bodilesswarrior | 27

Entry tags:

your love it burns away my darkness

27 - Voice

[Iris is dying.

It takes everything inside Barbara, every ounce of training and experience, to be still. She knows she'll be too late. If she goes bursting in without knowing the situation, chances are high she'll just die next.

She knows better than that. It's not what Iris would want.

So she stays in her tower. She maps the way to Jack's cabin in her head, and she gathers her weapons, and she waits.

She's just about to make her own call - to the people she trusts most - when she gets Iris' message. When her heart sinks and bile fills her mouth.

She will not feel guilty or foolish or afraid; there's no time.]

[Voice]

[Barbara's voice is low and grim, betraying none of the rage or grief she feels.]

Jack killed Iris. I don't know why, not yet. She's in his cabin; he might still be there, he might have left.

There's something wrong with Mason - drugs, she said. Not sure how it's connected.

[A slow, deep breath.]

The laughter. The warped mirrors. They might be connected, too. They might not.

Either way, you need to stay on your guard. Look out for each other. Iris might not be the first victim, and she probably won't be the last. That's how the Barge is.

[Private to Cain]

You got one too, right?

[Private to everyone Iris is close to]

[She switches to video for this. She figures she owes them that. Everyone else that Iris loves.

There are no tears streaking down her face. Instead, her lips are curled in a fierce snarl, and her eyes are blazing. Still, her voice is steady.]

No one go out half-cocked. We don't know what we're dealing with, not yet, and the last thing she'd want is you getting yourselves killed.

[Private to Motorcycle Boy]

[Back to voice! Hoarse but calm.]

Harvey may be missing. Have you talked to him lately?

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[Harvey isn't the only Gothamite that fails to check in.

Whether he's become someone Barbara keeps on her radar enough to think of in a time like this, whether she realizes that the mention of either Iris or Jack and trouble should be enough to bring him metaphorically running...there is no response from Powers.

There won't be an answer if he's contacted directly. And there will be no sign of him, either.

It doesn't matter, though, if Barbara even thinks of him or not. Eventually she'll find out what happened. There may be no avoiding it, then.]

[Later, never, whenever.]

You got it.

[And conveniently he can walk and ask questions at the same time.]

Anything I should know? I don't know this guy.

I know. I just - [She takes a breath.] If it's him, he did this because Jack cares, and because I love her. [That's what he does, and old bitterness twists her mouth.]

He'll know who you are. [He'll know I love you, too.] We don't know what he's got up his sleeve this time.

[She does expect an answer - and, eventually, her heart sinks when she gets none. It would make sense, for the Joker to target Derek. It would be easy, just as easy as Iris.

It's just a theory. Just a coil of guilt and uneasiness slithering in her chest.]

[Derek]

[Voice, this time, low and hard and aching]

If you get this, I need you to answer. ...Please.

[He doesn't, of course.]

So I just have to get him first.

I won't hesitate. Not after Black Mask. [ Not after being tortured and killed only to end up shooting him in the head anyway. ]

I - that depends. [There's an edge of frustration to her voice because she hates being in the dark, not knowing everything she should.] Jack is - he's a good person. There might be some kind of flood or possession or mind control going on.

[She takes a breath.] Or he's the Joker. [It's happened once. It's always a possibility, looming in the back of her mind.]

No powers, but he's - unpredictable. Resourceful. Sadistic. And he'll have Jack's body, which has been training for years.

...All right. [There's a soft sort of sadness to her voice. Stephanie shouldn't have to -

It can't matter, not now.]

I've asked Steve to help out. That okay with you?

[Nope. Where there could have been a myriad of responses expected, there is only empty silence. No answer coming from the abyss.

(She's free to start asking herself gruesome questions about just where aboard one would go to hide a conspicuously glowing body.)]

[Welp you know what, he's got experience with this kind of thing. Kind of.]

Resourceful, sadistic, and possibly well trained. Got it. [No powers helps, at least. but powers aren't necessary to do a lot of damage. It's actually the resourceful and sadistic parts that are the most worrisome.] I'm guessing we need answers, then, just as much as we might need to stop him.

