dark places | wayne

fifteen :: heist

9:14 am
Streets of Gotham

She walked swiftly, pushing past people and forgetting to apologize. She was late.

Jack didn't like when she was late.

She finally made it to the peer. She adjusted her pants waist before opening the door to the Warehouse.

"Nice of you to join me," Jack sat with his purple pant-covered legs crossed. They were a dark purple, almost black. His signature look.

"You have my apologies," she said sternly, holding eye contact.

"Don't forget where your place in this operation is, dear Winnie," he paused, "I love you, believe me, I do. But you are but a pawn in my complicated game."

She nodded tightly.

"Let's go, get this over with," he had become less of an anarchist and more of a businessman. She watched him as he went to the fold up table that held machine guns and rounds and things.

He took two and she took two, she draped a sleeve of rounds across her chest. She straightened out the black- and white-checkered pants she wore, and kept the black tee shirt of Bruce's half tucked at the waist.

"Ready?" he questioned.

"Yes," she answered strongly, "Has Harley answered?"

"No," he was pre-occupied in turning the lights off. They went to the parked black van outside and got in. They drove toward Wayne Enterprises.

She put makeup on in the mirror of her compact. She wore a matching white foundation as was the trio's signature look.

She then drew a spade on the top of her hand and under her left eye.

When everything else was done, she closed the compact and threw it under the seat carelessly. They were there.

"Ten on the dot," he grinned. "You're lucky. Go in, take a left and go to the first vent on the right. Stick this in there," he gave her a small box with a switch and vents and a timer on it, "Put the mask on and I'll be in there."

"Then what?"

"Then we go straight to the top, get to the vault and open it. Get the loot and blast out of here."

She examined the gas mask on the dash before grabbing the victorian device and draping it around her neck by the strap. She took the box and left.

Within seconds, she found the vent and tapped the five second timer. She put the mask on and went to the elevator to meet him at the top floor. Someone triggered a silent alarm.

Jack entered in all his glory, firing at innocent, unconscious workers and laughing wickedly.

He held the trigger-man at gun point, "Undo it."

Safety clicked off. He was the last worker alive and awake.

"One," an empty barrel shifted. "Two," another.

"Okay, okay!" and he pressed the button again, cancelling the alert.

"Three!" he killed him and laughed, "I like this game." He said it to a room of dead bodies. He went to the elevator and began up, fixing his hair in the full-length mirror.

He adjusted his own gas mask over his made-up face and the door opened.

"Hello darling!" he projected his voice to the accomplice.

"Hello Jack," she smiled. She didn't fear his crazy as much as she lusted over the fortune.

He brought a lock cutter into the equation and the vault opened in minutes.

Piles of cash lay in the walk-in safe.

"Who's here?" Bruce's voice questioned the two before entering the room.

Their faces were somewhat covered, though their outfits easily identified them. He was amazed, he was fully prepared for their attack had it been tomorrow and at GothamCore. But he was wrong.

He wore a gas mask as well.

"Go home Bruce!" Jack yelled erratically. He fired wildly at the wall near the source of the voice. It was quiet, and they continued to stuff duffel bags with money.

It fazed her the smallest bit, deep down she knew he was still alive.

Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, must have passed before the windows busted to reveal a dark and familiar form.

"No," Jack started towards him, "You can't beat me again. I win Batsy."

He threw his gun aside and pulled the mask off, tossing it into the rubble as well. Winnie took her mask off and threw it into a duffel bag. She held her gun up and ready in case her most hated enemy attacked her comrade.

The Bat had a gas mask covering the remaining parts of his face.

"I already have a police perimeter. And they're making their way up for you, J. You've lost, again. And now you've brought this girl into your mess too," he looked at his lover briefly, coldly. But she didn't recognize him; how could she?

"Don't you dare pretend you don't know her. Don't you dare do that, because you will hurt her. And if you hurt her, believe me when I say I will bring hell to rain down on you," Jack said, progressing and attacking his nemesis.

It was a quick fight and Bruce had him on the ground, barely breathing and unconscious.

"Give yourself up, now, and you won't experience any pain," he told her.

"No," it was her turn to attack him, pushing the Batman closer and closer to the open window. "Fuck you, die you son of a bitch."

"Batsy?" yet another familiar voice echoed. They both looked to the scanty, infamous Harley Quinn. They froze, off guard.

"You hurt my puddin?" she looked at Joker. "Well that won't do." She attacked him, but he moved swiftly and Harley pushed Winnie.

Winnie fell, and Bruce leapt after her without a second thought.