he struggled to get unpinned from his current position. Swearing, he finally slid loose and lunged over the bed, taking the corner out of the room so sharply he almost lost his footing.
He almost ran into Cathy in her stopped position in the doorway. It took Lindsey a moment to evaluate the situation, from Jaenelle on the ground bleeding to the in-house doctor beside her to the clown with the gun. His attention drawn to the threat, his reaction stepping protectively in front of Cathy even as she spoke to the assailant. There was already one person down and the best scenario now was to find out what he wanted and work something out.
If they could.
Something had changed. The Joker couldn't see it, but the feeling was there, like an itch. It had happened when the girl had fallen, maybe just before. He smiled, grinning at the couple that had just arrived, eyes lingering on the woman extra-long since that defensive move meant it would probably irritate the man more. Without breaking eye contact, he swung the gun behind him and fired at the door, squeezing off three rounds in succession.
The door was open behind him, but the bullets never made it anywhere. A few inches beyond the threshold, they struck a shield, invisible until impact, where it flashed black. Not just black, but Black, the color of the Jewels Jaenelle wore. When the flare of magic faded, the bullets remained, lodged firmly in the shield surrounding the building.
"Now," the Joker said, letting his arm down so the gun hung by his side. "Since we're all going to be here until... little missy there" he gestured at Jaenelle "dies or wakes up. One or the other. So!" He skipped over to the desk, ignoring Thirteen and nearly kicking Jaenelle in the process. "Why don't we all get to know one another?"
Thirteen was holding onto Jaenelle with everything she had. The pulse beating under her fingers was still strong, but it meant that the blood was still flowing. Her hand was drenched, warm and sticky, but she didn't let up at all. Even if the blood could congeal around her fingers, it could temporarily seal the wound. The girl was young, not out of her teens, and a deep-rooted part of Dr. Hadley was furious and terrified at the thought of the girl being denied the chance to live some more of her life.
Her eyes flickered up to Cathy when the building's owner arrived. "She's alive," was all the doctor managed to say. The words for now were trapped in the back of her throat, afraid to be uttered.
But when the clown flounced past them, uncaring, unconcerned with the welfare of her patient, Thirteen growled under her breath, kicking her leg against the desk and sending it into the Joker's knee. The clown just laughed at the injury. "A little fight in you, huh?"
The gun went off again, and Cathy's hands flew to her ears, the instinctual cry cut off before it reached audibility. Her heart was pounding, body trembling uncontrollably as she tried to keep from panicking. At least, to the point of rendering herself useless. Keeping her cool in trying situations had never been a strength for the woman, let alone in one such as this, when not only her life, but that of the man she loved and two woman she cared for were at stake.
The sight of the entrapped bullets told her everything she needed to know, but she prayed that she was wrong, frantically searching for an escape plan even as the man spoke. She was forced very quickly to recognize that he was right, given what she knew about the shields from what Jaenelle herself had told her. This situation had never been considered, however.
She nodded to Remy in acknowledgment, having assumed that herself already. Taking in a deep breath, she nodded slightly, and it took everything she had to clear her mind and deal with the catastrophe as it unfolded.
Jaenelle needed medical attention. The wound would be a mortal one under any other circumstances, but Cathy was clinging to the hope that her abilities would come to her aid. She knew that the other woman was a Healer, and knew bits and pieces of what that entailed. Jaenelle could heal herself, but first...she needed help. Until then, they were trapped in a very contained space with an armed madman. Cathy wasn't about to contemplate the other option, not when it entailed the death of a young girl for whom she was accountable.
"Leave her alone," she spoke up, the reaction coming only after the man turned his attention on Remy. She edged around Lindsey, keeping her movements slow. "Talk to me."
It might not have been a particularly smart move, but this was her responsibility.
He didn't miss the way the man's gaze had lingered on Cathy. Lindsey's eyes narrowed dangerously, glowering in return. Maybe the odds were tilted in favor of the psycho holding the gun, firing rounds into the invisible security that surrounded the building and serving to set him further on edge. But he wasn't about to just let him dictate what they did either. It was a strange mixture of self-preservation and that still new sensation of feeling the need to protect others at work.
