A Henchman's Lot
Rocco Demarco stared hard at the door in front of him, his fist raised and poised to knock. But he couldn't bring it down. He couldn't decide if knocking was worth the risk of getting shot in the face.
Listening to the noises from behind the door, he couldn't tell if his boss and his girlfriend were having a fight or having sex. It was almost impossible to tell one from the other with the two of them. But either way, he was pretty sure they wouldn't want to be disturbed.
"Ow, puddin', please! Stop! Not so hard this time, you know it hurts! I had bruises for weeks the last time you did that!"
"You'll take what I give you and like it, you dumb broad!"
"Oh, puddin', I love it when you talk dirty!"
"I know you do, you useless waste of space. And now I'm gonna teach you for talking back to me, you worthless dame!"
"Ow! Oh, puddin'! Oh, Mr. J! Please hurt me some more! Oh, yes, I deserve this! I'm such a bad girl!"
Rocco still stared at the door, hesitant. No helpful information there. But the job had been scheduled for nine o'clock, and they were already cutting it close. So he was weighing up the odds, trying to determine if it was a bigger risk to interrupt them and face his boss's wrath, or face his boss's wrath when he realized he had forgotten about the job and nobody had reminded him. Whichever way wouldn't result in his death was the better option, but he wasn't entirely sure which option that was. The Joker was an unpredictable man at the best of times, and even though Rocco had been his henchmen for well over ten years now, he was still no closer to understanding the way his boss's mind worked, or guess at what would make him happy. But he had worked for him long enough to know that the people who made the Joker unhappy didn't live very long.
He heard Harley screaming from inside the room, but he couldn't tell whether she was actually in pain or really enjoying whatever he was doing to her. It was better that he didn't try to figure it out. When she had first appeared on the scene, while the other henchmen had joked with each other about wanting to ride the Harley and speculating about the sick kinda crap her and the boss got up to together, Rocco had felt nothing but the fatherly urge to protect her, from the guys, from the Joker, if he could. But she didn't want that. And he had learned over time that it was better not to try to interfere between them. He still felt his heart twist as he heard her scream though.
Rocco had a daughter of his own, about Harley's age. He never saw her – after the divorce, her mother had got custody of the kid, and his being a criminal didn't make visitation rights easy. Add that to her mother's complete unwillingness to have anything to do with him, and he had just naturally lost contact with his daughter. But he thought of her every day, wondering what kinda person she had grown up to be. Probably a smart, successful one. Not like her father. But whenever he heard or saw Harley being mistreated, he would always see his daughter, and how he would feel if some guy did that to her. It was hard to take.
She screamed again, in what sounded liked genuine pain to Rocco. That made his decision for him and he knocked loudly on the door.
It was thrown open by a very irritated looking Joker. "What?" he demanded.
"Sorry to interrupt, boss, but I just thought I'd let you know it's nearly nine."
Joker looked at him. "Thanks, Roc. Didn't realize I employed you as one of those talking clocks. But I don't think I asked for an update on the time, so I dunno why you disturbed me to tell me that."
"We…um…got a job at nine?" prompted Rocco, his throat dry as he saw Joker fingering his gun. "Gotham History Museum? The Harlequin Diamond?"
Joker stared at him. "Harley!" he shouted, whirling around. "Why didn't you remind me about the job?"
"What job?" she demanded, climbing gingerly to her feet and turning to glance at the calendar above the desk. "There ain't no job on the calendar."
"Yeah, why ain't there?" he demanded. "Why don't you write these things down, you dumb blonde? Why even give me a goddamn calendar if you're not gonna use it?"
"Because I thought you'd enjoy the pictures I put on it especially for you, you dumb jerk!" she snapped. "You know how long it took me to pose for all those? You know how uncomfortable it is to straddle a hammer naked for four hours and still try to look sexy? Anyway, why couldn't you write it down? Or better yet, just remember we had the job? You should be able to remember stuff, unless you're getting senile in your old age."
"I got a lot on my mind, Harl. You probably can't imagine what that's like, as you ain't got a single thought in that useless, empty head of yours!"
"You nuts? I gotta keep track of everything around here! I'm like your goddamn secretary!"
"No, apparently Roc has gotta keep track of everything around here! We'd have completely missed the job if he hadn't told us! You go get ready now!"
