Bonnie and Clyde Complexes

March 07, 2017:

After a dinner date with Bats and Clowns on a rescue mission gone sideways, Catwoman gets toted back to her home by Harley and the bullet removed by Batman… Who executes his right to Batdickery.

Tin Roof Club - Gotham

From the outside the Tin Roof Club resembles a factory, blending with the
rest of this area of East End, at least along the Eastern front, but from
the Tin Roof Club onward small venue's mottle the area, none as drawing as
the neon lights and the velvet rope banisters that wind their way towards
the large double doors.

The entry opens up to a large expanse of floor space, a few stairs leading
down to the main stretch, the tops of them lined with neon tubing, giving
that pale white floor a reflection and openness that casts reflections of
light further outward.

From neon bars to small round lights in the floors ledges and the sides of
booths, the darkness is only split by the careful placement of tubing and
small tinted bulbs in insets.

Spanning to the right is the Diamonds Bar and Lounge area, the back of the
bar behind the lines and rows of stocked bottles is mirrors, from shelf to
ceiling, cut in angles to resemble that of the head of diamonds. Stools rest
before the bar made of glass and mirrors, braced in metal and cushioned in
black and white to keep the look 'clean', what makes this spanse the lounge
is the benches that sprawl the area, circling tables or just in circles
together in comfortable clusters, spreading to the back where a drape covers
for further, yet, restricted access.

Spanning to the left are tables set for gambling and the more rowdy of
those that frequent the place, a great divide from one side to the other
formed by that of the dance floor and the runway of the stage. Where this
side lacks a bar lined with stools, the stools line that stage where a
closer view of the dancers and show can be had.

Hanging from the ceiling there are 'birdcages' sizeable enough for a
dancing body or two and on certain nights they tend to harbor the dancers,
just out of reach of those floor level but in view if they sit and recline
to enjoy the show.

Just enough shadows and barely enough light, this makes for the perfect
urban jungle keep.


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Joker


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Stronger then her small frame looks like she should be, Harley carried Selena to the Tin Roof Club. She's a kitty, she needs her home turf to feel safe. Harley will find someone to deal with the bullet. Harleen Quinzel may be a doctor, but not the sort that the other Siren needs right now. "You just hold on, Kitty. I don't know how many lives ya got left, but no usin' one up tonight."

// Heavy-handed
Rapid fire
With my filthy pride,
to a senseless beating.. //

Catwoman knows damn well what this will cause Harley, and between blinks she sees familiarity and regains strength!

Enough to shamble through the doors and wave down the flash of barrels that threaten the 'Quinn. "Not now, boys." The annotation a dulcet purr upon lilt that is slowly fading while a form of red paints the front of costume….

But despite this Catwoman does not cast her Quinn a gaze of despise… Because in it there is respite and understanding.. "Really, Harls, what is it?" Perhaps a reason to seek equal ground, or that of logic in her fellow Siren!

Beaming a smile at the men with the guns, Harley sighs with relief when Cat gets them to back down. She follows Selena around with her arms ready to catch her at a moment's notice. "What is it? You mean me and Mistah J? I don't know. I really thought I got him outta my system this time. But then he… and Bud and Lou were so happy to see him. And that laugh. And he promises that it's gonna be different. He knows I ain't gonna stick around for him hurtin' me again!" Even as she tries to explain, she can hear the victim in her voice. "Selena, I know it don't make sense. I hate him. And I love him. If not for him, I wouldn't be the me I am now. I wouldn't be friends with you or Red…. I wouldn't have Bud and Lou…. I wanna quit him. But… I can't. I just can't."

The club is thankfully /dead/ for the night, due to recent conflicts that had the blaze of pistol-point upon Harley. But slowly they fall as gazes follow the duo within the 'Cats' sanctum.

It may be apprehensive but..

