1963-11-19 - What Happened to Handsome Joe?
Summary: In Harlem, Handsome Joe cracks up. (Emits by Jean)
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
jean lynette domino 

It was a little bit chilly outside. The first throes of winter upon Harlem, but that did not stop them from celebrating the last of the fall weather with a little street side market to sell their wares. Everything was up for grabs. The grills were out and a hot commodity; various meats and veggie combinations were steamed and cooked to perfection, a few vendors with tables that lined their shops with an assortment of cheases and lunch meat for sandwiches that were in creation. Men sliced up tomatoes and peeled away lettuce leaflets to layer atop of them, with olives upon little tiny toothpicks that were set aside and sold for twenty five cents.

Juice was poured from the bottle, whilst one woman claimed she made them freshly squeezed, but we all know Martha. She bought it from the store for ten cents and upsold it by adding sugar and a bit of syrup for a quarter.

Bangles and baubles were also poached there. A family of six created bracelets with beads and the like to be sold. A painter sold his creations that would never make it to the papers but his realism was shocking and often distorted. There were shoes from a cobbler that a few businessmen picked up, mostly so that they could claim they've purchased it from some unknown vendor in France. Though little did they know the nails that held the heels together would slip out within two months time. After all, if you wanted quality, you'd have to pay to play.

Cue Handsome Joe. Handsome Joe had been missing for a time; no one knew where he went, but he was a staple in Harlem just because of that face. Brown skinned debonair who always looked slick despite his station in life, a man who commanded respect with a wink and swoons just by strutting by.

Handsome Joe remained the talk of Harlem due to his disappearance, and the talk yet again when he arrived again that night. No longer did he smile with those pearly whites, but his handsome features were rendered with a certain harshness and anger. As he approached the first station, the woman looked up towards him and blushed. But there was no light in his eyes once he reached such a reaction, they were cold. Dead. Something that didn't warrant the blush nor friendliness that she was due to unleash upon him.

For once he lifted his finger, and slowly leaned forward to press against the middle of her forehead.. a soft sound of buzzing could be heard before her head..


A hollowed out hole was created with but a touch. Blood stained his all too well pressed suit.

Someone gasped.
A glass shattered.
There was a choking sound..
Maybe even a swear word.
But it all was a prelude to a scream that shocked the street and had others looking.


Harlem was a 'safe place' for someone like Lynette. Granted, so was her new school, but this section of the city wasn't heavy with any type of pressure or discrimination. She knew people here, by name, and it took her all of a couple weeks to be worked into the fabric of the neighborhood, even if her time here was spent as staff at the Cigar Factory.

Minding her own, the girl with massive hair pauses at stall after stall, chatting up people and giving away whatever she could by way of money. She had little to begin with, but that didn't stop her from parting with it willingly. With some type of pork on a stick, she moves down the sidewalk and nibbles from the meal idly. It's only when peole start commenting about 'Joe' that she pays a bit more attention.

Her food falls from her fingers, and without a second thought, though with saucer like wide-eyes, she walks, then jogs, then sprints, toward the fallen woman who's brain matter has just decorated the wall behind her.


Ever get that feeling like you're being followed?

Domino sure has. (And is.) This part of town isn't the sort of place she likes to hang out. Unlike the Kitchen, which has curiously been somewhat more accepting of that 'whiter than white bitch,' Harlem hasn't been quite so forgiving for her. It's also not the best place to lose a tail on account of standing out so much, but what can you do? A mass of people is a mass of people. A lot of motion and activity makes for an amazing distraction!

Hands stay buried within jacket pockets and her head is tucked low as she sweeps through the crowd like a lone salmon fighting against the current. All she has to do is not draw any unnecessary attention to herself, just keep moving and—

In a heartbeat she dives for the ground and reaches for a hidden pistol, thinking that someone had just taken a shot at her. While she's still safe for the moment that whole 'not drawing attention to herself' idea just flew out the window. Good thing everyone else is panicking for some other reason!


The woman fell.

Another one screamed. It was like music to Joe's ears even though he did not smile afterwards. And yet, while another man stood near by, shocked at what he had seen, as soon as Joe turned around and lifted his finger towards the man, he immediately ducks and begins to run. Nevermind the trail of pee that he left behind, no one would feel shamed. For in that position, the same thing would happen, loss of courage and bodily fluids.

Lynette wouldn't reach the woman in time; she was gone as soon as she was touched, but there was a little girl there who immediately cowed to the side of her mother. She shook her, screamed, shook her again, but the sound of her voice did not rouse.

Joe, thankfully, continued on. While people began to run in all directions, one man catches his shoulder…


The same hole, without a touch was delivered to the head of the man as he too, stops cold and falls to the ground stiff as a board.

