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Post by The Mad Hatter on Jan 7, 2017 22:18:54 GMT -5
The Hatter nodded contemplatively, not particularly interested in their names but merely wanting to be able to address them correctly. He rocked back and forth on the heels of his very oversized shoes. Shoes. Yes. Shoe size. Very important. "MAKE A NOTE, TWEEDLES!" he cracked in a shout to his goons, "Might come in useful."He withdrew his watch, but held his sway over the two ladies. "Ms. Gordon, Ms. Bertinelli," he said as he removed his top hat and bowed low in a courtly manner, "Curiouser and curiouser indeed I daresay! The Commissioner's daughter and a...well I suppose you are a something. You ARE a something, aren't you?"He leaned up and reached Helena's chin, turning her head from side to side and examining her face closely before letting it go. "WELL then," he said as he stood flat on his feet again, "Mass begins again presently, is the preacher man nearby? Preacher preacher reacher creature, all his pockets full..."The Hatter began to pace back and forth humming to himself as he set his large top hat back on his head and thought. " I knowwwww!" he said as he withdrew a rather large pistol from his coat and placed it in Helena's hand, "You should shoot him! Wouldn't that be fun? And then his enTIRE congregation would have to listen, wouldn't they? Oh yes, they would. Listen to the ticks listen to the tocks." Giggling with glee, the Hatter began to waltz with no one in particular along the edge of the fountain, stopping at Helena and moving her arm so that she concealed the pistol then patting her hand before he went back to it. "Response time of the policemen, Ms. Gordon?" he asked, "Pistol too loud? Too soft? Would they come? All the king's horses and all the king's men?"He said this as he leaned on the girl's shoulder, now at eye level with her. The watch in his pocket still ticking its tock. His intention was to attempt mass hypnosis, and what better place than a large echo chamber like a church. But he would need to keep the people in...bar the doors....? Hmmm it bore more consideration... |
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Post by Batgirl on Jan 8, 2017 2:12:02 GMT -5
The red head's body was far too relaxed for the panic her mind felt. Even that ebbed and flowed with the ticking and the tocking. She went in and out of consciousness, between passive acceptance and absolute terror at what was happening. The man that she had almost been so quick to dismiss as a loon had revealed that he wanted the priest shot. She wanted to break free from whatever control he had over her to stop him, but she just couldn't do it.
Instead, she watched dumbly as he paced and muttered to himself, her mind fighting to break free but failing to do so. She stood in silence like a good puppet as he seemed to be working things out, until he finally stopped to ask her a question. And, like a good girl, she answered.
"Response time is about three minutes or less to gunshots." Her voice felt so far away. She tried to make it sound more urgent, hoping to talk him out of whatever it was he was planning to do, but the ticking was so calming. "Pistol like that would be loud enough to get someone to call the police. A shooting at a church would have all the cops on this side of town on the scene in less than 10 minutes."
She wanted so badly to understand what this man wanted. Why did he want the priest shot? Why did he want Helena to do it? What was the point of all of this? She wanted to be of her own mind, to have control of herself so she could try to talk him out of this. She had a sinking feeling, though, that she wouldn't be able to get through to him.
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Huntress
Heroes 
Every hero has a story, not that I'm some kind of hero.
Posts: 47 
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Post by Huntress on Jan 8, 2017 12:11:26 GMT -5
What came next out of Helena’s mouth was a surprise even for her. “I am something, yes,” she answered, her tone even and eyes vacant. “The Bertinellis were one of the Five Families that ran the Gotham Mafia, until my father’s death ten years ago.” Again, her mind screamed distantly as she told the Hatter that fact. It was something you never revealed to outsiders, and any member of the Mafia already knew the names of the Five Families. How was it that she told this man these things, and so willingly?
As he touched her chin and examined her face, Helena vaguely wondered if he recognized her, which would have been an absurd thing to think since she would certainly have remembered having met this sort of individual, even as a child. She should have run. She should have turned right then and there and left the church, left Gotham, and run to New York or, even better, run back to Sicily. She had revealed herself to a clearly dangerous man and he could use that information against her. But instead she just stood there patiently, and would stay there until ordered otherwise.
