|I Moderate (i_moderate) wrote in we_archive,|
@ 2006-07-30 13:47:00
|Entry tags:||harvey dent|
i_prosecute Time to split [OPEN]
Harvey Dent screamed like a skinned cat and leapt out of his hospital bed. The IV stand toppled over and clattered to the floor. Frantically looking around, trying to get his bearings after coming out of his coma, he spotted his relfection in the glass covering a painting on the wall. Bandages covered most of his head and all of his left arm. He hobbled across the room, dragging the IV behind him, and went in for a closer look.
He remembered it all now - the monstrous miscarriage of justice that put Jack back into Arkham instead of the chair, where he belonged. God only knew what Jack might do once he was back in the asylum. He remembered Jack throwing acid in his face, and the sudden resurgence of the traumatic memory caused him to instinctively claw at the bandages covering his face. Pulling them free, he looked at the two faces staring back at him. One side was Handsome Harvey Dent, the dashing district attorney and defender of law. The other side was Big Bad Harv. He recognized the face at once, as if he'd known it all his life - curdled, purple skin, uneven tufts of bleached, white hair, a skeletal sneer, and that wide, staring eye permanently shot through with angry blood.
An orderly burst into the room, responding to the noise. Harvey's head snapped around to look at the young man who choked back a shriek of horror at the twisted visage. Without thinking, Harvey picked up a lamp on a nearby table and hurled it at the orderly. He went down immediately.
Strolling over, Harvey wondered at what he had done. "Sorry, random act of violence," he growled. Apparently he had swallowed a bit of the acid and it had burned part of his vocal chords. Big Bad Harv now had a voice to go with his face. He straddled the man's chest and gathered his collar in both fists. Leaning right into the face of the dazed orderly, he continued, "we oughta kill 'im. Put 'im out of his misery. He's livin' in a world where a man's fate can be decided by the flip of a coin. Only a matter of time until some other random act does him in."
Coming out of his daze, the orderly now began to realize what was happening to him. His eyes were wide with helpless fear. The old Harvey rose to the surface, human compassion taking over. "No," he pleaded, speaking more clearly from another part of his throat. "We can't kill him. He's done nothing wrong!"
"Shut your hole, limp dick," rasped Harvey. "I've been cooped up in that fucking mess for twenty years. I'm gonna have some fun."
"It's not up to us to decide who lives and who dies," Harvey reasoned.
"Fine. You find us a coin, and we'll let that decide."
Harvey reached into the orderly's pocket and found some change. He also found a large silver dollar.
"You son of a bitch," Harvey gurgled at the young man. "This is *my* silver dollar! You stole it while I was in a coma, you thieving, two-faced, sack of--" He wound up to slam his fist into the young man's head, but stopped himself. "It's not up to us! No matter what, it's always fate!"
Harvey calmed down momentarily and looked at the young man. He heard footsteps clattering down the hall - the other nurses would be here in a moment. He flipped the coin into the air.
The nurses arrived to find the orderly lying on the floor, quivering and whimpering, a broken lamp next to his head. The drapes fluttered in the breeze that blew through the open window.
(OOC: Chat with me on AIM - horrickan - if you want to join in here. I'm open to suggestions as to where this can go, but I'd like Harvey to ultimately escape authorities.)