InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "seven days..."

The Joker (dogchasingcars) wrote in utr_logs,
@ 2008-08-03 22:36:00

Entry tags:

belladonna rogan, carrie kelley, dick grayson, remy lebeau, the joker

Who: The Joker and Remy
What: Sacrificial lamb collection day.
When: Monday at one
Where: A busy street in New York

The snipers did their job and they did it well.

God knew how they saw through those rubber masks, but their aim was true. Two bullets went through the head and chest of a man driving down a busy street in downtown New York. His car careened into another, slamming the second vehicle into a light post. Other cars began swerving to avoid the crash, and people ran screaming out of the way as cars went up onto sidewalks and flew through crosswalks.

It was at this moment that the men on the ground executed their part in this whole beautifully orchestrated catastrophe. Two of them grabbed Remy from behind and dragged him through a short alley to the other side of the block. Then he was tossed into the back of a delivery van that read 'JOHNNY'S BEST CAJUN CONFECTIONS' on the side in faded red letters. The door shut and the van drove off, away from the crash area and deep into the city.

The Joker peeked over his shoulder from where he was sitting in the driver's seat. "Hi there!" he cheerfully called back as the tires squealed and the van careened around a corner at several times the speed limit. "I hope you like the van. I thought it might make you feel a little more at home."

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gambitlebeau
2008-08-03 11:31 pm UTC (link)

A man who had to think on his feet at all times and constantly be aware of everything around him, Remy only got a quick glimpse of what the van said, but he had to huff a chuckle.

At least Joker had a sense of humor. It was probably the last chuckle he'd have for quite a while, and he knew it. He got to his knees, making no moves that were obviously on the offensive, or even subtly on the offensive. "Y'know, rat'er like it. Can't say I like what's comin' next, none." He smiled warmly, however, positively exuding amusement and calm.

Remy fixed his sight on the rearview mirror, to see his entire surroundings, the van's description inside and out, even though, knowing The Joker, they'd just scrap the thing as soon as he got to his destination.
He'd tested his theory on the healing factor a few hours before, running a sharp blade down his shoulder. It was slower than usual, but there, and under his skin, he implanted the tracking device. The signal was guaranteed untraceable by his associates, and although it was faint and wouldn't hold up much more than three days, it was his ticket out if he couldn't slip out of Joker's hands before then. Gambit was wearing what he generally wore in his times of heroism, a thick brown leather duster with several dozen pockets. Most of them were empty save for a deck of cards and a tin of cigarettes. He didn't bring his staff along with, it was far too valuable and irreplaceable to get lost in this sort of thing. Under the jacket was a bulletproof armor suit, which covered most of his body, including a cowl which let his hair and face show.
Good ol' hero, just playing the part.

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dogchasingcars
2008-08-04 03:31 pm UTC (link)

"Glad to hear it." The Joker waved a hand and the thugs began silently patting Remy down, searching for weapons of any sort. In doing so, they took the playing cards in his pocket. It was impossible to know if they'd been warned in advance of his talents or if they just felt like robbing him for what little he had. One of the men took the cigarettes in his other pocket, lighting up and smoking right through the mask he was wearing. There were four of them in the back with him, bracing themselves against the walls and kneeling on the floor beside unmarked crates that blocked the back doors. Aside from the windshield the van was windowless and dim.

The Joker spun the wheel in another direction. The man who'd been smoking dropped the lit cigarette on his exposed wrist and hissed in pain. The Joker glanced at the rear view mirror, realized what had happened, and giggled to himself, spinning the wheel again. Two of the men lost their footing and rolled into one another, slamming against the van's side.

This was fun. "It's like an amusement park ride!" he squealed, the makeup around his mouth making his grin a garish gash of delight in the mirror. "So, Mr. Gambit, down to business. You've offered yourself up--good for you! Well, good for your family and friends. Maybe not so good for you. But I'm sure they all warned you. We're not so well-acquainted yet, but I can 100 percent guarantee that by the end of the next few days, we're going to know each other intimately."

The van swung around another corner, then continued to turn as it burst through the open gates of a chain link fence. The van began to slow, finally rolling to a stop a few feet inside a dingy warehouse in an even dingier part of town.

The Joker climbed out, gesturing to his men again. They threw the doors open, dragging Remy outside.

The door to the warehouse slammed down and the lights began to flicker on. It was clear that the place had been unused until recently. A door a few feet away led deeper into the building, away from the garage. That was where the Joker headed with Remy towed behind him by henchmen, into a narrow hallway that had probably once led to offices and workmen's lounges. The Joker talked as he walked.