Harley stormed off angrily, but smiled as she passed Rocco. "Thanks, Roc, you're a treasure. And Mr. J don't appreciate you, but I guess he never appreciates the treasures in his life."
"I said go get ready, you worthless broad!" he snapped. Harley entered their bedroom and slammed the door, while Joker immediately seized the calendar from behind the desk and began ripping it up, tearing off the pictures angrily. He paused at one. "I guess this one's pretty hot," he muttered. "Whaddya think, Roc?" he said, showing it to him.
It was a photo of Harley lying on the hood of a model Batmobile, wearing lingerie with Batman's logo on it and twirling a pair of Batcuffs around her finger, smiling seductively. "Um…yeah…she's an attractive gal," stammered Rocco.
"I guess, when she ain't being a useless waste of space," he sighed, hanging the calendar back up.
An awkward silence descended on them, but Rocco didn't want to head back downstairs without his permission. "That a new suit, boss?" he asked, trying to make conversation.
"Yeah, it is, Roc, thanks for noticing," said Joker, beaming at him. "Harley got chocolate sauce all over the last one, and nothing gets chocolate out."
"How did she…" began Rocco, before he realized he didn't really want to know. "It's nice," he said instead. "I like the…um…pinstripes."
"Yeah, that was Harley's suggestion," he said, glancing at his reflection in the mirror and adjusting his bowtie. "At least she's good for something. We had a really long and detailed discussion about if stripes would suit me, and we ended up going with it. I think it works."
"I guess that was me and Carla's problem," said Rocco. "We never talked that much."
"Oh, the talking's easy. The trick is getting her to shut up," chuckled Joker. "But seriously, Roc, you wanna know the key to a lasting relationship? Trust and respect, on both sides. Those are the most important things – as long as you got that, you can take anything life throws at you." He glanced at his watch and suddenly shouted down the hall, "Hey Harley, you wanna hurry up or we're leaving without your sorry ass! How long can it take to put some makeup on, you useless dame? I know your ugly mug needs a lotta work, but this is ridiculous!"
"Screw you, jerk!" shouted Harley back.
"'Scuse me, Roc," muttered Joker, storming toward the bedroom. "Tell the guys we'll be down in a second."
Rocco heard her cries echoing down the hall. Still, nobody else could get away with talking to the boss like that. If Harley had been one of the guys, she'd have ended up with a bullet in her brain a long time ago. The fact that Joker hadn't killed her yet meant that he loved her, Rocco guessed. Or maybe he was just planning an extra special death for her, the way he did with Batman. Either way, at least the boss thought her important enough for that, which was good. Kinda.
Harley certainly deserved better in his opinion. She was a really sweet kid, and Joker never showed her the appreciation her devotion and adoration deserved. But she wasn't stupid, and she was fiercely stubborn in her loyalty to the boss, so Rocco supposed there was something about the relationship that kept her in it. Though he was damned if he knew what it was.
"They'll be down in a second," said Rocco, entering the living room where the rest of the henchmen lounged.
"Were they doing anything kinky?" asked one of the guys, grinning.
"I dunno – I knocked first," retorted Rocco. He wasn't comfortable with the way the guys thought about Harley. He wouldn't like guys thinking about his daughter like that, after all.
"Bet they were; bet the bitch likes it too," said another one, a guy called Jerry, who was still fairly new. "I mean, the boss ain't hot, so the slut must stay with him for some reason. He sure as hell don't care about her – he treats her like crap. So she must love it rough. She must be begging for it hard, the dirty little whore."
"Can you not talk about her like that?" snapped Rocco. "She deserves more respect than that."
Jerry whistled. "Well, look at you, Mr. Gentleman. Got a soft spot for her, huh, Roc? Hoping if you're nice about her, she'll let you ride her, maybe?"
"Don't be stupid, Jerry, I wouldn't even think about touching the boss's gal, and neither should you," retorted Rocco. "And I ain't interested in her like that – I'm old enough to be her father."
"So's J, but that don't stop him," said Jerry, grinning. "Kinda sick all that, if you ask me. Y'know, the way she calls him Daddy. Maybe she stays with him because he fulfills some creepy incest fantasy for her, the sick little bitch. Or maybe the boss just has a massive…"
"Good evening, gentlemen!" said the Joker, striding into the room and beaming, with Harley following behind him, tenderly rubbing her backside. "Sorry for the delay – those responsible have been punished."
