The Joke's On Me

by LilLolaBlue

Meet the Harlequin, Batman’s ward & the Joker’s little girl. She likes booze, blues, cars, guns, & men. She wants to be a hero, but she’s too bad for her own good. Only one hero's villain enough to show her the ropes. Is the joke on the Comedian, at last?

5. Helter Skelter

V: Helter Skelter

(Warning to my readers: This chapter contains both graphic sex and bloody violence. Yes, I know how happy that makes you.)

Arkham Asylum, New York, 1970, later that night.

I: Paul

"Alright, Stavrogin. On your feet."

Flashlights shined in Paul's face, awakening him from a deep sleep.

He was stricken with a sudden feeling of mortal terror.

He reached under the bed, groping for something, anything.

When his hand touched something that felt heavy and solid, he ripped it free and jumped out of bed.

"No! No fuckin' way! I'll die, first!" Paul snarled, threatening the two orderlies with what appeared to be a piece of bedframe.

They were about to jump him, but then the Chief of Staff came into view.

"Leave him alone! Put that down, Mr. Stavrogin. This isn't some kind of assault. Gather up your things and come with us. Hurry."

Even though Paul had only completed a little over a month of his sentence, he was rushed to the main office, given his street clothes and told to change.

The Chief of Staff gave him his parole papers and an envelope with fifty dollars in it, and a plastic bag that contained his personal belongings.

Then, after a quick handshake, two orderlies walked him out into the chilly, rainy, moonless night and left him there.

Paul was confused, disoriented, and still half-asleep.

Where did they expect him to go, and how did they expect him to get there?

A car engine roared to life, startling him.

In the sudden light of a pair of headlights and the sound of a slamming door, Paul smelled cigar smoke before he saw the Comedian come strutting slowly around the front of the big, black Caddy.

His heart dropped into his feet and rooted him to the spot like a millstone at the same time as his stomach rose into his throat, choking him.

Fate had finally showed him her last card, and it was the Ace of Spades.

You don't trust fate to show you whether you're a hero or a villain, moron, you make that decision for yourself.

And you made the wrong one, you lazy prick.

Paul realised he wasn't a new man, or a better man, he was a dumb-ass piece of shit criminal, who disgraced himself, his family, and his mask.

Seeing his Uncle made reality spring up and sock Paul in the guts.

The plans he'd made with those guys inside seemed crazy to him. Even if he had a hideout and a costume, what the fuck was he going to do?

He was no supervillain.

Paul was filled with a combination of fear and shame as he quickly pulled the hood of the army coat that Patrick gave him over his head, and tried to slouch a little, in the dark.

If they mailed him anything, he was going to mail it back. Those guys would all be in for awhile, maybe years. They were real supervillains. They'd forget all about him, and he could go home and make amends.

He'd start with getting kittens out of trees, carrying old ladies' groceries, walking girls home at night, anything.

If he could only play it off, make it home undiscovered.

If it was a beating he was going to get he would take it.

That's the way it is.

You fuck up and you get punished.

You almost let the bad guys get you, Paulie. You didn't learn your lesson. That wasn't punishment enough.

This is punishment enough.

The Ace of Spades.

Stand up.

"Okay kid, you and me we gotta have a little talk, about you and the Harlequin. About your non-professional interest in her. I don't like that. And I could care less if she started it, it's fuckin' finished. But, we got a long ride home ta discuss it. Lotsa places to pull over an' chat. I know ya think ya ain't gonna talk, but trust me, pal, ya will. We can do it the nice way, an' I can take ya home to Momma, or youse can end up in the hospital."

Paul panicked.

Drive home to Momma?

Then he'd be discovered, the cat would be out of the bag and the shit would hit the fan.

Paul shook his head, thinking that he had really screwed the pooch, this time.

If he finds out that it's me, about what I've done, Jesus, what the fuck is he gonna think of me? I'll never be able to look Uncle Eddie in the face ever again without feeling like a fucking piece of shit. It's bad enough the whole family knowing, without him knowing, too.

Paul did the only reasonable thing he could think of.

Play the hand as it lays.

As the Green Jackal.

The sky had really opened up and now it was pouring.

A cold, hard rain.

"You wanna talk, Comedian, we can talk right here. I'm a big boy, now, I can make my own way home." Paul said, disguising his voice and trying to sound as much like Clint Eastwood in the Man With No Name movies as possible.

The Comedian strutted over to him.

Real slow.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing, kid? Ya think you're a big tough guy, huh? And youse wanna do this the hard way? Good. I was just waiting for ya to give me a fuckin' reason, tough guy." he growled.

"Take your best shot, old man." The Green Jackal growled back.

Tell him its you, dumb ass.

No way.

Gotta stand up.

He braced himself.

The first thing Paul thought after the first hit was that he'd never been hit so hard in his life; it felt like a truck had slammed into his face.

He could feel his cheekbone crack and his face split open like a ripe piece of fruit.

Blood began to run down the side of his face, and down his collar.

"Not bad for an old man, huh, tough guy? That one's for trying to stick your tiny little dick in my partner."

Paul literally saw stars, like in the cartoons, then he realised they were the stars on his uncle's armor, swirling around. He couldn't believe he was still standing; there were two or three Comedians dancing around in front of his face as he staggered to and fro.

He felt dizzy, and the second hit, the one to his stomach made him feel sick, sick like he was going to puke his guts out.

The hood fell off his head, and Paul knew he should just give in and take a dive and go down, but he wasn't going to do it that way, he was going to take his medicine.

That's what his Dad and Uncle Eddie always told him, only a punk takes a dive.

Paul put his hood back up.

This is the guy who taught you how to fight, Paulie.

Use his own moves against him.

Paul steeled himself against the pain, ducked a punch, blocked another, and landed his left hook directly to the side of the Comedian's face.

The Comedian was surprised, and he shook his head a little, to shake the punch off, but it didn't seem to faze him too much.

"Hey, you gotta pretty good left, kid. An' youse takes a punch pretty good. Not good enough, though. This one's to teach you never to fuckin' try it with her again. Say goodnight, punk."

Paul went to block a right, but it was too late for him to realise that his uncle was faking him out and he got on the wrong end of the most devastating uppercut in New York City.

It was like a having a small thermonuclear device detonate on your face.

Paul felt his chin split open like the atom as the hood fell off his head again and he went reeling. His feet were actually off the ground for a few seconds but it seemed like longer to Paul that he was flying through the air before he crashed into the light post that provided the only wan light flickering over the vast driveway.

The impact knocked the wind out of him with a whooshing grunt.

It would have hurt him really badly if he wasn't already in so much pain.

Paul had no idea how or why he was still conscious. He thought maybe it was because the rain was chilling him to the bone. At any rate, he hurt so badly he couldn't even tell where the pain was coming from; it was just a constant pain crawling up and down what felt like every crackling nerve in his body.

He looked wonderingly through his blurry eyes at the amount of blood that was all over him, and realised that he was in a lot of trouble.

Dizzy and breathing hard, Paul crawled to his feet and held onto the post, with his arms around it for support so that he wouldn't fall down.

He put his bloody, bruised face against the cold wet metal, the rain and the chill from the iron made him feel a little better. The rain ran down his face and his chest along with his blood, and everything was dark on one side where his face was cut and he couldn't open his eye.

Paul spit a mouthful of blood onto the ground; he could feel blood coming down the back of his throat, too and he could taste it, seeping from his spongy jaw with its suddenly wobbly teeth.

Like a sailor on the bridge of a sinking ship, the Green Jackal hung onto the post, coughing and retching and spitting blood onto the wet pavement, fighting unconsciouness and mortal terror with the sheer force of his will.

Paul was beginning to realise this was the kind of beating he couldn't take, and the Comedian was just fooling around with him; he hadn't even begun to fight, yet.

If I fall down, he'll kill me.

You better tell him it's you.

Fuck that. I ain't no punk, I'm the Green Jackal, I ain't taking no fucking dive.

This isn't the movies, Paulie. Or the comics.

You could get killed.

If I can't live like a man, I sure as fuck can die like one.

The Comedian touched his hand to his lip, it was bleeding a little.

Liv was right, this punk had balls, and he wasn't afraid to get in there and punch with a real heavy-hitter.

Too bad he'd gone the wrong way, Eddie thought, as he strode toward the pole to finish the job."You seem like youse might be in a more talkative mood, now. So, just what do youse want with my partner?"

"Nothin'."

"Wrong answer, punk."

The Comedian grabbed hold of Paul, tore him away from the pole and threw him to the ground so hard that his body bounced.

Then, he put his boot on Paul's neck.

"Do yourself a favour, punk. Stay the fuck down. I'll let youse up, and the car door's open. I'm sure ya can make it to the car on your hands and knees like the little punk piece of shit you are."

"Oh yeah? How's about you gettin' your fuckin' foot off my neck, an' fight fair? You go ahead and let me up, goddamn youse! I'm no punk, I'm a man! A man, goddammit, and I ain't takin' no fuckin' dive! You're gonna hafta kill me! Or I'm gonna hafta kill youse! Now you get your fuckin' foot off my neck so's we can finish this shit!" Paul yelled.

Of course, he couldn't have carried the threat out if he tried; he was as helpless as a kitten, any energy he has was focused on remaining conscious and not choking to death on his own blood.

The Comedian stopped in his tracks, a surprised look on his face.

He recognised the voice, and the words, immediately.

Not to mention that to be that fucking tough and that fucking crazy, you had to be a descendant of Good-Looking Mickey Blake.

Calling up reserves of strength he didn't even know he had, Paul got to his feet and put his fists up.

He forgot his hood was off, he forgot that the Comedian could see him clearly in the light from the lamp-post, he forgot that he hadn't bothered to disguise his voice.

He threw another punch, which the Comedian blocked with one hand.

A few warm drops of his fresh blood splashed onto his Uncle's chest, and they were eye to eye.

Edie always said that Paulie looked just like him.

Although, at this point, you really couldn't tell.

He coughed.

A loose tooth smacked into the Comedian's armor and he caught it, and put it in his left holster.

They could put it back in at the hospital.

"Jesus H. Christ! I don't fuckin' believe it! I knew you weren't at no goddamn ski resort." the Comedian said.

"Don't hit me again, just now, Uncle Eddie. Gimme a few minutes to get my shit together. Then we can finish this fight. I just need to siddown for awahile. I can take it." Paul gasped.

He retreated back to his light-pole, and slid slowly down until he splashed into the pinkish puddle at the foot of the pole on the wet pavement, with his back against the metal.

"Man, you really fucked me up." Paulie observed.

"The fuck you can! Jesus, Paulie, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, look what I did to ya! What the fuck is the matter with you? My own fuckin' nephew, Jesus H. Christ! Why din'cha say it was you to begin with? What the fuck are you doin' fightin' me? Shit, I guess youse didn't know it was me."

"I knew it was you, Uncle Eddie. I knew it was you when I bumped into you outside the place in Times Square I tried to hold up."

"Then what the fuck were you doin?"

Paul shrugged.

"I deserved it. I embarrassed you and I embarrassed the family. I wanted to be a mask, but I didn't want to hafta work at it, so I went for the wrong side of the cape. Trusted fate to deal my hand. She dealt me the Ace of Spades, and I figured I'd play it as it laid."