When the pistol was placed in her hand, Helena’s fingers wrapped around the grip knowingly. She had handled firearms before, but for some archaic reason, she preferred the crossbow. It suited her best and was far more quiet when used. Still, she would not object to the weapon. In fact, she would not reject the notion of shooting a man of the cloth, despite the voice in her head that was now crying. She was doomed to Hell for what she had plans for anyway and, as the diminutive gentleman said, it would be fun. Helena even smiled a little at the thought. “Yes, it would be fun. And good for practice.” She had never killed anyone yet, but she would need to eventually, and this man was nice enough to provide her with the opportunity to do so. Already she was getting used to the heft and weight of the pistol in her hand. This would be a fun day.
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Post by The Mad Hatter on Jan 8, 2017 19:34:18 GMT -5
Clapping his hands in delight and giggling, the Hatter patted the two ladies on their heads.
"It WILL be fun, won't it?!" he chuckled, "You will do such a very fine job."
Her name and talk of the mafia did not particularly interest him. If Jervis Tetch was nothing else, he was certainly single-minded. And this test of his hypnotic ability was an excellent start. And in a place without weapons and wicked intent...well the second part was debatable. But certainly no weapons. Not like a club or somesuch, which had been his initial idea.
He considered Barbara's answer.
"Hmmm...three minutes or less..." he murmured, opening the cover of his watch to examine it, "Less than ten..."
His pocket watch, it should be noted, was not merely oversized. But inside its clasp the watch face contained numbers and days of the month, but not the actual time. Still, upon opening the watch up, the ticking became slightly louder, adding to his influence.
"Well I suppose I shall simply have to have my cards take the oncoming officers won't I?" he said, matter-of-factly, "If the Commissioner comes with them, you will keep him at bay, won't you dearest?"
He patted Barbara's head and kissed it with a giggle. These two lovely things might be more useful pawns than he had initially thought.
"NOW, then!" he said, "CHANGE PLACES! We mustn't miss the congregation's gathering! Ms. Bertinelli...Ms. Gordon...you will sit in the fourth row...far right....during the 'Lord have mercy,' you will both respond in kind aaaaand BANG! Then you rid us of him and I shall take center stage...understood, dears?"
The Hatter held the watch in front of their faces again, leaning on their respective shoulders as he stood on the fountain.
The plan was sound....ish, for a madman. Then his Tweedles would bar the doors and the Hatter would begin his test. And if it worked...well they would be his little pack of cards, wouldn't they?
He hopped off of the fountain and moved toward the edge of the garden area, indicating in to the corner, for them to go around and enter the church.
"Oh and dear Helena..." he said, "Do pocket that revolver in your purse, if you would...and both of you toddle on in, go on nowwww."
The last time he had timed out his spell's length, it would last for half an hour after he had removed himself from the situation or proximity to his victims...so his timing should be just right, as mass would begin again shortly as indicated by the people filing in around the corner.
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Post by Batgirl on Jan 9, 2017 1:43:42 GMT -5
Well, at least this man didn't seem interested that Helena was the long lost Bertinelli child. If he had been, it could have been disastrous for both of them, and there was nothing either of them could do to defend themselves. Oh god, she was defenseless. Barbara watched the hatted man give Helena a gun and struggled to force her muscles to stop him, but froze altogether when she heard what the young girl said. Practice? What could she possibly mean by that? No, that wasn't a good sign, and she wasn't about to let someone she was starting to know as a friend become a murderer.
She lurched forward in a remarkable show of will, hand hovering over the gun in Helena's hand, but froze when the ticking got louder. All thoughts of rebellion drained from her head and her hand fell back to her side like an obedient ragdoll. She nodded dumbly, indicating that yes, she would keep the commissioner at bay. Even her own mind agreed that she didn't want her father anywhere near this madman.
With the watch dangling in front of her face again, her eyes followed it in a trance. "Yes, sir," she answered, though her mind wanted nothing more than to run and warn the priest that he was in grave danger. She wanted to warn everyone that they should leave. She wanted to ... to ... She wanted to kick that watch out of his hand and smash it so he couldn't do this to anyone else, but she just didn't have it in her.
She tried to stop her muscles from acting on their own, but she was completely on autopilot. She felt herself coast through the doors back inside the church. Her movements were slightly jilted, as though she was close to regaining control, but she couldn't get that ticking out of her head. It was like it was following her into the church. Following her to the fourth row and forcing her to take her seat.
