Need Cape Nor Cowl

Disclaimer: Characters © DC and used without permission or personal gain.

Need Cape Nor Cowl

By Spug & The Virgin Reaper

Part One: Only Half Sorry


Wesker: The quiet continuous drip of fluid had been a constant along side beeping machines. Regulated and precise. If they were to sound off obnoxiously or flat line, the room would have suddenly swarmed with activity. Yet for now, it was deadly quiet.

Ten minutes ago a slightly prissy nurse had upped the dosage in the IV and adjusted the glasses upon a sore nose. Not a scratch upon them, one could wish he'd fared as lucky. " Now don't strain like that again. Such a fuss over an item. " She'd taken a moment to wrinkle her own nose at that rather hideous looking Dummy that now sat cooked against the man's side. " Creepy. Ring the buzzer if you're in too much pain, Mr. Wesker. " And with that, her heels sounded against the floor, voice trailing down the hall " yes, yes, he's calm now, and still awake. .. "

The room remained with it's hospital chorus of beeps until the clank of wood interrupted. The Dummy's eyes shifted toward Arnold Wesker and it gashed it's wooden teeth together. " yah well, she's got ah fat ass. " Clang again. " You look like shit, Dummy. "

Wesker had good reason not to disagree. Lacerations across his chest had been deep enough to need bandaging. Busted cheek, two broken ribs. And a concussion that made it just a tad hard for the Ventriloquist to keep his meeker side focused.

Inch thick glasses keep eyes hidden from view, but the older man's head stared directly into the dummy's glossy lifeless eyes. Arnold Wesker's twin personalities had been unconscious for three days, and when he'd awoken on the hospital bed, minus the benevolent Mr. Scarface, the beaten, usually placid mousy man had FREAKED. Jerry had warned them not to remove the puppet, but they had.

And now he had a headache and bruises from where he'd torn his IV's out in an attempt to locate the Dummy. It had taken two orderlies and the fetching of one ugly looking toy to calm the skitzophrenic.

But he was back to himself again. If not a little worse for wear and horrible, horrible depressed.

" I'm.. g-glad you're okay, Mr. Scarface. "


Gordon: You know it had to hurt when it wasn't in Arkham's clinic, but rather an actual hospital. James Gordon had been baffled by the silent treatment given to him by the inmates concerning the matter. Usually a good offer of a relaxed sentence could open them up, but none of the lower class scum wanted to speak up and the higher ups just wanted to tease him over the matter. He'd like to see how happy they were to jerk him around the day came that it was them.

He turned the knob to the hospital door with a deafening squeak in the quiet room, interfering with that monotonous and soothing IV drip. He held a file under his trench-coated arm and entered the door, peering inside at him. "Thinking of trying out for the hospital fashion show?" Fortunately, he'd been able to convince Bullock to stay downstairs. Had he let him up the grizzled man would have had him by the collar and been trying to shake it out of his ears.

He stepped inside. "I thought it was past regular visitor's hours," he said, motioning toward the puppet. The way that thing seemed to move independently of it's owner always creeped him out, the way those hollow glass eyes would stare. Why didn't those nurses take that damn thing away from him? He doubted it would let him talk.


Wesker: Indeed, creepy lifeless glass eyes. Upon hearing the door squeak only the dummy's head had snapped to attention. Brows clanging lower under that pinstripe hat. Wesker on the other had laid like a bump on the log, just the rise and fall of his chest in quiet agony. Oh yes, it hurt.

" I dunno, copper. We was thinkin' agout it, gut they just don't have these charmin' paper roges in my size, and it just anit right if yer ass cheeks arn't hangin' out of them. " Scarface came to a rest sitting on Wesker's stomach. An arm raised to point at the cop. " What the hell are you doing here, Gordon? Haven't they retireg yer ass? " Followed by a long nasally laugh. The left side of the puppets face scarred up. He looked oh so evil.

Why was James Gordon here? Wesker finally moved his head toward the figure in the door and raised his brows in a confused manner. Lined mouth pulled in his own enigma. Had Mr. Scarface done something while he'd been out? Of course Wesker never came to realize that Scarface WAS him. Just another side. It certainly couldn't be the police actually concerned with that fact that he'd gotten his ass royal kicked by a few mafia goons.