Paul sensed the coming of his own demise, and decided to make it a cinematic moment.

He fished a cigarette out of the packet in his pocket, and tried to find his mouth to put it in.

It fell onto the ground.

"Shit." Paulie said.

The Comedian gave him and incredulous look.

"You really are crazy, Paulie."

Paul tried to bend over and pick it up and he really felt sick and the world got all black and swirly.

He got up, tried to walk it off and fell forward again.

This time he was really going to pass out, but Uncle Eddie caught him.

It was chilly and raining on him, but Paul felt hot and sweaty and dizzy and sick

A wave of mortal fear swept over him, which he attempted to put aside.

Best to stay cool, die well, time to come up with some good last words.

"Don't feel so great now, do ya, hotshot? Ain't like the movies, is it? Or your comic books?"

"I'm dyin. It's just as well. If I can't be who I am then I don't wanna live anymore anyway. But I don't wanna die out here in the rain. Or on the goddamn ground. Just put me in the car, okay?" Paul gasped.

He couldn't think of anything better, so that would have to be good enough.

"Shit, at least I'm gonna die with my boots on. Oh, wait. These are Pat's boots. Well, they're mine, now." Paulie observed.

"You're not gonna die, kid. With Pat's boots on or otherwise. You just got a real bad concussion. That makes ya feel like you're gonna die, but you ain't. Jesus, Paulie, you're as crazy as I am. You shoulda just told me it was you. I gotcha, Paulie. You're gonna be alright. I'll take ya to the hospital. C'mon lemme see the other sidea your face. Yeah, you're gonna need stitches. Shit, I worked youse over pretty fuckin' good. Edie and Aggie are gonna fuckin' kill me. C'mon kid. Let's go. I swear I fucking keep that goddamn Brooklyn General in business."

"I can't walk."

"Then I'll help ya. Put your arm around my shoulders. That's' right, kid. Car's right over here."

"You'd do that for me? Take me to the hospital an' take me home like we ain't through? Even after what I did?"

"Who said we was through? Did I say we was through?" Eddie asked.

"You mean, you ain't gonna disown me?"

In spite of everything, the Comedian laughed.

"Depends, kid. What did you do to my partner? Tell me the truth. I ain't gonna killya, but if you done somethin' funny, then yeah, we're through. I'll still take youse to the hospital. I owe youse that. Get in the car nice and easy, Paulie. That's' right. Move your leg, I'm closin' the door."

The Comedian hurried around the car and got in the driver's seat and slammed the door shut.

Paulie was goddamn bleeding all over everything, but upholstery can be cleaned.

"I didn't do nothin', Uncle Eddie. I didn't do nothin' dirty to her, I swear. I swear on Ma's life. After I took off my mask, she looked at me funny and then she was askin' me for it, an' I was so beat up and scared, I couldn't have done shit. Honest to God. I don't know what came over her."

"I do. You look like me. Fuckin' crazy broad. Jesus, Paulie, ya can't bleed like that all the way back to the city."

The Comedian got out of the car again and came back with a tackle box that had gauze and bandages in it.

"You sure you ain't gonna quit talkin' to me, forever?" Paulie asked.

Eddie put some butterfly clamps on the cuts on his nephew's chin and on his face, and then a couple of gauze pads, and taped them down, tearing the medical tape with his teeth.

He spoke to him as he worked.

"Paulie, you got any idea the kinda lousy, dirty, evil horrendous shit I've done since 1938? Which ain't shit compared to what my enemies have done. You think after all that I'm gonna disown you because of some small-time shit like this? We're family, fa' Chrissakes!" Eddie explained.

"I'm sorry. I really screwed the pooch this time."

Eddie put the first aid box in the back seat.

"Ya sure did. Putcher fuckin' safety belt on, we're gonna be drivin' real fast. .Jesus H. Christ, Paulie. Stay still. Don't move your head around. You still wanna smoke?"

"Yeah." Paulie said.

His uncle got out one of his cigarettes and lit it for him, and Paulie slowly brought it to his mouth.

The Comedian drove away, heading for the expressway as fast as he could go.

***

In his street clothes, Eddie Blake spent the next three hours in various waiting rooms at Brooklyn General while various doctors gave his nephew x-rays and tests and kept examining him, over and over again.

The emergency dentist put two of Paulie's teeth back in his jaw and did temporary fillings on three more that had been cracked, telling Paulie to make an appointment with his regular dentist to get a couple of crowns.

The good news was that his jaw wasn't broken, and he didn't need a blood transfusion, even though Eddie had volunteered to be the donor.

His most serious injuries were a concussion and a hairline fracture of the cheekbone.

Neither those or the other relatively minor lumps cuts and bruises to the rest of his body would have any far-reaching consequences.

They put four stitches in his cheek, and eight in his chin, and gave Tylenol-3 and penicillin to his Uncle, told Eddie to keep Paul in bed for a day or two, and then sent them on their way.

Paul's only complaint was that they had to shave off his goatee, and that he wouldn't be able to grow it back until the stitches came out.

It was the longest drive home of Paul Blake's life.

He sat there, smoking, stoically while Uncle Eddie yelled and screamed at him and beat the steering wheel.

Just because he wasn't going to kill Paulie or disown him, it didn't mean he wasn't extremely fucking angry.

"Look at yourself, Paulie! Pull down that visor and fuckin' lookit yourself! An' ease up on the whiskey. Ya can't drink whiskey an' take pills with codeine in them, you'll kill yourself!"

"Codiene!" Paulie exclaimed.

He opened the window and threw the pills out.

"Fuck that shit! I don't wanna end up no junkie. I got lotsa regular Tylenol an' Excederin at home. Jesus, I look pretty bad."

"Yeah. You do. And you know what? You're fuckin' lucky that you're friends with Liv Napier. Because if Jack wasn't lookin' after youse, you woulda got some beatings in that joint that made this one look like a kiss from a broad! What did I tell youse in Grossmann's about your head gettin' fulla bad idea that seemed like a good idea at the time? Huh? Well?"

"I guess I wasn't payin' attention. I thought about it when I was at Arkham, though. How you was right."

"You bet your ass I was right! I toleja to stay on the up and up, and wudja do? Time in Arkham for knockin' over a drugstore in a pair of your sister's tights!"

"I'm sorry, Uncle Eddie. But I didn't know you and the superhero that Mom and Aunt Aggie work for were the same cat until I stepped outside that store, and there you were. I remember thinking, Holy Christ, why is my Uncle Eddie dressed up like the Comedian? Holy shit, my Uncle Eddie is the Comedian. Holy fuck, if he finds out it's me under this ski mask, he's gonna be really pissed. So, then I just ran. I'm glad your partner put my mask back on and I prayed you wouldn't take it off. I never meant it to go that far. It just kinda, got away from me."

"And I suppose you let those nuts in there get to youse, an work on ya, pull you into their crazy fuckin' schemes?"

"I wont talk. I know better, now. I ain't doin' shit. But I still won't talk." Paul said.

He knew that much.

Eddie Blake sighed, resignedly.

"You don't have to talk. And I ain't got enough breath left to scream at youse, anymore. Relax, kid. You're lucky. This is a catered affair. I was settin' the Green Jackal up to take a big fall, but now that I know it's you, well, you leave that part up to me. It actually works out a little bit better, cos now I know you'll go along with the plan and nothin' can go wrong. You play along with what you were told in there, and then you do what I tell you to do out here, and you'll be alright. Okay?"

"You mean you set me up? Your own fuckin' nephew?" Paulie snapped

"How the fuck was I supposed to know that my own fuckin' nephew was a half-assed supervillain? No wonder Aggie and Edie have been so worried. They prob'ly think I'm gonna fuckin' kill you when I find out."

"I'm surprised you didn't."

"Yeah, well, you're lucky it was that crazy bitch partner of mine makin' a pass at you. If I thought for a fuckin' minute, Paulie that you…never mind. Look, you may be a crazy motherfucker, but you took your medicine like a man, and you even got a punch or two in. That's pretty good, kid. You have been payin' attention, all these years. ut you listen to me, Paulie. After this shit's over, you had better hang up your goddamn tights. Nobody in our family went the way your piece of shit grandfather did, and you ain't gonna be the first. You try this again. I'm done with ya. I don't know youse no more. And I won't hafta killya, cause those fuckin' guys you wanna run with, they'll do it. Okay?"

Paul nodded like an idiot.

"I already made up my mind about that. I was done."

"It's like the mob, kid. Once you get into those guys, you're never done. But I can get ya out. You get your ass back to school and get your fuckin' degree, and you stay on the up and up or I'll really knock the shit outa you. Are we square?"

"Yeah. We're square. D'you think you can forgive me, Uncle Eddie?"

"Awww shit, Paulie, it's not so bad. At least it didn't have nothin' to do with big-time dope or the rackets or you ain't a goddamn Commie, or a fag, or somethin'. I said we was square and I meant it. Alright? Let's go in and face the music."

"Umm, Uncle Eddie, this girl, yunno, Rosie? Ya remember Rosie?"

"Sure. She's that crazy Puerto Rican broad of yours who goes to Brooklyn Law School and works in the nudie booth for kicks. Likes it with the costume on, huh? Crazy broads. They all want it with the costume on."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I go out in my civvies, half the time it's fuck you, old man. I go out in the costume, shit, I get more ass than a toilet seat."

"You think maybe I could switch sides? Be a hero, instead?"

"That what you really want?"

Paulie nodded, furiously, which almost made him pass out.

"More'n anything else in the whole fuckin' world, Uncle Eddie."

"How come I ain't surprised? C'mon let's get in the house. You gotta lotta work to do if you wanna prove to me you can make it as a mask. "

***

They tried to go in, quietly, but the dog began to make a big fuss over seeing two of his favourite people, and woke the whole house.

Edie heard her brother's voice and her son's and she could see that Eddie was helping Paulie up the front steps.

She was waiting in the kitchen, for them, and when she saw Paul, bandaged up, with blood all over his clothes like he took a bath in it she lost it.

"Eddie, you sunnuvabitch, wudja do to my boy!"

Edie screamed, hugged Paul, picked up a carving knife, threw it fairly close to her brother's head, and then started tossing dishes at him.

Eddie found it funny, it lightened things up a little after him almost killing poor Paulie.

He kept putting his armbands in front of his face to deflect the dishes.

Ivan let her go until she picked up the cast-iron skillet from the stove, and then he held her back.

Aggie was charging into the fray with the rolling pin, and Ivan restrained her with his other arm.

"Patrick! Get ass downstairs now! Mom's trying to kill Uncle Eddie!"

"I didn't know it was him! Why the fuck didn't you tell me that Paulie was the Green Jackal! You told me he gotta fuckin' job! You think I woulda beat my own nephew up that bad? Who d'you think you're talkin' to, Pop? " The Comedian yelled back at Edie.

"Whaddya mean, you didn't know it was Paulie? He looks just fuckin' like you!"

"I mean he put his hood over his head and hid in the goddamn shadows, an' after I popped him a coupla times, he started swingin' at me! You shoulda told me, Edie!"

"She thought you would kill him, I tell her, you nuts, Eddie won't kill Paulie. I don't know where he get this supervillain idea. We make little joke at breakfast and he takes it seriously." Ivan commented.

