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Digital green lights flickered 4:02 am. The black asphalt street was wet from a brief period of rain and puddles of dark water were still left in the potholes of the old road. Dark holes reflecting the darkness of the pre-dusk sky. A beat up white van pushed on through the night, dim streetlights leading the way. Dazed blue eyes opened slowly, focusing on a moving light. Vision began to clear and she saw a street in front of her, and then the windshield and dashboard of the dated van. She was moving fast in a car she didn't recognize and her head was pounding. Parts of her body ached and she started to wish she hadn't awoken.
"Where…", she started and groaned at the throbbing in her head.
"Shhhh." Someone else said.
Harley turned her head and peeked out at the driver. It was Jack. Harley relaxed, realizing who it was, and then did a double take, snapping her head back toward him. Blood covered his face, smeared and dried blood all over his cheeks and nose, fresh blood covering his mouth and staining his clothes. Small trickles of blood continued to fall out of the corners of his mouth, or where the corners of his mouth were. But Harley wasn't focused on the blood, instead she saw his eyes, blacker than ever with an abnormal focus and snare.
"Jack…" Harley said quietly. He didn't look over, his terrifying eyes locked on the road.
"Jack, how are you still conscience? You've lost a lot of blood." She said calmly. She sat in silence, waiting for an answer, looking at his blood stained clothes that would never be clean. After a minute or two Harley looked away from him, figuring she wasn't getting an answer. She watched the street from out her window, watching it move by quickly. The spot she focused on slowly got brighter and then dimmed as the van passed streetlight after streetlight.
"It's not all mine." He said simply. Harley didn't reply. She just sat there staring out the window.
"But I am a little dizzy." He added, his tone lightening.
Harley tried to remember what had happened. She remembered the bald man and the other two big men. She remembered his mouth bleeding and his mother crying. She remembered biting the man's finger and then getting kicked. That must be why her abdomen hurt so badly. She couldn't remember much more than that. She thought she had heard gunshots earlier but she couldn't be sure.
"Where are we going?" she asked, looking back at Jack. His mouth was cut so rigidly and he didn't seem to even notice. His mouth didn't even look disfigured to Harley. It just looked like makeup. Red makeup.
"I know a guy by the docks. He can give us a place to stay low for a while." Harley wanted to ask about what just happened. She wanted to know about his mom and the three intruders but she didn't ask. Instead she relaxed and closed her eyes, trying to focus on her pounding headache.
It didn't take long for the van to roll up to the eerie and dimly lit docks of outer Gotham. When the van stopped in front of a dark warehouse Harley got out and found Jack spitting blood on the other side of the van. He slowly led the way into a back door and into the warehouse. Inside the warehouse was a huge empty space Harley thought big enough to fit a football field in. A metal staircase lined the wall of the warehouse to the left of the door they had entered, leading to a loft above the empty space. The loft had curtains or sheets covering the windows but a soft light could be seen coming from the loft.
Jack started climbing the stairs, limping almost. At the third step, Jack stopped, spit more blood, and yelled, "EDDY!" He then continued to climb up the stairs with much effort. Harley followed behind, an arm wrapped around her stomach. She had no idea where she was, but was in too much pain to care.
Harley could hear rustling coming from the loft. Footsteps and then the loft door swinging open.
"Jack?" A male voice asked from the top of the stairs. Harley looked up to see a young man with dusty brown hair and pretty greenish hazel eyes covered by thick-rimmed glasses. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt under a thin and faded blue robe.
"Yeah it's me." Jack said almost grumpily.
"Who's the girl?" he asked hesitantly.
"She's with me." Jack said simply and managed to reach the top of the stairs.
Harley watched as this "Eddy" came down to help Jack. Harley followed silently.
"Shit. What did you do this time?" Eddy said to Jack, seemingly unfazed by the amount of blood on Jack's clothes.
"Help her first." Jack said, limping into the loft. Harley snorted.
"I think not." Harley said, entering the loft. Jack had dropped onto a tattered couch under the curtain-covered windows. It was a very quaint living space. There was no real kitchen, but a microwave, mini-fridge, coffee maker, and single hot plate set up in the corner seemed to serve fine. To the left of the door was a little table with two folding chairs. There were a couple empty coffee mugs holding down stacks of important-looking documents spread over the tiny table. Larger stacks of paper lined the walls around the table. In the corner of the loft was a bed, made neatly, which seemed to be the only tidy thing in the apartment. The back wall of the loft, next to the bed, were several bookshelves, all filled with books and more stacks of papers. There was also a closed door that had a crooked bathroom sign hanging on the front. Other furniture around the cozy loft held more books and papers. It was actually quite a neat little set up. An ideal bachelor pad. One thing did catch Harley's eye, the only odd piece in the room: a metal table of sorts set up in the center of the room. It reminded Harley of the tables at a hospital or morgue, where bodies were operated on.
"Please don't get blood on my couch." Eddy said, but Jack didn't move. Eddy disappeared and reappeared holding a bag with a big, red plus sign on it. "At least get on the table so I can fix whatever you did this time." Eddy said, as if this was a usual thing. Eddy set up a lamp over the table while Jack stumbled onto the table stomach first. Eddy had to turn him on his back and Jack's arm fell limply off the table. Harley was there in a second, putting his arm back on the table and holding his limp hand.
"What's wrong? Is he gonna be okay?" Harley asked.
"Jesus, what the hell happened?" Eddy asked, wiping the dried blood off Jack's face to examine the wound better. This prompted Jack's wound to begin bleeding again.
Harley didn't know how to answer so she just muttered some words, "There was a knife…I think it cut his mouth…I just…I don't remember it all. Is he gonna die?" She asked worriedly.
Just then Jack spit out a long "Sshhhhhhhhhhhhh."
"Of course he won't die" Eddy said in a somewhat annoyed way.
"Nothin…" Jack started again, his dark eyes slowly moving to meet hers. "Nothin kills me, babe." Harley managed a little smile while a tear rolled down her cheek.
"Shut up so I can fix this." Eddy said, flicking a syringe before inserting it into Jack's forearm. Jack smirked and then fell limp again, his eyes closing.
"Now if you want him to live, you can either do what I say or leave." Eddy said glancing at Harley over the rims of his glasses.
"Tell me what to do." Harley said, rubbing her arm across her eyes to clear her tears.
"Good now go into my bag and find my needle and thread."