"I get it…" Catwoman states, but instead of taking a stool she just stands at the bar, a clawed grip upon the eave while those revealed eyes sweep to Harley in the green/grey of hazel framed in the feline cowl and spires of noir strands, self-shorn. "You'll stay. You'll do what it takes." A flicker of a smile and Selina rips the cowl down from her face when the tender slides her drink her way despite the worried gaze, one that has him looking to Harley for 'aid'… Fool!

A bloodied hand stains the cup and claws the crystalline surface.

Harley knows. Pam knows. It is pointless to pretend anymore. "Just… Don't regret, Doctor. I won't bear a grudge if you act without a regret for him. I just ask the same, and will do the same…" And that was the agreement, the call between them that ended them here with a bullet in one and a query in another.

"I know, my friend." And with that a drink is slid across the bar for Harley, red in depth while a green drops within upon flames birth. "Careful. It's potent.."

Harley pulls back her own cowl, revealing the blonde from underneath with a heavy sigh. The bartender gets a quirk of a brow, the silent question of 'Are you serious? Or just stupid' quite clear on her painted face.

"You know, I could write a paper about the stupid things people do in the name of love. Not that it would get published. My name is dirt in the medical field, but I could write it." She laughs softly. "Red would be havin' a field day with this one. Chewin' us both out. Callin' us stupid."

Harley looks at the drink that is offered to her and looks to Selena. "How potent? You know poisons don't work on me no more, right? Is this that sorta potent? Cause after tonight, I could really use a drink. He's gonna be pissed."

"I wouldn't have expected a psychiatrist to use a term like 'love'," comes a familiar gravelling voice. Batman. He walks behind the bar, having come in (apparently) from the small kitchen area in the back. Silent and without warning. Sightless white eyes search Harley over, then transfer to Selina.

"I'm going to go ahead and assume you're not inclined to go to Gotham Mercy to get that hole looked at," Batman says, with tremendous amounts of unspoken 'I told you so' in his gravelly voice.

"It is a Rum, with a punch of Le Fee… Wormwood. She taught me a few way to kill the pain." Selina states without ruse towards Harleen.

Wormwood, potent and possibly hallucinogenic based on the levels partaken, but none-the-less, natural.

"It's potent, promise." Overdose levels to one like Catwoman, but she has been drinking it for a while, building immunity, for just these reasons. "Just like anything else in our lives."

A rise of glass and that voice comes across behind the bar, bringing a flourish that has a clawed hand making the few remaining withdrawing and the suddenly disappearing into the folds of velveteen drapery within the club. There but, not.

Slowly Selena is moving towards Harley, as if to pit herself between.

"Stupid… What do they call that, Doctor?" A shift of that gaze between Batman and the 'Quinn while the empty glass meets the bartop and slides his way with a scrape of nails.

A small smile forms in a *tic* of a corner of lips while head shakes slowly.

"That place is wretched! I am in better hands here…" A waffling gesture to the clubs surroundings, despite the sudden vacancy…

This trio is a design to an end.

As if this night couldn't get any worse, in walks the Big Bad Bat. Harley just groans, downing the drink whether it will get her drunk or not. "Let me guess, my cell in Arkham is being prepped as we speak?" She motions for the bartender to make her another of what she just had, only to find that he's vanished. Coward. It's only a rodent! A tall, strong, vicious rodent.

"And don't get me started, B'man. I know better then anyone that my feelings for him are based on a severe Bonnie and Clyde complex, coupled with insecurities from bein' his punchin' dummy for so long."

The fact that Selena gets between her and the Bat makes her smile, placing a hand on Catwoman's shoulder. "Sit down, Kitty. Yer only gonna make it bleed more. Don't make me try an' hafta remember how ta do the physical medicine stuff. There`s a reason my major was the headcases.`

"Doctor Quinn," Batman gravels at Harley. "I imagine you've had enough licks today, if you're in here with Catwoman to nurse your wounds." He digs under his cloak and comes up with a small folded bundle, barely the size of a football, and it unfolds into a compact and surprisingly well-stocked medical trauma kit.

