2013-01-23 What the Wok?!

It's just another night out in Gotham. Gotham, like any proper metropolis, has its very own Chinatown. Any version of a Chinatown tends to be the best place to find Chinese food. When someone has a craving for Chinese food, nothing else will do.

Tonight, Harleen Quinzel has a craving for Chinese food.

Almost a shame that she shut down the one joint because they forgot her fortune cookies, but in a city like this? There's plenty of other options!

"And I'll take a double--nowait, make that a -triple- order of rangoon. It's one of those nights," she says with a syrupy sweet smile.

As the man turns away from the register and calls it out, she mutters "And don't..forget..my cookies."

While she's not usually looking for Chinese food, Jubilee does love to visit Chinatown in Gotham. It helps to keep her Cantonese from getting rusty, and Chinese products from the mainland never fail to make her smile, especially the translations! Tonight is no exception to this. Well, except for the growling stomach. The smells coming from the Golden Carp restaurant are enticing enough to tempt the tummy of a Buddhist monk. She smiles and detours there. She's just in time to nearly bump into the last customer, who is fortunately the only one at the counter. She /does/ brush against her with her bulky winter jacket, though. "Oh! Sorry, totally my fault," she says, giving the woman an apologetic smile. But not for long. The overhead menu beckons!

Bump..? Harleen gets a look about her a second before she spins around. Who would -dare- bump--

Oh. Oh, my. In a flash her expression switches to a friendly smile. "It seems my faith in this place is well founded," she remarks while spotting the tell-tale marks of Oriental descent in the other girl. Either that, or the wild black hair and bright red lip coloring. They are her favorite colors, after all!

One step is taken to the side of the counter, giving you more room to work with. Though, the food itself has lost its appeal for the moment. Now her fascination is solely focused upon you. The dress alone has her wishing that you were a patient of hers, to be able to properly dissect a mind like that over coffee. But alas... Any psychoanalyzing will have to be done on the run, as it were.

"Despite the name, there isn't nearly enough gold in here to merit the use of sunglasses." Her smile is tricky to decrypt, either she's teasing or attempting to taunt you.

"One sniff was enough," Jubileee confirms cheerfully, with a smile for the person she nearly bumped. The mention of her shades draws giggles, and she lowers them for a better look at Harley. "Oh, they're not for here. It's Chinatown. Random fireworks," she replies knowingly... or is that teasingly? The look in those blue eyes certainly sparkles with impish good nature. "Anything you can recommend?"

"The lo mein's slightly greasy, but their orange chicken is like tiny slices of citrusy heaven," Harleen offers with a showing of perfect teeth. There's something about the smile which might not seem completely ..right, however. It isn't the nature behind the expression so much as how the muscles are shaping it within her face. It's as if something is off-balanced on one side of her face. Swollen from a bruise, perhaps. Cosmetics keep her skin looking flawless and fine, though a keen eye might be able to peel back the layers enough to realize that at some point, not all that long ago, something wound up hitting her in the face. She did a good job of keeping it hidden before in how she had turned toward you, but nothing can stay hidden forever.

"They do tend to have some lovely displays around here. Nothing like a few explosions to lift the spirits."

"Orange chicken... I'll try it. Might be a citrusy taste explosion!" Jubilee resolves. She interrupts the conversation just long enough to give the counterman an order in rapid Cantonese. He doesn't seem impressed. Then again, anyone who does his job probably sees it all, and hates it. She turns back to the smiling Harley, and winces in sympathy. "Oh, your poor face! Did something hit you?" she asks, pulling down her shades again to look. Shades or no shades, those startlingly blue eyes are sharp.

For a brief passing of time, Harleen's smile starts to slip. An instant later it's caught and renewed. "Aren't you the observant one. Gotham can be a dark place at night. Lots of outcroppings, rodents flitting about," she says with a quick motion of her hand as though she were shooing a rat away, "you know how it is."

Well, maybe you don't, but that doesn't stop her any.

When her order comes up she takes a moment to look through the bag's contents, her expression changing once again.

Going cold.

"No, this isn't right. Hey--hey, you!" she calls out, demanding the guy's attention behind the counter. "Where's my soy sauce?"

The man gives her -such- a look, stabbing a finger down at a nearby basket with more than enough tiny, clear packets of that sweet brown sauce.

