Disclaimer: All characters belong to DC, with the exception of Magda, Jim, and Danny. Ok. I won't lie. I had fun writing this chapter. I mean, once your around this guy long enough, you'd have to pick up on his daily routine right? Read on to find out.
The next morning, I went downstairs once again to no one being there. I was beginning to think this was a daily ritual, and it kind of was. For the next week I kept my distance, and did more watching than anything. Jim would putts around cleaning, cooking, doing errands, organizing, and leading the new recruits. In all honesty, it was almost as if he was the glue that held everything together to even make this a gang or a family.
Harley did her own thing, she cared for Bud and Lou often, helped Jim with errands, and made sure everyone knew their place. She tried to calm any persons with issues by putting her degree to good use. The better everyone felt, the less fights broke out, and the less her "Puddin" felt the need to lash out and shoot whoever he pleased. And don't get me started on the body count. Almost every other day I felt sorry for poor Jim, who had to drag these poor dead fellows to the edge of the pier, and clean up his bosses mess in the club.
But I saved the best for last. The Joker was quite a man to behold. I swear if I stuck around long enough, I could write a damn book about the guy. I would sneak questions to Harley about behavior, so I could better understand what I was seeing. The daylight didn't seem to suit him, almost as if he knew as soon as the sun came up that the whole world could see who he was on the outside. No amount of shadows in daylight could hide his tall frame and pale skin. He had made a name for himself, but that meant he couldn't go anywhere he pleased without attracting unwanted attention. Leaving the hideout wasn't something that happened often. He would never go anymore than halfway across Amusement Mile during the day. Once the sound of children hit the air, it wasn't safe enough to be present.
Most of his time was spent locked away in the makeshift office he made. I snuck in there a few times and saw the madman's planning. The walls were covered with papers and maps of the city. Papers scattered on the table filled with names of people, places, facts, and notes on chemical compounds. He wasn't kidding when he mentioned before the vast amount of people who owed him favors. The names ranged anywhere from low lifes he met in Arkham, to complete strangers who were unfortunate enough to meet him, and even some high ranking foreign dignitaries of the United Nations. No wonder this guy could get almost anything he could ever wanted. It made me angry to think that I sacrificed myself to get chump change, when clearly he had enough connections to never hurt for money, and yet he was frugal.
Sure there were splurges on new suits, clothes for Harley, and gag comedy items, but Danny was right when he mentioned that he never paid anyone. He seemed to think that the world and everyone in it owed him. He was also betting on his reputation that there would never be anyone bold enough to approach him asking for money. I tested this theory behind closed doors, one day.
I knocked on his office door.
In an annoyed voice, "Who is it?"
"Just Magda." I said in the sweetest voice I could muster.
I heard a loud sigh and feet shuffling towards the door. It opened and he let me in. He wondered back over to the desk and leaned over it with arms spread to both corners. "Make it quick. What do you want?" I stood two feet away from the door in case I needed a quick escape.
"Some money." I said quickly.
His eyes shot up at me as he straightened himself out. He gave the, oh so annoying, "I'm intrigued" look and walked over to the front of the desk. Taking a seat on it, he folded both hands in front of him. "You know you're one of few people to request such a thing."
Annoyed I replied, "Yes, I'm pretty sure of that."
Amusement reached his voice, "You know. I can give you the money, just as easily as you can owe me a favor."
With a nervous laugh to my voice I answered, "Oh no, no, no. I've heard those guys talk. I know the word "favor" isn't something to take lightly."
He gave a grin, "Then no deal doll."
I hated those stupid pet names. Getting angrier and said, "Come on. You know I don't ask for much."
He was amused by my answer. "That's true. You never ask for anything. You also never complain, compared to how much those fools out there do. Never thought taking care of a girl would be so much more easier than housing a bunch of middle aged men. Must be all that testosterone." He laughed at himself. "Fine. Fine. How much and what for?" I stayed silent a little too long while weighing my options. "Come on kid. I haven't got all day."
I dragged out the answer cautiously, "A couple hundred and for some new clothes."
He let out a loud laugh. "That's it? Geeze, I thought you were after a couple thousand for a car."
My face lit up a little, "Actually…" He quickly stopped me and gave me a stern NO.
Then he tilted his head up to the side and gave a bigger grin. "Maybe in the future, but not now. I like keeping your hopes up." I felt my face get warm. He walked over to the corner where a pile of stuffed bears were. He took his time picking one and tossed it to me. I gave him a questioning look when I caught it. "Take that knife you love so much and cut his cute little tummy open."
I bent down and retrieved my knife. Cutting open its stomach, a mess of stuffing and cash fell out. "There should be about five hundred." His tone turned serious. "Now don't tell anyone, and I mean anyone about these little guys." The smile crept back to his face. I stuffed the cash back in and held the bear close to my chest. Before exiting I heard him say, "Manners dear!" I gave a loud "Thank You" and closed the door behind me. Lesson to this story being that apparently anything under a couple thousand is fine, as long as it isn't for something stupid, like a form of transportation.
