Motley

***

J is chuckling when Motley wakes up. He’s hunched over the table near the bed, painstakingly building a pipe bomb. He paints a smile on its shell as Motley yawns and sits up.

“J?”

“Have, uh, breakfast and brush your teeth, Mot. I’ll be, haha, done in a sec.”

Motley nods and follows his orders. When he’s finished, J is still working on the bomb, so Motley sits crosslegged on the bed and waits. He watches his father, taking mental notes on how to make a bomb. Eventually J turns to him with a grin, kicking back in the chair.

“Good, you’re dressed. I, er, wanna teach you, teach you somethin’.”

“Kay.”

J shoves all furniture to the side and gestures for Motley to stand before him.

“Take your knife out, kid.” Motley does, letting Harley’s blanket slip from his shoulders. He twists his mouth with confusion, looking into J’s glittering green eyes. “Now, if you’re, ah, anything like your parents, you’ll be, ha, skinny as hell. I gotta hope you’ll, haha, get your daddy’s height. Anywho, that means you gotta rely on, erm, speed and brains.” He taps a crooked finger against his temple. “Use your noggin.”

Motley giggles and nods, shifting into an easier position.

“Fast, J?”

“Yep.”

Joker’s first lesson with Motley teaches him how to hurt someone, the soft places on the body where a knife will do the most damage. By the end of it Motley is panting and flushed, but happy.

“Did I do good?”

Joker absently pats the kid’s head and nods.

“Yes, Mot.” Motley beams and flips effortlessly into a handstand. Joker cocks his head to look at him. “Hm. You’ve got your, haha, mom’s talent, too. All bouncy. Good.” Motley returns to his feet and grins. “Alright, kiddo. Time for, ah, the brainy shit. Let’s teach you how to, to read.” Motley nods obediently and sits at the table, legs dangling above the ground. “So, you’ve, er, got A. And, ha, then B....” Joker begins.
++
In two weeks, Motley knows his alphabet and can count to 100. After a month, he reads easily and can do long division. He learns like he's starving for it. Joker will never say it, but Motley makes him proud. The kid’s a legitimate fuckin’ genius, just like his dad. Has the madness, too, although his is less vicious.

He’s gentle, especially with his father. Joker watches as Motley learns to fight, to handle a knife or gun like it’s part of himself, how to torture. He knows that fucks the kid up even more, but it’s necessary if he’s going to be useful. Motley adds his own bit of flair, the acrobatic skill from Harley giving him an edge. Joker has turned his son into a weapon.

On his sixth birthday, Motley kills a man for the first time. Joker catches one of Penguin’s henchmen and ties him to a chair, easy prey offered up like a cat catching baby mice for her kittens. It’s just Joker and Motley watching him.

“Mot, kiddo, I, ah....Kill this man.”

Motley slips a knife out of his sleeve, looking up at J with the innocence he’s somehow managed to retain. He smiles brightly and steps forward to slit the man’s throat. The goon thrashes and goes still. Motley pads back to Joker, offering up his bloody hands. His heart is beating really fast, and he feels nervous and excited at the same time.

“Did I do okay, J?”

Joker nods quickly and pats his head.

“You did great, Mot. How did, haha, how did it feel?”

Motley pauses to consider before grinning.

“Good. I feel good. My heart’s pounding.”

Joker chuckles, leading Motley out.

“You’re, erm, such a weird kid, Mot. All, ha, grown up and ready to kill.”
♠ ♠ ♠
The Joker: I wonder if The Penguin has these staffing problems?