The look is returned in kind as she stares back at him, reaching over and grabbing exactly two packets. Oh sure, make -her- do all of the work. Who's the one getting paid, here?

Ahem. Back to you, Harleen says "You should be careful, this city can become a completely different animal when the sun goes away."

Oh, that look is /so/ wrong for that face, even such an expressionate one. "Oh, don't frown!" Jubilee says with real concern, leaning back a bit and resting her hands gently on the blonde woman's shoulders. "Your face isn't made for it. 'Sides, it's nothing major. If you let stuff like that get to you, you'll drive yourself crazy. Let it roll off... water from a duck's back." She looks back to the menu, making a quick amendment to her order. "Not so much, in this part of town. Want to find a place to sit down once I get my order? I hate eating alone."

Don't frown. Smile more! Drive herself crazy... Water off a duck's back. Or coarsing down Joyce Street. Harleen seems to regard you with a whole different light, that bright 'you can tell me everything and then some' expression returning as if it has never departed. And here she had been about to impale one of those soy packets upon the counter with a nail file. Oh goodness no, this adorable little specimen has just become more interesting to her again. "Of course, dear. You look like one that has lots of interesting things to say. Have you been in the city long?"

Let the datamining commence.

Jubilee doesn't let on that she saw the nail file hovering over the packet, well-hidden as it was. That sudden, bright smile has her smiling in return, perhaps a touch nervously. "I'm visiting, actually. Friends in town," she replies, accepting her carryout bag from the counterman and giving him a grateful smile that he ignores with a /hmmph/. She lets it roll off, taking her own advice, and turns for the door. "I think I saw some benches just a little ways down. What about you? Do you live in Gotham? I think this is such a /totally/ amazing city for decor. Sometimes I wish I did live here."

"As a matter of fact, I do," Harleen replies while walking out beside you. She even holds open the door for you, because she's that kind of person. When the mood strikes her. "I've spent most of my life in this city, it can be such a charming place. Some areas more than others, but there's ways around every shortcoming."

Plus, she got her fortune cookies. So there's that.

"As a resident I get to see the bright side of the proverbial penny, the silver lining. Every city does have its share of problems, however. This one has its share of urban myths and legends. Being a doctor in this city is rarely a dull experience."

Because it never hurts to plant the seed when the opportunity arises.

"Thanks, totally." Jubes is still checking her bag to make sure it's got what she ordered. Fortunately, it does. "New York's that way, too. But I like Gotham's myths and legends better. They're so much /creepier/," she says, giving an exaggerated little shiver. "Especially all those stories about the Batman and the Joker." She looks up in surprise as she realizes what Harley said. "You're a doctor? Oh, wow... no wonder you were so tense in there. Sorry if I came off as patronizing... I totally wasn't trying to be that way."

Oh, you're just making this -too easy- on her! All Harley has to do is keep a level head and not have any more outbursts and there's no way she could come out of this as the bad guy. "A psychiatrist, yes. Though I should really be the one to apologize, it's been one of those weeks. Everyone has their share of concerns, sometimes trying to taken on those of others as well... It wasn't professional of me."

It was, however, -this- close to being properly entertaining.

With that matter hopefully out of the way, it's time to move onward to greener pastures. Or topics involving a man with greener hair. "Ah yes, those two! More than enough to fill several good books on where those names are concerned. A never-ending rivalry, darkness standing toe to toe with darkness. You know what they say about staring into the abyss," she says with a light chuckle.

"Show me a sane woman, and I will cure her," Jubilee replies with a giggle, parroting a line she remembers reading somewhere. Where? Wherever! It was a boring book, aside from that line. "But I totally understand what you mean. Some days it just doesn't pay to chew through the leather straps in the morning," she adds with a grin. "Make you a deal? You don't worry about professional, and I won't pester you about your job, 'kay?"

"We're all crazy in our own little ways," Harley agrees with an amused look. "Some more than others, but that comes with being human. Or meta." Why discriminate? Metas are often the most fascinating creatures of them all. "You have yourself a deal. Harleen," she offers with an open hand and that infectious smile. Granted using Smilex is a lot quicker, but sometimes it leaves a little something to be desired. That personal touch, as it were.

