Hunter's Mark

“Fan-tastic. Instead of some looney ex, I get a sociopathic clown.” The temptation to throw her phone across the diner was almost too strong. Instead, she stuffed the traitorous device deep into her pocket.

Her stomach clenched with renewed anxiety. Maybe she should leave. Draw him to her and take care of this mess on her own. But how? Could she track him from the gallery?

Maybe, she mused maybe I don't have to. Gordon feared this man, or at least had enough sense not to underestimate him.

She stirred the frigid malt while she let her instincts go to work, almost certain that Gordon was trying to figure out what was going though her mind. Fair enough. She could spare a few harmless tidbits. “I'm going to assume that he knows where I work, and where I live. What kind of options am I looking at?”

“What I am hoping you will agree to, involves your employer,” The Commissioner studied her over the rim of his mug “He has agreed to house you in one of his condos while we continue our investigation. This is not a permanent solution, of course, but hopefully it will give us enough time to track down the Joker and put him back in Arkham.”

I must need another dose. Maybe two, she was so awestruck by the offer. It must have showed, for Gordon went back to sipping his coffee as he awaited her response.

“Commissioner... I can't accept something like that. Some random apartment or a shack in the middle of the woods, sure. But that?”

“No, thank you. I can't.”

The Commissioner didn't seem the least bit bothered by her refusal. Did he even hear her? Perhaps she had spoken too softly. “Commissioner?”

“Perhaps I forgot to mention that you still be working, it will just be somewhat of a 'Home Office' arrangement. This is not a vacation, Miss. Hastings. More of a temporary re-location.”

Of course it is. Without a sane excuse, as second refusal was out of the question. Anyone else in such a situation would either be considered a fool, or they were hiding something.

Then again, she was hiding something. But options were few and far between, and if this clown knew where she lived...

“Well, I guess since I'll still be working and whatnot...” she sighed in resignation, “Alright. What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing. Mr. Wayne will make sure you have everything that you may need. The only thing you have to do, is stay put.”

'Staying put' was out of the question. “For how long?”

“Two or three weeks.”

Yeah, definitely out of the question. 'Two or three days' sounded much better.

“Here ya' go, Hamburger Steak Supreme.” Beaming, Terri presented a mouthwatering banquet that was quickly accompanied by a bottle of ketchup and a few more napkins. “How's everything look?”

The food smelled so good, Rae almost started to gorge herself as soon as the plate hit the table.

“Very good, thank you.” Now please go away so I can eat. She unraveled her silverware, placing a few pills on the napkin, and dug into her meal; forgetting about Mr. Wayne, moral debts, and her new stalker.

After a few mouthfuls of food had passed through her gullet, it was time to choke down the pills. Scooping up a generous glob of un-melted malt and decorating it with 'sprinkles' was the quickest way to dispose of the wretched things.

“Is it severe?”

“The brain-freeze? It's not that bad anymore.”

“Your hyperthyroidism. I can't imagine it's easy to live with.”

Rae prodded the mass of sludge that sat in the bottom of her glass, scooping up its contents as she shrugged. “It's not easy.... but it could be worse. Right now I just need to have the dosage increased... and I'm running out of what I have left.” Perhaps a little honesty might aide any future plans. “At the moment, I'm waiting for a call about a new prescription. Clown or no clown, I'll need to pick it up.”

Neither said anything else on the subject, which gave her a chance to take in a few more mouthfuls of food. She would have to remember how to get back to this place. Even though there was no way to ease her concerns, the food was at least comforting and an effective distraction.

It reminded her of home, a place she hadn't thought of in months. There hadn't been a reason to.

For some reason it didn't hurt to think of it now. She couldn't go back, couldn't even get in touch with family or friends.

So why did she feel... comforted?

“I'm sure we can work something out,” Gordon topped off his coffee as he continued. “How many days do you have left on your current prescription?”

A good question.

If things continued to be so unpredictable, it wouldn't be long. With a generous amount of alcohol she might be able to drag things out, but it wasn't something she could count on. Sneaking out to the bar every night might be near impossible or far too easy. Counting on either would be rather foolish.

Even before the clown, she had to increase her dosage every once in a while. Now it was an absolute necessity.

“Best case scenario? Three or four days. Worst....one, maybe two.” Naturally, her thoughts drifted towards the worst.

They went over Rae's encounter with the Joker while she finished her meal, exhausting every question, scenario, or possible loose end that they could conceive. Terri came and went, making sure that neither wanted another refill or had acquired a hankering for one of their many desserts.

She had, and asked for a slice of Banana Cream Pie to go.

As they waited for her boxed dessert, she excused herself and took off towards the bathroom. All the booze had finally worked its way through her system and was urging her bladder to take action. It was a small bathroom, but luck was on her side and she had the place to herself. Not that it would have made much of a difference. She just preferred as much privacy as possible since it would give her a chance to check in with Brawly.

