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A young man is striding along the sidewalk, the shadow of death heavy upon him. Murder, it would seem. Somewhat a shame; he has the bearing and contentment of a person flush with life and many plans, although fate seems keen on ending them here. Yet there is a muted strangeness to it, as if sometimes the shadow might be drifting away… it does not seem to be irrevocable, but the actions of the man do not seem to be influencing the results in the slightest. He's young and handsome, well-built from exercise, walking quickly with a cup of coffee in hand. It's been a few blocks, the event coming closer and closer. And then it seems to darken, as if all chance of it being evaded is suddenly gone beyond outright intervention, as he waits at a crosswalk…
*
She was SUPPOSED to be going to work, but it seems that death found her before she even managed that tonight. No matter, they were used to her being late. The skinny slip of a woman in medic blues turns on the ball of her heavy boot and begins tracing down the sidewalk, shadowing the man like a thin, pale ghost behind him. She's got her heavy medics kit across her shoulder, white blonde hair pulled back in a messy braid, to keep it off her face. She looks as professional as her too skinny, hollow eyed self can. And she breathes in deep, the sweet scent of death to come on the air just getting more heavy. He would not survive. She was almost certain of it. She follows a bit closer, trying not to give herself away. Not until the time was proper…
*
Cars flit past lazily. Finally, the light turns and he crosses. Before there's abruptly a squeal from the alley nearby, and the target freezes, along with a half-dozen others. A few cries for help. After a few moments, the target curses and drops his cup of coffee, bolting into the alley towards his doom. Nobody else makes to follow, although a couple hurry away, presumably towards the nearest phone. Said alley is narrow, stretching far past garbage cans and beneath raised fire escapes, the sounds of alarm continuing.
*
"…what in hells…" Brunnhilde mutters beneath her breath, rolling her eyes a bit. It seems she was going to have to work for this one. But the man's soul would deserve rest, when the time came. So, the medic shoulders her pack a bit stronger and begins to double time run after him, as light as her little feet can take her, trying not to barge into the middle of a scene. She still needs to stay on the edges of it all, not coming in until it's over. She just doesn't want to lose track of him.
*
The man vanishes around an alley. A moment later he's heard stating firmly. "L-let the girl go!!" There's quiet sobbing of a feminine variety, before a somewhat chilling voice fills the air. "…you aren't a hero. Good samaritan? I'm not FISHING for GOOD SAMARITANS!""W-what?" responds the target, in somewhat muted confusion.
*
And Hilde definitely wasn't one of those, despite her medic's uniform. Not a hero or a good samaritan. She was simply lady death. They may or may not notice her in the shadows, just at the mouth of the alleyway, standing behind a line of trash bins and bags. Just far enough not to involve, but close enough that she can see everything that will happen. Her eyes travel to the girl for a moment. Ahh, not her. Him. A warrior's death indeed, a warrior's heart in a mortal's body. Hilde smiles at the thought. This is one who truly would deserve Valhallah.
*
The woman also has the shadow of death upon her, however. It seems to swirl into being, before suddenly vanishing. Strange. When she looks upon who it is, the gaunt white face is known by most all after what he did a couple years ago. The Joker. He's wearing a tan trenchcoat and a hat, large silver revolver in his hand and aimed at the girl. The good samaritan is only a couple meters away, leaning forward and partially poised to be aggressive. "Joker." whispers the man, with a dull and chilling realization. And looking on this aspect of chaos… it is strange. Sometimes, death is on him. Then it's not. Weird, strange blinks. As if he's on some peculiar crossroads. Suicide, it reads. The Joker is entertaining the thought of suicide. It is hard to determine the degree with his wild mind, but… well. Wouldn't that just be a blessing to the world?
"Who are you?" he suddenly calls to the shadows housing Brunnhilde. "Are YOU a hero, too? Or just a GOOD SAMARITAN?" The man edges a few inches closer, seeing that Joker is distracted, while the girl remains shivering on the ground, hugging herself.
*
With no fear, Brunnhilde simply wasn't a woman that knew fear these days, the slip of a blonde comes forward. She doesn't rush to help either of the innocents, or the suicidal man at the end of the alley. She doesn't seem to care. A ghost of a smile crosses her features and, for a few heartbeats, she truly looks like some strange spectre of grinning death in a New York City medic's uniform. "…Neither. I'm here for the dead. Just… came a bit early. Finish, as you please. The living are not my concern." Even if her uniform would say literally otherwise, she does not seem to care. She waits with the patience that only the grimm reaper can have.
*
"…?" There's curiosity within the Joker now, looking upon Brunnhilde. The pistol drops slightly, and suddenly the shadow of death vanishes from the girl once more. The man seems more hazy as well. Fate is not acting as it should with the Joker. He might feel like a grand tangle of threads, and which one he feels like tugging on fluxes wildly from one moment to the next. "Hah!! The dead?! How did you know I was going to kill them?! Maybe I just wanted to SPOOK them!" The girl continues to cower, but the man edges forward more. The Joker doesn't seem to give him any heed, eyes remaining on Brunnhilde. Teeth stretching broader and whiter. "…your eyes." he then says. "…I don't think I care for them."
