Rooms

[Phone call to Neil D]

(Thursday evening, from the hotel)

Ring!

[Helena W.]

I need a break from Gotham. Have time to visit with an old, riddled friend?

[Harley Q.]

So, I had a chat with Joker before V-Day.

[Holly R.]

I'm going to worry in your general direction. Sound good?

[Penny R.]
[He finds her name while reading through Wayne business stuff and has never actually heard of her before. After checking to see if she was on the journals:]

There's only one shelter left in Gotham and the clinics are a joke, thanks to the hotel. Feeling overwhelmed yet?

[Graham considered bringing Joy. He really did, for a good half hour or so, but then he decided a new baby half-sister was something Jake needed to be eased into. He didn't want to force anything on the boy. Plus, after their talk, he was half sure that his son was going to be even angrier with him then he had before. The truth wasn't a fix, he didn't think it was. Wouldn't take away the hurt but at the very least, Jake did deserve answers and, maybe, it would help. How, he didn't know, but he held onto a tiny flicker of hope that someday the boy would understand that his father had just tried to do what was best for him. Even if he'd gotten it horribly wrong, he'd tried. Meant well. He thought--hoped--that mattered.

Valentine's Day was coming up real close, and he hadn't forgotten his wish. But he had no faith in the hotel, no belief that this wish would be different than the countless others he'd sent up to a God that wasn't listening; getting Lore back for real seemed like a dream that wasn't ever meant to become anything more. So yeah, he remembered, but he didn't expect a miracle.

The halls of the hotel were quiet, empty, and Graham sat himself down at the bottom of the staircase to wait. Jeans and plaid, warm since Marvel was cold, but the snow didn't extend out here in no man's land.]

[Locked to Hels]
[Because she pays attention to the locks.] Hey. Are you still hanging out in a hallway?

[Locked to Bruce B]
Hello, sir.

[Locked to Harry O]
[Blink. Blink.] Hey. How are you feeling?

[Locked to Sharon C]
Ma'am.

[Public - Some time after this]

Fuck

What day is it? Bruce, I'll be home really quick. Why Bruce Fuck

[At this point the post abruptly cuts off - not scarily - just stops for about five minutes - Once on the other side of the door - really known only to him that he is in the exact same position as he was moments prior. Only this time in the hotel lobby.]

Fuck.

Who: Sam, Louis, Neil, Cris & Micah
What: A trap (that is sure to fail)
Where: The hotel, a hallway
When: Nowish
Warnings/Rating: Language, drugs, Sam.

( No one was thrilled with this plan. )

Who: Daryl and NPC!SeeDs
What: getting out of the Final Fantasy door is not so easy
Where: FF Door -> Hotel
When: now
Warnings/Rating: light language

( Nothing was ever going to make sense again, was it? )

[Meeting with a stranger to go on an adventure was not actually Methos' idea of a good time. He loved traveling and was bored of his version of Earth, true, but he was too suspicious, too much of a survivor, to be considered an extrovert. He was easy going and friendly enough to blend in, but he didn't like putting himself at risk. However, Gotham seemed to be a relatively safe door for an immortal--no guillotines and all--and despite appearances, he was armed well enough to protect himself. He didn't look like much. A little too tall and lanky, with a big nose, and a trenchcoat and oversized sweater that all made him merrily average.

The sword, the dagger, and the gun were all very well hidden in his coat.

He leaned against the door into Gotham, shoulders hunched slightly, as he worked over in his mind the more difficult problem of his name. He was starting a new life, and all immortals knew how to reinvent themselves. Adam Pierson was done. Too much baggage with Pierson now. He tried Benjamin Adams on the journal and thought he'd see how that worked out. It'd been almost two hundred years since he'd used it. Benjamin was an all right name.

He really just hoped nobody would call him Benny. Benny. No, he was really not a Benny.]

Who: John and Helena
What: an intended trip to Japan
Where: hotel -> DC?
When: after the invite
Warnings/Rating: I think there will be violence and fire, just guessing. I know there'll be warnings, but not sure what.

( John had no idea what he was walking into. )

[Call to Shane A]
[From the hotel lobby. Morning after Thanksgiving. She's sick and drunk from a Gatsby party that didn't go real well, and she considers calling Graham first, then Dick. In the end, she dials Shane. Ring.]

Who: Russ C
What: Thanksgiving ~celebrations
When: Thursday day/evening

( He spent Thanksgiving in the lobby of the hotel )

[The hotel was quiet when he stepped through, empty and silent, but he supposed he preferred it that way. No one to bump into, no one that might ask questions that he couldn't/wouldn't answer. People around here seemed to have a hard time taking 'no' for an answer as of late, and he just didn't have the energy to deal with that.

He was dressed simply in a dark suit, hair slicked back, wings carefully concealed beneath the well-cut suit. He had no idea what Betty looked like when she wasn't at one of the parties, so he parked himself against a wall just down the hall from the Marvel door and he waited.]

[The memories weren't pleasant, but if Martha were getting a deeper friendship out of it, maybe it wasn't so bad overall. The anonymity of the event maybe had helped her even be more open, not that Martha generally needed a lot of help in that area. She tried to keep her demons to herself, a lot of her hopes and dreams, too, that fervent desire to do everything...but she wasn't shy and she was always genuinely curious about other people. The Hotel simply nudged certain topics of conversation that might not have come up otherwise.

[But dressed in her jeans and blazer, Martha didn't look at all dressed up like she had the other night. She felt more like herself overall, and was all too happy to find her way out of her home and back into the hotel, which also didn't look like it had been the other night. It looked like it looked when she had met Tesla. How did it do that?

