One Winter Knight | Arkhamverse

Chapter 8: The Sound of Sirens

"Mama, I hope you're proud of me.
I took all the awful things they did,
and turned them into empathy.

Mama, I hope you're proud of me,
I may have let their poison under my skin,
but I let it drip out of my fingers as poetry."
~ Nikita Gill

Interesting article. 11:45am, Saturday, Rise & Grind Café – W

Glimpsing down at the glaring bright screen of her phone, Evangeline Winter surveys the private number text with mild surprise, her pace minutely faltering behind the Gotham City Sirens. Hm, took her longer than I thought, the PI soundlessly comments to herself, quick to pocket the device in her cream coloured blazer. She had expected the individual to reach out to her within the hour that the Gotham Globe published the article detailing Sionis' artillery, especially after undoubtedly seeing that Eve was quoted as a firsthand source for the piece. She's slower than she used to be.

With Black Mask business effectively being stored away for the night, the Southerner is reminded of her current business as she spies the glaring blue, battered neon bar sign The Styx perched above an equally seedy-looking entryway. Ivy's apartment wasn't far from the bar, most notorious criminals already living in the East End, so the somewhat brief walk did wonders for sobering Eve and Harley up that little bit more, precisely what the two women needed before the inevitable altercation that awaits them within.

Perhaps I can attempt to politely ask Mr Wilkes before he acquaints himself with the unfriendly end of Harley's mallet. Somehow, Eve very much doubts it.

The sobering up also allowed Miss Winter to realise that either she heals much faster than the average person, or Bruce over-exaggerated her head injury from last night. Whilst the occasional bout of vertigo or dizziness has hit her tonight, it has mainly been after her consumption of alcohol, meaning her injury evidently isn't the concussion Bruce has claimed it to be. There is no doubt that it still hurts, but it doesn't quite impair her to the degree an actual concussion should. Perhaps it was a tactic to convince me to remain at home? Either way, it didn't work, but Eve recognises she shouldn't have had those drinks nonetheless. At least the headache is mild.

The bar's bouncer, half asleep, has to do a double-take upon realising precisely who is approaching the bar. Promptly – and comically – he hastens to flatten himself against the wall by the door, an attempt to avoid being barrelled over by a murderously inclined, 140-pound Harlequin on wheels. With impeccable precision and control, Harley skids to a stop in front of the larger yet clearly alarmed man, nonchalantly swinging her mallet to sit atop her shoulders as Eve, Selina and Pamela sidle over to join her, the latter three not even pausing as they move to head inside.

Exhibiting zero resistance, the wall of a man openly gestures for them to go on in nonetheless, as if he truly has any say in the matter. His voice is startlingly even and level, despite his eyes telling them differently as he complies with a brief, acknowledging "Enjoy, ladies."

"Thanks! You're a peach," the red and black jester exhibits her gratitude, lightly patting him on the cheek as she passes on by, Eve also sparing the bouncer an apologetic yet grateful smile, one which is returned with a look of confusion.

Eve was quite aware of the kind of attention their little group would irrefutably attract walking into a room prior to actually doing so, and yet that still did not prepare her for the startling scene of an entire jam-packed, shady dive bar turning their immediate attention to her and her companions within the first ten seconds of setting foot in the establishment. Despite the attention she has grown accustomed to these past months, the sight still makes her feel rather like a deer in the headlights.