Patrick came into the room, in his underwear, rubbing his eyes.

"Settle down, Ma. Uncle Eddie stopped hittin' Paulie when he realised it was him, prob'ly. And he took him to the hospital, right? I'm mean Paulie's on his feet, he can't be hurt that bad. They woulda kept him in the hospital. I mean, Uncle Eddie hardly touched him. When were we in Nam, I seen him beat guys up. This ain't shit." Patrick pointed out.

"Yeah. And I'm gonna get the Society of Supervillans off his ass, too. Relax." Eddie finished.

Ivan let Edie and Aggie go, and Edie marched over to her son and slapped him on the uninjured side of his face.

"Owwwwww!" Paul howled

Eddie tried to get between them and Edie shoved him out of her way.

"Edie, Jesus, he's had enough! He's got a fuckin' concussion, and he had a whole buncha dental work an' stitches, youse can't be slappin' him around!" the Comedian protested.

"Shut the fuck up, Eddie! And you, Paulie, where d'you think you get off, takin' a swing at you Uncle? He shoulda shot ya a coupla times, knock some sense into youse! Whaddya you wanna be? A piecea shit criminal like my old man, may he rot in Hell! Wudja do to this family? Embarrassed your father. Embarrassed your Uncle Eddie who gave us this house, helps put food on our table, puts clothes in your back! Embarrassed your brother who went off to that piecea shit Vietnam to defend his country! You do know he only came back safe and sound cos your Uncle got him on his and Dr. Manhattan's staff, don'cha? And if that ain't bad enough, you made a pass at your Uncle's partner! What's the matter with you? Where's your fuckin' brains? In your pants?" Edie insisted.

"I dunno, Mom. But I'm gonna make it up to everybody. Uncle Eddie's gonna give me a job to do."

"A little job, Edie. I just want him to come up with some dumb ass plan so the Harlequin can come in and save the day."

"Well, you had better not fuck up, young man. You're on my shit list, kiddo. Now, go to your room. Patrick, help your brother get up the stairs. Wait, Are you hungry, Paulie?"

"Kinda. I'm sorry, Ma."

"Well, you lie down and I'll bring you some soup. Did they give you medicine?"

"Uh-huh. Uncle Eddie has it."

"I'll take care of it for you. Okay?"

"Okay, Ma. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

"I know you are, Paulie. I forgive you. Honey, I'm just worried about you. You gotta know this isn't the right way for you to go. Everybody makes mistakes, yunno. But you make this right and, please, don't ever do anything criminal, again."

"Okay, Ma. I won't."

Paul let Patrick lead him out of the room.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Eddie. I won't letcha down."

Uncle Eddie was sitting at the table, smoking a cigar, and looking tired and worried and pissed off.

"I know ya won't. Go to bed, now, Paulie."

***

Paul was glad to see his own bed in his own room, relieved that everything was going to work out alright.

There was a package with his name on it waiting on the bed, and he sat down and opened it.

Dear Green Jackal,

We heard you were getting out early, so we sent this to your house, so it would be waiting for you when you got home.

Ah, to be young again, and starting my career. Those were the days. But, as I've paid dearly in cash to get this letter to you out, sealed and unopened by prying eyes, I'll cut right to the chase.

You must begin at the beginning. With a name. Green Jackal is good, it has a nice sound to it. Now you need a mythology. Love the way you played up the Anubis thing. Good choice. You'll find that it has great possibilities.

The next thing you need is an arch-nemesis. I'd cultivate the Harlequin, if I were you. You kids already have a history.

And, of course, you need a costume. A real costume. Your design is pretty good. For one thing, it's in green and it looks Egyptian. But it has to be more practical, with a belt you can carry things on, and I'd go for a bullet-proof chest plate and codpiece. The Harlequin carries two guns, and she's learned everything she knows at the knee of Mr. Don't Talk, Shoot, the Comedian. That and the cops are always pretty gun happy.

Don't change your mask. It was perfect.

All you need to do, then, is make your final modifications and send them on to me. You'll have your costume in about two weeks, maybe three.

Now, about your a base of operations, what the superheroes call a "lair". As you know, supervillains do NOT live with their parents in Bensonhurst.

You can start at the address on the keychain with the enclosed keys. It's sort of a unique-fixer upper opportunity on the waterfront, but we all have to start somewhere, and uptown is uptown, right?

When you get your costume, don't go out and mug an old lady or knock over a chicken stand.

Supervillains do not commit petty, stupid, thuggish crimes. Use the time you have while you costume is being made to come up with your first diabolical scheme. Since this is your first, KISS. Keep It Simple, Stupid. Make sure your scheme establishes your identity and mythology, that its showy and catches the attention of the press, shocking and titillating to the monkeymass, and, of course lucrative.

You don't seem like the violent type, so, as we discussed, don't go against your nature and do something brutal. If you try to over-reach, it won't work.

My lawyer will also be contacting you. Remember, always make it nuts enough to plead insanity. Real prison is no place for a supervillain.

As for the money, this is your supervillain seed money. You can buy your friend Skinny back from the mob; sounds like he'd make an excellent henchman. Use the rest of the money for whatever you need to outfit your warehouse and plan your first operation.

If you have any money left over, keep it, with the Society's complements. Crime pays, handsomely, and we have a lot more where that came from.

Good luck embarking on your career. Your fellow supervillians and I are all cheering for you and we'll keep our eyes on the television and the papers.

Jack Napier, AKA Joker

Paul read the letter two or three times, looking at what must have been a million or close to it in thousands stuffed into the envelope, and the keys in his hand, he thought about sending it all back to the Joker, apologising and saying he lost his nerve.

After all, if he took the money, and the keys, and the help from his fellow supervillians, it was like when his friend Skinny started running with the Gambinos.

When you were in, you were in, and you went out, feet first, that's what Uncle Eddie said.

Paul put the envelope under the bed and went to sleep.

He had a small glimmer of hope in his mind as he dropped off.

Maybe, somehow, I can be the Green Jackal, after all.

III: Eddie

Long after Paulie was up in his room, resting, grateful to be home in his own bed, the Comedian was sitting at what he still thought of as his kitchen table, in his street clothes spattered with poor Paulie's blood, one hand a fist in his hair and the other propelling drink after drink down his throat.

Anguish clawed at his throat, despair choked him, and he fought to swallow his own wild, desperate laughter at the cruel joke that was on him.

"Gimme another beer, Edie."

"Eddie, you had enough. You gotta drive to Washington, tonight."

"I'll go in the morning. Onna plane, with the rest of 'em. Fuck it. I keep seein' him, all beat up and staggerin' around and tellin' me I was gonna hafta kill him. Just my fucking luck. Hey, Eddie, your nephew's a supervillain. And he wants to fuck your woman. Or worse, she wants to fuck him. Joke's on you, Eddie. Jesus, Edie, I coulda killed him. Gimme another beer. I'll buy you more."

"Eddie, that's the whole case, and most of that bottle of Southern Comfort!"

"So? I'll have one more shot and one more beer and I'll go home."

"Don't be so rough on yourself, Eddie. We didn't raise him to be a creampuff. He'll be alright. And you didn't know it was Paulie. You thought you were beatin' up on some nut who was gonna try to do to your partner what Pop did to me. I dunno. Maybe you knocked some sense into Paulie. Nothing else has worked. I'm sorry I been such a bitch, lately, but you can't imagine what we've been going through since this started."

"So, that's what's been puttin' a bug up your ass, you and Aggie. You shoulda told me. Why didn't you fuckin' tell me?"

"I was ashamed! I can't believe he did such a thing. Eddie, this plan you got for Paul, is it safe? He's in over his head on this shit, he's not like you and Liv."

"I'll make it safe. Fuckin' foolproof. Don't worry. I won't let nothin' bad happen to Paulie. It's not his fault. I know who's fault it is. Fuckin' dirty little shanty Irish whore!"

Eddie choked on his words.

The last time Edie had seen her brother so upset was the night he tried to rape Sally Jupiter.

She had put the little ones to bed and was just about to go home when Eddie came staggering in, with blood all over his clothes and his face bashed in, shouting for another drink before he fell into the same chair at the same table.

He'd acted the same way, pounding down drink after drink and staring into his glass like he'd lost everything he had in the world and it was somehow going to reappear at the bottom of it.

She pulled a chair up next to him and sat down.

"Eddie, she probably didn't even realise it was him. It was probably some kinda mistake."

"Bullshit!"

He had that break in the anger in his voice, like he was close to tears, murder, or both.

He turned his face to hers and it was full of pain and disbelief.

It made Edie think of horrible moments from their childhood, seeing that look on Eddie's face; it was the same goddamn look.

"Paulie's one of the kid's best friends. She knew him before she knew me. He thinks he introduced us. Who the fuck did she think it was under the mask? Santa Claus? My nephew. My own fuckin' nephew. Jesus, I love that girl, Edie, how could she fuckin' do this to me? I knew shre was fast, I never cared about a woman bein' fast, but I never knew whse was such a fuckin' whore!"

"Eddie, listen to me. You're drunk. Go home, sleep it off, go see her in the morning. Give the kid a chance to explain herself. That girl loves you too, Eddie. Jesus, it scares me the way that black hearted crazy little Mick loves you. You tell her she's a fuckin' whore, you'll both end up dead."

"She's got one helluva way of showing it to me, Evie."

Abruptly, the Comedian lurched to his feet.

"Eddie, listen to me. Don't do anything crazy."

"I ain't Pop. I won't."

"Eddie, we ain't talking about Ma, God rest her soul, or some ordinary broad. I mean it. That girl could kill you, and I know goddamn well you get mad enough you could kill just about anybody. I don't wanna come over there and have to scrape what's left of the two of you off the walls after you're done tearing each other limb from fucking limb. Why dontcha just stay here tonight? Sleep it off."

"She ain't there. She thinks I went to DC. I gotta go home. This fuckin' day has gotta end."

***

He couldn't remember the last time he was this drunk, he was so drunk he could hardly stagger in his front door.

When he did manage to do so, he noticed Liv was there.

Bad for her.

Very bad.

She was sitting on his couch, in her underwear, which was, invariably, his old underwear, one of his cast-off undershirts and a pair of threadbare old boxer shorts with the waistband rolled over a few times, drinking his Scotch.

Watching his TV.

The Comedian was drunk, blind, stinking drunk, and he was sick with himself over what he'd done to Paulie, sick and angry and full of rage and frustration.

After the night he had, Liv was the first and the last person he wanted to see.

Especially considering that as he drove back to his apartment, he was thinking about how Liv had seen the Green Jackal without his mask on.

What the fuck was she thinking? Did she know it was Paulie and decide she wanted to fuck him, to make up for beating the shit out of him? Or was it like Clark Kent and his goddamn glasses, did she not recognise Paulie except for in some remote place in her crazy, big jumped-up jet powered brain because he was the last person she expected to be under a supervillain's mask? Or maybe, Eddie thought, she just couldn't handle that it was Paulie under the mask and somehow when she saw a face that looked so much like him that it was him she saw.

Maybe she tore off the mask and saw it was Paulie and she got so hot in that burning red five alarm fire itchy pussy of hers at the sight of him in a costume, and figured, next best thing to Eddie, oh boy, here we go.

After all, Paulie looked just like him.

Except he was a hell of a lot younger.