*
No one cares for her eyes. No one likes to look at death, not that straight on, especially someone who can't get the courage to be properly suicidal. Without fear of his gun or his madness, Hilde takes another few booted steps into they alley. Her hand comes out, motioning to the girl, "Run, child…it's not your time." And she just KNOWS that, even if the threads of death are flickering so heavily about him. She knows the girl is safe. The man, however. That is what she waits to see. She gives the Joker a chesire cat sort of smile, something ancient and terrible behind her tired, Bronx-girl gaze. "I know you aren't going to kill her… I know you will probably kill him… After he tries to do something heroic. And I know you want to kill yourself. Or… are debating it. But you can't make the decision. But there there will be one soul to usher across the river and to the honored dead tonight. And so, I wait… as I have for thousands of years. And will for thousands more."
*
The moment the girl has the audacity to try to run, the Joker shifts his weapon back in her direction. It's at this time the man, ready and waiting for an opening, moves. Rushing forward, the gun is pushed slightly askew, bullet skimming the back of the woman with a cry of pain, but only glancing and harmless. Twisting, the pistol's butt is thrust down, impacting him in the temple. He staggers and collapses, grasping his head with a hiss of pain. "Stop." he growls to the woman, just as she begins to stagger down the alley away. She does, still trembling, blood running donw her back. "Hoho! So far you're right, aren't you? I DID want to kill her… but I failed. Yet the man's not dead, and my gun's on her!! Well, doesn't THAT make a mess of things? I've never been FRIENDS with fate, you see! Rules are made to be broken, don't you think? Will my gun jam if I try to pull the trigger? Or maybe Superman will descend and punch me in the face?! I mean, they DID call the cops, and you're KEEPING me here rather longer than I wanted, even beyond the gun! Ooo, this is FUN!"
*
She should be scared, if she was sane, but the Lady Valkyrie has never been considered entirely sane herself. Brunnhilde stands there, quiet and serene, watching the scene casually. "…You may interfere, yes… there may be more dead. Or less. It is of no matter. Who I need to take, I will take. If there are none, then I shall go to work. There are many souls who will move beyond tonight. It is New York City. There always are." Maybe she was as insane as he was. She certainly didn't LOOK like some grand old being of death. Not this close. She looked like a skinny, over worked street rat. All but her eyes.
*
The Joker meets those eyes, unflinching. Brunnhilde might see a strange understanding there; and despite that, his own complete lack of fear. "You aren't death." he decides, after some long moments. His voice is oddly cool and smooth. "Perhaps a messenger for her… Hee! Well. I suppose it would be RUDE not to obey a simple request." He then turns, and abruptly shoots the man on the ground in the leg. He cries out in pain, grasping at the wound. A foot strikes him, kicking him to roll to a stop between Joker and Brunnhilde. His pistol is carefully tucked within his trenchcoat, then. "What's your prognosis?!" The artery in his leg has been nicked. With proper medical care, it's almost certain he would live. And from the desperate look in his eyes, it's very clear he wants to. "H,help." he begs towards Brunnhilde, recognizing her dress, that she has the tools he could only dream of in this situation. Blood is pooling beneath his leg, as he shivers in growing shock. "Go on." Joker comments, ignoring the woman as she flees down the alley behind him. "Help him. I won't stop you."
*
She should help him. Hilde is a medic. But she just keeps that quiet, serene sort of smile in place. Calm, too calm, she walks over to the man who is bleeding on the floor of the alley. She looks him over carefully, especially into his eyes. "…His left pupil is blown. You… broke something vital in his brain before you ever shot him. He's dead already…" Hilde's fingertips smooth across the terrified, desperate man's cheek. "…You will have a warrior's rest, I promise. You will walk with the honored dead… a place few true mortals go. Rest… there are better worlds than this…" Hilde whispers, a cool, ancient breeze from very much somewhere else suddenly cutting across the alley. While she won't heal him and she won't kill him, she will ease his way. She looks back up to the Joker, as she waits for those last beats of life to leave the man. "No. I am not Death… I am The Valkyrie." Not *a* Valkyrie. THE Valkyrie. The first.
*
"W,what?" The man on the ground looks shocked, utterly uncomprehending. "I… I don't want to die!! I have a f-family! My parents… w,without my income, they'll… no!!" He grips tighter on his leg, obviously not consoled by the thought of any sort of blessed afterlife. "Oh god… oh god…" he just whimpers on the ground. Joker still seems somehow amused by the whole thing, grin still present on his face. "Is that true?" he asks her, curiously. "Or are you just saying that, so you can let him die?" This seems to only cause the wounded, dying man even more distress.
*
"Shh…. it is time…" Hilde whispers, trying to calm him with the coolness of her touch. It will bring the drowsiness of death on quicker. She has used this gift to calm soldiers on the field before. A small touch of mercy, while the time ticks on. She will not kill them, but she can ease the passing. She looks back up to the man, faint smile on her thin, pale lips, "It is true. I have no strange, Midgardian sense of morals… This man takes a noble death. There is no reason for me to justify it."