"And I'm here to make a house call, anyway. Catwoman," he says, gesturing for her to hop up on the counter as he starts prepping field surgical gear. "Let me take a look at that bullet wound. Unless you'd prefer to find out the hard way which toxins Joker dips his bullets in."

Selena looks between the two, one of the Bat-lings bearing her goggles, and in that her comm tracers, as well as any data she had gathered in (hind)sights. "Not that I saw… But she is likely about to take them from her, for bringing me here." A level gaze to Batman, the counter between them while hangs grip the bar-top to keep her stable. Peter… Star… something, called it! Good thing it was his night off so no more could rub it in.

"Your house calls…" Kitty just pauses and that exposed line of jaw sets, her head lightly bowing between stretched arms in their brace. A glance towards Quinn and her smile is light 'You Get It'.

"Unless you forgot, already saw…" Yep she was the seed, a roach. But there are limits, and Harley is given the warning, because despite things, there is a bus coming and she won't put her under it!

"No… thanks… Already there." A part of the 'fucked up family', that is - Gotham.

So slowly but in that uncanny prowl she climbs upon the bartop and moves her hand laden in clawed spires.

"Don't warn me, don't give me your data. Just pull it out…" Words to Batman as she looks at him, holding pale green to incandescence..

… Then towards Harleen and she smiles. "Bonnie and Clyde complex? Too right."

"See? Even the Bat wants you to sit still and get ya patched up," says the blonde with the Jersey twang. She looks down at herself and chuckles. "None of this blood is mine. It all belongs to Kitty here. Mistah J got kinda mad when she showed up and asked me ta stand down."

Harley grows more serious as the kit comes out and considering what she has figured out about the Bat, she's pretty sure he knows how to use it. "I can give ya a list, but it's a little out of date. I can't promise he ain't got somethin' new up his sleeve with his toxin." Holding out her friend to her hand, she offers a wan smile. "Don't be shy about squeezin' the crap outta it. Probably gonna be less painful then what Puddin' has in store for me for tonight." The girl clown laughs, but it sounds deflated.

Batman pulls a mask over his lower face, protecting Catwoman's wound from his breath. Thin gelatin pads are pressed over his fingertips as well, to keep them sanitized. He gets to work fairly quickly, slicing a neat circle out of Catwoman's jumpsuit to expose the injured area.

Batman inserts a slender probe into the wound, and there's a faint *thuck* sound as it pulls toxins and blood from the wound site. He puts several drops of blood onto a small piece of glass that proves out to be a scanner, which begins performing automated tests.

"Slightly elevated levels of a benzopyrone," Batman gravels, reaching for a small tool the size of a thumbpin. He exposes a needle tip and presses it into the skin near the wound site without warning. A beesting that immediately fills Selina with cooling pain relief, centered around the wound. "Possibly coumarin or an anti-coagulant. I'm giving you a low dose of thomboxane to stimulate clotting," Batman explains.

He picks up a tool and preps it, then nods at Harley. "Hold her. This is likely going to hurt." He sets the probe down and it *flicks* into the wound channel, almost faster than the nerve endings can respond. Better than the slow way. He fiddles with a control and then, as quickly as he dares, extracts the bullet. "Looks mostly intact. You may have some residual copper but the lead doesn't seem to have deformed."

He forces another tool into the wound and there's a *pffft* as clotting foam expands rapidly in the wound, sealing it shut and staunching the flow of blood.

"You're lucky," he tells Catwoman, finishing up. "The bullet didn't tumble or perforate any major organs. You'll likely have pain for a few weeks and you should avoid anything too strenuous."

He starts cleaning up his gear.

"Now tell me what went wrong today. /Your/ side of it," he tells the two women, as if anticipating the inevitable rebuttal of 'ask the Batlings'.

When Harley takes her hand, it flexes out and those claws retract into latex gloves with the opposing flux of joints, sinking away just before Catwoman stares at the ceiling of her club and braces herself. "It's called Absinthe." Catwoman intones on the anti-coagulant agent in her blood. It has served her well in killing the pain without a resistance - so far. Thank you, Ivy.