But still, seeing her casually spread all over his couch, all tits and ass in the threadbare old boxers and the worn undershirt made him want to fuck her, and he knew goddamn well it wouldn't take anything more than a "hiya, kid" and a little rub of his thumb at the seam of the boxers between her legs to get her going.

On the other hand, he thought of her performing her alchemy on Paulie, bewitching him, dragging him into all kinds of shit he couldn't handle, including her, all because Paulie looked just like him.

And Eddie looked just like his father, the devil himself.

And that kid is your red-haired Whore of Babylon, and you love her, you crazy bastard.

The Comedian was furious with Liv that she was such a heartless cock-hungry slut and furious with himself about how that was the way he liked her and it made him sick that they were both such a couple of rotten evil bastards that he could stand there and look at her and know she tried to fuck his nephew after she beat the holy hell out of him and still want to tear her clothes off her body.

He felt the way she hurt him so deep in his guts he put his hand over his belly. During the Big One, he'd taken a bullet in the guts. It was just him and Cap and Logan, out there, and Logan dug the bullet out of him with his bony claws while Cap held him down, and they patched him up as best as he could and he laid in that trench for three days before help came, in pain so bad that sometimes he had to lie there and swear and curse and beat the ground and scream.

He felt the same.

A terrible rage washed over Eddie Blake, and he was close to exploding.

"Didn't I tell you earlier today to get the fuck outa here?" he spat at his partner, angrily.

The tone of his voice would have been enough to make most women and probably a lot of men cower in fright, but the kid didn't bat an eyelash.

"I thought you were gonna be in DC. You told me to look after the place while you were gone."

"Oh, so you're just gonna move right in then, huh? You got your grease monkey in my bed, already? Or some fan of yours you picked up? Lyin' on your fat ass, drinkin' my booze." Eddie snarled.

"Fuckin' relax, willya, Eddie? I went ta work, I went ta Grossmann's, Cap and Tony were there, I ate dinner with 'em and I came here. That's all."

"Yeah, I'll fuckin' bet it was! You always got your fuckin' eye on old Shellhead! That's your problem, kid. You can't goddamn do anything normal, or decent without fuckin' whorin' it up! Like when you saved my life in that fight. I sent ya to a S.H.I.E.L.D. joint ta get better and wudja do? Busted out and went to Tijuana to go on a binge. Drinkin tequila and blowin' sailors, knowin' you! Then after you got tossed in the clink, and Stark was there, dyin', sure ya saved his life, but then as soon as you two was outa there, ya hadda fuck him, too! I know when I came down there ta get ya, you was in bed with him. Well? Were you?"

"Eddie, that was like three years ago."

The Comedian angrily snapped the TV off.

"Tell me? Didja fuck him? I wanna know, ya little slut!" he yelled.

Liv threw her glass on the ground and it broke.

"Yeah! I did! So fuckin' what?" Liv insisted.

The Comedian's face went white with rage.

He was so furious he could hardly choke out his words.

He almost went for his gun, he would have shot her had he not wanted to tear her limb from limb with his bare hands.

Paulie.

Her betrayal burned him; it burned in his belly like he had swallowed a hot coal.

It was a joke, she was a joke, they were a joke, it was all a horrible, hideous joke and it was on him.

Inarticulate, the Comedian grunted a strangled scream, picked up something made of glass from the glass coffee table and hurled it against the wall.

"Goddamn you! You…you…goddamn you to hell, you little fuckin' whore! That's why I never wanted to touch you in the first place, I knew what a fuckin' dirty little whore you were! That night I was drivin' you back to the rehab, I knew, I knew you just got outa bed with Stark, ya hadn't even taken a goddamn bath, you were probably drinkin' whiskey and fuckin' him all day long, and if I woulda took my cock out like you wanted me to, you wouldn't have cared! I coulda done anything to ya, I couldaa stopped the car and thrown ya in the back seat and fucked the shit outa ya an you woulda ate it up with a spoon, ya woulda been suckin' my dick all the way home! Ya don't care! Ya don't care who you fuck or when you fuck 'em because you're a no-good whore! Ya always have been and ya always will be! I tried with you, kid! I gave ya everything but my goddamn blood! An' you stabbed me in the goddamn back! And it's not enough you gotta fuck up my life, ya gotta bring fuckin' innocent people into it, who don't deserve ta get mixed up with the likes of youse! I know, I seeya, I seeya for what the fuck you are, you…you… FUCKIN' DIRTY LITTLE SHANTY IRISH WHORE!"

Liv just looked at him in shock for a minute, and her lip trembled a tiny bit and her eyes looked moist and then she leapt up off the couch.

"I FUCKIN' WELL AM NOT, YOU FUCKIN' OLD BASTARD! You goddamn act like I'm out there suckin' every cock in town! And what about you? I had three girls on the phone today wantin to send pictures of you fuckin' 'em six ways for Sunday to the goddamn newspapers, you goddamn dumb motherfucker! So I like to fuck? I admit it! Guilty as fuckin' charged!"

Eddie's arm shot out from his side and he put his hand around her throat.

It almost went all the way around her neck so he could touch his fingers to his thumb.

He didn't squeeze, he didn't shake her, he wasn't applying any pressure at all; he just had his hand around her throat the way a rattlesnake shakes its tail before it strikes.

"I got my hand around your throat, little girl. And if I want to, I can cut off the air you're suckin' in to backtalk me. You know I could snap your fuckin' neck with a flick of my wrist? Let me fuckin' tell you somethin', little girl. You had better be afraid of me." He snarled.

Liv just stood there, clenching and unclenching her fists, stammering in pain and shock and outrage.

Anger overtook her, blind, towering anger. She was almost in shock as how the boiling rage filled her; she felt like her whole body was engulfed in flames, like she could have shot fire from her mouth and heat rays from her eyes.

She laughed at him, her eyes flashing with rage, laughed the most uncannily Joker Jack laugh he'd ever heard come out of her throat and seized his arm in both hands at the same time.

"Now Eddie, you know I'm strong enough to snap your fuckin' arm just like a twig long before you get around to breakin' my neck. So what the fuck do you wanna do about it, Eddie? You wanna come in here and call me a fuckin shanty Irish whore for no goddamn reason and make me cower and beg you not to hit me? You want me to roll the fuck over and cower and scream for you not to hurt me like Laurie's mom, when you beat the fuck out of her and tried to rape her because you kissed her neck and she decked you? Or you want me to just stand there like that Cong girl you shot because she messed up your pretty face, just stand there and beg you not to kill me! Fuck you, Eddie! If I was Sally I woulda kicked you in the balls right after I busted you in the face, so goddamn hard you woulda started ta cry! An if I was that Cong broad I woulda never bothered with a bottle. I woulda shot you right in the dick with your own gun and waited until you begged me to blow your head off before I did it! I'm not afraid of you, Eddie Blake, and you can't make me fear you! You wanna go? You wanna fight? LET'S FIGHT! YOU WANNA DO IT FOR REAL? YOU WANNA SEE WHO WINS AND WHO DIES? I'M READY! I'M READY, YA SUNNUVABITCH!"

They both jumped back, circling the table, circling each other, like two gladiators in the arena.

Neither one of them knew why they weren't at each other's throats, punching, kicking, screaming, breaking bones and bruising flesh and spattering each other's blood and brains all over the walls; they both just glared at each other with shocked, angry faces twisted in pain.

Is it true that some things can never be forgiven?

No.

Sally forgave him.

The Comedian lunged towards the Harlequin with a horrible, strangled sound and tossed aside the glass coffee table that stood between them. It smashed against the far wall as he yanked her into his arms and kissed her, desperately, one arm around her waist clasping her body against his, the other in her long, beautiful red hair, looking for something in her besides that look of rage and bloodlust on her face.

And the Harlequin held him tightly, she kissed him back, furiously and pressed her body against his, almost sobbing into his mouth with relief that they weren't murdering each other.

Both of their faces were wet with tears that neither of them wanted to admit to crying.

"Shit, I'm sorry, baby. I'm just drunk. I'm sorry." Eddie blurted out, still hugging Liv as hard as he could.

"Why'd you call me a whore, Eddie? Jesus Christ whydja do that? Dontcha know, comin' from you, that's the worst goddamn thing ya coulda ever said to me?"

"Don't cry, Liv. I didn't mean it. I love you, baby. You're not a whore, you never were. Anybody calls you a whore I'll tear his lungs out. Jesus, Liv, tell me you love me. Tell me it's me you want. I gotta hear you say it. You're killin' me."

"I love you, Eddie. I mean it. I swear to God I do. And you know I want you. I want you right now. I'd rather kiss you than kill you."

Eddie kissed her again, staggering blindly towards her.

He was so drunk he couldn't hardly stand but he was still flipping her undershirt up and pulling her boxer shorts down.

She was naked, naked and beautiful and confused with all her long red hair falling all over her curvy little body, and her eyes were wet with tears.

He fell on his knees in front of her because he was too drunk to stand , so drunk he couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth as he started to kiss her little white throat and nibble at her soft earlobes and roll her pink nipples between his fingers.

"I love you, Liv. I love you so much it makes me fuckin' crazy. I love how mean you are and how horny you are, I feel like the Devil and God himself got together and made you just for me so you could be my little angel from Hell."

She moaned and it was music in his ears and he lowered her down onto the carpet and he was licking her pink nipples and sucking them into his mouth and he had his fingers tangled in her wet red bush, rubbing her clit and pushing into her hungry little pussy.

Anything to make him forget how close he came to killing her.

He was drunk and clumsy, slobbering all over her still mumbling crazy things, dirty things, stupid things.

"I wish I wasn't so drunk baby I would fuck you an' you smell so good an I love you so goddamn much."

"Oh shit, I love you too, Eddie. You're makin' me crazy. You know how long it's been."

She had her hands on his head and she was trying to push it down over her belly, and he heard himself laughing, a drunken, low rumbling sound.

He fell across her thighs, and still sliding his fingers into her pussy, feeling her pull on them and squeeze them like they were his cock he lowered his head and sucked lazily on her swollen wet clit and licked her, and she shuddered and moaned and he laughed drunkenly into her thigh.

"Damn, baby, you taste like a teenager. Mmm, just like sweet teenage pussy I could lick you all night I wish I wasn't so fucking drunk."

He almost went out, with his head on her leg, but she had her hands in his hair and she was running them all over his back and his shoulders, straining and moaning, bucking her hips, and she was desperate and swearing and screaming.

"Oooooo, lick me, suck me off, make me come, please, please, I'm almost there…"

His balls were already blue and aching but then he felt his cock begin to stiffen against his thigh and he couldn't believe it because he was so fucking drunk but that was Liv.

He drew himself up off of her and sat back on his haunches, looking her spread all soft and wet and naked all over the floor, panting.

"Jesus, Liv, you know how much I had to drink tonight? But look at me. You got my dick hard. Well, hard enough. Holy shit." He chuckled.

"Then why dontcha fuck me, Eddie? You don't know how goddamn bad I need you to fuck me, right now. You ain't fucked me since I had my Troubles. Please, Eddie. Please!"

He sort of fell over her.

"Goddamnit, don't fuckin' beg me for it. I don't know if I can."

She swore, and wrapped her hard, tattooed little paw around his stiff cock and squeezed it, guiding it to the mouth of her pussy.