It was perhaps in the line of sight of Domino, she could see the cool and calm demeanor of the man. The man who too, suddenly slips his hands into his suit-pants, his lips soon pursing as a loud whistle begins to bloom from his lips.


Was it the sound? Or the fact that someone else had came into his orbit? No one would really tell. Handsome Joe perpetuated a sort of smoothness that most in his generation wishes that he could attain. Though someone does fall down by the white woman and tries to scramble over her, no matter the fact that she had a gun!

'Get out of the way goddamn it! Joe is nuts!'

No shit.


Lynette keeps to her speed, and as other scatter, she heads into the frey. The girl that clings to her mother causes her to pause and to lose some color in her cheeks. Going to her side, she gently touches her arms. "Hey, hey now…com'on sugah. Y'gotta go." The Creole murmurs, looking up for someone, anyone, to move the girl with them and away from what has happened. "Y'gotta go, babygirl. S'gonna be alright." She promises, as empty as it was, and urges the child to move with the help of an elderly woman in the next stall. "Y'keep'er safe now. N'y'self, too."

Standing, her sights set on Joe. Her head cants, before shaking, trying to drive that whistling noise out of her ears. With another sprint, she flicks off the man's hat, and claims it for herself. Tucking it under her arm, she girl is quick to move into a position that creates distance between the pair. Then, both hands out, she grabs her index finger, the same as Joe's offending one that was some sort of 'gun', and 'SNAP', cracks it backward.

The joint pops and crunches under its cover of skin and tendons, but the girl with multiple kinks doesn't seem phased by the self-injury. Instead, she's waiting to see how 'Joe' reacts, when his own digit has been bent back beyond use.


She also knows that stride… With the panic and disorder overtaking everyone else it becomes all too easy to spot the one remaining individual whom stands out. He looks so ..content! Though he's not after Domino.

A quick glance around shows that no one else is running toward her, so either she's in the clear or her tail is smarter than the average tracker.

The thought passes through her mind about taking a shot at Joe's leg though before thoughts can become actions someone else lands on top of her in a tangle of limbs, very nearly driving the air from her lungs with a poorly placed knee. Lying on the ground is NOT where you want to be during a riot or while in the middle of a panicked mob. It just isn't!

On the upside while she's fighting for air to bitch the guy out with..he drops his wallet while fleeing. His loss shall become her gain. Then she's getting the hell back to her feet while she still can!

Upright, sidearm extending out in Joe's direction, she's about to yell a 'hey!' when she sees something else within the crowd. Proof that there -is- a tail. There's another pistol aimed her way, with Joe right between the two. Before any shots can be made the albino dives for cover, prompting a swear and a forward charge of the other guy.

He'll end up running right past Handsome Joe.


Was it the gust of wind that alarmed Joe? Or could it have been the fact that someone took the grey brimmed hat from his head. His eyes widen as he swings his arms around, ripped from his pant suit to swing haphazardly at the air. His eyes land upon Lynette..


A man who bumped into Joe fell into a heap upon the street. A woman, distraught, stops to kneel by him to try to drag him aw— *POP!*

The heads in Harlem were rolling, cooking like popcorn in sweltering heat. The fear in the air was thick, and yet Joe remained as he was. Handsome, dapper, bloodstaned effigy of death that..


Bodies were dropping like flies in his area; some catch on and take wide berths, while others back away and go the other route, clouding Domino's perfected view. Yet, there was that tail that was after her, his own gun produced. And right when he passes Joe's shoulder.. Joe's finger lifts..


It was broken! But Joe, disjointed finger and all, only shows just a grimace of pain. The back of the man's head was hit with a twisted stub, his skull caving in with another splat that echoes through the street. And once that body falls, Joe's hand draws itself to his sights, almost as if he were mistified at this outcome. He felt himself coming apart at the seems, and yet he was too dumb to figure out that Lynette was behind it all.


It's now Lynette's turn to mutters curses, her own flowing out in French instead of English. After that first 'pop' of finger back, she works another, and then another, all while keeping her distance. Yet, as more bodies hit the floor, the girl with now snake like eyes stares at Joe. Her vision skips about, trying to figure out just how to handle this.

Gritting her teeth, the young voodoun digs into the back pocket of her pants, and with a flick of the wrist, a blade comes into view, setting from its handle with a solid 'click'. The other hand, who's fingers were bend back, have relaxed back into place with a roll of crackling pops, focus their direction on the dapper murderer.