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Huntress
Heroes
Every hero has a story, not that I'm some kind of hero.
Posts: 47
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Post by Huntress on Jan 9, 2017 17:06:28 GMT -5
Why wasn’t Helena screaming or running away, the little voice in the back of her head asked. She shouldn’t be here, she shouldn’t be doing this. Why were she and Barbara just standing there like idiots as this lunatic talked? Her reason and faculties were trying to break loose of whatever hold this little man had on her. Her hand holding the gun twitched and the weight of it became more apparent to her. If she could just lift it, whether to shoot him or simply hit him over the head, it would help. Surely someone would wander in and find them there, break whatever spell he had on them.
But then the pocket watch opened and the tick-tocking grew louder and Helena once more settled into that comfy void of obedience, that nagging little voice being muffled by the rhythm of the ticks and the tocks.
She would do a fine job, as the hatted man had said. And Barbara would keep her father from interfering. But if there were other officers…. was she one of his cards? Would he want her to take them on? That thought jolted her and gave the first sign of a conflict inside her. She was not a cop-killer. She was never one to do that. Her uncle and cousin and even her father had shown some respect for the police, though how little it was. And Barbara would hate her if she did anything of the kind to the police she worked with. No, she would only shoot those that deserved it. Did the priest deserve it?
She had no time to ponder that thought as the little man ordered them both to attend mass once more, this time closer to the front, where she should have been from the beginning. Only bad girls hid in the back, and she was not a bad girl, or at least she tried not to be. The revolver was safely tucked away in her purse, though once they had sat down, her hand went right back to resting on its grip.
And she waited.
She waited throughout the beginning of Mass for her moment to act as instructed, while the small voice in the back of her head prayed for salvation against the action she was about to commit. The priest invited the faithful to begin the Penitential Act. Helena barely followed the words, though the little voice inside knew that at the end of the Act, the ‘Lord, have mercy’ call and answer would occur. The little voice begged her to listen, to not go through with this act, but it was to no avail.
As soon as the priest invoked the first ‘Lord, have mercy’, Helena stood, quietly and gracefully, oblivious to the looks of the other parishioners. The revolver slid from the purse that was hiding it. She aimed. She fired.
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Post by Batgirl on Jan 12, 2017 17:21:39 GMT -5
Barbara followed along through the Mass in a trance. She was completely unable to stop herself, though her mind still struggled to free itself from the residual ticking echoing in her ears. This was wrong. This was very wrong. She wanted to scream, to warn everyone in the church that they were in danger of the mad man in the top hat, but she couldn't find the strength.
When they got closer to the call and answer, Barbara found it easier to think for herself. This was wrong. They were being hypnotized into shooting a priest, and that was wrong. Whatever the hatted man wanted, she wanted nothing to do with it. More than that, he told Helena to shoot someone, and she'd be damned if she'd actually let someone she'd come to know as a friend shoot a priest.
Closer and closer to the call and answer, and Barbara was starting to gain control over her muscles again. She watched Helena out of the corner of her eye and felt more and more urgency as she saw her grip tighten on the gun. No, this was not going to happen today. Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead as she pushed the hypnotist's influence from her mind. It was more of a struggle than she ever thought she'd be able to prepare for.
Panic set in when she heard the words "Lord, have mercy."
Time seemed to slow down as she jolted out of her trance entirely. She was too late to stop Helena from aiming the gun, but right as the trigger was about to be pulled, she shoved her shoulder under the younger girl's arm. The priest was spared, but the bullet took out one of the more intricate carvings of an angel on the ceiling.
Barbara moved quickly to try to disarm Helena, jabbing her fist into the girl's wrist to free the gun and grabbing it when it was freed. She didn't know, though, if Helena was still going to be in a trance after the gunshot. If the gunshot didn't do it, the screaming crowd might.
"Helena, listen to me," she said, trying to think quickly before the hatted man burst in. "We have to get that watch. We have to turn that man over to the police. These people could be in serious danger, and someone could get hurt. These people don't deserve that. We have to do something!"
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Post by The Mad Hatter on Jan 13, 2017 3:13:56 GMT -5
Ticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockticktock....