"Never been one for sharing around the circle." When Cathy moved in front of him, still talking to the clown, he resisted the urge to reach out and tug her back behind him. His hand moved barely an inch but he clenched his jaw and forced it back down to his side, clenched in a fist. Somehow he doubted that any of this was going to be solved with a negotiation of terms. And it needed to be solved quick. He wasn't a doctor but the amount of blood the poor girl was bleeding out couldn't have been healthy.
Lindsey stayed where he was, glancing at his surroundings in an effort to find something that could work as a weapon. The desk kick by the doctor had been a nice little knock but he needed something with a little more oomph to it that he could grab quick. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be much around that was easy to spot.
"That's the spirit. We'll go around the room. You can each tell one thing about yourself that no one else here knows." His eyes focused on the man, who was trying to be so defiant. "If you don't play," the gun was lifted lazily and gestured at Cathy. "Bang!"
He looked at Thirteen. "Hello, beautiful. Your turn first."
Thirteen barely acknowledged his words. "You're an asshole," she said. "I'm trying to save her, and all you want is a fucking game? You piece of shit."
Her hand... there was something in it. Something from Jaenelle's throat, now heavy and hard in her hand. Too smooth to be bone. Too strong for cartilage. Red. Blood-covered, then, but--
No, Red. A shard of a Red Jewel. Thirteen started at it for a moment, before hearing the gun click beside her ear.
"The point of the game," came that off-toned, impossibly accented voice. "It to tell something about yourself that the others don't know. We can see you 'trying to save her'" his voice took on a snivelly, whimpering, worrying down, mocking her fear, "but give us something else."
Thirteen looked up at him. "You disgust me."
"Perfect! And now we all know. I digust you. Now, I might say that you haven't seen disgusting yet, but that's not the rules!"
The gunman turned his pained face towards Cathy. "You. Older blonde. Big sister?" He brow furrowed. "Some similarities. How fun. Your turn."
Her stomach twisted with the outward impression that she was Jaenelle's older sister, the question hitting a nerve as she realized that it was exactly how she felt about the younger girl. Cathy had never had a sibling, but she imagined that this was what it would feel like if she were ever on the verge of losing one--the panic, the pain, and the guilt that she couldn't do anything to stop it.
The sight of the blood and the implications that went with it was making her dizzy, so she tried to tear her eyes away from the younger girl and the doctor. Focusing ahead, she put her effort into attempting to clear her mind and think straight, so that they might get out of this alive. All of them. There had to be some way.
Unfortunately, a blank mind was exactly what she got when the gunman's attention was turned on her. Failure to comply would be the end of her, but then again, saying the wrong thing would only give him more ammo. She opened her mouth, shook her head, stuttered--...and faltered. "What do you want?" she pleaded. "I'll say anything to want, just tell me."
The Joker's eyes danced in malichious glee. "That's not the game," he said, as though explaining to a small child. "But if it's how you want to play..." Since the gun was already beside the doctor's head, it didn't take much to shift it slightly, pressing the barrel up behind the doctor's ear.
"Now, I don't know... the capitol of South Dakota. Tell me what it is."
Thirteen shut her eyes. "Tell him something, Cathy. For god's sake, I don't care what you tell him but tell him something!" Under her fingers, she could feel a strained pressure as Jaenelle, still unconscious, was able to take a shallow, but struggling breath.
"Not just anything," the clown cackled. "The capitol of South Dakota. Let's hear it, Cathy."
If it was at all possible, the remaining blood drained from her face. She had joked as a schoolgirl that she would care about geography (or math, or science) if her life ever depended on it...and now, ironically enough, it did. The capital of South Dakota? "I don't--..." she began to whimper, hands cradling her head, fingers pressing into her temples as she tried to remember. The tears were there, beginning to build as Remy spoke up, and she felt sick. None of this made any sense.
"I'm sorry." Her eyes squeezed shut in concentration for the most fleeting of instants. How in the hell did that damn song go again? At last, from out of the blue, she had something. And while Cathy knew full well that her answer was an incorrect one, she had to try.
"It's Bismarck," she lied, convincingly feigning relief. Acting might have been currently put on the back burner, but the skill was inherent, thank God. "Bismarck is the capital of South Dakota."
Close enough.
The Joker smirked. With the ill-fitting paint of his lips, the smile looked evil. Which was probably appropriate. "Now. That wasn't so hard, was it?"
His eyes shifted, as well as the barrel of the gun, the former to Lindsey, the latter settled over Cathy's chest. "Your turn," he said to the lawyer. "This works so much better when you people don't play for your own lives."