Shadows begin to swell around her, and then, the man in her field of vision. Perhaps, without line of sight, he can't hurt others. At least, that's the girl's hope. "Get de hell outta here!" She yells out to those still within killing distance of the burrow's own 'lady's man gone rogue'. "Don' get near'im! Get off de street n' get t'y'homes. NOW!" She barks, as the slitted pupils of her solid, jade eyes, settle on Joe alone.


People do strange things when under heavy pressure. The adrenaline gets going, mucks up the neural paths something awful, makes people occasionally act like idiots.

Like the guy still at one of those tables suddenly pointing an accusing finger at Domino. "That bitch has my wallet!"

He's looking the wrong way to notice the pistol flipping through the air toward the back of his head, flung from the dead hand of the albino's former tail.


The wallet-less man spins about with the force of the impact, overturning a table full of trinkets which lands at an angle upon one of the corpses.

A table full of small..round trinkets… Trinkets that would be so incredibly easy to trip over. Marbles, polished rocks, faux pearls, the owner must have just loooved anything spherical in nature.

Now all of those items, formerly about as worthless as they come, have become invaluable allies as they scatter across the street. All around Handsome Joe.

Handsome Joe who is now being shrouded in shadows and won't be able to see quite so well.


It was such an odd thing to have happen! The way Joe's fingers bent. It perhaps seemed almost innocent in the way that he does this. His finger was brought to his lips..


..his tongue poked out from his lips..


And he positively licked the finger that now bleed due to the bone being exposed from his skin. Odd. Really odd.

But Lyn proved well, people managing to pick her odd accent out from the crowd, others diverting their direction finally away from Joe's path, a few shielding others as they bang upon doors of shops and houses, each of them acting in cresendo as they open to allow the panicked people in. There were a few swayed curtains as people watch the scene itself, dead bodies, some missing their heads litter the street, yet their stomachs turned to steel as they watched the display with growing fear and concern. Strange.

Joe knows this. He knows that people were running from him. He knows that he feels better for it. He knows that the sound of chanting was close by, and he knows that he wanted it to stop.

It was automatic, that about face. His ear tilted and keen towards the sound, his eyes not understanding or recognizing the darkness that grows around the woman with the tall hair, but he does not care. It was the slow gait in which he approaches Lynette. There was no smile, only a look of intensity that one would see when a lover approaches his beau. Both hands, even though fingers are broken upon one lays against his side, the darkness a slow rise as he stops to look down towards his feet. And then towards Lynette. And then towards his feet. Curious thing. A connected thing.

A thing which makes handsome features grow harsh in a scowl that has his pace picking up and hands reaching out towards her befo—


(That last splat? Someone was suicidal. In fact, they really felt that the world was collapsing around them but why not? Two weeks later, he'd be buried in a paupers grave, but he would feel relief from this mortal coil.)

The hiccup of the last man that runs into him as well as the baubles that were spilled due to Domino's dustup actually has him slipping. A quick catch of feet that has him bending, a slight crack of the ankle with his foot gone sideways and his body following suit to land upon the ground hard as he would.

Bits of metal penetrated his skin, a jacks game set the culprit. Prongs and things of that nature caused him to bleed and feel pain which finally drives a squawking sound from his lips.


One step forward, two steps back; when Joe starts to advance on the mambo, she keeps herself clear of him. The shadows that fold around them slink with her, creeping across concrete and asphalt. It's only when some unsuspecting figure who has cast in his chips dives into the darkness does the girl's concentration faulter. A spray of crimson lands on her face, causing her to turn away and rub at the splatter with the sleeve of her oversized sweater jacket. The shadow worble and sway, before sinking back around the mambo and giving the rest of the neighborhood a clear view of the events.

Sputtering and spitting, the snake-eyed girl looks again again, her expression, and some curls, still stained scarlet. It's then that she notices the pale faced woman down the way. She offers the woman a silent nod before gazing down at the crashed figure that was Joe.

One ankle down, at least he wouldn't be moving. But soon, his still healthy leg splits at the thigh, and fresh blood bubbles up and pools through his pants, and around him on the ground. No weapon can be seen causing said injury, except for the girl's own knife that is not dug deep within her own leg. She gives it a twist, then another, before pulling it out, only leaving a rip behind on her own clothing.


Dom's attention jumps to the man crying about his wallet, wincing as he goes down. (Free gun!)

The shadows are a peculiar thing. They shouldn't be doing that… Now she can't really see what's going on either, which also makes it difficult to see if anyone else might be following her. It's unlikely..though a lot of details here are already well within 'unlikely' territory.

And she just keeps thinking back to the Queen of Spades. Thank you, Beatrice.

There's also that one guy running right -into- the shadows. "Hey—look out!"