"This is the real reason I got into this business," he declared, his purple tailcoat flapping at his ankles. "The...ritzy accommodations. The guest room's not this nice, though. Sorry, we didn't really have enough time to clean up. You announced you were coming over so suddenly!"

He began to giggle again, eternally amused at his own sense of humor. He'd not yet faced Remy or really looked him over through this whole thing, but he had time. Lots and lots, if he could help it.

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gambitlebeau
2008-08-04 04:20 pm UTC (link)

While the henchmen tumbled and tossed, Remy was able to keep his balance. It was like watching a cat -- constantly staying upright even when the rest of the world around him seemed to want to do otherwise. He fixed his gaze on the back of The Joker's head, "Never been one for t'rides, more like t'games of skill an' chance." Remy pointed out, before business was brought up and he listened. "Oui, got a feelin' we gunna find out all sorts of t'ings 'bout each ot'er." He didn't mind losing his cards, they weren't more than a pack he'd picked up at a corner store, and certainly not the weighted, metal edged cards he usually threw. The cigarettes, however, made him rather unhappy. He picked up one of the lit smokes that had been dropped during the toss, and took a drag of it, smirking over the filter before it being snagged away and his hands restrained. That almost made him pout.

Once out of the van, he was just fine by being led, though he looked rather uninterested in the henchmen. In fact, by his expression, it was a wonder if they had their hands on him at all. He looked supremely comfortable in custody. As The Joker spoke, he listened. "Well, s'nice of you t'make t'effort of cleanin' up. Guest rooms usually come las' in Gambit's book, too." He smirked, never prying his main attention away from The Joker (And the back of his head), though he was watching the area around them just as intently from his peripheral vision.

"Migh' suggest a better hair gel, mon ami, stuff you usin' is way too heavy f'your hair. Try mousse."

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dogchasingcars
2008-08-04 11:22 pm UTC (link)

The Joker finally turned around to face him, stepping lightly backwards, his back slightly hunched. He beamed at him. "I like it just fine," he said, running a gloved hand through the greasy greenish strands. "I may not win any beauty contests, but at least I've got my dignity."

He walked through the door at the end of the hall, kicking it open with his heel and spinning around to face forward. "Welcome to my humble abode."

As they exited he hallway, they were left standing on a catwalk over the warehouse floor. It was grimy and lit solely by flourescent lights. Various piles of crates were stacked against the walls, and there were several thugs sitting on the catwalk by the entrance as watch. There didn't appear to be any other way in or out of the building. The whole place smelled of mildew and other things that grew in the damp.

The Joker traipsed down the metal stairs, his shoes clicking as he went. He cut around piles of crates until he reached a room all the way at the back. It had probably been the foreman's office in the old days of the factory. Now it was The Joker's makeshift workspace.

He had the thugs drag Remy in ahead of him, securing him to a chair in the middle of the room. Windows looked out onto the warehouse floor, though much of the view was obscured by boxes. Still, he had a clear view of the catwalk, and therefor anyone who entered the building.

The henchmen finished tying Remy to the chair, then left the room without a word, shutting the door behind.

The Joker removed his coat, whirling it around to rest on the back of a a chair of his own. There were no visible toture devices in the room--no cliched hospital tray of the tools of his trade. It was just him, the chairs, and Remy.

He sat down backwards, resting his chin on his hands on the back of the chair.

"So. You want to tell me why you volunteered for this gig?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "What, did everyone else feel like staying alive was more important than a half-hearted gesture to save friends and family?

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gambitlebeau
2008-08-04 11:39 pm UTC (link)

Remy tested the binds in an almost bored fashion, noting that they were not only well tied, but that the rope and fishing line was likely going to be a bastard to pull out of. He stayed there and smiled warmly at Joker, looking over the man's face, but then focused on his eyes, and his eyes alone.

"Actually, Rat'er not t'ink t'at Gambit values his family more t'an ot'ers. Jus' figure t'at t'ey all deserve to be left 'lone, s'all." He drawled, his expression going coolly to one of interest. "You dun seem too far off from jus' needin' company, anyhow. Figure someone who likes to talk might do you some good, 'stead of an old, quiet bat, neh? Figure you got a lot on t'at mind of yours, oui? Probably good fo' you to get it off yo' chest. How you likin' t'is world, homme? You findin' everyt'in' alright? No trouble wit' t'law so far, gunna guess you was t'one who phoned y'self in to police"

He slowly raised a brow, tilting his head to one side, "How's t'ol Joker doin' in t'world?"