The people had already begun to run for the doors of the church, but swiftly and decisively they were closed and latched shut by the two large goons that the Hatter had deemed the Tweedles, who had been waiting in the wings for the 'Lord have mercy' of which their master spoke earlier. They leaned with their great weight against the statues of both the Virgin Mary and St. Patrick which flanked the inside of the doors before the pews began and the statues fell with a great thud in front of the doors. The Hatter knew that loud sounds could ruin his hypnotic work for a short moment, and so it seemed best in his addled mind to do away with most of it all at once.
Ticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockticktockticktock....
Another gunshot rang out, but this time from behind the vestibule itself.
The Hatter made his entrance, stepping over the body of the priest whose inside reds were leaking, the pistol in the hatted man's hand smoking.
He strolled carefully up and hopped onto the altar, holding his pocket watch aloft.
"This will not DO, this WILL NOT DO!" he stamped rhythmically in time with the watch as he aimed his pistol at Babs in her pew, "Things may not go so well for you..."
He cleared his throat and lowered his pistol, swaying the watch in time, back and forth and back and forth.
"Fairly soon it's time for tea..." he purred gently, "...but only if you'll come with me."
The church caused the already loud ticking to echo and reverberate along its walls and through its rafters. The Hatter waited for a moment, his grin a rictus horror. He was ever so pleased with himself...or might be, if it worked after all.
"EVERYONE TOUCH YOUR HEADS!" he shouted suddenly.
Everyone did.
"NOW...you may stop...and sing along with me...." he cleared his throat again, "Twinkle, twinkle little bat...how I wonder what you're at..."
The crowd began to drone to the rhythm of the watch, eventually finding the words. The choir did a particularly splendid job of it. With a giggle, the Hatter spun on the altar and kicked over one of the tall candle sticks flanking it. The candle was snuffed before it hit the floor, but it made a dreadful clang.
"Keep goingggggg!" the Hatter sang, and while the loud sound did momentarily slow the amount of participants, it picked up again with the tick tock tick tock of his watch.
He approached Barbara, stepping over the tops of the pews to again be at eye level. He stopped two pews ahead of hers and balanced there, scowling.
"Naughty naughty girl," he growled, "Don't you see how wonderful it is? What a MERRY tea party it will be indeed! They are all quite well, quite well indeed, nothing wrong with them! Even Ms. Bertinelli. We'll all be such good friends. Everything’s got a moral, if only you can find it.”
He held his watch before him and glared hard at the red headed girl, his mirth gone.
"Or would you prefer to be lost in Wonderland FOREVER, dear Alice?" he hissed as he cocked the pistol again, slipping into his delusion more fully, "You'll never make it out of the Tulgey Wood by the time I'M through with your mind."
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Post by Batgirl on Jan 13, 2017 15:26:29 GMT -5
Oh god, the ticking was back. Barbara covered her ears to block the sound of the ticking out and looked around at the congregation following the man's orders. It was like watching a horror movie without the benefit of it being fiction. The one salvation she had was the candle stick hitting the floor. Everyone seemed to be jarred out of their trance for a moment. That must have been why he wanted to get all of the loud noises out before he started to hypnotize these people.
It was only when the hatted man addressed her directly that she realized she was halfway ducking behind the pew. Still covering her ears, she stood up straight, making eye contact directly with the man. She wanted to show him that she wasn't afraid and she wasn't going to fall under his influence again. Not when she could guard herself against it. To make the point, she hesitantly lowered her hands, the gun in her hand somehow feeling heavier than before.
Barbara's heart was racing. This was the first time she'd ever had to be in this kind of situation. She dared not listen to the ticking, but she wagered it had only been about three minutes. Giving enough time for the police to be called, that meant the church would be surrounded any minute. All she had to do was incapacitate this man enough that the cops could take him in without trouble. The way he relied on the watch, she guessed that was the ticket. Get the watch away from him, and everything would be fine ... relatively.
"I was never one for Wonderland," she said, shaking off the initial confusion at being called Alice. What, did this man really think he was the Mad Hatter from Lewis Carroll's work? "But I can get out of the Tulgey Wood just fine on my own, thank you."
She acted without giving the Hatter a chance to react, aiming her own pistol at the ceiling and firing. She hoped to disrupt the trance just enough to remind the people that they were in danger and have them find another exit. It had looked like they only bothered to secure the main doors, but they could get out through a side door if they could just regain their minds for long enough.