[Quiet, solemn. He understands Babs' line of thinking entirely, and he'd share it, if not for one thing: Iris is a warden. And if they don't know why Jack did it or how, and he can still get at her - he doesn't know whether dying over and over would be worse than a week balanced on the very edge of oblivion or not. He thinks probably not, but he'd prefer they not have the chance to compare.]

We can't leave her there. She's coming back.

Edited 2014-07-24 03:36 (UTC)

Breakfast, but I didn't go to lunch.

Yes.

But don't expect him to give you any. He'll try to goad you, distract you. Better to finish it quick.

[She laughs, low and choked. She has to, or she'll start screaming or destroying things and she doesn't have time for that.]

It's all right, he was kind enough to leave her for me.

[A slight nod.] Did he say anything about what he was doing next?

I'm not finishing anything until we know for sure what happened and who we're dealing with.

[But that doesn't mean he isn't willing to make sure no more damage can be done.]

[She takes a breath, reminds herself she doesn't know, not for sure.] Fair.

Steph - she knows who the Joker is. She'll be able to tell if it's him.

I'm coming over.

[He doesn't give her time to argue. She will have better things to do than play nursemaid. He just arrives at her door with his favorite tea in his pocket and cats on his heels. Barbara has medical supplies and Iris's various comfort indulgences in her room already, but she will have better things to do than play nurse, things he can't. One knock, as always.]

It's me.

[She would have argued, and she's glad he didn't give her a chance. She opens the door remotely, from her station at the computers. (Useless. They're useless right now.)

Iris is lain out on the couch, arms tucked in, covering the mess of her shirt. Jonesy is sitting on the armrest, staring down at her.]

She resisted the urge to crush the carnation; it sits on the table, ready for any tests she can think of doing.

Barbara manages to give him a small, strained smile.]

I need to - I should put her on the bed. [Her voice is weaker, now, than it was in public. Brittle.]

Then that's fair. We'll go from there.

[She shakes her head.]

I mean, I don't ordinarily keep tabs. But he didn't mention anything.

What has been done to her?

[No he will not go off half cocked, but when he does go off, it will be with not a grain of powder less than is needed.]

If she wants to switch when she wakes up and has a clean shirt on, I'll carry her.

[Brisk, sensible; he's got more than a foot of height on Iris and also isn't in a wheelchair. It's not that Babs couldn't manage it perfectly well, but it would be literally no effort for him. It's a matter of resource allocation. And right now, Iris doesn't need anything at all. He comes over to Babs instead, reaches out to her idle hands, that familiar twitch, the horror of their emptiness. Holds and squeezes tight.]

I've never even talked to this guy. What do we know?

[It's a soothing tone, low and steady. And it's easier, of course, to frame it as something for his benefit, breaking it down to digestible facts and bringing him up to speed, letting her take a breath and focus on what they can do without telling her easy truths about Iris's resilience that won't help right now or platitudes about going easy on herself it is, in fact, a crisis, and she plainly will do no such thing. Pushing hard doesn't mean she can't get a steady foundation to brace from first; quite the opposite.]

[Barbara nods, because it does make sense, and she likes to think she's only stubborn for good reasons.

She closes her eyes, just for a moment, when he takes her hands. Just to feel that he's there, to know someone, at least, is safe and alive. (Alive, truly.)

When she opens them, her gaze is hard and determined. She'll grab this lifeline and haul herself all the way up again.]

Normally, Jack - Red Hood - is a good person. Damaged, like any Gotham vigilante, but good. I trusted him. [The words leave a bitter taste in her mouth, even though she's sure, really, that Jack isn't himself right now.]

There are a few options, here - it could be some kind of flood, so we need to watch each other, make sure no one else goes axe crazy. It could be possession, or mind control.

[And she stops. Takes a breath.] Or - well. In my world, Jack is the Joker.

[She doesn't want that to be what's happening. She doesn't want the Joker here, on their Barge, with her people. But it's one of the likeliest options.]

[Her face crumples, just for a moment. Her eyes are already red, and her voice is a bit hoarse when she speaks.]

She was shot.

I'll talk to the Boy. He doesn't keep a tight leash, but he might know something. [And even if they're wrong, he should be told.]

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27 - Voice

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[ tooo late. ]

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