----Closed starter for @twomindedsubject !!----

The hospital was sterile, the faint smell of medicine and chemical cleaning agents lingered in the air, faintly singing at the man's nostrils. It was something that Bruce found oddly soothing, reminding him of his father upon his late-night returns from the surgery. As he walked down the halls, a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand, he could feel the anxiety creeping over him.

He reached the door, the large, metal 202 plastered on the front of it. Sheepishly, he knocked, taking a deep breath in before slowly pushing the door open.

"Harv?" His voice was quiet, uncertain, head tilting around the heavy wood of the door. He stepped in, gently placing the flowers on a nearby table, covered in various gifts and flowers.

"Looks like you're as popular as ever, huh?" An attempt at easing the tension in the air, though as he turned to look at Harvey - or half of him, at least, he could feel the tension practically smack him in the face. He stepped over to the bed that his friend was laying in, a look of sympathy washing over him.

"How do you feel?" The voice creaking out of his throat was barely more than a whisper. "I hope they're at least givin' you decent food. Let me know if the food sucks, and I'll sneak in something good for you."

@twomindedsubject

Serik was in a pub, sitting at the bar, when it happened.

A cyberterrorist, an ex-lawyer with two faces, and his right-hand woman walk into a bar... It could have been the start of a bad joke, but there was nothing funny about it when you were one of the protagonists.

Serik immediately knew something was wrong, because the normally busy and loud place, full of people, suddenly and abruptly went quiet. A gasp went through the crowd, like a wave taking over the whole room, starting closest to the entrance and spreading.

Then it was quiet. A floating moment where everything seemed frozen in place. The only thing breaking the stunned silence was the bar's shitty music, normally drowned out by the conversations.

Serik looked to the door. His eyes met those of Two-Face. He bristled.

Shit--!

He knew he was fucked. He knew, because he could sense it. The danger. The fricking danger. So thick in the air it choked him a little. He knew, also because he'd been out the last few nights, tampering with the radio towers, disrupting communications and scrambling the signal. And with his goddamned shitty luck, he'd probably disrupted some crime lord's operation in passing... Not that it was hard in a city like Gotham, they were everywhere.

Finally, he knew. Because Two-Face's terrifying gaze immediately zeroed in on him.

Then the floating moment passed. One step from Two-Face, and Serik bolted out of his stool. Immediately after, the room exploded into chaos, torrents of people trying to escape the perceived wrath of the crime-boss.

⚖️ You’ve Reached Durán Law: Plotted @twomindedsubject

As Bianca saunters off, Dolores raises her mug in thanks-- partially for the coffee, partially for cutting her bonds, but mostly for giving her enough of a chance to defend herself. Which leaves her there. Alone in a kitchen with someone who she has come to understand is very comfortable with murder. She’ll have to play her cards right and hope she hasn't been dealt a bad hand.  “... Gentlemen.”  Rolling her shoulders back, she locks eyes with the pair on the opposite of her. If she’s at all afraid, she doesn't show it. This is a negotiation. This is business. This is her arena.  “Let's cut to the chase; You don't want me here, I don't want me here, so let's review our options--” With her free hand, she extends an index finger and begins her argument.  “Option one is the simplest choice of the two and that would be to just kill me.” Blunt and ballsy, this attorney continues her morbid point without skipping a beat. “It would be easy, really. I mean beyond the fact that I apparently clinically cannot be told to do a damn thing, there’s nothing superhuman happening here. I would just as easily be put down with a gun here and now and you would never have to hear from me ever again, but there’s a problem with that approach.” She takes a small sip of her drink. “I also have a guest lecture I’m supposed to be conducting for a bunch of pre-law students at GCU tomorrow, which would raise a few eyebrows, but I’m also a semi-public figure back home in New York. If I go missing, people will notice and soon you’ll have law enforcement swarming the place.” Less than ideal for any high profile criminal. “Which brings us to option two; we come to some sort of agreement.” Setting her mug down on the island with a light ceramic knock, Dolores shifts her attention from the unblinking yellow eye to the brown one. The reasonable one.  “I’ll admit that I’d prefer this option because I’m in the business of saving my own skin, but it's my belief that as lawyers we’re both intelligent and skilled communicators and I would like the chance to draft up some terms and conditions that we could all be satisfied with… if you’re willing.”  She finally yields the floor to Harvey with a gesture, driving her nails into the heel of her palm the moment her hands are no longer visible to prevent them from trembling. She isn't scared. Fear is an emotion that has become increasingly rare for Dolores in recent years, but her heart is racing and her adrenaline is pumping. Who knew being in a situation with high personal stakes would have an effect on a person. 