" H-hello Officer Gordon. How are you? " Wesker finally fumbled out, much to the dislike of his Dummy.


Gordon: "Well, I think I'm doing fine. You look a little under the weather though," he casually approached the bed. He wouldn't have been taking the risk if he weren't assured by the doctors that Wesker was just an injured mouse right now. Quiet, demure, broken. He'd seen the act before, but... now that he'd seen him he really couldn't deny it to himself.

He put his hand on the edge of the bed, testing to see if it would support his weight. "Actually, Mr. Scarface, I came back. You see, the Joker did something horrible to my wife, and it was hard for me to deal with. I'm sure you heard about that in the papers." He finally rested on the very corner, by Wesker's feet.

"He couldn't have anything to do with what happened to you, huh? Because you can tell me if he did."


Wesker: Time heals wounds, but it rots minds. No doubt Wesker would get over all his body injuries and return to his life of servitude under his dominate personalities iron fist. A small noise escaped the injured little man as Gordon sat down on the bed. Wesker kept his head facing the cop. Remaining mostly quiet even as the other man stated about his wife. Of course Wesker and Scarface knew, the whole underground knew. That smiling buffoon had literally announced it and THROWN a party.

" Course we knews. Everyone knows. yah think we's deaf and dumg? Gut what I's was always wondering. " Now if Scarface had happened to have a cigar right then, one would have bet he would have been pointing it at Gordon. " if it grought down yer gadass points at all, knowing yah couldn't even save a little woman from a moron wearing lipstick. I heard yah fled like a gitch. "

Oh yes, Scarface was testing the copper. Hoping the old man would be so insulted he'd get up and leave. Then perhaps he could persuade his weaker side to get the fuck up and they could make a break for it.

Wesker again let out a concerning noise and finally opening his mouth. " I-I heard, I'm sorry. That was horrible. But they weren't Joker's men, I .. don't think. " " Dummy, what the fuck? " " I'm sorry Mr. Scarface, b-but his wife. " " Shudup. Nah it wasn't clowns men, yah done yet? It's almost dinner. Can't miss out on the great hospital food. Yum. Yum. "


Gordon: For a moment, while his face remained stony enough to rival the Bat's itself and his jaw was set like a steel trap, so much pain and hurt oozed out through his eyes. He loved her. There was no denying that, even to this day. But she would want him to be strong and keep going.

"Yeah, yeah it was insulting. He paralyzed my daughter. He killed my wife. I wanted nothing more than to just... leave. I didn't want to destroy the last elements of his life I had left." His eyes went to the dummy to Wesker, looking beyond their shiny lenses into the other's eyes. "But I realized that if I did leave this all behind, they'd just do it to someone else."

He looked back to Scarface. "How about I stay a while. Order out. We can make it a party. What do you like? Pizza? Chinese?" The puppet didn't want him talking to Wesker, but whether it was to hide who really beat up his master, or to just get him out of the room he hadn't decided yet.


Wesker: " Oh yer funny, mayge I should be sittin' on yer lap, wise guy. " It had come apparent to the nastier side that Gordon wasn't simply going to be chased away with bad comments. This no doubt annoyed the dummy, but knowing Scarface, he'd eventually figure out how to worm something decent out of this.

The man with his hand up the puppet's back however, was bothered more by the other's story then the wise ass comments going back and forth. Wesker's lips trembled for a moment, and his own jaw tightened. Poor Man. He'd lost so much. And here he was back in Gotham, dealing with the same lunatics and psychos that had plagued him. He'd not snapped or lost his mind. That made him strong. Years of being bullied, the loss of his parents, jail and his own self torment made Wesker weak and had driven him insane. Creating the nasty little puppet that now clanked it's jaws at Gordon. But Wesker still.. still had compassion.