"I know you can, Eddie. You're the best goddamn man I ever knew. Show me, goddamn it, show me how much ya love me, ya big, mean beautiful sunnuvabitch."

What the hell's the matter with you, Eddie? Fuck her. Fuck her hard, make sure she knows what kinda man you are.

Eddie grinned down at her, he laughed, he pushed her legs open as far as they would go and brought his mouth down on hers and drove his cock into her.

Liv yowled and her legs snapped high up around his waist and her arms wound around his broad back.

"Ohhh Eddie ohhh jeeeeezizz yessssss, aw shit, aww fuck, Eddie that's the fuckin' spot…"

"That's right, baby. Squeeze me. Come for me, honey. Come all over me…"

Too drunk to shut the fuck up, but not too drunk to fuck.

Probably too drunk to come.

He could feel her frustration, he could hear it in her ragged, frantic breaths

Keep it up, soldier.

Make her come.

Liv started to grunt and groan and keen and then she just started to wail and he was pounding her like a broken jackhammer and she was pushing him back so hard trying to get them both off. Her ass was bouncing off the carpet; he had to hold her down, gritting his teeth and cursing because he felt like he was going to pass out and he was losing his hard-on and he was so damn close.

And finally, Liv came, nice and sweet and hard and loud, like she always did.

"Goddamit, I'm so close, I'm so fucking drunk!" he yelled.

"Yeah. Yeah, an' I'm gonna make you come, too, Eddie."

She lowered herself over his thighs and went to work for an embarrassingly long time, sucking him off long and slow and hard, first with her hand around his cock, sucking him and jacking him off into her mouth, then taking him all the way in so her chin was on his balls, and he was so goddamn close and when he started fucking her mouth she started whimpering and he put his hand between her legs and fingered her, rubbing her clit with his thumb and when he felt her coming in his hand, that was it, and finally he got hammer a nail into the wall hard and shot his wad and everything almost went black.

And then it was over and Eddie was sitting back on his haunches on the goddamn floor with rugburn on his knees, feeling drunk and dizzy but good, goddamn good with Liv spread out all over where the table used to be.

Everything that was on the table was all over the floor and there was glass everywhere and some of it had gotten into her hair.

He wobbled to his feet.

"Don't move, kid. You got glass in your hair."

Liv just laid there, eyes closed, her whole body vibrating, humming to herself.

Eddie had to hang onto the TV to get around her to drop the glass into the garbage.

Liv got up and sat on the couch.

"Jesus, Eddie, you are really drunk. You're as drunk as I used ta get, back in tha day, and that's drunk. I never seen ya this drunk. C'mon, siddown before ya fall down. What the hell's got into you? Whadyya mean I'm killin' you? I ain't done nothin' to youse I know about. Ya come home so drunk ya can't stand up, ya make me mad enough ta kill you, then ya start talking dirty and throw the first fuck into me I had in a month. I know ya been in a fight. You gotta fat lip. And you got two fingers taped together."

"Kid, go make me some goddamn coffee. I gotta talk to you."

Liv made coffee, and she brought the pot in and two mugs.

They both like their coffee strong and black.

Eddie had made his way to the couch and Liv sat beside him.

"I had a bad night. Beat the shit outa somebody I shouldn't have. And I got some fuckin' bad news. Real bad fuckin' news. Another joke on Eddie Blake." He said.

"You did what you had to do. I'm sure of it."

"Yeah, that's what I'm trying to tell myself. Hey, kid, when you took the mask offa that Green Jackal, did he look like anybody you know?"

Eddie watched his partner turn a whiter shade of pale.

She looked sick and scared and guilty all at the same time, and her hands began to tremble so much she had to put her mug down.

"Huh? Oh, well, I kinda had this funny idea he looked familiar, yeah, but it was dark in that basement and we was fighting and, yunno, your mind plays tricks on yuh, and…"

"Just tell me who you thought it was."
"For a minute, Eddie, he reminded me of you. Then, naaah. It's stupid."

Liv's heart started to pound in her chest.

All those doubts she had tried to drink away that terrible night with the knife in her ribs came back, all those little coincidences she had been trying to ignore as she concentrated on getting better and getting her shit together.

Eddie kept talking.

"So I went to Arkham to take delivery of the Green Jackal. I was plannin' on beatin' it out of him, what was it that he done to you or you done to him. He turned out to be some big dumb punk in a fatigue jacket with the hood pulled low over his face. It was dark, and he tried to run from me, and I beat him up pretty good and told him he could crawl to the car, and that's when he started yelping that he wasn't a punk and I'd have to kill him before he took a dive. I recognised the voice and the sentiments."

"Oh shit."

Liv put her face in her hands.

"Liv, Jesus, how couldja do this to me? You're fuckin' killin' me! You wanna tell me just what the fuck made you decide you wanted Paulie? I mean I can probably figure it out, but, just tell me, anyway."

Liv looked at him like he had spoken in Skrull.

"What? What the fuck? Is that…that's what was botherin' you?"

"It's been botherin me what made you wanna fuck some guy you were beatin' up. Now it bothers me even more. I'd rather you shot me. If you fuckin' lost your temper an' broke my nose, or stabbed me or you fuckin shot me, I could forgive youse. But you stabbed me in the fuckin back, kid, right through the fuckin' heart. You're killin me."

"Eddie, you won't believe me. You already got your mind made up that I'm a-"

"Don't say it. You ain't. Look, kid, I already don't believe that Paulie's the Green Jackal, that I beat the shit outa him, that I got so slobberin' drunk I came home and called youse a whore an almost killed ya and then I started fuckin' cryin an' blubberin and made ya tell me ya loved me like some goddamn old woman and then I was sayin' all that crazy shit to ya while I was doin I don't know what to ya on the motherfuckin' floor. Tell me. I gotta know."

"Okay! I did not make a pass at Paulie. I absolutely 100 per cent did not. This is what happened. So I'm beatin' this guy. This Green Jackal. He's tryin to get away, an' I'm beatin him so he can't. He's got the knife in his hand, but he ain't usin it. Then I don't see the knife anymore but I see the bottom part on the ground and so I thought the blade was there on the ground too and all the sudden my ribs hurt. And then he turns me over and he's on top of me and he's got both my hands pinned down and I'm cursin' myself because I was fightin' him like he was a mook and I could take him whenever I wanted and now he's got me. I thought he was gonna try and fuck me, and I wasn't about to let him do that. I figured once he got close enough I'd bite his fuckin throat out, but I figured he was a goddamn mook anyway, I'd give him the old fuck you. I ripped his mask off and dared him to do it. I was so mad I almost wanted him to try something so I could kill him just for thinkin' about it. Mad and scared. Well, the guy gets this horrified look on his face, and I realised he was terrified and just holdin' me down so he could get away. Then he spoke to me, he told me I was crazy and quit hitting him. I took a goddamn good look at him, then and I thought I recognised the face and the voice, but I didn't wanna recognise him so I got my hand out from under his and knocked him out and shoved his mask back on him so I wouldn't have to look at him, anymore. Then I went out and got as drunk as possible so I would forget all about it and you know the rest. I did not try to fuck Paulie. Under no fuckin' circumstances. "

She hadn't made a pass at him at all.

Jesus, he got on top of her and held her down.

And you called her a fucking dirty little shanty Irish whore, you prick.

Eddie felt like a real piece of shit for that, but when he realised that it wasn't true, and he didn't have to face almost killing his nephew and Liv betraying him in the same night, he felt a lot better.

Then he felt a lot worse.

He was suddenly sorry he hadn't hit Paulie harder.

That little prick, did he lie to me?

Maybe he did.

I woulda lied to me if I was him.

How many times had he told the kid, you don't ever try and force yourself on a woman, no matter what you think she wants, it's a piece of shit thing to do and it's trouble that follows you the rest of your life?

Then again, Paulie swore up and down to him that he didn't do shit.

"Are you sure about that, Liv? Don't try to cover Paulie's ass because he's your friend. I wanna know if he was trying to fuck you. I ain't gonna kill him. I'm gonna tell his mother and she and I are gonna make the beating I just gave him look like a kiss, and I'm gonna throw him right outa the goddamn family, but I won't kill him. Tell me the truth."

"I swear, Eddie, that's the truth. Paulie wasn't trying to fuckin' rape me. He wasn't. He would never do nothin' like that to nobody. I mean he was wearing tights, I woulda known if he had fucking on his mind. He didn't even know he stabbed me. He didn't even know it was me. Fucking was the furthest thing from his mind. He rolled me over and held my hands down because he was scared I was going to beat him to death. He was terrified and he wanted me to quit hitting him, and I was pretty scared, too. I almost killed him. If I hadn't taken the mask off…I don't wanna think about it."

"An' he almost killed you! Goddamn dumb fucking kid! I told him this ain't like some comic book or some movie, what the fuck was he thinkin'! Then he tangles with me like his fuckin' stunt double is gonna come in an' hand me my ass.! I'd like to say I just beat some sense into him, but I don't know."

"So, what are we gonna do, partner?"

"I'm still tryna figure that out. I'm gonna go to DC for the Summit, and while I'm there, I'm gonna make sure Paulie's record stays clean. I'll talk to Fury. He'll straighten it out. Paulie doesn't seem to be real serious about this supervillain shit. He wants out. Or at least he says he does."

"So, I guess you want me to stay here, finish my projects, and see if I can find out if Paulie's just shinin' you on."

"That's right, kid. You still got the advantage over him. He don't know that his good buddy Napalm is the Harlequin. Let it slip to him that you know he's the Green Jackal. Tell him you're old man tipped you. And there's one more thing."

"Eddie, I don't think I can take one more thing."

"I got Paulie convinced he's gotta do one more job, to help me test my partner, the Harlequin, to see if she's really ready for the big time. But what I'm really lookin' for is him to come up with some crack-brained fuckin' scheme and you come in and foil it. Like you said, somethin's gotta snap him out of it. So don't be too gentle with him, either. Cos Paulie's entertaining delusions of changing sides of the cape. He might have what it takes, I dunno, but I need a shark to show him he's just a minnow, and the water's just as dirty at our end of the pool, no matter what side of the cape you're on."

"And that's me, Eddie?"

"I can't do it, kid. He knows I'm the Comedian. But you're my partner. Next to me, there's no bigger shark in the sea than you."

"Thanks for the complement, partner, but you can't come up with that shit overnight. It had to be planned. Like when a guy gets outa Arkham after a month of a six to twelve sentence. And you get to take special delivery of him. Smells like you and probably the Old Man, and maybe Bruce, too, had a plan hatched to give me a goddamn final exam in being a mask. I find that pretty fuckin' insultin', not to mention it's a double cross-"

"Is it? What if I said it was a double-cross, you not tellin' me right away that you even suspected Greenie was Paulie?"

"That wasn't a double-cross! I didn't wanna say anything to you unless I had proof."

"You didn't look too hard for the proof, kid."

"I had my reasons."

"Yeah. And I had my reasons why I thought ya needed a test. You prob'ly thought I was gonna kill him. I guess Edie thought the same thing. I'm tempted to, the crazy fuck. Him and his dumb stunt almost got you killed, almost got him killed and we almost killed each other. Shit, I wish to Christ I hadn't hit him so fuckin' hard, though. I never raised a hand to his mother, or any of his aunts an' uncles and I never wanted to raise a hand to him, either."