"I told you I wasn't responsible!" snapped Harley.
"And I told you not to talk back to me!" he shouted, whirling around to face her. "I was just telling Roc about the importance of mutual trust and respect in a relationship, and here you are shooting your mouth off and contradicting me, you little brat! Now shut your goddamn face, you worthless broad, before I break your jaw!"
Harley glared at him, folding her arms across her chest. He turned back to face the men and she stuck her tongue out at him. "I want half of you heading to Gotham Central Bank to create a diversion," said Joker. "Do a hold-up, grab some cash if you can, and keep the Bat focused on you. Don't let him catch you if you can avoid it, obviously, but don't lead him back here or to us. Lemme repeat that. Do not lead him back here or to us. You had a problem with that last time."
"It wasn't entirely our fault, boss, we didn't know Bats had planted a tracking device on the car…" began one henchman.
"No comments from the peanut gallery," snapped Joker. "Just be more careful this time. I don't wanna do another stint in Arkham again anytime soon."
"Aw, but we had a lotta fun breaking out last time, puddin'," said Harley, beaming. "We got to mutilate all those guards…"
"When I said no comments from the peanut gallery, you were included in that statement, Harley," interrupted Joker.
"I ain't the peanut gallery," growled Harley. "I'm your goddamn girlfriend!"
"Not for long if you don't keep your useless mouth shut!" he snapped.
"You're such an ungrateful bastard!" she yelled. "I'm gonna go wait in the car so I don't have to listen to your irritating voice anymore!"
"Pot to the kettle, Mistah J!" retorted Joker.
"Screw you, jerk!" Harley repeated, striding off.
Joker rushed after her and the men heard a slap and a scream. "As I was saying, half of you to the bank, half of you with me," he said, re-entering the room. "Roc, Jerry, you're with me and Harley at the museum. Let's get moving."
Rocco and Jerry followed the Joker out to his car, where Harley waited in the front seat, arms still folded across her chest and still looking annoyed.
"What's your problem?" demanded Joker, climbing into the driver's seat.
"What's my problem?" she repeated. "My problem is you're acting like an utter creep! You always do this, Mr. J! You always just treat me like crap and then just expect things to be ok between us! Well, I'm sick of it! I ain't gonna be treated like that anymore! I ain't just some dumb floozy who'll put up with anything and come running back to you, just because you…"
Her rant was cut off as Joker seized her face in his hands and kissed her. "Happy?" he demanded, drawing away from her at last and starting the car.
"Yeah," she sighed, gazing at him adoringly.
She beamed at him as they drove, and then said, "Want some music, Mr. J?"
"No," he retorted.
"Aw, sure ya do, puddin'!" she exclaimed as she reached down to turn on the radio. Music flooded the car, popular music which Harley immediately began singing along and banging her head to. Joker put a stop to it suddenly by snapping off the radio. Harley turned it back on again, and he turned it off, glaring at her. She turned it on once more before he slammed his fist into it and yelled, "Get in the backseat, you useless waste of space!"
Harley made a face but obeyed him, climbing into the seat next to Rocco. "Got any gum, Roc?" she asked him suddenly. "I got a craving for something sweet."
"Um…no, sorry, Harley, I don't think so," he said, fumbling in his pockets.
He pulled out his wallet and looked through it, before Joker reached into his pocket for a lollipop and handed it to Harley. "Suck on that, sweets."
"Bet that ain't the first time he's said that," murmured Jerry to Rocco, grinning. Rocco didn't laugh.
Harley squeaked happily and kissed Joker before popping the lollipop into her mouth. Just as Rocco was putting his wallet away, Harley noticed the picture of his kid.
Her face lit up. "Aw, who's this, Roc?" she asked, seizing it from the wallet.
"That's…um…my daughter," he said, trying to snatch it back from her.
"She is just adorable!" squealed Harley. "I didn't know you had a kid, Roc! I love kids! Me and Mr. J are gonna have kids someday, ain't we, Mr. J?" she asked him.
"Yeah, sure, Harl," he retorted. "We'll do that on the 30th of February next year, maybe."
"Really, Mr. J?" asked Harley, excitedly.
"Sure, kiddo," he said. "Or the 31st of February, y'know, I ain't a picky guy."