Here he was beaten down on a hospital bed. IV wires sticking out his arms. And he felt SORRY for James Gordon. He swallowed hard. " Please Mr. Scarface, he just wants to h-help us. Could I just talk to him for a moment? " " What? " The Dummy barked back. Turning swiftly toward his human toady. " What go yah wanna talk tah him for? You can talk to me! You don't know shit agout it anyway. "

A wooden hand closed over an IV tube and the Dummy yanked on it making Wesker grit his teeth and whine, still pleading out " P-please sir.. " " Yah such a gagy. FINE. "

Scarface gave another tug and folded his arms over his chest dropping the IV. " Go ahead Dummy, gleeg yer friggen heart out over how yah got yer asskicked. "

Mrgh. Wasn't it interesting? The way the two sides treated each other? But at least Scarface would allow Wesker a moment to bleat like a sheep, just as long as nothing too vital slipped from his mouth.


Gordon: James leaned forward and rested a hand on his chest. It was leathery, with creases at the knuckles from years of gripping cold pistol handles. Yet as roughly as he could handle one of those his fingers were gentle and comforting on his collarbone. "Just focus on trying to remember their faces, okay?" he hoped with the encouragement that he'd forget about Scarface.

"It would mean a lot of me if I could help you, Mr. Wesker. I'd like to think me coming back can help people like you." He slid his hand down to cup over Wesker's free one and squeeze it. "It's not just the two of you," he remembered the puppet. "You just need to keep that in mind. There are others that want to help you."

Gleeg his heart out. How that puppet became a major mob boss Gordon would never know.... No, he did. For a piece of kindling only animated by the will of a lost little man looking for protection that the police and family couldn't provide, the thing was damned creepy.


Wesker: The small mousy man stiffened when the hand landed on him. Arnold Wesker just wasn't use to physical contact, at least not of the good comforting kind. Even his dummy usually lash out violently at him. Truly he just wanted out of it all. At least his one side did, but Scarface seemed determined to run them both and the rest of Gotham into the ground with his drug schemes and mafia dictatorship.

The hand that was landed on curled up and around the larger mans. The Ventriloquist's hands were a lot softer then Gordon's and covered in defensive wounds. He'd attempted to stop the attack on his life, but he hadn't bothered to shield his own body, no it was...

" ..t-they were after Mr. Scarface. They wanted to kill him. " Wesker meeped out, sitting up slightly in the bed. The Dummy clanked it's jaws, but didn't say anything. " We..Mr. Scarface and I, we got an hour in the lodge to watch TV, and the orderly got a phone call or something, I'm not really sure. "

" You'd think they'd let us watching somethin' sides fuckin' Turner Classic Movies, fuck I'm tired of eastwood. " Scarface muttered an interruption. One tiny shoe kicked out at Gordon's arm. Wesker waited till the puppet was silent before continuing.

" Then they just showed up. They were dressed like Arkham workers, b-but I know they weren't. When you're in the Mob you get to know what hired goons look like. " Wesker paused again. Scarface was glaring at him. " they tried to take Mr. Scarface from me, but I wouldn't let them have him. So they beat on me. " Wesker's hand suddenly tightened and he sat up even more with another groaning whine. " you see I couldn't let them kill Mr. Scarface. They said he was ' in their bosses way to the top ' "


Gordon: A love of the Dirty Harry films threatened to blurt out, but Gordon caught himself. Yeah, nice way to cozy up to Mr. Scarface by saying that. "And you were very worried about Mr. Scarface, weren't you. How many of them were there?"

He thought about withdrawing his hand, but then he noticed that the smaller, pinkish skinned hand was latched tightly onto his. He wondered if the other was latched just at tightly onto the puppet. It was needy with it's clasp, like it just needed someone to hold it. His palms sweated slightly from the heat and he rubbed the back of Wesker's hand with a thick thumb.

"Were they wearing any weird outfits of any sort?" he questioned, quirking a bushy brow.


Wesker: " Y-yes. " Wesker nodded with a swallow. Of course he'd been worried about Mr. Scarface. He couldn't let anything happen to his boss. The problem was Wesker had next to zlitch when it came to physical prowess. He bit his lip as he looked over at the dummy. Scarface rolled his glass eyes and muttered out " Dummy. " Being amazingly quiet for a short while. It was probably that Mr. Scarface was contemplating something after all.