"I think I heard somebody say once that the traits that make us human are really very small insanities." The Chinese-American girl takes that hand, smiling warmly. "Jubilee. That's an interesting name. You are officially my first Harleen!" She settles onto a bench, pulling out chopsticks and the first of two take-out cartons. "Darkness against darkness... so you think there's kind of a symmetry there, between the Batman and the Joker?"

"How coincidental, you're my first Jubilee," Harley says in turn with a grin. "Very uplifting, free spirited. I'd say it's a good match, given what you've shown me already."

She claims part of the bench beside you, hunching a little further into her coat while going straight for a piece of crab rangoon. "Symmetry, yes, though it runs much deeper than that. This endless struggle between them shows many classic signs of a more symbiotic relationship. They exist because of the other, and they cannot exist -without- the other. Remove either one and the other will fall. Balance and duality, though not in a traditional sense. In most circumstances it would be more appropriate to compare them as light and dark, night and day, but here, only shadows seem to thrive. The symmetry can be found starting here. 'Send a maniac to catch a maniac,' as the quote goes."

"I don't know... I'm not sure a sane person could fight crime the way the Batman seems to, but I know he doesn't have a thing for killing people," Jubilee replies, frowning thoughtfully. "I think Gotham has different varieties of maniac, but I'd lots rather have Batman as a neighbor than the Joker. I wouldn't have to worry about my mail having poison gas inside, or finding my dog dead and smiling grotesquely." She shudders.

"As I'm sure most people would," Harley agrees while catching a piece of chicken with her chopsticks. "It's always better to have a hero, regardless of how dark they might happen to be, than someone that's plain crazy, after all. But, therein lies another peculiar twist."

She leaves the point hanging while she chews.

"Batman is always portrayed as the humorless crimefighter. Ask anyone in this city if he's ever cracked a joke or a smile, no matter how small, in any of the stories. He must profoundly hate his life, possibly even himself. In this perceived stability hides the truth of absolute instability. By comparison, the Joker is consistant in that he is random. Yet, no matter what the story, he's always having himself a gay old time. One's depressed, one's a dopamine addict. Not many silver linings to these legends, is there?" she concludes with a soft chuckle.

"This is true, even if he's the only one enjoying it," Jubilee concedes. "I never thought about it that way. Just... I can't find anything Joker does funny, really. Not because I can't see the humor in it. It's just that every time he pulls a joke, people die. There's just not anything funny in that. He'd kind of like that sick guy in the movie theatre who's laughing at the victims in a slasher movie."

Harleen reaches up to lightly tap the side of her head, "It's all in how the mind perceives reality. Get a few crossed wires in there and it can have a significant impact. Take for instance the matter of someone falling down a flight of stairs. Human nature says that we should be concerned, go to their aid, ask them if they are alright. Even then, deep within our minds there's a part of us that wants to watch and laugh. If not for the matter of someone getting injured, it's still pretty funny. Just look at how many videos like that can be found on the internet. They've even dedicated TV programs that offer several thousand dollars for the 'best' clip. Sometimes, it can be a very fine line."

"It seems like more people laugh anymore than help," Jubilee admits. "That's kind of scary by itself." With impressive technique, she chopsticks up a bite of fried rice, chewing as she thinks. "Maybe human nature itself is fragile, and wears away over time, and some things help it along. Maybe some people just never have it... Maybe the Joker didn't."

"We are all products of our own upbringing," Harley agrees in a roundabout way while watching your manual dexterity skills at work. There's lots of ways to read people, whether they're engaged in conversation or not. "Most fragile, yes. I blame overpopulation, personally. It starts with the little things, people holding doors for one another, saying 'bless you' when another sneezes. No one wants to be 'that person' that stands out within a crowd, so many of us simply wish to disappear."

Yet, she held the door for you back there.

"It's always easiest to follow the lead of those around us, of what we see taking place. The societal norm continues to change. As for the Joker, Batman for that matter, a series of events led them to become what they are in these stories. I would imagine that both of them came about due to great tragedy, and that's simply no fun at all. Though, it's interesting to note that for all of the stories involving them both, very few ever touch base on what they -had- been. Only what they've now become."

Now why could that be?