*
He does not die well. There are too many regrets within him. He fights like a warrior until the darkness takes him, which is not long. A broad pool of blood is beneath him now, the Joker continuing to stand there. "How interesting!" The Joker coos. "You trust fate so blindly… disregarding what he wants! Will he go to a grand afterlife with his memories? I would hope not! Or he will be angry at whatever gods await him, wouldn't you say?!" The Joker crouches down, pulling out his wallet. He plucks out his driver's liscense, slipping it into a pocket. "I'll help him out. Kill his family." He turns to flip out a few photos. Him with a beautiful wife and two children. "Then they can aaaaaall be together. Or will they not be noble? Perhaps the mother! I'll shoot at the kids first, and then she can hurl herself in front of it!! Hmm. And kids are INNOCENT, but… not valhalla! Will THEY spend eternity without parents, now?!"
*
The man above her might not be accustomed to being ignored but, for the moment, he is utterly ignored. The Valkyrie has a job to do. His soul has a long walk to take. That icy breeze remains and some ancient, low song echoes from deep her throat, so quietly hummed, more felt in a vibration of flesh than actualy heard. A bigger voice than her tiny body should have, but there it is. She guides him on, even as the mad man above her rants. Hilde focuses on her job. It might take thirty seconds, or five years… in reality, it is about a minute, but it feels fall longer, as she guides him to those hallowed halls. The light she does not understand. Not her Gods. SHe does not care… She sees him there. And then she sinks back on her heels, breathing out slowly. "…Do you want to die and you are simply too scared to finish yourself… or are you truly that confused as to what you want?" She finally asks the man.
*
There's actually no particular attempt to interrupt things, when Hilde takes her measures to send him on. "Do I want to die?" The Joker asks, almost lazily. "Who wants to die?! I want PURPOSE! Hoohoo! What's the point of a world without purpose? I'm not interested in sending out a message nobody GETS! That's what this is all /about!/ Sending a MESSAGE. Gray Falcon… well. He didn't last." He'd make to stand opposite Brunnhilde, meeting her strange gaze with his own, wild and unscrutible as any mortal can ever be. Perhaps more chaotic than even Loki himself. "Staring at the world through a lense nobody else can see… that can drive a man utterly MAD!! But I see things too, Valkyrie. The truth laughs at me, speaking to me in riddles I can barely understand or convey… And I know that fate and destiny wish me to speak. Why else… would I still be alive! Haaaaaaaahahahaha!!" He then hefts his pistol, to press the uncomfortably hot tip to Hilde's head, if she doesn't attempt to move away. "What of you? Would YOU like to die? …I think you would. Just like me, you're living some unfulfilled shadow. Going through the motions. There's greater things out there…" He pulls back the hammer of his revolver. "Can you see your own shadow, Valkyrie?"
*
The skinny, waif of a woman watches him with calm, slightly deadened eyes. No hesitation or wincing as he presses that hot tip to her forehead, even if it might leave the faintest burn or mark later. Hilde just stands there, feeling death, contemplating the taste of it. "…You want… Purpose. I see. That must be.. incredibly sad. For no, I do not lack for purpose. I have no wish to die, though if this shell does, it shall been a learning process, I suppose… It has been a learning process being alive as mortals live… as Midgardians do. If this is the time, it is the time. I know my purpose, though. I always have. I cannot imagine the… loneliness. The wondering without one. No wonder you are mad. To have no purpose would drive weaker minds to such lengths." She stares at him, waiting to see if he shall pull the trigger. Her pulse hasn't even quickened.
*
Brunnhilde has partially disconnected.
*
Brunnhilde has partially disconnected.
*
"…Weaker minds?" the Joker states, before leaning closer. His eyes go wider, as if to allow a window into the turmoil beyond. "Do you REALLY believe that…? A weaker mind would be a vegetable, my dear! Or banging their head against a WALL until it breaks!! Haaahahahaha! Well. I've never killed a harbringer of DEATH before. But… not today." He slips the gun back into his trenchcoat. "After all… you should be thanking me. I'm giving SO many souls passage to a better eternity…" He yanks out the photos of the fallen man's family, before tossing the wallet upon the body. "Well, I better go ferry along these mortal coils, then go back to my search! Toodles!" He then begins walking away down the alley proper, whistling an almost jaunty tune. Sirens are faintly heard now, and a police officer is beginning to run up an alley. The shadow of sure death is not upon him… because he instead stops to speak with Brunnhilde, rather then continue on. "Are you alright?! What happened!" Well, she inadvertantly spared his life. Had he chased the Joker down, he would have become just another statistic!
*
The woman keeps watch, still staring at that gun, almost bracing for it. Maybe tonight was her time. She has been waiting… but not so, it seems. She lets out a slow breath of almost disappointment, but simply tilts her head. "…Good night, Mr. Joker… We will, no doubt, meet again." ANd then she leans down to take what care she can with the body. That is where the cop will find her, attempting to go through the false motions of being a medic. She still had a cover to keep, after all.
*