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Eddie. Ya didn't know it was Paulie. And I mean, you an' me, we mixed it up some, and ya didn't lose any sleep over it."

"That's different, Liv. Ya don't realise what a fuckin' lunatic ya was! I'd say shoehorn the wrong way and you'd try an' sucker punch me. I hadda stop youse smashin a guy's head through a jukebox because he said youse picked a lousy song. The only thing you understood was a smack in the chops. That and you did break my nose and put a goddamn gun to my head. An' I had plenty of opportunity since then to smack you around, and I ain't done it. That was Pop's style. Not mine."

"Jesus, Eddie, your father was the worst kind of low-life piece of shit criminal! You ain't nothing like him! It was Paulie's fault. He got himself thrown into the joint and then he didn't tellya it was him. He probably thought it was one of his fuckin' superhero comics. I'll look after him while you're gone, okay? I'm sure whatever he did, he knows better now."

"I appreciate that, kid. What a fuckin' night, huh?"

"Yeah. Hey, for the record Eddie, I meant what I said to ya. Not the bad shit. Well some of the bad shit. But I meant all of the good shit. I did."

"Yeah, me too, kid. C'mon. Let's go get some shut-eye. I can't talk no more, I can't think , either. This night has gotta end."

***

"Hey, kid? You asleep?"

"No, Eddie. I feel…funny. Weird. Bad."

"I'm sorry I even thought you could betray me. I'll never do it again."

"Eddie, don't…"

"No, I mean it, kid. I won't never lose faith in you again, partner."

"I won't never give you a reason to. Jesus, Eddie, I feel awful. Come over heah a little closer."

"Try an' go to sleep."

"Okay."

***

Eddie felt like ashamed when he woke up a few hours later.

Not to mention funny, weird, bad and awful, all at once.

Liv was still asleep.

He couldn't believe he acted like that in front of his partner.

In front of his woman.

Screaming like an idiot.

Crying like a baby.

The thing that really bothered him, though, was that pathetic lousy lay he gave her on the goddamn carpet like some kind of pathetic faggot.

Talking crazy shit out of his head and falling all over himself and slobbering all over her. Talking to her goddamn leg, so she had to beg him to finish the job. Whacking away at her forever because he was too goddamn drunk to come and he could barely keep it up.

What the hell kind of shit was that for a grown man to pull?

And he called her a dirty fucking whore, too.

Some reporter for one of the scandal rags stuck a microphone in his face, once and asked him, "So, Comedian, are you the guy that does the job on your partner? I'll bet she's a real heartbreaker. Sleeps around on you, huh?"

Eddie broke his nose.

And the sunnuvabiutch didn't even use the word whore.

Hell, the kid hadn't done shit, that stupid idiot Paulie made her think he was trying to fuck her when all he wanted to do was get away.

Eddie rolled over and looked at her, lying there sleeping, feeling like he had a lot to make up to her.

The trouble was, he didn't know what to say, or how to say it.

So he woke her up real nice.

She was all warm and half- asleep.

"Eddie you ain't mad at me, are you?" she asked.

"I was drunk, honey. But I'm not drunk now."

She reached for him and he held her close.

"Jesus, Eddie. You're so hard." She giggled.

She was still half-asleep.

Start her out real nice and slow.

He kissed her gently on the lips, and then kissed her ears, and her neck and she warmed up to him real fast.

"Eddie…"

Just touching the tip of his tongue to her taut nipple in little circles and then sucking it into his mouth hard, catching her moan and she opened her legs to him so he could brush his fingers against her clit.

More little circles.

Jesus, she was so wet, already…

"Ohhh, Eddie…"

She had one arm around him and reached the other one over his arm and started stroking his cock.

He slid his fingers into her, pushing up, feeling her stroke them and tug them.

More moans, squeals.

He kissed again, hard, pulling her close and she started rubbing her tits all over his chest.

He thrust his tongue into her mouth and she sucked on it.

"You remember what you said to me last night?" he laughed in her ear, licking her earlobe.

"Wha?"

"You still want me to lick you, baby? Suck you off? Make you come?"

She howled and gushed into his hand and he threw her legs over his shoulders and trailed his tongue from thigh all the way up to her pussy and he breathed in and let his hot breath out on her clit before he flicked it with his tongue.

She started fucking his hand and he pushed her legs open wider licking circles around her clit and sucking it hard, pushing the little marble around in his mouth with his tongue, licking her in long strokes in the same rhythm he slid his fingers in and out of her.

"Eddie…Eddie…I want your cock…Put your cock in my mouth." Liv moaned.

She meant it.

He groaned.

"Jesus, baby, you're so goddamn dirty…"

You had to pay a lot of money to get a woman to be as raunchy as her.

He moved her around so she could suck his cock while he licked her and she really got hot and she was sucking him hard, harder than she had the night before because now she was really turned on, and it felt good, goddamn good and he thought he was going to come in her mouth and that wasn't what he wanted, no he had other plans for her.

As soon as she started to come, he turned her around again on the bed and mounted her, pushing her legs open with his knees.

He knew she liked to look at his cock, and he gave her a good look at it, she'd made him as thick and long and hard as he got with her hungry mouth.

She pulled him down into her arms and locked her big, round, strong thighs around him and he gave it to her hard, and fast and deep, letting himself go, feeling her squeeze his cock and push back against him.

"Oooo, you're so hard, Eddie…so big and so…fuckin…hard….I almost forgot…been so long…..oooo…"

He had one arm under her and held her close against his chest, and she had her legs up around his shoulders, gasping for more, crying out for harder and he gave it to her, yes he did.

He felt good, goddamn good and when she came, keening and wailing and howling, thrusting her hips up and down his cock.

Eddie felt like a man, again, and he went off with her and threw back his head and roared, and slammed his fist right through the wall.

Plaster dust fell onto the bed and onto Liv, and she laughed and brushed it off her chest.

"Holy shit, Eddie." She gasped.

The Comedian pulled out of both his partner and the wall, and brushed plaster dust out of his hair.

"Didja hurt yourself?"

"Naah. These fuckin' dividin' walls are paper thin."

"You know how may holes you filled in over the bed from you punching it?"

"As many holes as I filled in the ceiling from you shootin' it."

They brushed the plaster dust out of the bed and got under the blankets, Liv curling up with her head on his chest and Eddie put his arms around her.

That was more like it.

She still did taste like a goddamn teenager, and would have liked to stay in bed with her all day, to make up for all that lost time, and he really did love her so much it made him fucking crazy.

And tired.

"That's it for me, kid. I can't make a fist. I'm goin' back ta sleep. Fuckin' cold in here again. All the fuckin money I pay for this joint and I never get any fuckin' heat in the fuckin' bedroom. Jesus Christ."

"Ohhhh man, Eddie, you bet your ass that was it! It's been so long since you fucked me I forgot how good you are. You know that your drunk and lousy is like a lotta guys best? Accousre it'd be pretty hard to be a lousy lay with a cock like that. You ever measure it, Eddie?
"That's fag shit, doll. Are you cold?"

"Freezin'. It's one of those unseansonably cold nights, though."

"Yeah. An I'll bet that cheap fuck has the heat turned off already. Gimme the phone. Hello, Milosevitch? This is Eddie Blake in 3001. Did that cocksucker sand nigger who owns this dump tell you to turn the heat off?...Yeah, I thought so. Sure I'm cold. It's thirty fuckin' degrees out there! Turn the motherfuckin' furnace back on. I'll tell him myself. Yeah. Okay Burt. Someday, I'm gonna buy this building and kill that motherfucker. Seeya round. Hey, kid? You still think I'm the greatest man in the whole wide world."

"Sure enough, Eddie."

"Well, then, youse could get dressed and go down to Grossman's for me, get me some fuckin' coffee and some bagels. It ain't gettin' any earlier and I gotta get on the road."

"You lousy motherfucker."

Eddie started to laugh.

"Come on kid. I'm an old man, I got bad knees, I'm hung over, and you keep mercilessly fucking my brains out…"

He was laughing pretty hard, now.

"Yeah, fuck you, it's only seven, I'm goin back to sleep. Old man, my ass."

They had been sleeping fitfully before, but now, the Comedian and the Harlequin slept soundly and well, for the first time in a little over a month.

Especially after the maintenance man put the furnace back on.

***

Paul didn't sleep more than an hour or two that night; and when he woke up he felt like somebody had beaten him with a shovel.

Repeatedly.

And his face looked like ten pounds of raw hamburger

He didn't feel like having his mother fuss over him so he just left and got on the first subway and went to Manhattan, before even she got out of bed.

First he went to see Rosie to let her know that he was out.

They went back to bed for awhile, and even though Paul hadn't so much as looked at a woman for a month, something happened to him that never happened to him before.

He couldn't get it up.

At all.

Rosie said it was okay, she understood, he was hurt, but Paul just about fled her apartment.

He shuffled around all morning, feeling lost and confused.

Dr. Long was wrong, it was worse now that he was out and back on the streets.

Places he had known all his life looked weird and alien to him, and when he looked up and saw the sign for Grossman's Deli, he walked in like a man in a dream.

A bad dream.

The clock on the wall said nine AM, and Liv was there, getting some bagels and coffee to go.

When she saw him, Benny had to take the bag from her, because she almost dropped it.

Liv was surprised that her friend was out of bed. He was all banged up like he had taken a big time serious beating, and not a casual Friday night fight kind of beating.

A big-time professional style New York City fuck you, chief, ass-kicking.

The kind you don't get upstate at some fancy ski resort.

"Paulie! Jesus Christ, Paulie, your face!" she cried.

"It's not so bad."

"My ass! How the fuck did you get that fucked up at a goddamn resort?"

She wanted to see what Paulie's story was.

He took a stab at it.

"Aww, shit, Napalm, I wasn't workin' upstate, I was doin' some time in the joint on…on a bad pot beef. And…they had a fuckin' riot in the prison and…this…this big ass Chinese black guy tried to fuck me in my ass, and I showed him nobody makes a punk out of Paul Blake."

Liv just looked at him.

For one thing, Paulie's lingo was straight out of a B Dennis Hopper biker flick. For another, if you got pinched for misdemeanour possession of the kind of penny-ante amount of pot Paulie would have, you paid a couple of C-notes, or you did thirty days county time.

They do not send you upstate on that kind of shit.

Then there was that whole Kung Fu Black Chinaman prison riot rape thing.

Max Grossman was behind the counter looking like he was about to piss himself trying not to laugh.

"Could you hold my order a minute, Max? I gotta talk to Paulie for a minute."

"Sure, sure."

Liv dragged Paulie over to the corner table.

"What the fuck kind of cover story is that? You don't admit to doing time, man! Tell everybody you got jumped and some dudes tried to rob you. You can say you won, and they should see the other guys, but don't say shit about the joint. And while you're up and around, I want you to take the food to Eddie. He's in a bad way over what went down with you last night."

"What?"

Liv grabbed Paulie by the front of his tee shirt.

"Cut the shit, man! I know the score, okay? Eddie told me he beat you up. An' what's more I know why. I know where you were, and I know why you were there. Who the fuck do you think asked my father to look after you, the goddamn Tooth Fairy?" Liv demanded.