The thumb rubbing over his hand was strange, but welcomed. It made it a little easier to talk to the commissioner. And Arnold Wesker DID want to blurt everything out. Tell him how it hurt, How Mr. Scarface had muffled into his chest how pathetic he was as those goons had been cracking into him. How his boss hadn't even been appreciated that Wesker had used his own body as a shelf for an unforgiving murderer.

" Two. They had black hoods, I think they were masks, there was some kind of white symbol on them.. I couldn't make it out.. they just came in, knocked over the TV.. And then they tried to take him from me. "

Wesker's brows suddenly lifted high in a panic and he sat up fully. Puppetless hand pulling from Gordon's to suddenly clasp to the other man's trench coat lapel. IV tubes and bandage tape tore and rip. Not a smart move, but despite the ranked pain, the little man spazed. " D-d-do you know who did this? You have to stop them! Please! They nearly killed me. Don't let them get Mr. Scarface! " Eyes under glass were wide and pinpointed.

The Dummy hissed and moved between the two, Facing Wesker. Dummy to Human the puppet spat. ' That's enough Dummy. Lookit yerself, all gluggerin', yer whinin' what got ya geat up. Lay gack down! "


Gordon: His breath caught in his throat at the grabbing of his lapel, his hand moving over Wesker's and tipping over nearly onto him. The folder he had been holding sputtered it's contents out onto the floor, images of black mask victims and bits of testimonies bursting into visibility. Though hiding that confidential information was low on his priority list.

His left hand twitched for his holster, but then had to lurch for the bed railing as he fell forward on him. "Calm down Mr. Wesker! I'll keep them away from you!" He raised his other hand from Wesker's to his head, touching the sparse strands and tender scalp. "I'll help protect you, Mr. Wesker, I'm here...." he petted and consoled. "I know you don't feel like you can trust me, but you're a victim today-"

He pushed himself up so he wasn't putting pressure on Wesker's tubes or injuries, swallowing. "...-Just like the rest of us."


Wesker: Just like the rest of us. Those were chokeful words. Placing Arnold Wesker into a category with the rest of Gotham. Needless, half of him would always be nothing more then that. Victim. Pawn. Succumbing to a psychotic other side of him that was in complete control.

As Gordon about fell on Poor Wesker, the man splayed a bit. The arm holding Scarface jerked over and the Dummy slapped against the Commissioner's side. Quite a good few swear words bouncing around. Groans and whimpers sounded out, but instead of shoving at the cop the mouse man clung to him tighter. Face buried into the front of Gordon's shirt. He sat up hard against the larger man's chest. Ignoring the pulling tubes and the bandages straining under that silly paper gown. Wesker fumbled and began bubbling right into the others tie. " T-t-thank y-you sir, t-t-thank you. P-please d-don't be lying. "

And yes. Wesker wept. Hard. Shoulders shaking, mushing right into the front of the cops shirt. It hurt, oh it hurt. And the thought of someone wanting to help him, hurt even more. But it was a odd good hurt, one that overpowered all his bruises and injuries. The Puppet arm was wrapped tighter around Gordon's back " P-please. " The Dummy had seemed to have gone slack for a moment.

Had the Scarface personality caved under in a moment of humility?


Gordon: He nearly wobbled against the weight of the smaller man. Fingers clutched against the fabric is his coat, and likewise warm palms and leathery fingers found the skin of his back exposed by his hospital gown.

He raised his hand to his head again and pressed his face more against his chest, feeling the pain of the man oozing into him. Beaten down by the world and his own psyche, he probably hadn't even had a real hug in a decade. After a hard day of seeing death and destruction Gordon always needed to come home to find someone there, someone to hold him and remind him that there was still good out there in the world.

Now that he thought about it that was something he'd been missing himself for a while.

"I'm not lying. I'm right here," he comforted.


Wesker: With his wife dead, that was something he didn't have anymore was it? Poor Gordon. He needed a hug just as bad as the Ventriloquist himself! Wesker continued to sob for a good full minute. Angst and paranoia and relief all in one. It was GOOD to know someone might help him, and Mr. Scarface too. Not that Mr. Scarface deserved to be helped. But Wesker couldn't live without the dummy.

