Addicted

Chapter 28

❥︎Tw:

☀︎︎ Violence

☀︎︎Some death

☺︎︎Enjoy

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Joker

I'm getting ready to go to bed when one of my newer scouts busts in my office, breathing hard. "Sir! Sir! We have a situation!" he cries, face flushed red from running here. I glare at him, annoyed. He shrinks backward. "I'm sorry," he says in a small voice. "I forgot to knock again, didn't I?" 

I nod, irritated with the knowledge I wouldn't be going to bed as early as I thought. "Well, what is it?" I snapped. The boy cringes away from me. "Come with me," he whispers, and leads the way.  

♤♤♤

I stare, unbelieving. "How the fuck did you manage this?" I ask quietly. Johnny, the guy who sent the scout, flinched back. "Are you angry or something? I thought capturing Batman was our main goal, boss," he says haltingly. 

I look back over at my archnemesis, hung by his feet from the ceiling of the Kill Room, blood rushing to his face. His cape hangs around his head, and all his weapons are gone. He looks... smaller  up close. He looks pathetic, and for a second I feel odd, but I brush the feeling off. 

"Permission to unmask?" asks Johnny. I already know Batman is Bruce Wayne, but I can't rob them of their fun. The Boyz are all gathered round, faces shining with anticipation and violence. They look like earnest, murderous schoolboys, waiting for a lesson on homicidal revenge from their beloved teacher. 

"Well? What are you waiting for?!" says Coe, exasperated. "We've waited for this forever! You turning soft or something?" 

What the fuck did he just say?

I turn around, deadly silent and slow. He freezes, going white as he realizes his mistake. "Excuse me?" I ask, cocking my head dangerously. He cowers. 

"I didn't mean- I meant- you know I didn't mean-" 

I put my hand around his throat. "Better hurry up and say it, Colten," I leer. "Time's running out for you." The boys all freeze. Coe claws at his throat, but I continue to tighten my grip, smiling viciously. "I don't go soft," I snarl. "Never have, never will." 

He's gone red, white, grey. "You turned soft for that hooker Harley Quinn," he wheezes. 

SNAP.

I drop his body to the floor, still twitching. Messy break. "No one," I whisper, voice building, "NO ONE will tarnish Harley's name. Understood?" I roar. The men all back away, nodding like sheep. 

"Now," I say, turning to Bats. "Let's see who this letch really is," I sneer, yanking away the mask. 

Robin? 

Robin?

Well, it sure as hell isn't Bruce. 

"Robin?" I say, astounded. he struggles to maintain consciousness, and flashes a weak, bloody smile. "Gotcha," he breathes, and then his head falls again.

The men shout in anger as they realize they've been decoyed. "WHAT THE HELL?!" scream Twelve and Razor in unison, livid with disbelief. 

Kill him. He's Batman's most infuriating asset besides his money. If you can't get rid of one, get rid of the other. 

I pull my personal handgun out of my coat slowly. Frost sees it and he grins. "Boss is gonna kill him!" He cheers. He quickly gains everyone's attention, and they all start cheering, Kill him, Kill him, Kill him, Kill the bird! 

Robin struggles. 

Thoughts clash. 

We could rule Gotham without interference, whispers Harley's voice in my mind.

Kill him, Kill him, Kill him, Kill the bird!

If you can't get rid of one problem, get rid of the support.

I turn the gun over in my hands. 

I release the safety. 

Robin's eyes widen. "No," he protests weakly.

Yes.

I crouch down. "Are you aware," I say quietly, "That I dreamed you and Bats killed my Harley? Are you aware that I can't let that happen? Are you aware that if I get rid of you, she won't best you in battle and be holding you over the edge of a tower? Are you AWARE," I continue, voice rising, "That if you aren't there, Bats won't knock her over the edge to save  you, and she won't fall hundreds of feet? So please. Don't take this personally, but it's simply an act of self-preservation." 

I grin, leaning in. 

"It's just. Business," I whisper. 

I stand up. He shakes his head mutely, panicked. 

I aim the gun at his exposed throat, making sure it will hit the jugular. 

The Boyz roar in anticipation, gathered around, ready for blood. Hundreds of thoughts swirl in my head, but one command manages to make its way from my brain to my hand. 

I squeeze home. 

The blood leaks and he gasps, the small bit of fight he had left draining out of him. His eyes cloud, and soon he swings lifelessly.

"Bye-bye, birdie." 

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