Just Another Day

Now...

Walking up the steps to the apartment Jessie and I share, I think back over the night. At least, what I remember of it. I lost control. Again. I stop at our doorway, quickly undoing the multiple locks and ushering Jessie in, locking the door down behind us. It's a small, one-room loft, about seven feet cubed, an almost literal box, into which we have shoved a queen-sized mattress, two chester drawers, and a small table with a pitiful heater beneath it. The only other thing is a door on the side that leads to a small bathroom with nothing but a toilet and a sink, the entire thing about the size of a closet. As soon as he hit her, all I get are fragments. Once inside, she goes about her usual routine, setting her hammer by the door and stripping off her costume, which used to belong to our mother. As per usual, I turn to the side, going about my business and giving her all the privacy she can get in our home.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as she gets it all off, standing in nothing but her undergarments, and I can't help but acknowledge the fact that she's growing up. She turns 18 next week. And I don't know what to do. Lost in my thoughts, I don't notice her turn around and see me, or the mischevous glint in her eyes. In a flash, she's on my back, her chest pressing up against my back, her gleeful titter in my ear. Her hands are on my sides, digging into my weak points, and I feel it coming.

I begin laughing, my own laugh, not my father's, and reaching back to tickle her sides, the battle dead even until we are too tired to continue.

"Why so glum, Joey?" she asks, hanging off my back, still wearing next to nothing.

"I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that my little Jester, that my little Jessie is growing up on me."

Her arms wrap around my chest, pulling me close to her. "Don't worry, Joey. No matter how old I grow, I'll always be YOUR little Jester." She smiles into my back, and I can't help but smile. Genuinely smile, not my father's.

After a peaceful moment, she turns her head and bites on my shoulder blade, laughing as I jump. Always the mischiveous one. Always has been. She turns back around to her clothes, stripping off her bra like it's nothing while she picks out a new one. And the same lack of modesty as ever.

I roll my eyes in defeat and turn to my own clothes, slowly peeling off my clothes. I start with my tie, carefully undoing it and folding it carefully, before putting in its drawer. Dad's tie... I'm glad no blood got on it. Next comes my vest, unbuttoned and placed on a pole to dry, my shirt follows. My shoes come off with a squish. They and my socks go under the table by the heater to dry. Finally, I peel off my soaked jeans, setting them on the pole beside my shirt and vest.

"Joey?" I look back at Jessie, who's now wearing an old t-shirt of mine, a simple grey shirt, and a loose pair of sleeping pants of the same dull grey. "I was wondering. Next week, for my birthday, could we go eat out somewhere?" she asks, looking like a little girl again.

Smiling, I enfold her in my arms, holding her close. "Sure. Tomorrow, after our errands, we'll go scout out somewhere that isn't beneath your grace." She laughs softly at my grandiose description.

"First, you might want to put on some pants," she mentions, referring to the fact that I'm still standing there in nothing more than a pair of boxers. She pushes me backwards playfully before jumping onto the bed, landing on her back, her hair now a total mess.

Chuckling, I reach over and grab some sleep pants before slipping onto the bed. Jessie sidles over and curls up against my chest, passing out almost instantly. My favorite time of the day, when she's asleep against my chest. She always looks so much more peaceful like this, I think as I drift off beside her, my arms encircling her. Keeping her safe...

0

I'm awakened in the morning by the ever familiar sound of Jessie muttering in her sleep, usually about kicking some guy's face in or eating at a fancy restaurant. But this morning, she's going a little off script. "Hmm... Joey..." she mutters. "Your arms are so warm..." As she says this, the bottom of her sleeping shirt rides up, revealing her toned stomach. Laughing, I fix her shirt and kiss her forehead, getting out of bed slowly so as to not wake her suddenly.

