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Post by Harley Quinn on Sept 20, 2009 16:42:23 GMT -5
A scream vibrates against the cold walls of the Asylum before it is cut off completly as a gargle soon follows. The dark liquid pushes itself from the patient's mouth and soon after the single blade entry from his throat. The silver knife slid in so easily but after all it needed a little push. A push to tear through the flesh, the muscle, and any fatty tissue he had. The woman lets out a deep growl as the man with the green hair slumps to the ground, his hands against his bleeding jugular. There is nothing but rage coursing throughout the petite body of the bleached blond. She's on a war path and she'll be damned if she is stopped.
Her puddin' happens to be locked inside one of these cells, she just knows it. He disappeared last week and there has been no trace as to where he went. It could have been the work of the Bat, God knows he is sneaky enough to go into a Church and steal away a Nun's virginity. The only place Harley could imagine him being is locked away nice and tight in the Asylum that is more infamous for having patients escape than keeping them in. They've placed him here many of times as well as herself-- in her former place of work.
Back then she couldn't stand working here and everytime they throw her into a padded cell she becomes sick. The hospital smells the same, decaying mold and bad coffee. The iron hinges on the doors are rusted, causing a sound that rivals nails on a chalkboard. The cooridors are lined with various cells, the patients inside being able to see out. That enables their heartrate to either speed up or slow down depending on who they see standing on the otherside of the glass. Back when she worked here, Harley remembered the patients getting worked up when Doctor Jonathan Crane, The Scarecrowm would walk to the door and slide his card so that the locks may pop open and they begin their session. Now that was a man that easily rivaled The Joker's genius, in her opinion. Using fear as a base of torment. Who woulda thunk it?
Black and red flats step against the floor silently as she exits the cell and comes back into the main hall. That little blade of hers extended with various amounts of blood dripping down and splattering itself against the ground. Her pale eyes are cold and distant, almost completely insane. Her face paint is even a bit sloppy as it was slapped on. Her peach colored skin is visible in patches and even her lips aren't the normal black neat color but rather a dark plump with her technique gone in and out of the lines. Harley's mouth opens wide as she lets out a gutteral scream, cry even, as her heart is pounding madly inside her chest.
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