Lindsey didn't realize that he'd almost been holding his breath the entire time the aim of the gun shifted, first at Thirteen and then at Cathy when his turn came. A year ago, this would have been so much easier. He wasn't afraid to play fast and hard with his own life, enjoyed it, but there were three other lives on the line, one in mortal danger. Too much to lose for him to take a gamble on playing games, the current sharing game not the kind he was thinking of.
There was a gun in play but once that was gone? Then what? Maybe if he could get closer, take him by surprise? Considering his other options, he figured it was at least worth the attempt. There was something to lose no matter what was done. The man was crazier than a fox in a henhouse and not being able to guess what might or might not set him off, risks had to be taken.
"I don't know. Best kind of gambling chip you can have. It's always on you," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He glanced at Thirteen and Jaenelle on the ground, weighing his options for the hostage game of Truth or Dare with Dare not an option. Then his gaze shifted to Cathy briefly before looking back to the Joker. Fortunately, not being one to share too much into his personal life, he had a lot of good material to choose from. For the purpose of the attempt, the more outlandish, the better.
"I was in Hell." A tiny smirk appeared. "Do I win the prize?"
Thirteen had ignored the rest of the conversation, once the gun had been moved away from her. Instead, she was entirely focused on Jaenelle. Jaenelle, and the sliver of a Jewel-capital-J in her fingers. A Jewel that was not ruby or garnet or any stone that Remy 'Thirteen' Hadley could describe as anything other than Red (capital-R).
A mind, close by. Fingers touching the Jewel keyed to the healing web. Activating the psychic web woven into it. Whispering instructions into that mind. Focus. Just focus.
For a moment, the Joker simply looked at him. And then the painted clown began to laugh. "Ooooh, that's a good one," he said. The gun waggled like a finger, pointing at Lindsey as though to say 'shame, shame, shame'.
"Hell. That'd be something." He laughed again, amused by his own words, and then his attention refocused. Gun now pointed at Lindsey, the Joker turned his attention to the bleeding girl on the floor. "Your turn, blondie," he said, giving Jaenelle a prod in the side with his foot, that would have been a kick if he'd had the reach for it.
If Lindsey had been watching Cathy closely enough, he might have noticed the barest of flickers that passed over her face. Her heart ached at his admission, though in light of the bigger picture, she hardly acknowledged it. He had told her his death had been 'peaceful'-- needless to say, Hell had never been in the equation.
Cathy made a lunging motion toward the man as he kicked at Jaenelle, barely managing to restrain herself from actually making contact. Fortunately for the both of him, his foot was out of range from the girl, his body out of range from Cathy. "Leave her alone," she repeated, more forcefully this time as fire sprang into her eyes. If he was going to kill her, he was going to kill her, but allowing him to further torment the teenager while she still had a say about it was not in the plans.
Lindsey shrugged as the Joker wagged the gun, as if to say 'oops', but the smile stuck around as if he was proud of that little fact. The gun was on him now but the owner's attention wasn't entirely on him. When Cathy moved, he shook his head, barely noticeable. He could not, and would not, see any harm come to her again.
With the Joker's attention on Jaenelle, demanding an answer that the poor girl couldn't give at the moment, that was sufficient enough distraction for him to try and take advantage of. As soon as he was sure that Cathy was staying where she was and that the gun remained pointed away from Thirteen and Jaenelle, he lunged, aiming to take him down around the waist.
Remy had been distracted by the sudden voice in her mind, and the bit of a Jewel in her fingers, but not enough to miss the way the man was kicking at the unconscious girl. Her temper flared, and she turned to glare at the clown. But then the image before her eyes blurred as Lindsey threw himself forward. She let out a short, strangled cry at the sound of a gunshot, but threw herself over her patient, desperate to protect the girl from any more harm.
The Jewel. Use the Jewel, the voice in her mind continued to whisper, the ancient voice terrifyingly weak to hear.
"I can't do this," Remy Hadley whispered.
You must, whispered back Jaenelle's voice. Focus.
The Joker, still laughing, was knocked aside by the weight of the lawyer crashing into him. The gun fired in his hand, his hand squeezing the grip and trigger in order to keep the pistol in hand. The clown's skull bounced off the tile floor with an audible CRACK!, and still, he laughed. The hand weighted by the gun swung around, trying to strike back at the man atop of him.