Sen7inel shuffled in the back of the plush car, uncomfortable. The dress she wore — black, asymmetrical with long sleeves and a turtleneck — was not her usual choice of attire. Rarely did she pick anything that restricted her ability to run. But with Binary’s help, the Coyote managed to make it work. Her hair was done up in a braided mohawk, sweeping over the top of her head and down her neck. She outright refused to wear heels though, opting instead for a pair of knee high combat boots.

Pale fingers fidgeted with her full face coyote mask — the one that she wore when she needed something more formal than her cloth mask.

— And formality was apparently necessary for where they were headed.

Gray orbs flicked over to Binary next to her. The other hacker had requested she return to Gotham for a meeting — something about her work partner wanting to make an introduction.

The Coyote had resisted — her last run in with a Gotham crime boss had sent her fleeing the city — but Binary insisted. And for her, she’d do it.

The car came to a stop, the driver ‘Bob’ didn’t say much at all as he got out and stepped around to open the door for the two women. Binary stepped out first, dressed in a purple dress that fit her oh so well, her signature black and white mask secured over her face. Sen7inel tried not to stare. Kinda.

With a deep breath, the Coyote pulled her mask on, the green lights pulsing slowly, then climbed out of the car and followed Binary into the Iceberg Lounge.

Well, at least he has two of everything on him right now. Two swords, two guns.

"Janus had two faces, but only one godhood. You, mon cher deux visages, are divine twice over. How I long to be your worshipper." his chin was rested on his hands, eventually his sighing stare at the man finally drew his attention away from his glass to Lestat even if it was to ask why his grey eyes unblinking looked at him when there were so many sights in front of him in this club to stare at.

⠀⠀⠀The emerald hedgehog had made his way to a little hidden side-building in one of Gotham's seedy districts, following an invitation from his favourite human hacker friend. Scourge found Gotham confusing and twisting, like a maze - but her directions to the place were easy to follow, the king finding his way there with relative ease. His gloved hand shoved the door open with a creak, his head poking in and glancing around, only to find-- nothing. Silence. ⠀⠀⠀"Weird," he thought to himself, "figured Bianca'd be here. Maybe I'm early--" his thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a familiar figure in the room, sitting down at a table with documents spread out all over it. Scourge's brow furrowed as he removed his shades to get a better look, one eyebrow cocking upwards in confusion. ⠀⠀⠀"Harv--? The hell're you doin' here?" Confusion would have been an understatement. Scourge fully expected to find Bianca, clad in her usual hacker getup, and yet. Here was someone he barely even tolerated. Sitting as if he had made himself at home here.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀"Where's Bianca?" The question came out as more of a demand as Scourge crossed the room over to Harvey, a heavy leather boot landing on the table as he leaned towards the man's face. Scourge's face was a mixture of annoyance and arrogance, clearly not showing Harvey or Two-Face any respect. ⠀⠀⠀"Y'got 30 seconds before I lose my patience, dude. Spit it out. Where's she at?" The emerald hedgehog was no stranger to threatening people, but threatening someone he'd worked with - with a mutual associate? That was pretty new for him.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Guilt has always been an interesting concept to one Oswald J Cobblepot. Of course, there were emotions that aligned with facts; the guilty felt guilty, and the innocent felt innocent. But didn't it just fascinate the mind, though, how a person could be culpable without feeling any remorse, while someone else could be smothered by contrition despite being totally innocent?

The Penguin had always suffered a curious mixture of both sides of that metaphoric coin, even before becoming known as Gotham's feathered Kingpin of Crime. He felt an immense burden upon his soul for being unable to stop the abuse his father had inflicted upon his mother. Conversely, he did not feel an ounce of that weight regarding the man's murder by his own hands. He'd only wished that he's struck sooner.