He's the key. Turn him and the others follow....
Gregg continued, hurrying the words. "You don't want to make a mistake here. Think about it. We're not some poor lone joker who wandered onto the wrong block. Touch us, and there's going to be a big response. People know who we are and where we are. They know when to expect us, and they're probably already looking. You're going to have cops all over this place. Your place. Call tonight a draw, my man, and no one loses face. C'mon." Gregg gestured toward the fallen joker. "You've made your point. There's no reason to hurt him anymore, or us."
"You're scared, Hartmann."
"You're damned right I'm scared. No one wants to die. No one wants to be hurt. Not jokers, not nats. Not you." The kid's uneasiness flared into more saturated fright. The Gift strengthened inside Gregg, arcing outward like an acetelyne flame.
The kid scoffed. "I ain't scared, Mister Suit. Ain't none of us scared of protecting our turf." The rest of the gang scowled and muttered behind Blades, and there was nothing in them but hate. Nothing Gregg could use. Their emotions threatened to shatter the uncertainty contained in their leader's own rage, and Gregg hurried to shield Blades with the Gift.
"But you are scared," he said. "Just like me. You wouldn't be out here if you weren't scared - scared of the wild card, scared because you know that there's always a chance for the virus to infect you, and you might turn out to be just like that." Gregg pointed to the fallen joker across the street. Inside Blades, there was a surge of pale white against the red, dampening it. "Think about it, Blades. He isn't any different than you. Not really. It's a goddamn virus. You don't choose to become a joker."
"Man, you talk too much. You know that?"
"You're right, I do. So why don't you use that? You want the jokers to stay out of your territory, right?"
"You got it, old man."
"Then let me tell them for you. You know who I am; you know the jokers listen to me. I'll tell them for you; I'll tell them all to stay away. That's what you want, right?" Repeating. Reinforcing. Shoring up the emotions.
Blades sniffed. He shrugged. Gregg said nothing, watching instead the intricate play of emotions within the boy. Suddenly, the kid shoved his knife into the scabbard stuck in his boot. "You better tell 'em good, old man. You tell 'em good, 'cause the next ones we find we kill. You got that?"
"I got it, Blades ... thanks."
The kid turned without another word, stalking off. One by one, the others followed. In a few seconds, the four of them were alone in the street once more.
"Fucking great footage," John whispered behind Gregg.
Hannah and Gregg went to the joker as John continued to film, as Debra began to lay a commentary in the background. Together, they helped the bleeding person to his feet. Hannah smiled once at Gregg as they walked slowly across the street toward the van.
"You were incredible," she said. "God, I was petrified, but you ..." She shook her head. "You got us out without any more violence."
He had no answer for that He shrugged, suddenly almost shy, and he marveled at the azure admiration for him that he sensed inside Hannah.
I did it! Gregg exulted as he and Hannah placed the joker on the floor of the van. You see? It's more powerful than I thought. I can make them do ANYTHING!
Greggie ... Softly. Sadly.
Hannah began to clean the joker's head wound with sterile bandages from a medical kit Debra handed her. She paused a moment, looking up at Gregg as she brushed her hair back from her face.
She smiled again.
Her smile was far, far more compelling than the voice in his head.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
The following night Gregg took Hannah to dinner at Aces High, with Oddity along for protection. Aces High was a shadow of its old self - nearly deserted, the service mediocre, the food good but not exceptional. Hiram wasn't in, and Gregg recognized only one or two of the few patrons. Despite that, the three of them enjoyed themselves. Hannah especially seemed to shed the shadows the last year had wrapped around her, laughing and talking in an animated voice. She touched Gregg's hand often, sitting very near, and there were times when he imagined he could feel the heat of her leg close to his under the table. They stayed for two hours, lingering through appetizers, dinner, and dessert.
Oddity left them after they returned safely to Jokertown. As they walked up to the door of Father Squid's parsonage, Gregg could feel Hannah's admiration for him. The woman genuinely liked Gregg. She considered him a friend and an ally. Like the glow from a banked fire, her feelings promised heat beneath.
As he had all evening, Gregg blew again on the embers with the breath of his Gift.
Stop it, the voice cautioned him. I tell you - this isn't why the Gift was given to you. You abuse the power and you betray yourself!
Gregg just smiled as he held the door open for Hannah and they went inside. It's mine. I'll abuse it any damn way I want, he answered. "Here," he said to Hannah, "let me take your jacket. Where's Father Squid?"
As he slipped it from her shoulders, he let his fingers graze the skin of her arms. So soft ...
"He's staying overnight with a sick parishioner." Hannah flicked on the lights, moving around the small living room before going to the chair where Quasiman sat staring into the night with unseeing eyes, lost in his own world. Hannah looked out to where the stark framework of the new steeple rose in the yellow glow of security lamps, then tenderly hugged Quasiman.
"Quasi, we're back, okay? We're here if you want us."
There was no answer. Hannah smiled at him and kissed the top of the joker's head. "Poor man," she said. "I owe him so much ..." Tears suddenly brimmed in Hannah's eyes and she stopped. She sniffed and shrugged to Gregg, smiling sadly. "Sorry," she said.
"Don't you dare apologize," Gregg said, his voice low and deep, letting the power course through them. "Never ever apologize for compassion and love, Hannah."
The words flashed inside her, igniting against the flame of her friendship. She smiled again at him, brushing her long hair back from her face with what was almost a shy gesture, looking at him sidewise. "I was so paranoid about you at first, Gregg," she said to him. "I was so afraid that I was making a mistake going to you. Now ..." She stopped. Smiled once more. "You're a very good man, Gregg," she told him.
"You flatter me, Hannah. I'm just an old man trying to do the best I can. I'm not a saint. I'm as flawed as anyone else. More." His voice was laden with the power inside him, stroking her emotions, slowly brightening their colors, deepening their hues. So much slower than Puppetman, so clumsy in comparison, but ... And the other voice yammered its constant warning: Stop it! You taint all that you have!
"I don't believe you," Hannah answered. "You have courage." She smiled up at him, taking a step closer to him. "You have compassion and you have - " She paused a heartbeat. " - love."
Her hand stroked his shoulder and remained. Gregg could feel her touch, as if her finger were molten. She felt it too, for she suddenly looked down, breaking the eye contact with him as she gasped. Gregg reached out with his left hand and cupped the side of her face, her hair silken through his fingers. She glanced up into his eyes once more, her face questioning. Almost in defiance, she moved her head quickly to the side and kissed his palm. When she looked back, her gaze dared him.
He found that he truly did not know what to say. In that moment, the linkage between them was no longer in his control. He felt dizzy and disoriented. The emotional matrix sparked and throbbed, wrapping about them both, impossible to hold or guide. The feedback screamed in his head, and he knew he must either let it go or surrender to it.