He made contact and they hit the ground, the clown still laughing. The sound of the gun firing was too close for comfort and he almost pulled back to make sure he hadn't been hit. Once bitten, twice shy. But as long as there wasn't any pain or numbness, it had to be a miss. The cry behind him didn't go unnoticed and he briefly hoped they weren't down another person but for the moment, his focus was solely on the clown.
A good man might've called for something to tie him up with, hold him until the police got there. But Lindsey considered himself far from a good man and seeing red, wasn't about to hold to the standards of one. Balancing with a hand on the clown's chest, he swung his fist down, knuckles meeting face. "Son of a bitch," he snarled angrily and swung again, the laughter grating even farther on his last nerve. He wanted to keep swinging until it stopped and the quiet came back.
For terrorizing Cathy and Dr. Hadley, for injuring Jaenelle, for violating the sanctity of one of the few established neutral grounds of the city, and for just screwing up his day off.
Unfortunately he was so intent on causing pain that the fact that the gun was still in play escaped him until he saw a flash in his peripheral vision and the caught the waved weapon in the side of the face, throwing off the rhythm and causing a distraction.
The Joker was still laughing. It was a good beating, even if the guy was focused too much on the head. There were other parts of the body that could inflict just as much pain, without making the victim all fuzzy. The pistol-whip to the man's head was a good one, not catching square on the temple, but providing enough of a distraction to let some of the more savage moves through.
The Joker pulled back his own head and snapped it forward, driving his forehead towards the lawyer's face. After that, it was a matter of flailing every limb, each blow wild and savage, with no rhythm to speak of, no pattern to expect. It was pure brutality, the only guidance in that the areas being struck were around the torso, to include ribs, lungs, and kidneys.
The gun was a weight now, not a weapon to be used. Guns were too quick. He wasn't about to shoot this man. No, no, no. That would spoil the game much too quickly.
Cathy was torn as the scene unfolded, it being damn near impossible to watch her fiance in confrontation while at the same time even harder to pry her eyes away. She didn't want him hurt, or worse. She didn't want that for any of them. But first and foremost, it was a distraction, and while there wasn't much she could do for Jaenelle, her mind was racing, trying to come up with something that could help them right now. She didn't keep a gun in the Center, her biggest mistake so far. This kind of situation was supposed to be impossible.
The blunt-based lamp on an end table caught her attention, and she wasted no time in picking it up, doubting her ability to actually use the makeshift weapon the second it was in her hands. She spun back around to the scuffle, very nearly breathing the slightest hint of relief when it seemed that Lindsey--...well, frankly, that Lindsey was winning.
Then the tables turned, and she knew what she had to do.
It was a reflex, more than anything, when she knew there was something she could do besides watch helplessly as the man she loved took a very dangerous beating. She said a prayer for aid as she swung for the blow to the clown's head.
The blindside pistol whipping hurt. It may not have gotten him square on but the butt of a gun wasn't soft. Even so, he was going to wish that had been the worst of it. The momentary distraction cost him, the clown's forehead slamming into his. Stars exploded in Lindsey's vision after contact. His first instinct was to hit back, give him room to recover and attack again.
That didn't happen either. Suddenly he was completely on defense, trying to block the hailstorm of blows that the clown was giving him. There was no rhythm to it that he could pin down, just complete chaos that didn't give him much room to push back. Lindsey fell back, kicking out in a last ditch effort to get a break long enough to regain some measure of control that he'd had before.
One particular blow to the ribs earned a loud grunt as pain spread through his side, momentarily stealing his breath. He shifted to protect himself and as he did, he managed a glimpse of Cathy, the lamp in hand, swinging it down on the Joker, and in one of those very rare moments, prayed for it to strike true.
It was all there, the pattern in her mind even if she couldn't see it. Her fingers were moving, pressing the Jewel into the wound in Jaenelle's throat. The blood on her hands didn't matter. She had to close the pattern. Finish the web. The Red Jewel slid into place, and Thirteen gasped.
Jaenelle's sapphire eyes opened. A Red glow surrounded her for an instant before seeping into her skin. One hand lifted, feebly, but a short burst of Red power flew from her hand, towards the Joker.