At least that's what the dummy had convinced him off. Maybe one day the damage to his psychosis could be reversed and he could rejoin the normal society as just a meek and mousy man.

The hand felt warm, a little rough, but on so warm against his back. Comforting. He needed this. Human contact, even if just to bawl like a baby into an enemies shirt. He needed this. The small man continued to cry till tiny hiccups started and he had to pull his face from Gordon's now tears stained shirt. Shaking softly Wesker looked up at Gordon and swallowed hard. " I .. t-trust you. "

But in this comforting and humble moment, had both completely forgot who couldn't be trusted? Scarface was suddenly looming over Gordon's right shoulder. Glass eyes wide, wooden mouth so sneeringly, a hand raised with a long hypodermic needle gleaming. ( Perhaps stolen from the nurse who'd fixed Wesker's IV in the panic? )

Wesker gasped hard and actually screeched. " NO MR. SCARFACE NO! "


Gordon: The expression on Wesker's face and his cry triggered a cold feeling in his gut. If he pulled his gun now, he'd lose that trust he just earned. "Don't. Please Don't. Please don't." He clutched tighter to Wesker, trying not to hurt him but in a panic.

"You can hold him back. I can't help you if you need it. I can... if you want Mr. Scarface to stay on top."

He swallowed, heart racing, not bothering to turn and see what Scarface was doing. "I can't do it if I'm dead though." He wrung the skimpy fabric of the gown in nervous fingers, causing it to tear a little.

"You don't want that, do you Scarface? Take a look at those pictures in the floor. You don't want that to be you, do you?"


Wesker: The tip of that hypodermic needle paused pressed against Gordon's jugular. It may of been empty of fluids, but it was long and sharp enough it could do some serious damage. " Like I give a damn! " Scarface's voice hissed around the room. With Wesker pressed as close as he was to Gordon, it was more then likely the larger man would feel the vibrates of Wesker's second personality rumbling deep in his throat.

Despite the pain of having his bruised chest pressed to the other man, Wesker did not let go of Gordon. His hand tightened even more. Face pushing against the lapels of the trench coat, staring up past Gordon's shoulder at Scarface. Wesker clung to the other man. " P-please Mr. Scarface Sir, let him g-go, He wants to help us. "

" No he doesn't, he's a cop, he doesn't give a shit what happens to us, them glack mask guys, we're gonna be his gait. " Scarface dug the needle a little deeper. " How's agout we go for a walk. Go a little waltz right out the hospital door. Get up Dummy, Get Moving, you too copper. "

But Wesker didn't do his normal monkey jump and clap, dance for change at his Master's barking. " NO, no.. sir please. I can't.. we shouldn't.. " He looked back up at Gordon. " I-I trust him. "

" DUMMY! " Oh Scarface roared. " I swear I'll fuckin kill him. Gordon, Get the fuck up. Or I'll stick yah in the neck. "


Gordon: Gordon cringed, wincing at the pressure of the needle, feeling it tease his skin as Scarface threatened him. All thoughts of the puppet being a piece of wood left him. He felt like a very real threat.

"It won't do you any good. Bullock and Montoya are down there and there isn't any way Bullock or the other's would let me walk out with you. They're under strict orders..."

He swallowed and hoped that a nurse could get in there quickly before the an air bubble was shot into his veins, or his trachea was damaged. The possibility of him not making it out became very real.

All because he didn't pull that gun.

No, he didn't want to kill Wesker. He's always been a prisoner, a victim. Just like every other citizen. He just had an enemy on the inside. He stopped hugging Wesker slowly and lifted his hands to the sides of his face. "Wesker, if he does this, I want you to know I would have stood behind you."


Wesker: The dummy's teeth being nashed together tightly was a loud psychotic snap in the cops ear. " Yer gullshitting! " Suddenly His random plan wasn't looking so good. Damn this man! Wesker swallowed hard again as Gordon began to pull back, his own hand loosening on the other's lapel. Had Scarface won?