"I'm sorry Liv, I…"

"Don't gimme that sorry shit, Paulie. Just tell me whether or not you're gonna do it again."

"Fuck no! Hey, if he told you he beat me up, then you must know…who he really is."

"Of course I fuckin' know! And now that you know, you had better shut the fuck up about that too, Paulie! Don't even think it."

"Sorry."

"Yeah. I'll bet you are. Eddie's sorry too. Sorry he beat the fuck outa youse. An' I'm not so sure I ain't gonna finish the job! What the fuck is the matter with you, man? And I'm not talking about the reason you took your trip upstate. I'm talking about what you did last night! You know if he knew it was you he wouldn't have knocked you around. Ya do know the kinda work he does, right? Jesus, Paulie, this ain't some fuckin' TV show or comic book. Ya know?" Liv demanded.

"I do now."

"Sure you do. If you did, Paulie, you'd know that takin' a beating don't make you a man. I tooka lot of beatings in the time ya known me, an all it made me was a mean fucking drunk. You know what makes you a man? Standin' up. Standin' up and sayin', it's me, Uncle Eddie. I'm the Green Jackal. I did it. What you did makes you a selfish fuckin' asshole who tricked a guy who's like a father to him into doin' somethin' he promised himself he'd never do since his father did it to him. You hurt the man, Paulie. Bad. You ever put my Eddie in that kinda pain, again, I'm gonna make you feel it, too." Liv snapped.

"I'm sorry. Maybe I should go talk to him. Explain myself. I never thought of it that way."

"You don't seem to be thinkin' about much, Paulie."

"I'm not. You don't understand, Liv. Ask your dad. When you get that, I dunno, that call, like a priest gets to be a priest, to be a mask, it's...its' like the same kinda thing, yunno? Well, I got the call. I got it and I fucked up. I blew it. Like Peter Fonda in Easy Rider. I don't care if you kill me or if Uncle Eddie does or if I get hit by a bus. If I can't be the Green Jackal. I can't be Paulie Blake and I don't want to figure out who else I should be. I was hopin' he did kill me. I'm sorry he didn't."

Liv really wanted to tell Paulie that she knew exactly what he meant, but she held her tongue.

"Don't talk like that, Paulie. I know a lotta masks. Your Uncle, he's one of the biggest masks in the game. Look, I'm havin' a late meeting with Tony Stark about a job. Midnight. He works with S.H.I.E.L.D, you know. Lemme test the waters for youse. Feel things out. Don't give up Paulie. I'm sure Eddie has plans for youse and I know I can find some mask who's lookin' for an eager but slightly wayward apprentice. Just come in around 12:30 and siddown here and keep your mouth shut until I'm done. Don't fuck up anymore, okay? No more extraneous villain shit."

"Is he really Iron Man?"

"Even if I knew, Paulie, you think I'd tell you? Look, Paulie, lemme tell you something. All masks, villain and hero, are people. Just like you and me. They go home, someplace and take off their costumes and they have wives and husbands and girlfriends and kids and dogs and sinus headaches and drinking problems and favourite albums and the whole nine yards, just like real people. And just because he puts his costume on, it don't mean he ain't your Uncle Eddie, anymore. You dig?"

"I know that. I'm not stupid. Look, I won't ever do anything like what I did again. Believe me."

"Oh, I believe you, Paulie. I believe you, because from now on in, I'm watchin' you, baby. If I ever even think that you are even entertaining thoughts of a return to supervillainy, I will make this beating Eddie gave ya look like a kiss. I mean it. You're my friend, Paulie, but if you go that way, we're not friends anymore. I'll hurt you, Paulie. I'll hurt you so you'll feel what I did to you every day for the rest of your life, and if I hurt you bad enough, that won't be for very long. You dig?"

"I dig, Napalm. I promise. I'm done."

"You better be. Cos you seen for yourself, your uncle, he's a bad motherfucker. But I'm just as bad as he is. How bad, shit, man, you don't wanna fuckin' know. Okay?"

"I'm done, Liv. I swear, I'm out. Well, except for something I gotta do for Uncle Eddie."

"Villain shit?"

"Not really. It hasta do with his partner. I can't say nothin' else."

"Fine. We'll talk later. I ain't mad at ya, Paulie. I'll seeya later. Do yourself a favour. Have Eddie drive you home, and go to bed. Ya don't seem like yourself. I don't like ta see youse like this."

" I can't help it, Liv. Maybe I will feel a little better if I go back to bed."

"I'm goin to go fuckin' work on one a my cars, at Hollis' garage. At least I can get some peace and fuckin quiet! Jesus, what a fuckin day!"

Paulie followed Liv out and quite literally ran into his Uncle Eddie.

"Sorry."

"Get the fuckin' bags, Paulie." Eddie ordered.

Paulie got the fucking bags.

"I'm goin' ta go work on the car, Eddie. I gotta get outa here for awahile."

"Okay kid. I'll seeya next week. I'll callya when I know what room they're givin' us."

Paulie watched the way Uncle Eddie kissed her goodbye.

Like he meant it.
Like he was a man.

He thought about his failure with Rosie, earlier.

As they walked back to Uncle Eddie's building, Paulie just shuffled along with his hands in his pockets and his head hung low, the way he had at Arkham.

Eddie noticed it right away.

"What the fuck is the matter with you, Paulie? Why ya walkin like some little girl who's scared some nigger's gonna come and beat her up and steal her purse?"

"I went to see Rosie this morning, an' I fell down on the job. A month since I got to be with a woman, and I couldn't get it up. At all. Ever since they sent me up the river, I ain't been myself. Now I ain't even a man, anymore. Do me a favour, Uncle Eddie. Get me my costume back from the cops and lemme pretend to break into your place. Then you can shoot me, and at least I can die like a man."

"What happened to you, kid?"

Paulie stared at his uncle with a look of ultimate misery.

"Awww shit, Uncle Eddie, they took my mask away."

Eddie Blake knew exactly what he meant.

***

Paulie sat down, he opened up one of the big Styrofoam cups of black coffee, took a sip and started putting butter on his first bagel.

Eddie remembered telling him when he was 12 that cream and sugar was for women, and that cream cheese was for queers.

"So, you're one of us, now, huh, Paulie?"

"Jesus, Uncle Eddie, until I was in that goddamn jail without my mask I didn't realise how bad I needed it. First of all, I'm sorry I didn't tellya it was me right away. All I saw was the fuckin' costume, for a minute there, I forgot that was my uncle inside it. I guess I was tryin' to prove somethin' and all I proved was that if the biggest fights you was even in was small-time shit with rednecks and neighbourhood cats who don't like long –haired dudes, then you shouldn't duke it out with superheroes. I know ya wouldn't have busted me up if ya knew it was me, and I shoulda said somethin'. Hey, I'm sorry of you feel bad about it, Uncle Eddie, but believe me, I feel a helluva lot worse. I got a whole lotta reasons why bein a supervillain was a lousy idea. But it didn't seem like a bad idea at the time."

"That's what I was tryin' ta tell ya a coupla months ago. Most really fuckin' stupid ideas sound like a good idea at the time."

"I know it's gonna sound fuckin' stupid, but I did it because it made me feel like I was a man. A real goddamn man, not just the family fuckin' chooch. I mean you and Dad, and Ma, ya raised me and Pat to be men. Real men. But everything I was gettin', it was on the arm. I got money to go to college cos my Dad turned his back on the Soviets, not cos I did well in high school. I got my job onna garbage truck cos my Dad worked on it. And you were gonna get me another scholarship, well if it's true what they say that Nixon's such an asshole that you and Captain America an' Superman and Nick Fury are runnin' this country, I guess you coulda got me ten scholarships. It made me feel like a punk. A fuckin' punk."

"I'm still listenin, Paulie, but I don't see how wearin' Bridget's tights made you feel like a man, unless you got some other kinda fuckin' problems."

"That comes later. But those were Rosie's problems, not mine. Anyways, bein' a supervillain was something I did. Myself. I was thinkin' about bein' a hero, but to do what? You gotta have somethin' to become a trainee for the Avengers or the Justice League, a superpower, a special skill. If I was a fuckin' mutant like Bridget I coulda been an X-Man. How come she's a mutant and nobody else in the family is?"

"Your piecea shit grandfather was a mutant, too, we think. I dunno, Paulie. Ask Liv. She knows all about that shit."

"Well, anyway, all you need to be a supervillain is a costume and a name and a story. So I got some shit together and I started puttin' it on and just running around town. I felt like a different person when I put it on, like somebody. I wasn't Paulie Blake, the neighbourhood weirdo, anymore. I was the Green Jackal. Rich, ruthless, feared by men, adored by women. All the sudden I coulda done anything. Anything I wanted. It was my ticket out of being a sucker, a nine to five schmuck who does what he's supposed to do. A sellout. Cut my hair and get a shit job. Marry some chick I don't really like and have a buncha kids I can't pay for that I never see cos I always got my nose to the grindstone. I mean, shit, anything's better than wages. I was feelin' like a rat in a trap, and I was about ready to gnaw my tail off to get out. And I was really startin' to feel the walls closin' in one me. But, things got really bad when Rosie found my costume in the car. She went nuts. She begged me to put the costume on and do it to her. And when I did, it was, yunno, different. For me. I can't explain. I felt, like, powerful. And important. I musta fucked her like six times in one night; it was like nothin' I can explain. Like some kinda crazy fuckin' drug, I dunno."

"I'm startin' to getcha, now, Paulie."

It made Eddie think about back when he decided to stop being Eddie Blake, neighbourhood tough guy in rags and tatters working on building sites and became the Comedian, a masked avenger ridding the city of criminal filth the way he rid his family of his demented father.

Made him the man he was today, instead of another fat old broken-down drunken Irishman with an ex-wife and a beer gut in a hardhat, eating soggy sandwiches on a girder and talking to the other working stiffs about what he did in the war and how his kids used his hard-earned money to go to college and learn how to be Commies and hate everything he ever fought for.

Like Paulie said, just about anything was better than wages, and being another nine to five fucking schmuck.

"It seemed natural to me, bein' a mask. I spent my whole life readin' about masks, and hangin' around them, an, of course that was what I wanted to do, too. I woulda rather been a hero, but I didn't think I could cut it. I dunno. I wasn't sure. Anyway, then, Rosie starts askin' me to come to the porno shop and fuck her in the nudie booth. She promised me it would be on her break and nobody would see us, but she lied."

The Comedian laughed.

That Rosie broad, she was something else.

"I got mad. I mean, if she has this little kink, she wants to show everybody in the world her pussy, I mean, it's a free country, right? But I never wanted to be the star of a sex show. She makes me even madder telling me that she could get into a dirty movie but she didn't want to make one with just anybody, but now that I had the suit we could be in one, together. It was like she was stepping all over my dreams. Taking my secret identity and making it somethin' small and pathetic and mundane. I hadda do something. So I stole the knife outa her purse. I didn't even know what I was gonna do. If I saw some guy beatin' up a woman I woulda saved her and been a hero. But, the first thing I saw was the drugstore, so I went in an' robbed it, an I was a villain. Then you and the Harlequin showed up. Lucky me."

Eddie noticed he didn't say "you and Liv."

He didn't know Liv was the Harlequin, that was good.