The clown had been almost entirely focused on beating up the lawyer. You didn't get this kind of fight every day. The man was practically burger, and still trying to fight.
"Oh ho ho, he he ha ah ha ha hee!" He gibbered at the man, still kicking wildly until a flash of light in his peripheral vision made him turn. The glow slammed into him with the physical force of a feather duster, but the mental force of a lemon wrapped around a gold brick. The Joker's Glasgow smile faltered for just an instant before the lamp shattered against the back of his skull.
He crumpled to the ground, a rag doll in a purple suit, the scarred lips curling into a bright, eerie smile in rest.
Fighting back was futile but he attempted to get in a kick or a block where he could, protecting what was vital from the relentless attack. He wasn't giving in until he was out cold and even that wasn't going to happen until...it just wasn't going to happen. As Lindsey gathered his wits and aching body for a last ditch effort to take the clown down, he was surrounded by a red glow and then the lamp made contact, the sound of the shattering piece music to his ears.
Seconds passed and he stayed propped up on his elbows, staring intently at the clown as he caught his breath, waiting for some movement, a sign that he wasn't completely out. But enough time passed that it looked like he really was down for good. His gaze went to Thirteen and Jaenelle. She was still alive and now they could get Thirteen the assistance she needed to help her. He slowly looked back up at Cathy. Physically, she seemed fine.
Now that the action had slowed, the aches and pains really started to make their presence known. Damn the clown could kick. And hit. But thankfully, the consistency of getting his ass kicked at least gave him the endurance to bear more. "Call the police," he managed to get out, deciding to forego passing out for making sure the girls stayed safe. When did I become that kind of a person? "And rope."
Oblivious to what was happening with Remy and Jaenelle, Cathy was on her knees beside Lindsey the moment she was certain that the gunman was truly unconscious. Unconscious, she told herself, not dead. She hadn't just killed a man. Had she? And if she had...it was self-defense. Entirely self-defense, and the defense of those she loved. Unable to face that internal conflict just yet, she shook her head, pushing the thought away. "I can't call the police," she thought aloud, tone still hysterical as her gaze went to the door. The bullets were still lodged in the "protective" magical shield surrounding the building. She spoke quickly, stumbling over her words as she examined him gently, trying to determine just how badly he needed medical attention after the beating he took. "Nobody can get in. We can't get out. It's the--..."
She trailed off, fretfully taking him in and then turning back to Remy and Jaenelle, torn. "Try not to move," she demanded of Lindsey, knowing that he wasn't likely to listen anyway. Wide blue eyes flew to Thirteen's, desperate as she bounded back to her feet and went for the desk, rummaging through the top drawer distractedly, hands shaking.
"Is there anything we can do for her?" she asked as she moved, indicating Jaenelle. A frustrated sigh escaped her when she found nothing useful, and the drawer slammed as she moved on to the second. And there it was. Duct tape. The last thing she wanted to do was touch the man, but there was no time for any sort of hesitation as she lifted his wrists, bounding him both there and at the ankles, using much more of the tape than should have been absolutely necessary. A strip went over his closed eyes, for good measure.
Remy seemed a bit drained herself, and wondered what it was Jaenelle had done. "She's bleeding out, badly. If I can't get my suture kit, she'll be..." Then she faltered. Jaenelle's blood was trickling, clotting. Remy blinked. She looked back at the Red Jewel, and gasped, seeing the threads of magic that had turned into a web, surrounding the wound completely. Moreso, Jaenelle's eyes were open and, for lack of a better word, terrifying. The dark sapphire eyes seemed more otherworldly than they ever did before, and Remy found herself drawing back ever so slightly.
Witch sat up as the other woman moved back, her ancient sapphire gaze settled on the inert body of the Joker. She was pale, far too pale, and her silk shirt was splashed with blood, but she seemed more alive than ever before. Alive, behind this mask of flesh and bone and humanity that seemed so frail and weak.
"Tape his mouth," Witch said, eyes not moving to Cathy, though that was to whom the command was meant. "I shall not tolerate to hear his words or his laughter again."
Those ancient eyes closed, and when they opened again, it was just Jaenelle, eyes anxious, and she looked towards the doorway. "Shields." Her voice was raspy, strained. Witch's words had been clear. "The shields are up." She wiped a hand across the Black Jewel at her throat, her Birthright Jewel, and the shield vanished, the bullets dropping to the ground in three sharp tinks.