With the sound of the shot still echoing in the church, she leapt up onto the pew and then leapt at him, tackling him to the ground. She heard the sound of something hard hitting the ground and skittering across the stone floor, but she couldn't tell if it was his pistol or his watch that was dropped. Either way, she knew she'd probably also have to deal with ... did he call them the Tweedles? Oh, this man definitely read too much Lewis Carroll.
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Huntress
Heroes
Every hero has a story, not that I'm some kind of hero.
Posts: 47
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Post by Huntress on Jan 14, 2017 1:22:43 GMT -5
The pain in her wrist from Barbara jabbing it was what brought Helena out of her stupor. “Christe, eleison,” she said, answering the ‘Lord, have mercy’ appropriately in Greek, her Catholic upbringing still shining through despite being under hypnosis. She looked stunned for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts enough to remember where she was. In an instant, she looked down at her weaponless hands and then back up at the priest, who was, at the moment, looking rather confused and frightened. Or at least he did until a second shot rang out and he fell forward. “NO!” Helena screamed as the short, little man from the garden emerged, smoking gun in his hand.
“He killed him. He killed him, Barbara,” she said, tears almost in her eyes as she looked at her friend, who was currently devising a plan to stop the hatted man. Seeing Barbara cover her ears, Helena followed suit, though she sat down, trying to cope with the fact that the priest was dead. She had prayed for everything to turn out right, Barbara had acted, causing her shoot to go wide, yet the man still died. It made no sense. It wasn’t just or fair.
Looking up, she saw the small man standing on top of the pews, scowling at the both of them like some damned grotesque or gargoyle. Even though her ears were covered, Helena could hear the rest of the congregation. They were under his power, the priest was dead, what else could he want from this? Why was he so mad at the two of them? Before she could ask however, Barbara had fired the pistol upwards and then leapt at the smaller man. For a moment, Helena could only stand there in shock that this bookish girl would do such a thing. Then she noticed from the corner of her eye the approach of the two lumbering henchmen. They weren’t the fastest, but they came with the intensive purpose of doing harm to the redhead that was attacking their boss.
Unfortunately, there is not a lot in terms of weapons inside of a church, so Helena had to improvise. Taking up the hymnals and making sure not to touch a single bible, the young Italian girl began hurling the books as hard and as accurately at the brutes as she could, hoping to turn their attention away from from Barbara. Fortunately, after the corner of one book hit the lead Tweedle in the eye, their attention did change. Unfortunately, it was now directed towards Helena. Why she didn’t expect that to happen, she wasn’t sure, but now she was cursing being the target and was thinking fast of what to do next.
Sound seemed to disrupt the effects of the hypnosis. A pity there wasn’t much in the terms of noisemakers here… except there was. The bell tower. If she could get to it and ring the bells, maybe the noise would free everyone. Copying Barbara’s moves, Helena leapt over the pews as she made her way towards the front of the church and the little door that lead to the bells, the Tweedles right behind her. Bursting into the little room, Helena saw the stairs that led upwards and the ropes that controlled how the bells tolled.
Jerking repeatedly on the ropes did little in terms of producing a sound. There must have been something keeping the bells from sounding during service, preventing any mischievous child from disrupting the congregation. The moment Helena made that realization was the moment the Tweedles came through the door behind her, causing her to climb the stairs both to escape their grasp and to make for the bells.
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Post by The Mad Hatter on Jan 14, 2017 11:41:57 GMT -5
Oh, Ms. Gordon had predicted it indeed. Yes, yes she had. The police were pounding on the door outside. The statues in the way and the locks beset them, but it couldn't last long. Oh what to do, whatever to do...
The Hatter was unable to escape from the Gordon girl, a very feisty Alice indeed, as his pistol clattered away. He grunted and writhed to try to escape but slowed himself and let his watch tick and echo, to subside the once again frantic crowd.
"DEAL CARDS! BACK OF PEWS, AND UNDER SEAT, YOU'LL FIND YOUR SPEARS AND BRING THE HEAT!" he ordered.
The crowd calmed, they moved to check under the pew seats and found a multitude of rifles strapped to the wood. They withdrew them from their binding and readied them, moving toward the girl who was trapping their master. The Hatter himself, simply grinned at his jailer.
"We're all mad here..." he giggled.
