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You are all just slaves to my hypnotic patter
2013-05-22 05:18 pm (UTC)
Getting out of that situation had been... taxing. Those sent after him had been obvious professionals, fast and well-armed, and while he'd managed to take care of the ones with guns, evade some of the worst blows, and greivously bite the one who'd gotten their hands on his mask, a mixture of blades and blunt instruments had been unpleasant to say the least.
In the end, blood loss more than anything had run him down. He'd managed to get into crannies where they couldn't follow, but only after the aforementioned loss of his mask, as well as a chunk of flesh from one arm, and quite a lot of broken bones.
When he heard them leaving, he found his own way out -- and the ensuing explosion had jettisoned him the rest of the way out of the water pipes and straight into the river.
That much had been lucky. The fact that he'd apparently lost his phone somewhere in the midst of all that brouhaha was much less so.
He'd been subtle for once, not able to afford being seen by police, other villains, or any lingering assassins. He'd made it back to the Secret Six base, though by that point he'd have much preferred to finish off the evening in a nice calm way instead, and promptly collapsed after saying his "hello"s and "someone tried to kill me"s.
When he woke up about a week later, he was quite grumpy to hear the news: Quite a lot of lost blood, nearly a dozen bones that needed set and/or replaced, miracle to be alive, etcetera etcetera, and no visitors. Well, aside from the Six, but that was to be expected. And a few more assassins the previous evening, who had been unlucky enough to drop in when Catman and Deadshot were there.
"Waller said if we keep killin' people in here we're gonna have to leave," Deadshot warned.
"It's the best hospital we could access," Scandal explained. "Well-guarded and
. But if they've found you here, it might be best to move..."
Obviously they hadn't wanted a replay of that whole Doctor Psycho nonsense.
When Ragdoll had complained of no William standing vigil at his bedside, or at least wreaths of flowers and well-wishes -- well, they knew how to roll with things like that by now, and Deadshot just rolled his eyes, giving one of those tight little smiles that meant he was only partly joking, but also saying something he thought you wouldn't want to hear.
"You sure your boyfriend didn't send those guys after you? You were reported dead on the news, and he hasn't said jack. Maybe he wanted you whacked."
Ragdoll glowered and crossed his arms -- and then uncrossed his arms quickly. "Don't be ridiculous, Floyd. William has
better taste than that. If he wanted me dead, why, he'd make quite the show of it!"
"...You know, freaky, you've probably got a point."
Honestly. The things some people thought.
But... Well, he could have borrowed a phone at that point. A potentially simple solution to the current bothersome issue of having no William around to dote on him! But somehow he had a feeling he really should go see his virtuoso in person.
He didn't bother checking out of the hospital -- it was a split-second decision, really, early in the morning a few days later, when he just didn't have patience to wait for someone to stop by again. By the time the nurse got there, Peter Merkel, Jr.'s room was empty.
Fully recovered or not (and the answer was not), he'd been moving around in
worse condition before, so it didn't really register to him to be more than somewhat uncomfortable. It was more discomfiting to find the Tempest Theater entirely empty of Meisters, really. Though not, as it turned out, completely empty of theatrically-themed figures. Hopefully Meister-related ones; if not, he would be
"Pardon? Pardon me?"
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