Thirteen was still looking somewhat stunned, but Jaenelle looked at her and nodded. "I'll be fine," she said, trying to get to her feet. "Let's go help him." A nod of her chin indicated Lindsey. She knew she could heal him. With Dr. Hadley, it would be a breeze.
When Remy stopped talking, Cathy's gaze snapped to her, brow furrowed in deep concern. The gasp that escaped the doctor set her on edge, but it wasn't until her gaze fell on Jaenelle that she froze again, watching half-horrified, half-mesmerized. She couldn't explain what was happening if her life depended on it, nor could she determine whether or not the...woman in Jaenelle's body was friend or foe. Until she spoke.
She didn't need to be told twice, complying with a strip of duct tape over the man's mouth. When she looked back again, it was with the utmost of relief--the unadulterated kind that brought tears to a person's eyes--that she took in Jaenelle. It only spread when she lifted the shields.
"Don't move!" she chastised Jaenelle as she watched her try to stand, the 'big sister' in her taking over despite what she had seen only moments before. "You just--...I thought you--..." Stammering, she shook her head, cutting herself off. "I'll take Lindsey to the Emergency Room. Remy, can you--....make sure Jaenelle's--?" 'Okay' didn't seem the proper word, considering what the girl had just been through.
Truth be told, Cathy was in no frame of mind to be giving orders, but a few things needed to happen. Only moments before, the matter of Jaenelle's health had been the most imminent, though that had changed. It was obvious that the girl was still weak--she could hear it in her voice, if nothing else--and needed rest. Remy, though undoubtedly shaken, seemed physically able. It was Lindsey that needed medical attention, now. And...
"We need to do something about him," she said bitterly, pointing to the man on the ground. Her gaze sought out Remy again. "Can you call the police?"
Despite what had been happening around him, Lindsey maintained an eerie if somewhat pained calm. As far as he was concerned, he'd taken enough beatings in his life, up to this point, that as long as he hadn't severely ruptured some vital organ, Jaenelle was by far the one who needed the most immediate care. As Cathy started duct taping the Joker up, going above and beyond what she needed to use, he resisted the urge to laugh (made harder when she actually put duct tape across his eyes) and eased his attention back towards Remy and Jaenelle.
"Wh-" She'd been shot in the throat, right? At least, that was what Lindsey had remembered seeing the aftermath of when he'd come crashing into the room right behind Cathy. He watched, curious and wary, as Jaenelle sat up. He stayed silent and still, watching with curiosity and respect. He'd known the woman was powerful, but he'd never realized how powerful. Slowly, things seemed to be righting themselves. Jaenelle still looked weak but she was up and talking, when it didn't look possible moments ago. The shields were back up, the clown was tied up.
Hearing his name and emergency room mentioned in the same sentence, he balked. "No," he protested, shifting to fully sit up. His body protested the movement and by the time he was sitting upright, he was regretting even deciding to move. The room tilted slightly and he felt like he'd been kicked in the chest. By a clydesdale. He still managed to give the three women a look. "Give me a few minutes and I'll be fine. There's more important things to deal with. We see to it that the clown gets taken where he needs to be." He glared darkly at the Joker. "Before I kill him."
Remy was stuck gaping at Jaenelle for several moments, until Cathy's sharp command for the girl not to move brought her out of the momentary shock. A step took her immediately to Jaenelle's side, and she examined the bit of magic working at the girl's throat with a doctor's eye. It was containing the wound, holding in the blood flow, but there was no way for her to replace what had already been lost. Which was a lot. It would take time for the wound to close completely, and though Remy suspected there was a significant amount of power available to Jaenelle, she didn't know how the web needed to be sustained.
So, as a doctor, she gave her patient a few instructions.
"Stay. Right there. You don't get up unless someone's helping you." Before Jaenelle could protest, Remy was turning away, fueled by Cathy's initial stance to take charge, and asserting her own as the medical professional on hand. "And you," she said, directing her gaze at Lindsey, "will sit your ass down and wait for an ambulance. I'll be the judge of who's fine and who's not, and once you get a medical degree, you can argue."
She wasn't embarrassed by her outburst, but once it was over, Remy seemed to settle down, if not calm. She marched to the desk and picked up the phone, dialing 911. "I need an ambulance and a squad car at the Los Angeles Welcoming Center," she said, giving the address. "Two injured victims, one perpetrator with injuries, we were held hostage until he was overpowered."