The Tweedles pursued Helena far up the stairs. They were not particularly swift, but they weren't meant to be. Just big piles of muscles. They weren't bright by any means either, and doubtless did not understand the girl's intentions. One of them reached for her but missed swiping her leg, stumbling on the stairs but regaining himself and pursuing faster. He found it much easier when climbing with all his limbs than just two. He had never considered that before. The other followed suit and soon they were upon the girl in the belltower, closing in on her. Should they kill her? The Hatter never said not to....
The congregation began to fire warning shots over Babs' head, to the Hatter's delight and cackling.
"And thick and fast they came at last, and more and more and more...!" he laughed, "All hopping through the frothy waves and scrambling to the shore!"
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Post by Batgirl on Jan 14, 2017 16:38:27 GMT -5
Finally, there was that knocking at the door that indicated the police had gotten there. The sound of distant sirens also indicated that since there were multiple gunshots, there were more police en route, which was good for Barbara. As long as she could get these people out of the Hatter's control, that was. Otherwise, they might have been taken in as accomplices, and that just wasn't going to work for Barbara.
When the congregation started firing warning shots at her, she looked at the Hatter and scowled. "But I don't want to go among mad people," she nearly snarled at him. She had noticed, through all of this, that when he spoke he either spoke in quotes or references to Alice in Wonderland, or he spoke in poetry. He didn't seem to respond well to normal conversation, so what would it hurt to try to play his game?
She kept him pinned to the ground with her forearm, but didn't stop trying to get his watch away from him. She glanced around and saw that Helena was gone, but so were the Tweedles. She'd have to seriously thank Helena for that. She turned her attention back to the Hatter and grabbed him by the collar, holding him dangerously close. "The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes, and ships, and sealing-wax...Of cabbages, and kings."
She winced, hearing a bullet whiz past her ear. Her heart was racing, pounding in her chest as though it was going to burst. She hated guns. It took all of her focus to keep her attention on the Hatter. "The police are going to get in here any minute! Let these people go!" No, no. That wasn't going to work. He wasn't going to react to that. She thought quickly and backed it up with, "If I or she should chance to be Involved in this affair, He trusts to you to set them free, Exactly as we were."
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Huntress
Heroes
Every hero has a story, not that I'm some kind of hero.
Posts: 47
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Post by Huntress on Jan 14, 2017 20:33:37 GMT -5
Cussing in church was the last thing Helena would ever intentionally do, but she found herself letting out a string of expletives as the Tweedle closest to her nearly grabbed her but the legs. Now was not the time for delicacy, so she quickly kicked off her shoes and ran the rest of the way up in her stocking feet. It was a good thing she did that, for the Tweedles found they moved faster up the stairs on all fours. They were only feet away when she made her way into he top of the bell tower.
It wasn’t a big area, maybe twenty by twenty, with open windows all around and the bells above her. If she had the time, she would have stopped to admire the view. As it was, Helena barely had time to look around before she was joined by the Tweedles. Thankfully, she was able to keep some distance between the two, keeping this chase to a game of cat and mouse and letting herself glance for whatever device it was that kept the bells still. It was a simple grip on the inner railing that held the ropes, spaced out as each bell had its own position in the tower. Helena was able to loosen a few, but by the, the Tweedles had apparently gained an extra brain cell or two, as they both had split and gun approaching her from opposite directions.
Her normal escape route cut off, Helena did the only thing left to her; she jumped the gap to the other side. Fortunately, a rope ran up the middle, connecting itself to the main bass bell. Grabbing it, Helena used her momentum to swing the rest of the way across and, in doing so, caused the bell to ring. The sound was deafening and jarring, enough to cause her almost pain for being so close. Hands covering her ears, Helena looked over at her pursuers, who had similar reactions and disorientation. But only one ring of the bell could do so much, and she wasn’t even sure the congregation below would be affect yet. Releasing the rest of the grips, she began pulling on each and every rope she could grab, and surely the police below must have thought the bellringer above was insane.
As if in some last ditch effort, one of the Tweedles lunged at Helena, either out of pain to get her to stop or he was hellbent on making sure his boss finished his plan. Either way, he rushed her. It was now no longer a chase, but rather once more a fight for her life. She could only dodge around so much for so long, but if she could knock them out. Using the ropes to her advantage, Helena swung out on one, hoping to kick one of the Tweedles in the head. However, Helena didn’t account for the slack a turning bell would give, causing her swing to go wide and knock him off balance. The large man stumbled backwards and tried to stop himself, but it was too late. He hit the outer railing and fell out of the tower to the ground below.