I throw on a sweatshirt and walk out of our room, bounding down the steps and exiting onto the street. Outside lies one of the most destitute parts of New Gotham, nicknamed Lost Alley. Only the worst off of the city live here, off the grid. The cops never come, and that's perfect for us. Oddly enough, criminals don't do much around here. It's the one area of the city that most of the thugs ignore. "Most" is the keyword.

Turning the corner, I hear screams as people run away from Jessie's and my favorite diner. Sighing, I walk through the doors, taking in the situation at a glance. Three petty thugs have pulled guns on the joint, the remaining customers on the ground, afraid. I sigh as the door closes behind me and some of the patrons notice me. "It's him! It's Joey!"

The thugs jerk in surprise at this, turning to me. With my trademark grin plastered on my face, I jump into action. I lunge at the closest thug, the one with his weapon trained on the hostages. He makes a rookie mistake and tries to grab one of them, hoping it'll throw me off. Idiot. Before he can make half of the move, I have his shoulder in my grip, and I turn quickly, throwing him over my shoulder and at the next thug. They go down in a heap, both dazed. I turn to the last thug, who currently has the cute red-head who usually mans the register in his grip. Without a second thought, I raise the gun I had pulled from the first thug and fire three shots. The first one goes through the firing mechanism of the gun, as well as knocking it out of his hand. The second hits him in the shoulder, sending him spinning back and away from the girl. My last shot connects just as he turns back to me, going right between his eyes. He's down without a sound. I turn to the other thugs and finish them off cleanly, a single shot apiece. All in all, the entire incident lasted no more than seven seconds.

After a tense moment, the red-head crumples to the ground, fainting from the shock, and the other hostages get up to help her and congratulate me. Once again, I've defended my home. A few of the younger guys start stripping the thugs of anything useful before pulling them out the back to be thrown into the sewers. Just like the rest. I set the pistol on the counter, pushing it over to the side where the owner stands. He picks it up, putting it under the counter.

"Well, you did it again, Joey. Appreciate it." He reaches over the counter to shake my hand, and I accept it willingly, my smile now all my own, the one people around here know me as.

"No problem, Greg. Glad I could help." Sitting down, I pick up the menu like every day, going through the same decision-making process as usual before I order my usual. "Two stacks of hot-cakes, some sausage, and a thing of orange juice for the road."

"Comin' right up, Joey." He chuckles before going into the back to prepare my order.

I lean back on the stool as some of the other patrons walk by, patting me on the back and thanking me before moving on. One of them passes me a hot coffee, and I nod in thanks, slowly sipping it as I wait. The red-head finally wakes up, and her name finally comes to mind. "Joy, are you okay?" I ask, leaning further back on the stool.

She blinks and her eyes focus on me before filling with tears. She stands up suddenly, stumbling slightly, before coming over and throwing her arms around me, tears falling freely. "Thank you," she whispers, holding me tight. I sit there and take it, not sure how to react. Before anything more can happen, Greg comes out with my order.

"One usual, ready to- Well now, look what we have here," he says, laughing. "Looks like my girl's finally decided to tell you how she feels." I flush a full crimson as she jumps back, just as red and spluttering something about it "not being what it looks like" and "I told you not to say anything" or something like that. I simply grab my order, finish the coffee, drop some bills on the counter, and walk off.

0

"I'm home!" I call out as I walk through the door. She's sitting at the table, looking at the old family album, smiling faintly at time-battered memories. With a shake of her head, she closes the album and pushes it to the other side, looking up at me, the same faint smile. "Taking a stroll down memory lane, eh?"

She shakes her head again, clearing the rest of the debris off the table to make room for breakfast. "I was just flipping through the books when I remembered something. It's not important. So," she starts, changing the subject. "I heard some commotion down in the street. Some more punks try to mess with Mr. Bartonelli?"

I nod, sighing tiredly. "Don't worry, Greg and Joy are safe. There were three punks, but I took care of them."

She sighs in relief and nods, taking her share of the food and digging right in. So relaxed... I chuckle at her nonchalance and dig into my own. So innocent...