"Sounds like societal norms wear away human nature, if I'm thinking this through right," Jubilee says, a little sadly. Obviously, with her sunglasses and spiky hair, she's not one of the 'blend in' crowd. "I guess that's why we have heroes, the people who stand out and do amazing things. When you think about it, a villain is someone who does the same kind of things, just not without cost to those around them." She turns to look at Harleen, and smiles "I noticed you held the door for me, Doctor Quinzel. I'm glad you're not the kind to blend in." Then her expression turns thoughtful " Who they were... that's a good point. But Batman has the whole secret identity thing going on, and the Joker... maybe nobody knows who he is, either. I think that's why the stories only talk about who they are now: Nobody knows who they were, so they're impossible to compare to anyone."

"Wear away, or influence. Modify," Harley offers. Your idea behind the reasoning of heroes brings about a thoughtful nod, "It's always easier when we think there's someone else right around the corner to take care of things for us. Remove the burdeon of responsibility. Like a parental figure." There's that smile once more, taking note of your own appearance. "People that choose to blend in often miss out. Having the confidence to stand tall as your own person, it draws others in. You walk your own path, as well." Anyone else would have been more entertaining with a nail file jammed up their nose, not conversation.

"A man of a million identities," she says almost wistfully while looking upward and away. "How does anyone truly know a person whom does not know himself?" Except her, of course. "Perhaps people simply enjoy having a topic to discuss and speculate upon. After all, it seems to be working out alright for us."

"It does make things easier," Jubilee agrees. "It's kind of an illusion, though. When seconds count, help is usually minutes away. But all the same, everyone is their own person, great or ordinary. I stand out, but I don't want to assume that makes me better than anyone. What about you, Doc?" she asks teasingly. "Here we are, discussing two of the most famous people in Gotham like a couple of hairdressers. I don't know either one of them!" she adds, through giggles.

Harley laughs softly to the question, "Not necessarily better as a person, but more grounded. The stronger the foundation, the further the structure may be allowed to grow. In my own situation, I have people that look up to me for help with their troubles. We have to stand strong in order to support everyone around us. Granted, this can lead to that 'god complex' which some doctors get referred to as. It's not for everyone."

Ah, now here's a fun little tidbit to pick at like a pigeon with a kernel of popcorn... She looks back to you in full, that lingering intensity within her eyes creeping forward. "But if you had such an opportunity to meet them, would you want to?"

"And there's more than one kind of support," Jubilee interjects. "I'm not a doctor, but people do depend on me. But I depend on others, too. It gets complicated." She grins. "And we wonder why people go crazy. Still, I don't see a god complex in you, Doc. You seem pretty grounded and outgoing, not the kind to wall herself up in an office." She takes another bite of rice to give herself time to think, taking advantage of manners to avoid that piercing gaze. But when she looks up, it's still there, like an X-Ray pointed right at her. "Doc, please don't take this the wrong way, but you've got a very scary stare," she says, smiling but shifting nervously.

Harley blinks once, and backs off with -such- a laugh! "Clinical hypnosis training, I do apologize." Yeah, because that'll just make everything okay, right there.

"You've shown yourself to be quite the bright young woman, as well. I suspect there's more to your standing a head and shoulders above the rest than you realize." You're also -oh- so much fun when poked and prodded! This beats the nail file, she can fall back to that one at any point.

Pun.

Wow... that laugh's almost as scary as the stare! Jubilee manages to smile back, if just a touch unsurely. "S'okay, and thank you!" That was just a little bright for comfortable conversational volume. "But I did need to answer your question. I don't know about the Joker. I have a bad feeling I'd die if I met him, and I really don't want to do that. But the Batman... I /do/ want to meet him. He saved my life once. I get the feeling he's pretty busy, so I just want a minute to thank him," she finishes with a smile.

Hmm, this changes things slightly. You've already met Batman, as much as most people ever really do. That doesn't quite stop Harleen's mind from working things over, however. Chances are that if she wanted to get the ol' B-Man's undivided attention that she could, and you've been a pleasant interruption from an otherwise dull and boring evening...

It would almost seem criminal not to thank you somehow!

She could make it happen. It would be so easy, so fun, worthy of such a good -laugh-...

"You said that you were here to visit a friend. How long are you planning on being in town, Jubilee?"