After making his protest, Lindsey breezed out on the conversation. Cathy and Remy were stepping up to take charge and they didn't need him butting in. He was more than happy to let them handle it. Instead, he focused on taking stock of what hurt, giving him time to work up the motivation to move more, creating the illusion that it wasn't that bad at all.
But the good doctor was having none of it. His expression fell somewhere between stubborn and kicked puppy. He'd give her one thing though. She had the medical degree and he didn't. But for the moment, the best idea was to sit quietly as ordered and then attempt to talk his way out of it once the ambulance arrived. Jaenelle, even now up and moving, had gotten it worse than he did.
He eased back down. "Yes ma'am. Ass on the floor."
Cathy had opened her mouth to say something along the same lines, but it shut with a somewhat taken-aback expression when Remy beat her to it. She shot her a grateful look, sinking to the ground beside Lindsey, studying him without touching, lest she only hurt him further. He needed to be seen in the hospital, of that she was certain. With the beating he had taken, it wasn't improbable that he had some kind of internal bleeding, or at the very least, a concussion. While she was well-aware that his pride would keep him from accepting the precautionary treatment without a fight, it wasn't worth the chance.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked Jaenelle earnestly, looking for honesty in her response rather than reassurance. Not knowing the inner-workings of the girl's power, it was hard for her to piece together how she managed to heal as she did, or even what the fact that she had done so meant. Her knees were drawn to her chest, a hand pushed tensely through her hair as she waited, doing her best to keep it together until the situation was resolved. A fretful glance between the witch, her husband, and the unconscious gunman may have given her away.
Jaenelle tilted her head slightly, carefully, to look back at Cathy. She had been surprised by the demands both the actress and the doctor had laid out, as Jaenelle was used to having her words obeyed and her methods unquestioned. By most, anyway. She didn't nod, keeping her head still, but there was a touch of a smile on her lips as she replied. "Yes," she answered. "It will take time to heal fully, but thank the Darkness for Doctor Hadley." Her smile flickered to the woman in question. "If not for her..." The way her tone faltered should have been enough evidence of what might have happened. The healing web had been set, but if Thirteen hadn't activated it when she did... Jaenelle was glad that Daemon was not present, and had not yet made contact. She didn't have the strength right now to stop him, and a Black Jeweled Warlord Prince riding high on the killing edge was nothing any of them would have the strength to deal with.
"No hospital for me," she said, but the tone was a plea. "They wouldn't understand, the Craft is working, but if they use their medicines and machines it will break the webs. Please, no hospital. Doctor Hadley can keep watch over me."
Remy, her ear still to the phone, glanced over at Cathy. Jaenelle was right. She could heal herself, and having those professionals like Thirteen had been look at her, they would kill her. Only the cause of death would be written as a fatal gunshot to the throat. Not tampering with healing already in place. Catching Cathy's eye, Remy nodded. Jaenelle would stay here, under her watchful eye. But Lindsey was going to the hospital. Jaenelle didn't have the strength to heal herself and the lawyer, and she would try.
Remy set down the phone, one hand over the receiver. "Cops and ambulance will be here in two minutes. We give that," she indicated the Joker, "to the cops. Ambulance takes Lindsey, our hero, and Jaenelle can stay here for in-home care by me and herself.
Lindsey made a sound of disagreement in his throat, lips twisting in a wry smirk as he looked at the three women around him. "Right," he said, his gaze settling on Thirteen first. "Held it together to attend to a very serious injury in the middle of a hostage situation." He looked over at Jaenelle. "Came back from that very serious injury to provide a timely interruption and worked her magic." His gaze switched to Cathy. "Knocked him over the head with a lamp for the final KO. Seems like there's a couple of those around here."
While it was the truth, any reference to hero and him, no matter how it was used, made him feel uncomfortable and he covered it up by pointing out otherwise. "You girls came through with flying colors. Should be patting yourselves all on the back." He glanced at Jaenelle again. "After you get done resting." Words he knew he should've been taking into consideration himself.
He hesitated for a moment, realizing that he was outnumbered and he was going to have to give in to wishes that he get medical treatment. Until he could figure out how to get out of it. But for the time being...
"Just in case, tell 'em to lay off the pain medication."