The Comedian wanted to keep it that way.

"After that, it was all downhill. Ya see, I wanted to leave it up to fate. Let fate choose what side of the cape I was on. They talked me up a big game at Arkham, pumped some air back into my big dream, but when I saw you in your costume comin' out of your car, I realised that was full of shit. You decided what side of the cape you're on, not fate. She showed me her last card and it was the Ace of Spades. I know I was bein' a selfish prick, but I was kinda hopin you would kill me, cos I know it's gone. I screwed the pooch. I picked what was behind door number two and got a lifetime supply of Q-Tips. Gone, and I can't get it back. Now I'll just be a mook, forever. I wanna be a masked hero, it's what I've wanted since I was just a kid, but I was a dumb motherfucker and I took the easy way out, and I blew it. An' now that I ain't the Green Jackal, anymore. I feel like I'm nobody. Not even me."

"Jesus, Paulie, you watch way too much fuckin' TV and ya spend too much time at the goddamn movies! Real life ain't that cut and dried, kid. I kinda figured this day would come. I never figured you'd go up the river for bein' a supervillain first, though. But you want it bad enough, that's for sure. It ain't gone, and you ain't over. Jesus, ya act like youse killed somebody—"

"Well, I did make a deal with Magneto, once. We played chess for nine hours, straight, last summer an' I think I convinced him that if he does take over the world to spare the freaks and the weirdoes because we're also as much mutants as mutants are. An' he told me that when he takes over New York, I get to be the King of all the homo sapien slaves."

Eddie gave him an incredulous look.

"You done, Paulie?"

"Well, ain't that kind of villain-y?"

"No. That's coverin' your ass in case of emergencies. It's also fuckin' stupid shit he was prob'ly tellin' ya to throw youse off your chess game. Paulie, I want youse to do me a favour. Every morning, when ya get up and brush your teeth, look in the fuckin' mirror an' say "This ain't the comic books and it ain't the movies, this is real life." Okay?"

"Really?"

"Really. It might help. Now, as for your future as a mask, we'll see how you do with this little job I got for youse, maybe I know a guy I can talk to about it. No offence, Paulie, but I'm not the guy to train you. Me and the Harlequin, we swim in the dirty end of the pool. I don't want you there. Your Ma and I sweat blood so you would never have to go there. Whaddya think of the Nite Owl?"

"The Nite Owl! Shit! He's…well, he was, before I knew the Comedian was you. Not that I didn't think the Comedian was cool, but..."

"Nite Owl's your favourite mask? I thought so. He don't get his hands too dirty. An' you don't want to, either. That's because you're a good kid, Paulie. You look like me, and you're crazy like me, that's for fuckin' sure, and you may just be as tough as me, but you ain't the kind of black-hearted sunnuvabitch I am. That's good. Means I did something right in my fuckin' life. Now, you got any kind of plan together, yet?"

Paul started to get that old a familiar glint in his eye, and reached inside his pants.

Right down the front.

"Hey, Paulie, if you ain't thought of dick, just tell me."

"No, I keep my notebook for my mask ideas in my shorts, along with my emergency ten bucks. You get mugged, nobody ever looks in ya shorts." Paulie explained.

He put the small notebook on the table.

"Why dontcha just read it to me?" the Comedian suggested.

"You can pick it up, I got a pocket for it sewed into alla my shorts."

The Comedian read his plan, laughed, and shook his head.

"This is some real cornball shit, Paulie. But, as sicko supervillain plots, go, it's a real oldie but goodie. Did this come from Buck Rogers?"

"Flash Gordon. I forget which issue. I put a few of my own little touches in it, but it's the same general idea. I figure as long as I'm an amateur, I'd better stick with something simple that works. Like Jack told me. What about the money he gave me? And this warehouse? Are you really gonna talk to the Nite Owl about me?"

"Go ahead and use the place, for your plan. The money, too. But just for your plan. Nothin' else. And yeah, you make this go smoothly, ya show me ya can do more than hold up a store, I'll talk to the Boy Scout. Ya already know him, but when ya find out who's under that cowl, ya won't believe it." "So I might get to be the Green Jackal?"

"Hey, Paulie, you are the Green Jackal. Just like I am the Comedian. When you die they'll bury you in your costume. Just like Lugosi. Relax."

A sea change came over Paulie.

He smiled and slung his feet up on the table and leaned back on the back two legs of the chair and put his hand behind his head.

"Now I'm in business." He crowed.

And he was Crazy Paulie, again.

"Get your dogs offa my table! Now, listen, hot shot. Don't count your chickens, and quit fuckin' crowin'! This ain't gonna be easy. Anything you do, you tell me what it is first. Before you buy beer for your fridge at your hideout, you call me and tell me what kind. Now, I gotta go. I gotta plane to catch. I missed last night so now I gotta fly in with Superman and Batman. Batman I got no problem with, but Superman, Jesus Christ. And one more thing."

"I know, Uncle Eddie. Keep my hands off your partner."

"Fuck your hands, Paulie. Keep your dick outa my partner. I know whatcha did. I know you wasn't tryna fuck her, but she thought you was, and you almost scared her into killing you. So just in case you got some love story idea in your mind that the Harlequin wants you, she don't. Not unless ya mean how she wants to kill you. She don't know you're my nephew. All she knows is you're the Green Jackal, some creep supervillain who tried to get wise with her. So you just forget about it. Besides, this ain't a family affair. You got it?
"The Harlequin and Liv? You're balling both of them? Jesus, what the fuck do you eat for breakfast? Rocket fuel?"

"Family trait, right, kid? So ya had a bad morning. After the beating you took, don't be so tough on yourself. Now, you go home and go back to bed. Call this number and ask for this room if anything goes FUBAR, alright?"

The Comedian wrote a number in the Green Jackal's notebook and handed it to him.

Paulie squirreled the notebook away.

"Okay."

"Ya need a ride home?"

"Could ya drive me back to Rosie's place? I fucking walked all the way up here from the Village. I'll sleep there all day and surprise her when she gets back. I don't want her thinkin' I'm Mr. No-Dick all the sudden. But I can't hack the subway. The way I feel, if somebody shoved me on the subway, if I don't pass out from the pain, I'll rip their head off. I gotta get back to bed."

"I'm surprised you're walkin, Paulie. You're one tough son of a bitch, kid."

"Just like you taught me to be, Uncle Eddie."

"Fuckin' right I did. C'mon, let's go. Oh, I got a package for youse, in the car."

When Paulie opened the door, his costume was waiting for him in the front seat.

"Take somea that money Jack gave youse and get a new costume, kid. This one is really fuckin' cheap, amateur an ' corny. An' get a fuckin utlity belt so youse can keep your notebook in it. That fuckin' thing is disgusting. I'm gonna go boil my hands, now." Eddie suggested

***

Rosie was worrying about Paulie as she was walking home, and she wasn't paying attention to much, especially not the shadow moving above her as she walked between her building and the one next door, heading past the fire escape of her apartment.

Someone jumped down in front of her and she almost screamed until she saw the green flash of plastic cape.

"Hey, baby? Where are you going, all by yourself?"

Paulie spun her around and pushed her back against the stairs of the fire escape.

"Home. Let me go, you supervillain!"

Paulie picked her up and carried her up the fire escape so they were standing just outside her open window.

"I'm not a supervillain. I'm an undercover superhero, baby."

She lifted up the bottom part of his mask and kissed him gently, his face was so messed up.

That wasn't slowing him down anymore, though.

"Then you'll let me go, Mr. Green Jackal?"

"If you want me to."

"Are you kiddin' me, Paulie? I'm not wearing any panties. But you already know that. Don't it bother you that anybody could walk by? I thought it did."

She unsnapped the leotard and pulled the front of his tights down.

"Yeah, but this is what you like, Rosie…baby…"

"Damn, Paulie, lemme get my legs around you…"

They were interrupted by the window across the street sliding open and somebody throwing a bucket of water at them.

"Hey! Hey you crazy asshole? Whaddya doin out there? I got kids in heah! Go in the fuckin' house, ya sick hippie bastards!"

"Go fuck yourself, asshole! If I come over there an' hit you with my cock, it'll knock your ass out!" Paulie yelled back.

Rosie pulled away from him and climbed in the window.

"Come on, Paulie."

"No. Hey, you, fatso? How do ya like me now, ya cocksucker? Does your wife like superheroes? Send her out!"

Paulie pulled his mask down over his mouth and waved his cock at the offended party as he taunted him, giving him the finger with his free hand.

"Awww, fuck youse, ya crazy bastard!"

The man left his window and Paulie pulled his tights up and climbed back in the window.

Rosie was laughing.

"You are so fuckin' crazy, Paulie."

"What? That's why I don't like doin' it in semi-public. Hey!"

She took off his mask and he pulled down his tights and they both managed to haul him out of the leotard.

Rosie stopped laughing.

"Paulie, Jesus, you got bruises all over your body."

"I know."

"Aren't you in a lot of pain?"

"Yeah. In my balls. It's been a month, Rosie. Have mercy on me. Let's go to bed."

Rosie went into the bedroom, dropping her clothes along the way.

She even closed the drapes.

"Crazy, crazy, crazy. Come here, Crazy. Finish what you started."

Paulie was in a lot of pain, but Rosie was careful not to touch him or kiss where he was bruised, and making love to her made him feel good.

Her too.

Before he fell asleep, Rosie made sure he took all his pills he'd left there in the morning.

As she was falling asleep, the phone rang, and she reached over and answered it.

"Hello? Oh, hello Mr. Stavrogin. He's here…yeah he was actin' funny this morning, but he's okay now… I'm whispering because he's asleep…yeah, tell his Mama his pills are here and I made sure he took them before he fell asleep…I think he's gonna be asleep until tomorrow, so I'll send him home in the morning…okay. Bye."

Rosie slept for awhile, then she got up, ate dinner, did her homework, listened to some records, watched a little TV and then went back to bed.

Paulie was still asleep.

When she got in bed with him, he hugged her.

"Are you really gonna be a superhero, Paulie? My baby, the superhero. Maybe I'll get a costume, too."

She shut off the light.

"Rosie?"

"What is it, baby?"

"Tell me when it's midnight. I gotta meet Napalm at Grossmann's."

"You ain't goin out by yourself in the shape you're in. I'm coming with you."

"Okay. Is it midnight, yet?"

"Yeah. It's midnight. Good thing I don't have class tomorrow."

(Author's Note: The Harlequin and Iron Man have an origin story, too. Look for "Blue Light Special" in Comics-Iron-Man- Tony Stark/Pepper Potts to find out just what's sticking in Eddie's craw. And for those of you who enjoy a little violence, check out Full Adamantium Jacket under Comics-Avengers for a War is Hell story featuring the Comedian, Lucky Jim Howlett, and the Invaders. And don't miss the next exciting chapter, in which Liv is going to have to figure this mess out all by herself...or is she? And if Liv does pass this test, will she have the stomach for the kind of dirty work her partner does? Tune in to future chapters of "The Joke's On Me" to find out.)

COMING ATTRACTIONS: When the Comedian's gone out the window, will the Harlequin rest until she's avenged him? How far will she go to make all things right with her world? Find out in "The Joke's On You" and see who stays alive in '85 in the Harlequin's AU.