"Only for tonight and tomorrow morning," Jubilee replies, not without regret. "One of those people who depends on me? Does it pretty frequently. I can't stay away too long." She looks up. "Um, Doc? You're staring again... is there some orange chicken on my face or something?"

Blink. Pause. Smile. Harleen looks away and claims the last bite of chicken from her order before she sets the bag aside and looks to her purse, momentarily shifting around its contents. "Oh no, your face is just fine." Then she's looking at you again, directly, almost willing your attention to remain focused upon her. "I know all about depending upon another, so I'll try not to take up too much of your time."

In the time it takes her to say that she's extracted a small syringe from her purse, the plastic cap easily removed from the tip to expose the thin needle within. In one swift and calculated motion she brings her hand around to jab the top of your leg, quick to administer the anesthetic. "Side effects may include temporary amnesia, dry mouth, and loss of appetite," she informs you with a decidedly wicked glint in her eyes.

"Relax, dear. I'm a doctor."

A short time later...

It's late night at an abandoned construction yard within another part of Gotham. A lone car is parked in the dirt below the skeletonized steel structure of what was planned to be a new high-rise.

Humming merrily to herself is the city's resident Harlequin, cartwheeling and flipping about on the I-beams with nothing beneath her but a very long plunge to the ground. The solo performance leads up to a handstand, legs angled out in a V as she whips her flare pistol around and fires a single, brilliantly bright green signal straight up into the darkened sky. The recoil from such a peculiar angle is a bit more than she had counted on, emitting a tiny squeak of surprise as she unrolls and catches herself upon the beam.

As if nothing is amiss she snaps up straight into a salute, following the path of the flare. "Aaaand the rooocket's green glaaaaare, the Bats buuurstiiing iiin aiiiir--C'mon B-Man, come out and play!"

And, in the trunk of said car... it's dark. What, thought something surprising might be going on? Well, you'd be right. Just not something surprising and /visible/. Jubilee moans softly, grimacing into the darkness. "Ooh... my head... Where am I?" The air is musty and smells like moldy old carpet, rubber, and metal. There's an uncomfortable sensation that this space is /very/ small, especially when her questing hand encounters cold metal. "Oh, this is /sooo/ not good." At least she's not tied up! And it feels like her backpack was thrown in here with her, wherever here is. She digs into the pocket of her ski jacket, fishing out a mini flashlight and turning it on. This looks distinctly like the trunk of a car. Feels just as cramped as one, too. "How'd I get /here/? And why does my mouth taste like orange chicken?"

It's not the first time in recent weeks that a false flag has been flown to draw the Bat or his comrades in; maybe that's why Harley doesn't have to wait long for her play date. Maybe it's more a question of the right (or wrong) place at the right (or wrong) time. Everything in Gotham city is perspective-- it's actually a worldwide truism, even in the Batman's book. That doesn't stop his own perspective from being a bit militant, now and again-- like in cases of kidnapping and abuse. Let's face it, regardless what else was done, putting up with Harley Quinn qualifies as abuse.

"What do you think you're doing, Harley?" One moment, there's no one. The next, the Dark Knight is there, like an omnipresent gargoyle a girder above the blonde clowncomplice. By the time the Caped Crusader all but appears in answer to the signal.. and the situation.. there's a micro-drone doing a sensor sweep of the site, and Batman /does/ actually see the rather odd goings-on in the trunk of the car. Sophisticated recon technology has its advantages. "Aren't you tired of this game?"

Then the Dark Knight is gone, flitting along the shadows of that skeletal superstructure and vanishing, or seeming to vanish. A clattering sound like footfalls drops to girders on several levels simultaneously, off in the future high-rise's yawning chasm of an interior. "What do you /want/, Quinzel?" It echoes out of three sequential locations, for the few words-- all dark, and Batman is not in any of them.

Batman may not really be able to scare Joker, but Harley Quinn is another matter entirely. "Make it quick before I free your hostage and smuggle you into Blackgate."

Ask, and ye shall receive. Harley jumps -ever- so slightly as her call is responded, as if by magic. "Oh, you're -gooood,-" she teases with a broad black on white grin. "Gots somethin' for ya, Batsikins!"

