Motley
Dang
Motley and Robin are together again, listening to Joker and Batman fight. They’re in an alley, quiet, and then suddenly there’s a man, grinning nastily at Motley as he reaches for the collar of his shirt. The man doesn’t see Robin, his back turned.
“C’mere, kid, c’mere, just…yeah, kid, it’ll be good,” he leers, and Robin hates this city so much. He’s about to attack when Motley swings his blade in a wide arc, slashing at the man’s eyes. When he falls back howling Motley leaps at him, drives the knife into his chest, and laughs.
The man gurgles and falls still, and his blood is splashed across their faces. Motley steps back, nonchalant, and grins at him.
“You…holy shit, Motley,” Robin snaps, and his hands are shaking. He can really see Joker in the kid now, saw him in the brutal, gleeful attack. Motley wipes a palm across his forehead, smearing the blood, unfazed by murder.
“Yeah?”
“You’re so fucked up.”
“Kay.” He draws his knees close, not caring about the dead man slowly cooling right next to him.
“Holy shit.”
Motley tilts his head and smiles widely, his reaction to anything he’s not sure about. “Robin?”
“How many people have you killed?”
“Uh…” Motley does a quick count in his head, remembers the time he got lost chasing a balloon, the henchman who got too close and smelled of garlic, J helping him to draw a blade across a man’s throat, the few times he’s been on jobs. He remembers wide, pleading eyes and bloody fingertips and smiles. “Nine?”
“Holy shit. Holy shit.”
“You keep saying that.”
“You’ve killed more people than the years you’ve been alive.” He looks sideways at Motley.
“Right? I mean, how old are you?”
“Six.”
“Holy shit.” Motley just smiles and fiddles with his knife.
++
Back at the Batcave, Batman takes the cowl off, removes his cape before he turns to Robin. He always thinks of himself as Robin now.
“Why are you covered in blood?”
“Uh…” It’s not like he can lie. His face is too expressive and this is Bruce. Bruce knows everything. “I was with Joker’s kid. He had to kill a guy.”
Bruce’s face hardens, sneering. “Joker’s kid? Do you think this is some sort of game, Robin?” Robin hates Bruce’s smooth, well educated, rich-boy voice, always telling him that he’s fucking wrong. Not proud like he is with Dick.
“He’s fucking six, Bruce. It’s not like we’re friends.”
“You’re going down a road that I can’t follow, Jason. I will stop you if necessary.”
Robin pictures Batman’s heavy hand closing around his neck and swallows. “Whatever. You’d follow Dickie-bird to hell, but if I put so much as a toe out of line, you’ll goddamn strangle me or some shit. Okay, okay.”
He can feel his fists clenching and he doesn’t really belong here, not anymore, not ever, actually. It’s time to get out. Bruce just sighs and turns away, disappointed again.
“C’mere, kid, c’mere, just…yeah, kid, it’ll be good,” he leers, and Robin hates this city so much. He’s about to attack when Motley swings his blade in a wide arc, slashing at the man’s eyes. When he falls back howling Motley leaps at him, drives the knife into his chest, and laughs.
The man gurgles and falls still, and his blood is splashed across their faces. Motley steps back, nonchalant, and grins at him.
“You…holy shit, Motley,” Robin snaps, and his hands are shaking. He can really see Joker in the kid now, saw him in the brutal, gleeful attack. Motley wipes a palm across his forehead, smearing the blood, unfazed by murder.
“Yeah?”
“You’re so fucked up.”
“Kay.” He draws his knees close, not caring about the dead man slowly cooling right next to him.
“Holy shit.”
Motley tilts his head and smiles widely, his reaction to anything he’s not sure about. “Robin?”
“How many people have you killed?”
“Uh…” Motley does a quick count in his head, remembers the time he got lost chasing a balloon, the henchman who got too close and smelled of garlic, J helping him to draw a blade across a man’s throat, the few times he’s been on jobs. He remembers wide, pleading eyes and bloody fingertips and smiles. “Nine?”
“Holy shit. Holy shit.”
“You keep saying that.”
“You’ve killed more people than the years you’ve been alive.” He looks sideways at Motley.
“Right? I mean, how old are you?”
“Six.”
“Holy shit.” Motley just smiles and fiddles with his knife.
++
Back at the Batcave, Batman takes the cowl off, removes his cape before he turns to Robin. He always thinks of himself as Robin now.
“Why are you covered in blood?”
“Uh…” It’s not like he can lie. His face is too expressive and this is Bruce. Bruce knows everything. “I was with Joker’s kid. He had to kill a guy.”
Bruce’s face hardens, sneering. “Joker’s kid? Do you think this is some sort of game, Robin?” Robin hates Bruce’s smooth, well educated, rich-boy voice, always telling him that he’s fucking wrong. Not proud like he is with Dick.
“He’s fucking six, Bruce. It’s not like we’re friends.”
“You’re going down a road that I can’t follow, Jason. I will stop you if necessary.”
Robin pictures Batman’s heavy hand closing around his neck and swallows. “Whatever. You’d follow Dickie-bird to hell, but if I put so much as a toe out of line, you’ll goddamn strangle me or some shit. Okay, okay.”
He can feel his fists clenching and he doesn’t really belong here, not anymore, not ever, actually. It’s time to get out. Bruce just sighs and turns away, disappointed again.