The Laughing Man, Book Two: Goner

Chapter Nine

Being rendered unconscious was becoming old hat for Harley. Even so, it was always disconcerting to wake up in a new location. The smell of chloroform lingered in her nostrils, the taste still fresh on her lips. Toxic, damaging. How many times had she'd been subjected to its effects in the past few months? Well over a dozen times, it seemed. It may have been cliché but it was an effective sedative, allowing her to enjoy a dreamless rest, no care in the world. She refused to focus on the potential negatives, her liver and kidneys crying out with toxic distress every time the chemicals hit her system. She would be long dead before any side effects took hold, a victim of the villainous lifestyle she lived.

Waking up naked was also old hat, a memory of her training with Mr. J. Most people shied away from nudity, embarrassed by their flaws. Anyone who looked upon her form would be taken in by the bruises, branding, tattooing, and scarring that littered her body. Revulsion, pity, many emotions that others would put upon her once seen. She fed on such things, reveling in the brutal display of human cruelty that permanently marred her skin. The power of her naked form outshined any minor flaws. Love handles, thicker thighs, pimples, all this meant nothing compared to the glorious destruction of her skin. Harley made a mental note to kill the rest of Crane's men who may have seen her naked. Mr. J's privilege only. Thomas and Crane were exceptions. Mr. J allowed them. But the rest were dead men walking.

Thomas' unconscious, and not naked she noted, body was sitting across from her in a chair similar to her own. He faced her, head slumped down over his chest. Both of them were bound by duct tape to their chairs, her legs closed together for modesty's sake, as if she cared. Her gunshot wound was covered again in gauze and tape and she could feel it itch. Restitched, most likely. Medical tape also covered her nose, annoying, but it meant it was only fractured and not broken as she originally suspected. Strange for Crane to tend to the wounds of his enemy, but then again, he was a professional and he would want her in top shape for the field trip of fear he had planned.

"Thomas," she said, watching the deep intake and exhale of each breath from his still form. "Hey! Wake up!"

Harley would have moved closer but the chair was either too heavy or it was bolted to the floor. Likely the latter of the two. She didn't believe anything would rouse her friend at this point so she settled for staring around the room. White walls, carpeted flooring. The kind of carpet that frequented office buildings, a dark gray, uniform color. Everything was bare, no pictures or décor. Not even a desk. Just her and Thomas bound to chairs. The ceiling was the same boring white, paneled with speckles. She'd always wanted to climb up through one of those panels, like in the movies, and drop down to attack someone. Ninja style. If she pried herself loose, she might give in to that absurd temptation.

Time passed and her boredom grew. Harley was unaccustomed to a life without distractions, her mind space becoming more volatile with each passing minute. Her emotions begged to be let out, crawling inside her, screaming for release. Anything but the monotony. She had barely been able to contain herself for the past boring week at the mansion. Her mission from Mr. J kept her focused enough to push past all the noise in her head. But right now, the tedium, the silence was getting to her. Even struggling against the duct tape yielded no real response. It was tight, not enough to cut off her circulation but enough to prevent much movement. It also meant she was unable to cause herself pain, a stimulation that she sorely craved.

After what seemed like hours, but was likely only twenty minutes or so, Thomas stirred. His eyes blinked away the effects of the sedative coursing through him. She watched with interest as he took stock of his situation, moving against the duct tape in a futile effort to escape his bonds. The haze in his mind cleared as he lifted his eyes to see her sitting in front of him. Harley smiled, giving him a fingered wave, as much as she could with her wrists strapped to the chair.