[Without a clue where Jane's door was, Martha headed into the lobby to wait there, taking notes while she waited. As long as she was there, she might as well write down the observations about the doors and how they looked now. There had to be some pattern.]

Who: Jane Shepard & Garrus Vakarian
Where: Lobby, The Hotel
When: Now
What: Jane finally finds the hotel and meets up with someone she thought she'd never seen again.
Rating: Low for now

( Even if they did build the Crucible again, and sooner too, the choice was going to be the same. )

[A lot of Jack's time on the journals was spent trying not to pry, glancing over posts and comments without giving them a lot of attention. One couldn't be on them though, without noticing a few things. The two largest doors were Marvel and DC, the latter being the one that Eddie was in. He'd heard a lot about Gotham from the man with the tattoos who loved his Stephanie and his city, but he'd also learned that Gotham wasn't for him. The door was more than that particular city though, and he ventured in to simply explore, see if he felt anything that said he should stay.

No parts called out to him and the only thing that stuck firmly in his mind was what Eddie had to say: that he could make a lot of money there. It wasn't an interest, but with it came the implication that there were a lot of people there that needed help he could provide. And that was enough of a reason to venture into the door, but not enough to stay.

Not yet. There was one other door that he wanted to check. There was no guarantee that he would feel any more at place in Marvel than he did in DC, but he wanted to at least see what the other door looked like. A quick stop to give Spot a scratch behind the ears and they were off again, the bright green nylon leash loose between them. His loafers, bought in Las Vegas and worn since, were quiet on the carpeting, but there was an accompanying rasp from his jeans as he walked.]

Who: Martha Jones and open
What: wandering the hotel
Where: hotel!
When: now!
Warnings/Rating: not yet!

( Never do tomorrow what you can do today, because you never know how much time you got. )

Who: Logan and Rogue
What: exploring the mysterious hotel
Where: Lobby, Passages Hotel
When: ...now?
Warnings/Rating: nothing now, just general Logan gruffness, but perhaps future reference of torture/experimentation(?)

( A key and a journal )

[The hotel hallway was real musty, and it looked like no one had bothered dusting in years. It made Clem think of her momma fussing at the maids, which was familiar in a way that was plenty soothing. The place wasn't much to look at, true enough, but there wasn't a door keeping her trapped in, and that was plenty. She'd tried to be real calm throughout things in Gotham, and she'd managed some at first. She kept it quiet, the panic that went bubbling when she and Amelia tried to get through the streets to the hospital, because it had first reminded her of zombies then. Folks all over, dying for no reason, and the whole world dark as night. No food, barely a lick of water, and the people that came into the ER were covered more and more with gore every damn day.

But she'd tried keeping it quiet. She'd known Graham was off working, and Shane was off doing something or another, and there wasn't any point in screaming in that antiseptic building where everyone was screaming. But that morning, some man had taken out another man's eye with a knife, and Clem was done for. Medicine had felt like some thrill when she was in Georgia, but now it was just the kind of thrilling she didn't want a thing to do with. If she never saw bleeding again, it would be too soon.

She was sitting outside the DC door, just like she'd said, white hospital scrubs splattered in blood, her hair pulled back and there hadn't been any washing it for a week.]

Who: Neil and Sam
What: Catching up.
Where: The hotel.
When: Recently but before Typhoid Becky.
Warnings/Rating: Nah.

( 'Who cares if it makes sense, yeah? Your life was totes defined by what your old man wanted like forever. You're allowed to try shit out now and see what you like, baby. Don't stick yourself in an office right away if you don't want it.' )

[Bruce knew this was a bad idea. He knew; he just didn't care.

Selina was dying. He could live in denial, he could tell himself pretty lies over and over, but neither would change the truth. Steve said the cure would be found in time but how did he know? It had already been too long. Days and days, and she didn't have any dances left. How could he stay in Gotham? How? He'd left her to die once before. No, twice. During the plague, when the only thing that saved her was an abomination: the Pit. During Watchtower, when he'd gambled with her life and won through sheer chance. He couldn't do it a third time. He couldn't do it again. All the reasons why he should stay out of the Marvel door paled in comparison to the alternative. If she died and he wasn't there, if he never had a chance to say the things he should have... maybe she was right, maybe he'd gone soft in his old age, but he couldn't fathom such a possibility. He couldn't do it. Maybe, somewhere along the line, Luke had rubbed off on him, too. Or maybe it was days and days of worrying, of minimal sleep, and now Crane was dead and she was dying and he couldn't stay here. He had to go. Consequences be damned, and he didn't tell anyone. They would try to talk him out of it, he knew, and he couldn't let himself be swayed. If he didn't think about it, didn't think about getting sick or being stuck or Ra's finding out he was gone, then he could do it, and he'd deal with the repercussions later.

And if Steve was right, if it was almost over, what would it matter? Selina needed him. Gotham could wait a day or two. He'd put the city first so many times, who could fault him one tiny moment of selfishness?

The door was guarded. Yes, he'd ensured that. He didn't know whose shift it was. He didn't care. Clark or Diana or Hal, even Eddie, he'd get past them somehow. Bruce refused to let himself be stopped. He wore a modified version of the Batsuit, less bulk, full cowl pulled back; it was a modified sort of gas mask, built in, and maybe it wouldn't help but maybe it would. Precautions, see? Bruce hadn't entirely lost his mind.

As he approached, he saw it was Eddie who stood between him and Selina. He regretted that it was him, and he didn't want to hurt his friend. He didn't. But he needed to get into Marvel and he had no time to make the other man understand. A few feet between them, and he stopped.]

Eddie. I need to get in.