"Aw, Mr. J, you're the greatest!" sighed Harley. She thought for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed. "Hey, wait a minute, there's only 28 days in February!"
"What have I told you about explaining jokes?" he demanded.
"Not to do it or it ain't a joke, yeah, yeah," muttered Harley, returning her attention to the picture. "She is just a precious little angel, Roc! What's her name?"
"Angela," he said. "We thought she was kinda an angel too, y'see."
"And how old is she?" asked Harley.
"Well, now she's about your age," he said. "That's a really old picture, but I don't…um…have a more recent one."
"Aw, Roc, you should really get one!" said Harley. "I'd like to see her now she's all grown up! What's she do?"
"I…dunno," he said, slowly. "I sorta…lost contact with her. It got complicated…after the divorce, I mean…and…"
"Well, that ain't no excuse for not seeing your kid!" exclaimed Harley. "Doncha wanna know how she turned out?"
"Of course I do," he retorted. "I think about her every day and I…I worry about her every day. Y'know, it's a scary thing to be a father, especially to a daughter. The world's a big, terrifying place, and a lotta bad stuff can happen in it. I've seen with my own eyes all kinds of horrible things. I couldn't bear to think about my kid having to go through the crap I went through, or having to suffer the way some women suffer who…y'know…attach themselves to the wrong kinda guy."
Harley nodded sagely. "Yeah, it's tragic when women end up with creeps who don't treat them right. It makes a gal feel lucky for what she's got, I tell ya. Puddin'?"
"Yeah, sweets?"
"I love you."
"I know, you dumb blonde! Jesus, you're like a broken record, Harl!"
Harley giggled and kissed him. "I adore my puddin' even when he's cranky!" she cooed, ruffling his hair.
"You touch me again and I'll break your face," he growled.
She giggled again. "I love it when he talks like that," she sighed, leaning back.
Rocco shook his head. He hoped if his daughter had managed to attach herself to the wrong kinda guy, she was as happy about it as Harley was.
They arrived at the museum, and Joker, Rocco, and Jerry waited by the door while Harley climbed to the roof, her gymnast skills standing her in good stead. She reached the top and disappeared, reappearing a few moments later and waving.
"Alarm's off – let's get in there and have some fun!" chuckled Joker.
The henchmen pushed open the doors, and Joker strode into the museum, heading straight for the main exhibit hall, with Harley and the boys trailing behind him.
"There it is, folks!" he exclaimed, gesturing to the massive diamond glittering in its case. "The Harlequin Diamond!"
"Oooh! It's so shiny, Mr. J!" exclaimed Harley, clapping her hands. She started forward but he seized her by the point of her hat and dragged her back.
"They're not stupid enough to leave it unguarded, Harley," he hissed. He grabbed the fire extinguisher from the wall and sprayed it at the case, revealing a web of sharp, blue, glowing lines surrounding it, triggers setting off an alarm for anyone who got too near. Joker looked at her and she shrugged.
"Piece of cake, Mr. J," she said.
"Yeah? Prove it," he retorted.
She grinned and took a running jump forward, flipping her way over and under the shafts of light and landing triumphantly in front of the case. She turned back and smiled.
"You expecting applause for doing your goddamn job?" demanded Joker. "Just bring me the diamond, you useless broad!"
"Well, now that you mention it, a little applause wouldn't be a bad idea," said Harley, lifting the diamond out of the case. She turned back to Joker and grinned. "If you want me to bring it back, puddin', why don't you show a little appreciation?"
"You think you can blackmail me into…" began Joker, but Rocco saw that this was only going to end in a fight, and probably the setting off of the alarm, so he applauded loudly. Harley beamed at him and took a bow, and that was when her backside accidentally knocked against the emergency button, sending an alarm screeching through the empty museum.
Joker looked positively livid. "C'mon, let's get outta here, you dumb blonde!" he shouted. They all raced for the exit, Harley clasping the diamond tightly in her hands. They had almost reached the door when a dark figure appeared, blocking their exit.
"Batsy!" exclaimed Joker, beaming. "Thought you'd be seeing to things at the bank!"
"I left Gordon in charge of your thugs," said Batman. "I knew they were a distraction, and after beating one of them to within an inch of his life, he told me what the real job was. I probably should have been able to figure it out for myself."
