Motley

Grit

Motley wakes up alone. He’s not scared, because he’s a big kid, and brave. He tucks his knife into his pocket and rolls from the bed. J left cereal on the table yesterday, so Motley has fistfuls of Lucky Charms for breakfast.

He brushes his teeth like a big boy and sets off to explore. There’re scars on his ankle from his last adventure, but he doesn’t care about the danger. He cracks open the door, takes a peek outside. He can hear music blasting, but it’s far away and the hallway is empty.

Motley steps from the room, smiling at the softness of carpet under his bare feet. This base is inside an old hotel, long since abandoned. It’s one of the nicest places Motley has ever been in, even with the dust and disrepair. He wraps Harley’s blanket around himself and runs his hand along the wall, which is ornately carved and bumpy. Grinning, he sprints down the hall, high pitched laughter echoing around the walls.
+
“So, ah, Mr. Mobster,” Joker drawls, tracing the man’s jugular vein with his knife. It’s Johnny the Shark, a small time gambler with ties to the Mob. Joker has him tied to a chair, sweat dripping into his terrified eyes. “I, ha!, I run a tight ship, and you, you you you are fucking it UP. You, haha!, you didn’t really think you could get away with, er, ratting on me, did ya?”

The Shark shakes his head quickly, trying to plead through the gag. “I DON’T LIKE SNITCHES!” Joker roars, dropping an octave. Tears leak from the Shark’s eyes as he tries to lean far, far away from Joker’s madness. He doesn’t even see the knife coming before it’s gone through his heart.
+
Motley reaches the end of the hallway, where the windows are. He’s utterly, completely mesmerized by the view. He’s never been this high up before. He’s six floors above the ground, looking down at the Narrows below. It’s the first time he’s ever really seen them. They’re grimy, ruined, an ugly sore on a broken city.

Like his father, Motley is instantly in love. The only thing that could possibly compare in beauty is Leen. He presses his small hands to the glass, wanting to get as close as he can to this wonderful new place. Motley’s hands smudge the glass, but he doesn’t notice. He can see the Narrows sprawled beneath him, the people like ants, small plumes of black smoke, a hideous maze to rival the Joker’s twisted mind.

He stands there, enchanted, for a few minutes before turning away. There are stairs a little ways off, which he finds and enjoys sliding down the rails. It’s not safe, of course, but he doesn’t know that. When he lands on his rump at the bottom he jumps up, reaching for the closest door. It looks outside, behind the hotel.

The parking lot has long been empty, left to trash and graffiti artists. It’s blocked off from city view by a fence. Motley shivers, a little cold, but satisfied. He discovers a crumpled soda can and kicks it around for a bit, liking the noise it makes. He cuts his fingers open on a broken glass bottle, but the pain doesn’t bother him. He licks at the blood and starts digging a hole, chirping happily to himself.
+
Joker finishes mutilating the mobster’s remains before he sets off for home. He figures Motley will still be sleeping, exhausted from his ordeal with Batbrain. He slips his jacket off as he walks into the room, rolling his shirt sleeves up.

“Mot? You awake, boy?” There’s no response, and Joker pulls the sheets from the bed, finding nothing. He straightens, licking nervously at his scars. “You’d better be in here, kid.” He storms through the room, tossing objects aside at random. Motley’s not there. Anger and fear build up as Joker gets more frantic than he’ll ever admit to being.

He runs to the end of the hallway, notices Motley’s fingerprints smudging the window, which leads his eyes to the door going to the stairs. It’s half open. Joker slams through it and down the stairs, where the exit door is thrown wide, open to the parking lot. Joker can see Motley crouched down, bloody hands scrabbling at the ground. His contented noises are faint. Joker’s hands clench around his knife as he hisses, “Motley.”

The kid must have sensitive ears, because he cocks his head and turns to Joker. Dirt coats his clothes and skin. There’s a line of red around his mouth from licking the blood from his hand. His blond hair is greasy and tangled. Joker is very, very angry all of a sudden. This fucking kid had forced his way into Joker’s life, demanding to be taken care of, causing problems everywhere he goes. Joker ignores the pleased grin brightening Motley’s face as he steps forward.

Motley cups a clump of dirt in his hands, offering it up to Joker.

“Look! I made this!” J knocks it from his hand, sending Motley sprawling backwards. He yelps in surprise and scrambles to his feet. “J?”

“What have I, HA!, told you about fuckin’ leaving the, ha!, room while I’m out?” Joker seethes.

Motley looks down at the ground, biting his lower lip.

“Sorry.”

There’s a click as a knife appears in Joker’s hand. Motley takes a step back, wrapping Harley’s blanket around himself. He wants to hide under it and close his eyes, because J is looking at him with a dangerous expression, lips pulled back over his teeth.

“Why can’t you goddamn listen? I oughta skin you, ha!, from head to, haha, toe!” He moves closer, holding Motley’s innocent, frightened eyes. “I should, ah, set the dogs on you.”

Motley whimpers, remembering their growling and sharp teeth. Then his eyes harden, lips in a thin line, because Motley has too much of Joker in him to be cowed. He curls his hand into a fist and punches J in the nose.

Joker reels backward, more from surprise than anything else. That must’ve hurt Motley’s hand, but the kid just stands there, face stony, Harley’s blanket hanging from his shoulders like a cape.

He looks far older than he is as he spits out, “I hate you, J!” Joker is bothered by the sharp nip of pain that causes him. Motley looks more like him than ever, on edge and cold, cunning sparking in his eyes. “I don’t wanna stay in room! I wanna play, you evil bastard!” Motley screams.

Joker pauses.

“Where’d you learn that one, kid?”

Motley’s face screws up in confusion as he says, “The monster said J is an evil bastard.”

Joker suddenly grins, face relaxing into mirth.

“The Batman calls me, ha, names behind my back? How terribly naughty.” He scoops Motley up, giving affection for once. The kid goes limp in his arms, calming down. “You make me laugh, kid,, and that’s, haha, a good thing.”

Motley squirms to be let down, but he’s smiling.

“Leggo, J! I wanna show you treasure.” Joker puts him down, waiting to be led over to the pile of objects Motley has found. It’s mostly broken glass, sharp and dangerous, pretty to the Joker. “Treasure, J.”

Motley beams, scooping them up to show him.

“Very nice, Mot.”

The kid bounces happily, wrapping his fingers in Joker’s pant leg.

“Sorry, J. Don’t be mad.”

Joker sighs.

“It’s okay, kid. Let’s go inside and, ha, clean off your hands.”

Joker finishes picking bits of grit out of Motley’s skin, wrapping a bandage around the worst ones. “Y’know, kid, you only punched me in the nose. You have a, haha, knife. Why didn’t you, er, use it?”

Motley frowns, curling his palms around Joker’s forearm.

“I'd never use the knife on you. I love you, J.”

Joker cackles, poking at him teasingly.

“Just a few minutes ago you, ha!, hated me.”

Motley giggles.

“I never really hated you, J.”

Joker pats gingerly at the kid’s cheek and smiles.

“Alright, kiddo. I, uh, like you, too.”