Letting go of the rope, Helena ran to see the results, hoping and praying he had somehow survived. As she looked over the edge, the second brute grabbed her, wrapping his arms about her. Fighting instincts taking over, Helena slammed the back of her head into his nose, along with her elbow into his side. Once released, she laid into the man with punches, one that her cousin had taught her to use in order for a quick knockout. It was a sharp uppercut, delivered right under the jaw which whipped the man’s head back and caused him to crumple. Exhausted and scared, Helena slowly made her way down the bell tower stairs, wanting to get away from the danger and the noise. However, two-thirds of the way down, she collapsed onto a landing, her body and mind having had enough of today’s excitement. She sat there crying, wanting this all to be over with.
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Post by The Mad Hatter on Jan 14, 2017 22:34:22 GMT -5
This talk with Ms. Gordon gave the Hatter pause. He looked her over, studying her face. She was playing his game with him. How delightful, he thought.
"That's the most important piece of evidence we've heard yet..." the Hatter said in awe, "Oh Alice dear, what have I done, put you at such a place...."
He was shaken from this by further gunshots and remembered his dance between realities.
"...but your dear friend, it seems that she is gone without a trace..." he grinned again and held his watch tightly in his grip, trying to squirm out from Babs' arm.
"STOP HER! STOP HER NOW, MY CARDS! KEEP FROM THE-" but his raving was interrupted by the sound of the church bell chiming, "....no no NO NO!"
The Hatter writhed and raved trying to escape from Babs' grip, but it was stronger than he was. The gunshots had ceased and the congregation stood unsure what had happened, much less why they held guns.
"No no NO, it isn't fair!" the Hatter fidgeted, "The game's not done, I haven't won, they shan't be as they were!"
He opened the face of his pocket watch and the ticking became louder as it had before. The congregation took up their guns again, but between the church bell sounds and the watch ticking, they would not fully obey him and seemed to jolt back and forth in uncertainty.
The first Tweedle who had gone overboard had not indeed been killed, but winced and groaned in pain from being awoken from his spell and finding himself dressed in unfamiliar clothes and sporting a few broken ribs and a leg that was twisted backward. The second was indeed suffering a similar awakening, not sure where he was or how he'd gotten there. The ticking had stopped...the voice in his head had stopped...
The police had shot out the lock on the door but the two huge statues kept the doors from opening.
"Try around the sides!" one of them cried out, muffled a bit by the cacophony of noise.
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Post by Batgirl on Jan 15, 2017 2:14:08 GMT -5
The longer she stayed in this close proximity to the Hatter, the more Barbara started to pity him. He was clearly crazy, unable to figure out reality. He was living in his own Wonderland. Then again, he was trying to enslave a massive amount of people, so she couldn't pity him too much. But there was some pity that was due.
The bells rang. That must have meant that Helena made it up into the bell tower. A genius idea. One she might not have immediately thought of. She'd even forgotten that there was a bell tower.
She could tell the Hatter knew he'd lost. Whatever was happening in his mind, though, he refused to give up. He was dangerous as long as he was like this. More importantly to note, that watch was still holding some influence over the people as long as it was ticking. With one hand on his collar, she grabbed the pistol she'd discarded and knocked the watch out of the Hatter's hand. The watch slid a few feet away and she fired a single shot into it.
With the ticking ceased, she grit her teeth and shoved his head down into the stone floor before bringing him back up, keeping her grip tight on his collar. With as delusional as this man was, he had to have a normal life. A normal name. Something the police could track him by. If he only responded to Lewis Carroll or poetry, she had to think fast if she was going to have him coherent by the time the police finally found their way into the church.
She took several calming breaths, but her voice was far from calm. "Speak in French when you can't think of the English for a thing, turn your toes out, and REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE!" She spoke pointedly, appropriately praying that he would calm down enough to surrender.
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I knowwwww!" he said as he withdrew a rather large pistol from his coat and placed it in Helena's hand, "You should shoot him! Wouldn't that be fun? And then his enTIRE congregation would have to listen, wouldn't they? Oh yes, they would. Listen to the ticks listen to the tocks." 