"Yeah, guess the World's Greatest Detective is losing his touch!" chuckled Joker. "Or maybe you just enjoy beating people to within an inch of their life, Batsy! I know I do!"
"Hand over the diamond, Joker," said Batman, firmly.
"Manners cost nothing, Batsy. Say please," said Joker, grinning.
"Please hand over the diamond, Joker," repeated Batman.
"Now say hand over the diamond, pretty please with sugar on top," giggled Joker.
"I will hurt you," growled Batman.
"That a promise, Batsy?" chuckled Joker. "I hope so. I hate getting my hopes up only to have them disappointed, you big tease, you."
"Last warning," said Batman, raising his hand.
"Ok, Bats, you win," sighed Joker. Batman held out his hand and Joker brought his fist over it. "Psych!" he shouted, punching him suddenly in the face and laughing hysterically.
Batman retaliated with a blow of his own that sent Joker slamming into the wall. "You don't hurt puddin'!" shrieked Harley, flying across the room and kicking Batman in the skull. Or at least, that was the plan, but he caught her leg and threw her into the opposite wall, knocking the diamond from her hands. He lunged for it just as Harley seized it again.
"Harley!" shouted Joker, holding up his hands.
Harley tossed the diamond at him. Joker caught it and whirled on the henchmen. "What the hell am I paying you guys for?!" he demanded. "Kill the…"
Batman slammed into him, but Joker managed to keep hold of the diamond. "Harley, go long!" he shouted, throwing it. Harley jumped up and caught it as Batman headed towards her. He tried to pull it out of her hands but she held tight. And that was when Rocco and Jerry rushed into action.
Rocco had been beaten up by Batman more times than he could count, but he didn't really bear the guy any ill will. He was just doing his job, the same as Rocco was doing his. It wasn't their fault they were on opposite sides, although Rocco couldn't help thinking that maybe Batman had never had to cope with having nothing. The guy was clearly rich, with all his fancy cars and gadgets, and so naturally he could spend his time fighting for right and virtue and all that morality you could afford to have when you were rich. He thought Batman had probably never had to live rough, sleeping on the streets and feeling so cold you were surprised and disappointed you were still alive when you woke up in the morning, or feeling your belly almost consuming itself from starvation. For people like the Joker, crime was probably a choice, or a gag, everything was with the Joker. For people like Rocco, it was just to earn a decent living. Nobody would ever choose to be a henchman - it was just to keep the cold and hunger at bay the only way he could. Rocco wasn't a particularly bright or educated guy, but he was good with his fists, so he'd put his skills to good use, whether right or wrong. Those kinds of things didn't matter when you were freezing or starving. Nothing did, except making the pain go away. And speaking of pain…
Batman slammed his fist into Rocco's skull. He had a habit of taking out henchmen quickly and violently, beating them senseless in minutes, nothing but a slight nuisance to him. He had already cracked Jerry's jaw and broken his arm in six places. The blow to Rocco's skull had knocked him to the ground, and Batman returned his attention to Joker and Harley, who were making a dash for the exit, Harley still clutching the diamond tightly to her.
Batman leapt forward and seized her, dragging her to the ground. He bent her arm backward, hoping to make her let go of the diamond, and she screamed in agony. Joker was already starting forward, but Rocco beat him to it, seizing a vase from one of the exhibits and breaking it on Batman's head. Batman stumbled back, his vision hazy, and Harley struggled to her feet, kicking him in the stomach and running off with Joker dashing after her. Batman turned to face Rocco and crashed his fist into his face. He punched him a second time, and a third, and this last blow knocked him unconscious, into a world of darkness without pain.
A world which was abruptly shattered upon waking in the hospital later, where every bone in his body felt broken. And truthfully, he wasn't far wrong. It took both him and Jerry three weeks to recover from the attack, at which point they were sent to prison. Rocco heard that Joker and Harley had got away with the diamond, so he was pleased that their agony hadn't been in vain anyway. Jerry was far less courteous, ranting loudly about how they shouldn't have had to take the fall for the Joker and his little slut. Rocco ignored him – Jerry was still new to the henchman game and didn't quite understand how it worked. That was their job – to take the fall for the more important people. And Rocco was just grateful to have a job.