If he could give her a timeframe, even a best guess, it'd be something to work with. The chance of that happening was unbelievably low, he was never very forthcoming with that kind of thing. Hell, his guesses were never very accurate. She wasn't even sure they were really guess, just random numbers he threw out there to satisfy her.

It never did, but until now it was never an issue. Annoying, sure. But she could deal with annoying.

She wished it would go back to being annoying.

Once her bathroom needs were met, complete with the practice of good hygiene, it was time to start fleshing out a plan.

The phone chirped and whirred as it tried its hardest to reach Brawly, each time it went to his voicemail the device seemed to sulk a little bit more. After a few more attempts, she'd had enough.

“Lee! I need you to pick up.” A pause. “Seriously, pick up. It's just a wee bit important.”

More silence.

“If you do not pick up, I will call every five minutes and leave an obnoxious voice-mail.” The line stayed quiet. Usually that was enough to pull him from his work, but today he was going to be stubborn.

“I was held at knife point today and nearly let that wonderful 'condition' get the better of me. The pills are running out, I'm not going to be at the apartment for a while, hell, I'm not sure if I'll be able to get the pills you're working on. Oh, and I have a psychotic, homicidal clown stalking me, and it's really making it hard to stay calm and -”

The sound of clanking glass filled the receiver, followed by a slew of curses and other assorted grumblings that she had become accustomed to. Brawly hated interruptions of any sort, but especially interruptions that he found mildly intriguing or that might have an impact on his current project. Hers probably contained a little of both.

“Cripes girl, what the hell kind of trouble have you gotten into now? And what about those pills? You had enough to last at least three more weeks.”

Somehow, he always managed to make her feel a little guilty. He was never condescending or accusing, even if he threw around more vulgarities than a horned up drunkard. When he didn't, it meant he was past the point of 'concern' and was careening towards hysteria.

“Yeah, about that...” it was like being caught in a lie, and she didn't know how to salvage the wreckage of this soon-to-be disaster. “See, with the whole 'stalker' business, and watching people die, I've been popping those things like they were Tic-Tacs.”

“Wait, you took almost two weeks worth of pills in less than twenty-four hours?” The clinks had stopped, and she had almost thought the call had been dropped. A quick peek showed that the seconds were still ticking away, and if she strained her hearing there was the dull but reassuring hum of his equipment.

Maybe she had worded that poorly.

“Oh, ah, not exactly. Work has been rough this week, so... about two weeks worth of pills in ninety-six hours. The rest will be gone in a few days.”

Glass shattered on the other end of the line, and a new string of curses greeted her ears.

Ok, so he wasn't happy. But how was she supposed to know people would be suffering horrifically today, and that she would have a front-row seat? It's not an easy thing to get over, even when someone might have deserved it! He should know that. He did know that.

“Look, I'm trying to take care of it. The cops are involved and they're tracking down the guy... clown... thing, as we speak. Problem is, the clown is good. The cops are afraid of him, and he has probably been to my apartment. I need to find this guy and do... something. Maybe kill him, I don't know yet.”

Killing the guy was the most likely scenario, but she was open to suggestions. Brawly didn't offer any, and she didn't really care enough to ask. After all, it was the least of their worries.

“So... how are those new pills doing? I'd like to know what kind of time frame I have to work with.” The line quieted again. She could imagine his jaw clenched in an effort to keep from reaching through the phone and strangling her. If anyone could find a way to do it, he could. She held the phone a good six inches away from her ear just in case he might have found a way and hadn't bothered to share such information.

“This batch is tough. I don't know how much more can be done to it without the risk of putting you into a coma, and now you're telling me it might need to be even stronger?”

He sighed, “Maybe another day or two. There are still a few things I haven't been able to fully test, but they look promising so far. The cosmos are aligning, the doses don't seem to be conflicting with one another, all that positive crap.”

So tonight is as good a time as any.

“But please do me a favor, and try not to be too....rash.” The futility of his request was not lost on either of them.

“Sorry. The wheels of stupidity are already in motion, and by tonight it will mature into a full blown plan of idiocy and regret.”

Brawly grunted as he ended their call, no doubt more dismayed than amused.

She felt bad, asking him to do so much in such a short amount of time. But he always came through, and her debt to him was always expanding.

Him, and Bruce Wayne.

Wayne.

He was going to be just as dangerous as the clown...

Muffled exclamations seeped through the bathroom door before it was flung aside, allowing a small conclave of gossip-mongers to flood the tiny restroom. Somehow, news of the gallery had already spread, as their comments were all but accurate about the incident and whom they heard the story from.

And this is my exit.

She beat a hasty retreat before too many of the comments sank in. It wasn't her job to set them straight, nor was it any of their damn business in the first place. Rounding the corner showed that Gordon was still waiting at their table, along with an older gentleman that she had never seen before.

Gordon caught her gaze before she reached the table, standing up to meet her as he motioned towards their new guest.

“Miss Hastings, this is Alfred Pennyworth. He will be escorting you to your new home.”