Now you would think a daily routine wouldn't be his thing, but I guess a part of Arkham never left him. He was always up and dressed by five. Nothing too fancy in the morning, just some sweatpants and a plain tee. He left those nice suits, and dress clothes to be worn in the presence of the new recruits. And his face was plain. He could be taken for just a handsome man with a long face, extremely pale skin, and freakish green hair. Along with those suits, he would wear what I affectionately like to call "war paint" around his lips in a ruby red, and he would smudge black makeup around his eyes to make those emeralds appear more intense.
His training regiment each morning consisted of cardio, light weight training, and constant practice with his throwing knives. If Jim was up early enough they would try to spar, which is kind of funny to watch. Imagine both men shirtless, one tall and muscular but thin, and the other built like a house, who looks like he could blow at the opponent and break him in half. Jim never takes it easy on him, but also never causes any broken bones. They can fight with each other and while Joker is quick as lightning, Jim can stop anything coming at him. Jim can throw him across the room, but he will immediately just get up and dust himself off. It makes me wonder if he can block out pain. The man has a menagerie of scars from the caped crusader, and from what whispers I've heard around the club, he won't stop coming at you in a fight unless you knock him out cold. It's a funny thing what anger can do to a man.
Even though Jim is the one who always gets or makes meals, Joker won't touch anything unless the clock strikes ten am, one thirty pm, and five pm. Once again Arkham rears its ugly head. In between feedings, he calculates and counts the goods we have. God forbid a gun or knife be out of place. Trust was not his strong suit, with a bit of OCD tossed in for good measure. The more I asked Harley those little questions, the more things started to make sense.
The anti-social, untrusting, obsessive compulsive, manipulative person he chooses to be. And poor Harley gets to deal with it. On a daily basis she gets love from those pets, but it isn't enough. I try to keep her company, but I can see it in her eyes that she is looking for something more. Daily she makes advances, only to be shut down except for when HE wants something. A little kiss here, an ass slap or grope there, but curiously never anything more aggressive...in a sexual way I mean. He was aggressive however, when it came to giving her a slap to shut up or a shove to get out of his way, but the mental abuse stuck in my mind.
He was a tyrant. Manipulating the minds of poor Harley and those men. Jim and myself seemed to be the only ones impervious to such mental anguish. We remained as loyal as we could to keep the man happy. Never have a problem with him, and he will never have a problem with you. In the months since I was brought rather unwillingly into this family, me and Jim had grown close. He might be the closest thing Joker has to a bodyguard, but I felt like he was looking after me too. He felt like my protector. Maybe even a father.
That dumb clown had a thing for noise. Maybe in Arkham the constant screams and commotion echoing through the halls was enough to keep him calm and occupied. In his office he would play the classics and opera. Around the dinner table there would be jazz and Sinatra. Even when he went to bed, he kept the window open a crack, just to let the sound of the night wash over him. It seemed like he slept better when we were in the city, more traffic and noise I guess. Maybe the truth was that he needed the noises, any noises to serve as a distraction from his own reeling mind. There were times when it got too quiet around here, and he would start talking to himself, but as long as Harley was near, she made up for the silence.
The last thing I took note of was his incessant need to make people laugh. I understood, I mean it's in his name for god sake, to joke was to laugh. But that rule number four seemed to be most important. Don't forget to have fun! It rang in my ears. I've seen him punish the people who couldn't laugh, which made me think of Batman. These missions he makes up are very elaborate. Sure the goal is to take out the Bat, but is there an underlying motive? Maybe he has a goal to make the damn guy chuckle, even just a little. That gas he cooks up seems to do the job pretty well to make everyone else around him laugh, but that damn Bat seems to be his greatest challenge yet.
I had been laying low for the past week, but it wasn't until a week after that, I had broken the cycle. One night I heard some muffled arguing. I got up from my bed, and opened my door a crack to listen. The only thing I heard then was him say, "Get out! Get out!" He shoved her out of their room and she fell with a thud on the floor. I wasn't too sure what to do at first. His door slammed shut. She just laid there sobbing. It was too much for me, I had to do something, I mean that was my purpose. I opened up my door and helped her up. Without a word I half dragged her to my bedroom. I left the door open a crack. When I got her settled in, she started to calm down. I laid in bed beside her and smoothed her blonde hair back with a gentle hand. I repeated this until we both fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke up with her snuggled beside me. She had a hand nestled up my shirt resting on my stomach. I stared up at the ceiling, until suddenly I heard the door creak open. Slow footsteps followed over to my bedside, and he looked down at me with a straight face. No smile, no frown, just a solemn expression. This kind of freaked me out a bit, and my gut wasn't wrong. His eyes met mine, and his hands went around my neck. His vice grip left me gagging, as she was startled awake. His glance moved over to her, and his voice was stern. "Get out of here now!" He took a hand off my neck and pointed towards the door. She got up and ran away, as I took my hands and grabbed at the air for her to come back. He let go of my neck to pin them down, and I tried to suck in as much air as I could in that moment. The expression in my eyes must of amused him because an odd demented smile turned up the sides of his face.
"Having a little sleepover, and forgot to invite little old me?" His hair had fallen in his face as he proceeded to crawl on top of me. His legs shifted to pin down my arms, as he began choking me again. Before I blacked out, I remembered seeing Harley swing a bat his way, knocking him in the side of the head.
AN: Please feel free to comment, review, like, or favorite. I hope I am keeping this interesting enough for all of you :p Thanks for reading!