They were only in prison for a month before the Joker arranged one of his jailbreaks from Blackgate, and Rocco and Jerry, along with several new recruits, were successfully re-employed. Truthfully, Rocco felt glad to be back as he strode into the old familiar hideout. Nothing appeared to have changed. There was the boss and Harley, still beaming at them, still giving them the same old pep talk, and arranging their next job. Rocco was excited, he had to admit. There wasn't much else to do in prison but think about where his life had gone wrong, and henching always distracted him from that. You didn't have time to think about stuff like that – the henchmen game kept you constantly on your toes.
"So we'll see you guys in a week. Take care, everyone!" said Joker, beaming and waving at the henchmen. "Come, my dear, I want you to model that pretty diamond for me."
"Bet you do," snorted Jerry under his breath.
Unfortunately, Joker heard him as he passed and turned to look at him, puzzled. "Something funny, Jerry?" he asked. "Why don't you share it with the class? You know I just love funny stuff."
"Oh…yeah…I just said I bet you do," replied Jerry. "Y'know. I bet you do want her to model it for you."
Joker stared at him. "Sorry, I don't understand," he said.
"Well…I was just thinking…y'know," he said, slowly. "She probably won't be wearing much else."
"You were thinking that, were you?" said Joker, quietly. His face broke into a grin. "Eh, I bet you were, you son of a gun!" he chuckled, patting Jerry on the shoulder. "Red-blooded guy like you! Bet you've been thinking a lot like that about her! Well, lemme tell you something, Jerry," he said, beckoning him close and smiling.
Jerry leaned forward. Joker ripped out his gun and shot him in the face. "Don't think like that about her," he muttered.
He sheathed the gun and then stormed from the room. "C'mon, Harley."
"I'll be right with you, Mr. J!" exclaimed Harley, beaming at him. She bounded over to Rocco and hugged him. "Glad you're back, Roc, I got a surprise for ya!" she said, smiling. She pulled out a sheet of paper with a name and number written on it: Dr. Angela Demarco, 555-1897.
Rocco stared at it. "Harley…is this…"
"Your kid!" exclaimed Harley. "I did some digging while you were in prison and found out that she's a doctor, a real doctor, works at Gotham General in neurology. That's her phone number there – all you gotta do is give her a call!"
"Harley…I can't just…after all these years…" stammered Rocco.
Harley patted him on the shoulder. "That's the fear talking," she said, nodding. "Believe me, I understand, Roc. Used to be a shrink – I know exactly what you're going through. It's gonna be a long hard road, I ain't gonna lie to you. There'll be a lotta difficult questions and explanations, but you listen to me: it'll be worth it in the end. The most difficult part is the first step – once you pick up that phone and call her, things will get easier, I promise. Anyway, a gal always needs her Daddy, no matter how old she gets. She needs the one man who will always love her unconditionally to take care of her, and help her, and guide her, but most importantly, to love her. You gotta be that man, Roc. She deserves it."
"Harley!"
"Coming, Mr. J!" Harley beamed at Rocco. "I got my Daddy who loves me, Roc. You let her have the same. I promise you won't regret it. There's more to life than these stupid fights and schemes of Mr. J's. I'm happy to do them because I love him. You deserve to be happy too, Roc. So call her, please. For me."
Rocco nodded slowly. Harley smiled, hugged him again, and skipped off after the Joker.
Rocco stared at the piece of paper for the rest of the day. He had faced Batman in battle countless times – why was calling his own daughter more terrifying than that? He would never find the courage to do it. But Harley's words rang in his ears. People said she was crazy, but Rocco didn't really believe that. Oh sure, she had some really odd ideas, and she was madly in love with a murdering psychopath, but she occasionally had moments of real wisdom and insight. But then she had been a shrink. She may be crazy, but she was never stupid.
Rocco sighed at last, heading out to the payphone. He picked up the receiver with trembling hands and his fingers slipped as he dialled the number. It rang, and then a female voice on the other end said, "Hello?"
"Hi…Angela. It's Daddy," murmured Rocco.
There was silence on the other end. And then he heard her sob, in what sounded to him like relief. "Oh, Daddy!" she exclaimed through tears. "Where have you been? I was so worried about you!"
"Yeah…yeah, me too, sweetheart," he whispered, feeling tears come to his eyes. "But don't you worry anymore. We're gonna make things all right now. I promise."
The End