Wesker looked at Scarface still nastily still pressing a needle against the only person who'd ever offered him a little compassion and new hot tears began leaking from behind his glasses. " Sir.. p-please.. don't. "

" Change of plans Dummy. Grag his gun, I'mma put this son of a gitch down and we'll just slip out the gack. Anyone that gets in the way can get shot the fuck up. " And with that Scarface pulled back his hand so he could jam the needle into the Commissioners neck.

" NO! "

Only Wesker didn't do as he was told. The small man suddenly surged forward. His one hand grabbed upward and snagged the puppets dangerous hand. The needle bit deeply into Wesker's palm, but he continued to wrestle with the dummy.

Like fighting with his own arm! The small man threw himself off Gordon's chest and hit the side of the bed. In a tangle of IV's, bandaging tape, and one mussed up paper gown, Wesker ended up on his back with the Dummy trying to claw at his face with the needle. " Fucking Dummy, What the hell are you DOING? STOP THIS! " " I WON'T LET YOU HURT HIM! " " YOU IDIOT! "


Gordon: Gordon may have been compassionate, but he wasn't stupid. He rolled off the bed onto the floor, arm clattering against a tray and sending instruments flying everywhere. He struggled to his feet and this time his hand made it to his holster, jerking out his gun. And he aimed.

And he aimed.

And he lowered, tears starting to streak. There was something sad to him in that image. Like he'd had to strain the last bits of Wesker's true personality just to preserve his own life. He used the butt of the gun to slam the call the nurse button and then holstered it. "Get officers! Orderlies! Someone! He's gonna hurt himself!"

He lurched forward then, and at his first opportunity snapped a pair of cuffs around Wesker's Scarface arm and tried to wrestle it to the metal bar on the side of the gurney, gritting his teeth with effort as he climbed onto the bed again.


Wesker: It was sad wasn't it? Watching a man fight with himself. One side wanting to kill the other. This is what Gotham does to people. Society in it's whole. Wesker had been bullied his whole life, and what had happened? He'd created his own bully in his head, but yet, he was still being the victim, to his OWN Bully.

The Needle was finally lost in the fight, and the Dummy had resorted to bitch-slapping Wesker with his little wooden hands. Tho the sudden snap of handcuffs around his puppeting arm jolted surprise from the Dummy. At least for Gordon's luck, Wesker was already weak and it didn't take much effort to stretch his arm to snap the other cuff to the metal bar. With a nasty Clang! Clang! Clang! The handcuffs jerked against the bar and Scarface could no longer reach Wesker.

" WHAT THE HELL? YOU SNEAKY SON OF A GLITCH! " The puppet swung at Gordon, tho his hands themselves honestly did little damage. It was all emotional when it came to Wesker. The small man himself curled into a defensive ball on his side. He was bleeding from his hand and where the IV's had been ripped out of his arms. His paper gown was littered with tears and holes and honestly not doing it's job with covering him up anymore. But loosing dignity was the last thing on Arnold Wesker's mind.

As the hospital orderlies began clambering in, Along with Bullock ( Who had a donut in his mouth of all things ) Wesker panted and whimpered out repeatedly. " sorry Mr. Scarface, go away please, don't hurt him, I'm so sorry, Sir. I'm so sorry. "

An interesting sight for them all indeed. One half curled but triumphant. The other stark raving mad and still trying to kill anyone in his grasp!


Gordon: Gordon could only stumble back and clutch the lapel of his coat shut. He stared sadly at the man on the gurney, the whimpering sobbing mess who's own hand was pursuing him with a passion. He looked down at the floor, watching as his files got trampled, forgotten in the mess. Some of those footprints were his own.

He touched his chest. Wet. He looked down, and saw water drip from his face. Not all of these were Wesker's tears.

"Commissioner Gordon?" a plain clothes officer finally noticed him leaning back against the wall out of their way. "Did he hurt you?"

Slowly the words registered to him. He glanced up slowly. "No.... no he wasn't the one who hurt me at all..." He shook it off. "Get extra officers watching out for him. 24 hour watch. Don't let anything happen to him and we need to have the puppet nearby, so if they come back after him.." he wiped the last away with his sleeve,

"..we can be ready."