But when he says it is going to hurt, likely… "I said no warning!" Catwoman snaps but is abruptly silenced by the thrust of an object into her wound and the suction of retraction when the bullet comes free. Harley's hand is unconsciously clutched in a vice-like grip.

But when is all is said and done and her eyes roll out of cranium she blinks back into a semi-focus and tugs Harley in closer to -her- side of the bar. "You don't have to alone." A small whisper of assurance to the Siren before she delivers her own gospel to the Batman.

"You heard her." No, no 'Ask the Batlings'. Harley is correct, as the Batlings have no worldly clue of their past and the turn of events may have surprised even them.

"But your Bats got away." A small smile and Catwoman returns her eyes to the ceiling, the unoccupied hand reaching to shake off the retractable glove and smear fingers over kohl-edged gaze.

"Things are different, but not all of them… I do not know anymore, but it is why.." A dismissive wave of hand upon the empty club on a loop of repeat music, lights, and strobes, but unmanned.

"Lockdown." A pause though and her hand never really relinquished Harley's.

"Just don't forget, hm?" The question though upon Batman. Harley helped and may need it in turn eventually. An innuendo… All encompassing.

Harley watches as Batman gets to work on the wound. As he starts analyzing the toxins in the blood, she can't help but smirk to her friend. "He's great at followin' instructions, ain't he?" she asks, unable to stop smiling as he gives Selena the data she told him not to give her. Or the warning.

Warned that a hand might not be enough, Harley gets ready to pin her feline friend to the bartop if necessary. But it seems the hand is enough and, like Catwoman, Harley mentally thanks Ivy for the fact that Selena doesn't break her bloody hand in the process.

"You here that, Kitty? Nothing too strenuous. So… just don't be yourself for a couple weeks. Pretend your … That Wayne fella in his mansion on the hill! I bet he does stupid stuff like play golf and drink mimosas all day!" She looks over to Batman then. "You're little Batlings got both of Mistah J's current pet projects. He's gonna be livid." She leans in to Her friend though, forehead touching in an almost feline manner of affection. "I know I don't hafta alone. I got you and Red. And you twos got me."

Catwoman doesn't seem to notice the rice-sized tracking device that Batman had palmed into the tip of the foam injector before applying it. Buried as deep as the bullet wound had been, the passive tracker was mostly plastic and copper, and could run almost indefinitely on her body's blood sugars.

Not easy to trace. But at least something Batman could sniff out if he felt like spending some time and effort seeking it.

"Dr. Quinn," Batman says, looking at Harley. "I don't think I need to tell you that the most important aspect of the healing process is support. For Catwoman— and for you," he says, shucking off the gel tips from his fingers. All the contaminated medical equipment goes into a small wad of tissues, which he throws in a bin and then sets on fire. Just for good measure.

"You've endured a difficult emotional trauma. Catwoman's been physically injured." His jaw works back and forth. "I'm /inclined/ to let today slide because of that. The last thing you need when evading an abuser is to get thrown in jail. You need to find a better way, Harleen," Batman tells Harley, looking down at the petite blonde. There's something… almost sympathetic in his hoarse voice. "Lean on Catwoman. Ivy. Find friends. Make a life for yourself that doesn't revolve around Joker," he advises her.

"I'm not expecting you to put on a white hat," he adds, half-turning away. "But maybe try to find a little less destructive path in life."

And with that, he walks out.

Harley Quinn gets out her phone and holds it up above the bar. "Hold on, this will make a great profile pic for my Facebook," she says before grinning widely at the camera. "Say Dissociative Personality Disorder!" There is a flash and Harley gives Selena a kiss on the cheek.

The minute Catwoman knows about Batman's trick….

Let's not speak about that as suddenly she has painted lips on a pale cheekbone that still bears remnants of road rash… And she isn't even smiling!

For the love of all things vain….

//Please don't tag me…. //

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License