With her usual flourish and internal fanfare she grabs a nearby vertical pillar and spins herself around it, holding the remote trunk release out at arm's length, aimed at the car. "Ta-Daa--!"

Click. Click click.

Harley's expression instantly goes from 'everything is awesome' to 'everything stinks.' "--aww, the remote's outta range. Hey--where'd ya go?" She hears him over there, then over -there,- then... She slowly turns around in place, looking perplexed for a moment before she finally -stomps- a foot onto the beam, causing a dull *thud* to reverberate through the unfinished structure. "Stoppit! I ain't here ta step on your toes, B-Man."

A moment later and she's sliding back down to ground level, getting close enough to release the trunk. Both of her arms shoot out wide toward it, with enough force for the keys to dislodge themselves from her palm and go shooting out across the dirt. "Won't ya please welcome tonight's guest stah, ah..darnit, what was her name again--Jubilee!"

Pause.

"That's right, innit..?"

And meanwhile, inside the trunk: "These things usually have some way to open 'em," Jubilee recalls. Her light pans around the inside of her tiny space, pausing on anything of a different color. Jack, handle, access space for a taillight, orange tag... "Yes!" The Chinese-American girl grabs for it and pulls... And there's no resistance at all, her pulling hand thumping painfully into her denim-clad thigh. "Ow! Crapsicles. It's been cut. Somebody totally planned this." But the one thing that doesn't come to mind is just who /somebody/ is. Her train of thought is derailed by an odd electrical whine, followed by a thump. A very latch-like thump. And the trunk opens wide, like a hydraulic jack-in-the-box, revealing a dirty, curled-up Jubilee in all her ingloriousness. She blinks in the sudden light, hearing a bright, lively voice declaiming her presence, and tries to sit up, wincing as her stiff legs and back protest. "Huh? Who... who's there?!" All she can see is a vague female shape, not far from the trunk.

It would be a stretch to say that Jubilee is /known/ to Batman.. but he's run across the firecracker of a mutant before. As the keys skitter into darkness, the Dark Knight lands in a (quite intentional) rush of air and its accompanying impact shockwave on a steel platform overlooking Harley-- and that car. "Get out of the trunk and step away from the car quickly and carefully." It's hard for the Bat to sound outright /reassuring/, but he can do authoritative and confident.

A large batarang is flipped open in the Caped Crusader's right, armored glove, its touch controls lighting with subtle LEDs as he programs it in tandem with the suit's telemetry. "Let her /go/, Harley." Not reassuring at all, that part, as narrowed cowlslit of eyes turn back to Quinn.

"You don't want to hurt her." For numerous reasons the Batman can discern.

Right there, seemingly without reason, Harley Quinn starts to -laugh.- Like the whole thing is one giant game. Hell, it -is- a giant game! To her.

"Ya think I drove all the way out here, signalled your cowled butt outta the sky, just to hurt her? I'd be insulted if it wasn't so funny! Nah, she's a good kid."

She makes no move, standing her ground. No obvious weapons beyond one spent flare pistol. Nothing's wrong with Jubilee, aside from emerging from a trunk after having been drugged. Either Harley's done something truly underhanded here, or...

"Miss Jubilee here's in town for the night. She just mighta said that she'd fancy a chance to thank a certain masked man while she's here," she teases while grinding a tiny divot into the dirt with the toe of a boot. "Mighta been that -someone- nearby overheard this conversation and put one an' three togethah."

Then, as though she just performed some major service to the city as a whole, Harley says "Yer welcome" without even a hint of malice in her voice.

That's right, Harley tried to do something nice. In her own. Special. Way.

Wait... she knows /that/ voice. The Batman! "Whoa..." she murmurs, peering up into the sky in the direction of the voice. "I'm totally going!" she calls back, still a bit too shaken to manage anything thankful, beginning to pull herself out of the trunk. Away? She /does/ try, though her stiff body can't manage quick and careful at the same time. She settles for quick and gets clear of the car, stumbling to a halt not far away. And then... then there's that crazy laugh again, and an explanation. Oh, fudgesicles... has anything more embarrassing ever happened to her. Nope, can't think of anything today! "Batman, I'm sorry! I... this was totally /not/ my idea," she says, covering her rapidly pinkening face with her cold hands. "I'm sorry..." Which is definitely not what she wanted to say.