If there was one thing Remy had ever actually learned about Joker was that he absolutely loved to talk. In fact, that was the one thing that he was upset Batman rarely did. Monosyllabic answers to questions, three syllable statements and demands. How droll.

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dogchasingcars
2008-08-04 11:48 pm UTC (link)

"My old quiet Bat friend hasn't been talking to me much anyway," he said, smiling, a benign, 'what can you do?' expression on his face. It was insane, of course, like most things The Joker did--the premise of them having a calm conversation while Remy was tied to a chair.

"I did indeed," he said, his smile widening. "We've got a smart one, here! And I've found everything just fine. Thanks so much for asking." He sat up, touching his heart with a hand. "Your kindness...it just gets me here," he said, nearly swooning with gratitude. "All I ever needed was a helping hand. A kind word. You know, people like me aren't born. We're made. Made by society."

He dropped the act and cackled. "But I expect you know more about the...the injustices of society than most people." He pulled a card from his pocket--a Joker card--and held it in front of his face. "Now, from what people tell me...and, I mean, this could just be hearsay but from what I hear your kind isn't too well-liked, where you're from. Kinda like this throwaway card we were discussing. When somebody gets dealt it, they just want it"--he tossed the card with two fingers--"off their hands."

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gambitlebeau
2008-08-04 11:57 pm UTC (link)

Remy's act also dropped and he continued looking straight into the Joker's eyes, even though the calm, assured smile turned deadly serious. "Oui, but you dun know the half of it. People like us? T'at how you see it? We in our own hands, fate isn't handed to us, it's all luck of t'draw. You make y'self, homme, an' place t'shame an' blame on ot'ers. Jus' like t'people who rat'er be rid of people like us." He smirked then, a feral, cold sort of thing. "An' puttin' to light bein' a mutant ain't gunna make me twitch none. Been bored wit' t'at topic f'years now, mon ami."

He shrugged one shoulder and leaned back more comfortably in his chair, still eying the other man. "How 'bout you get down to brass tacks, homme, ask me 'bout somet'in' more personal t'en bein' a mutant. You been praised as a man of torture, but I didn't t'ink t'ey meant borin' people to death."

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dogchasingcars
2008-08-05 12:09 am UTC (link)

The Joker nodded, weighing his response. He pulled back a little and reached into his pocket.

"I like freaks," he said, pulling a small, black, oblong object out of his pants pocket. "I mean that. I do. I like people who go beyond the ordinary. That's why The Bat, he and I, you see, we get along so well. We've just got so much in common."

He flicked the small blade out of the knife, revealing the little black object's true identity. He held it over his eye, peering at him through the little hole near the hilt. That black on black-rimmed eye staring our from the center of a knife was a weird and grisly sight. "So don't get me wrong. I don't hold it against you--on the contrary, I think it's kind of...nice." He smiled, levering the knife at him as he stood from his chair.

"Now, I've got no intention of making you sleepy, so...let's try it your way. Here's your brass tacks."

He plunged the knife into Remy's shoulder in such a cavalier way that it seemed unreal. He did it a few more times, leaving bloody gashes in his shoulder. He then began the process of unbuttoning his shirt, glancing over at the seeping wounds to see if the rumors he'd heard were true. He gestured with the knife.

"Ya see? Brass tacks. Or...copper tacks. Because blood. You know. It tastes like..." He licked the knife. "Yeah. Like copper."

He smiled.

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gambitlebeau
2008-08-05 12:22 am UTC (link)

Remy let out a grunt and growl of pain at the first stab, and bit back more by holding his breath for the subsequent stabs, brow furrowed and eyes slamming shut. He shook his head to clear his mind from the pain as the wounds started to close slowly. "Wouldn't do t'at," Gambit hissed through his teeth, taking in a deep breath, "you might catch somet'in'." He heaved a chuckle through the pain, brow knit in concentration as he felt the wounds heal fully, "Y'know. 'Cuz I sleep 'round. Little joke, t'at. But really, t'at's fuckin' unhygienic, homme."

He looked down at his shoulder, brow raised at the blood that looked like it had seemingly seeped from nowhere. Goddamn, that hurt. He wasn't used to pain of that caliber, and in hindsight, he thought maybe he should have prepared himself more thoroughly. He wasn't sure how far The Joker was going to take things, but most of what this man could conceivably dish out, he'd dealt with before. He also thought of how much of a bitch it'd be to patch up his coat. Well, better the coat then his muscle tissue, he figured.

	petitmort 2008-08-06 01:11 am UTC (link)
	Belle shook her head. No chance in hell. She swept him up in her bubble, and flew them both out. Out was the most important direction at the moment. Where would come later. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)