As the shadows recede the situation proves to have gotten a lot more gory than a few moments ago. Some other lady didn't run. Judging by the knife in her hands she isn't much of the running type, either. Domino, staring back at Lynette, nods in turn before she cringes and sucks a sharp breath through her teeth as the girl jabs the blade into her own leg. It's only made worse (and more surprising!) when Joe's own leg looks like it just got diced open by a machete.

"Oh, -shit-…"

Approaching the scene is among the last things she wants to do right now. She also doesn't have the luxury of avoiding it. First there's the dead tail, if there's any information to be had on his person then she needs to find it. A gun remains focused upon Joe as she approaches, though to Lynette she suggests "We should probably get the hell out of here."


The spray of the blood mystified Joe, before he went down. But now it was the pain that holds his attention, his angle twisted, his foot hanging aloft as if he were a skateboarder who fell and landed wrong. He knew inheritly that he can't walk. But that did not stop him from attempting to advance upon Lynette's location!

The streets were seemingly dead, blood ran through the streets and trailed a path towards the gutter. Brain matter clumping against the tiny cracks and soon sucked beneath by the suction and heat that may or may not melt the tiny little muscles..

The split upon his leg was realized a second later, his body writhing upon the ground, his fingers grasping and clutching the wound in desperation of attempting to keep closed, the hisses and hiccuped breath of his screams the only sound that he makes. There were no words, just a howl of a cry and a growl in frustration that the muscles will not willingly knit together so that he could move.

Crippled as he was upon the ground, the handsome man makes a mess. A mess that would soon be hosed off the street as those in Harlem try to forget. He -is- mortal after all, though what type remains to be seen. No one really knew what Joe could do.. yet today? They get a preview! And possibly their last!

From afar, a redhead rushes through traffic, smacking backs to move out of her way, following the sound of sirens..


Lynette eyes Domino then, her gaze set in a glare, yet it was obvious that it was not meant for her in particular. Her jaw is set, moving from side to side as she considers Joe on the ground. "Y'hurt 'nybody else, den dat last cut be perm'nant." The girl threatens before glancing up and hearing that horrible noise of sirens. Blinking, her eye lids flutter and then those serpant like peepers return to that of natural obsidian. Blade away, she steps back, and then nods to the pale woman and turns to run off.

Just yards away, she slumps against the wall of an alley and pants. Fatigue was setting in, heavily, and after a few more deep, shuddering breaths, she pressing off the bricks and starts running once more. Domino was right, it was time to beat your feet.


There's more to learn about the other girl. Her eyes just..did something weird. Something that eyes shouldn't. The knife wound to her leg doesn't seem to be slowing her down any. She's also got one hell of an accent. Even for a mutant (and Domino can finally admit that she is one!) there's something very alien about Lynette… Alien and -disturbing.-

Dom's former tail has a few more clues of his own to offer. Just what they happen to hold she'll have to find out later, now is a time for stuffing everything into her own pockets! It's a cause for her concern, the man had a suppressor on his handgun. It takes special connections or know-how to come across something like that…

She probably should have chosen to put the suppressed one away instead of the loud one, too. There's a street full of people missing their heads..and she's holding a silenced .45. For anyone arriving late to the party it would be -way- too easy to reach an incorrect conclusion about this scene!

Everyone's luck runs out sooner or later, right?

Lynette's got a head start. Once Dom's finished searching over the one dead guy she, too, turns to make a run for it.

In the same direction Lynette ran off to.


Which ever way the redhead ran to.. it wasn't in the direction of the fight..

But Handsome Joe was down. He was wounded. He couldn't hurt anyone aymore. He bled and he was weak. But he wasn't done, not just yet. The jacket was soon shrugged from his shoulders as he heard the sirens, bundled up upon his leg, his body flopped back against the ground as he surveys the distruction that he caused..

..there was a smile upon his face. He looked wounded and worn enough to pretend that he was a victim, and yet he had a feeling.. a feeling that if this did not go the way as planned, many more would die by his hands. And that feeling?

It brings about a peaceful relief that allows him to close his eyes and sleep.


Jean rushes through the alleyways, heading off Lynette at the pass. With her arms held out, she crashes into the woman, both arms wrapped around her as she looks over her shoulder with alarm. "Come with me!" She shrieks out, attempting to help Lynette through the paths that she had previously took, Domino in tow. It was with luck that Jean knew the woman.. though who's luck? It remains to be seen!

"Both of you are loud! So loud! Christ! I wouldn't be surprised if you woke Charles up from his sleep! But I got a place, it's not far! But I think we need to get a car."

Jean Grey, the jackass, coming in at the end to save the day without doing all of the work. What a dick.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License