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No amount of money was going to get a cabbie into Jokertown on Halloween night. There was no point in taking his bike either. Somebody would rip it out from under him long before he made it to the clinic. That left the subway. When Jerry got on he was a nat with a Nixon mask propped on the top of his head. As the train rumbled south the crowds began to thin. At the last stop outside Jokertown, there were only two people left in the car with him. One was a drunk, the other was a transit cop. Jerry pulled the mask down and started changing his face. He felt particularly ugly tonight, and his features were going to reflect it. He extended his mouth from just under one ear to the other and filled it with large, yellowing teeth; he thickened his brow ridge and skull. He didn't want anyone fucking with him in the streets. It was several blocks from the subway to the clinic, and he wanted to make it as quickly as possible. Once there, he'd poke around. Battle couldn't hide the way he could. Jerry should be able to spot him right away.
The lights flickered and the subway car squealed around a turn, then slowed down next to the platform. A tentacle slapped up against the glass next to Jerry's head as the car hissed to a stop. Jerry lifted his mask and gave the joker a baleful stare. She made a face and turned away. Jerry got up and slid through the door, as it opened, then made his way up to the street.
A bottle broke at his feet as he stepped into the open air. There were screams all around him, some happy, some crazy, some from pain. A group of jokers was performing something resembling a dance in the middle of the street. Another knot was clustered by a warehouse wall, spraying it with cans of paint. Most of the crowd looked young to Jerry. A generation of "hideous joker babies" grown into their teens.
Jerry started making his way toward the clinic. He smelled smoke, but couldn't see any sign of a fire. Maybe it was just fireworks. He hoped the entire neighborhood wasn't burned to the ground by morning. Public sentiment being what it currently was, no one would care much if the fire department was slow answering calls to Jokertown.
Jerry walked with his hands in his pockets. He fingered the .45 automatic with his right hand. Jerry didn't much care for guns, especially handguns, but Battle played rough. He wasn't planning on being a martyr.
He felt hands on his shoulders from behind. Jerry spun around. A joker was extending a hand to him. His skin was the color of uncooked sausage and the top of his head was oversized and misshapen. "Help me out, friend?"
Jerry fished out a five and handed it over.
The joker smiled. As his face moved, it squeaked. "I think you can do better than that." He whipped out a knife.
"Okay," Jerry said. He pulled out the gun and pointed it at the joker's face. "Give me a reason."
The joker took two careful steps backward, hands raised, then turned and ran.
He put the gun away. This is all the public ever sees. They give the rest a bad name, Jerry thought. He watched the joker disappear around the corner, then trotted toward the clinic. He was close enough now that he could make it without getting winded.
He almost needed the gun to get into the clinic. Wounded jokers were everywhere. Jerry waded through the misery into the waiting area. Finding Battle might not be as easy as he'd first figured. The clinic was a big place, and Jerry wasn't sure what it was they were after. Arson was his first guess, but that seemed too small an operation for someone with Battle's ambitions. There was no point in trying to disgrace Tachyon in some way. The doctor was gone, and might never return. No. Jerry figured there had to be something here they wanted. His logic couldn't get him any further than that.
Jerry bounced up and down as he made his way down the hall. He was looking for Finn. He wanted to warn them that the clinic was targeted for trouble. At the top of one of his jumps he saw a familiar blond head. Emily Moffat was walking his way, moving with tired but purposeful strides.
He grabbed her by the arm as she reached his side. "Nurse Moffat, we met the other day."
"I'm sorry, I don't recall you." She looked him over. "You don't look too bad you'll have to wait your turn."
Jerry paused for a second, not knowing how much he could really trust her. He leaned in and whispered, "I'm Jerry Strauss. I really need to talk to Dr. Finn."
She looked at him incredulously. "Who? I'm in no mood for jokes. Dr. Finn is in surgery, and I'm very busy."
"Sorry," Jerry said grabbing her by the elbow and guiding her into a room. He pulled her into one of the bedspaces and closed the curtain. "Look at me." His appearance shifted to Jerry Strauss, then back to his joker facade. "Now do you believe me?"
She looked hard at Jerry for a moment, her eyes betraying nothing. "Okay. So you're probably Mr. Strauss. What the hell is going on?"
Jerry shook his head. "I wish I knew. The clinic is a target for something tonight. Is there anything around here worth stealing?"
"Hardly. Most of our facilities and equipment are practically antique. Except for the experimental stuff, of course. I can't imagine anyone would even know what to do with most of that."
Jerry noticed he was still holding her arm and let it go. "It's at least worth checking out. I can't think of anything else. Do you have access to that area?"
"Yes, but I can't - " she paused, conflict evident in her eyes. "What the hell. If you're right, something has to be done." She pointed to his face. "How long have you been able to do that?"
"A long time. Let's go."
They took the stairs to the basement. Emily punched a code into the keypad on the door. It buzzed and the lock clicked back. She opened it and stared down the dark corridor.
"I'll have to come with you," she said.
"No," Jerry whispered. "This is potentially very dangerous. Wait at the top of the stairs. Better yet, find Troll and send him down here to back me up, but tell him to keep it quiet. If you don't see us again in half an hour, call the police."
She took two steps up the stairs, then turned. Jerry motioned her to keep going. She sighed and continued her ascent.
Jerry slipped in and closed the door behind him. The darkness was almost complete, dotted here and there with small lights from the equipment. He pulled off his shoes and slipped slowly down the hallway, sliding his hand along the cold wall. He thought he heard something and froze, taking shallow breaths. He waited a minute. Nothing. He continued on his way. His hand found a door frame. Jerry fumbled for the knob and slowly twisted it, then stepped inside. He saw a small spot of light sweep over a glassed-in wall to his left. Whoever was holding the light was in the adjacent room. The light continued to roam about the room, lighting here and there, then moving on. Jerry's eyes had adjusted to the darkness well enough for him to make out a door between the two rooms. He walked slowly toward the door, sliding his feet. If he stubbed his toe now, it could be a fatal mistake. He pressed his body up against the door and pulled the automatic from his pocket.
Make your next move a good one, he thought. Make it count.
There was no way he could get through the doorway and still retain the element of surprise. His chances of dropping Battle and whoever he had with him before they got him weren't very good. While he was groping for a solution, the door opened slightly and light came through the crack. Jerry backed away, holding his breath.
They slid into the room and stopped, playing the light over the contents of the laboratory. Jerry was only a few feet behind them. In a moment they'd turn around with the flashlight and he'd be dead meat. Jerry moved forward silently and smashed his automatic into the side of one of the intruders' heads. He felt the shock of the blow up to his elbow, and heard the man crumple to the floor. Jerry crouched and foot-swept his other opponent. The man cried out as his legs went out from under him. Jerry scrambled forward in the near darkness, placed his knee solidly in the man's back and pressed the barrel of his gun into the captive's temple.