Dynasty: A Batman Tale

NOW

Spending her time in night clubs was by no means Harley’s idea of a good time. Having drinks with friends and picking up boys was not something Harley Quinn did. No, she would need to have friends for that. Mr. J was so much more than a friend. She would do anything for him, even if that included sitting at a table with other young girls who were dressed for attention from the opposite sex at club Freeze. The same place she had been coming to for the last week, lying in wait for her target. Dressed in what Harley considered an atrocious plaid mini-skirt and snug halter top, an outfit favoring many unwelcome looks from all the men in the room. She sat there among other young women clinking drinks with toasts and gossip, all of whom were quick with a quip about each guy walking by. If I have to listen to one more of these snooty bitches yap about being angry with their daddies for not paying all their bills quick enough, I might just slash all their throats. That would be so much nicer. Those would be smiles I could sit here with.

She didn’t always garner such violent thoughts. When she was a child she had liked pretty things, the same can’t be said these days.

THEN

Harley was six when John Robinson came to live with her foster family. She was too young at the time to understand the hell he had come from. Born an albino John Doe, he was placed in foster care and grew up continuously victimized by his foster father William Robinson, who unleashed daily beatings on John for years. When John was ten he managed to survive what became known as the Robinson Massacre.

Fostering four boys including John, William came home from work earlier than usual one November day. On his way home he had made a quick stop at the corner mart for a bottle of Old Kentucky. William worked for the Gotham Sanitation Department. On that particular morning instead of his expected holiday bonus, he received his pink slip. This was another blow to his ego and confidence and made him seethe with hatred at his increasingly miserable existence. A week earlier he lost his meager life savings to a con artist, who had insisted convincingly that William would triple his money in ninety days by investing in a new technology called Smylex. Reality soon took hold when the snake of a man could no longer be found.

In the hour it took William to walk to his house he had finished a fifth of cheap bourbon. The taste was still fresh on his lips as he entered the house, it was just past three, ten year old John was sitting in the kitchen focused on a sandwich. Fourteen year olds Frank and Fred were in their bedroom occupied with their studies and Seventeen year old Nathan was busy having intimate relations with his foster mother Patricia.

No one heard the drunken shadow of a man stumble through the front door. Neither Patricia nor Nathan heard the door to the bedroom slip open nor did they see the look of disgust that William wore. William silently walked to the kitchen. Hearing the approaching footsteps, young John not wanting to suffer the wrath of William quietly entered the pantry closing the door behind him. William grabbed the large butcher knife from the sharpening block and headed back to his bedroom. A moment later, a scream that could have woken the dead escaped Patricia’s mouth as the knife ripped through Nathan’s back and into her chest. The scream became a whimper with each thrust of the knife that William cast down onto the caught lovers. Until finally, silence. Both foster mother and foster son lay in a pool of their own blood. William then reached into the closet for his revolver, saw there were six shells and fired twice into each body. He then walked down the hallway opening the door to Fred and Frank's room, the twins having heard the screams were both cowering under their bunk beds. They cried and begged, but their wails died with them as William shot both his foster sons in the head. William searched for young John, but his search was fruitless and after a few moments the sirens of Gotham’s finest were heard in the distance. He realized one of the neighbors must have heard the gunshots and called the authorities. Mr. Robinson sat down in the middle of the living room crossed his legs and placed the gun in his mouth pulling the trigger.

The police arrived to find ten year old John standing in a pool of his foster father’s blood. The expression of horror frozen on his face almost resembled a smile.

The boy was whisked away to the newly opened Arkham Hospital where he received daily psychotherapy sessions. Twelve months later John was placed back into the Foster system. This time the home was bigger with more kids, seven boys and one six year old girl.

John acquired somewhat of a tick after the traumatic events of his past and would grin when frightened or nervous. This habit mixed with his lack of pigmented skin made him a target for insults and assaults from his new foster brothers.

John’s new Foster family was completely different from his last. Unlike William, who took out all his hostilities on John, the albino, his new foster parents just turned a blind eye to the cruelty from the other children. Only little six year-old Harley attempted to help John. In return she also fell victim to the taunts of the older boys.

Harley and John bonded quickly and constantly watched out for each other. At first Harley would stand aside yelling at the other boys while they beat on John calling him “Joker”. His habitual tick caused his expression to resemble a smile. As she grew, Harley found herself the object of the beatings previously reserved for John. Thus, they both were often bloody and bruised. Harley, from first sight on the day of his arrival, was mesmerized by John’s white skin, and after showing her the smallest of kindnesses when he arrived, she fell in love.

NOW

“Lee, Lee, Earth to Lee,” said the girl on her right.

“Next rounds on Lee,” said the girl on her left.

Who’s Lee? Oh shit that’s me. Pay attention Harley or you’ll miss him. Snapped back to the moment, all the girls were still giggling and waiting for her to respond. Harley smiled and laughed with them buying the next round as requested. Where is he? If that chubby bastard gave me the wrong Intel I’ll string him buy his goodies and drain him dry. Wait, ah Thank you Chester, there he is. Her information had been right, skipping past the bouncers wearing jeans and a silver button down with a blue blazer was her target. Harley excused herself and made her way to the bar. As she approached the newly arrived man, she added a stumble to her walk while slouching slightly. She bumped into him. “I’m so sorry,” she said after intentionally losing her balance.

“Wow! There now, I’ve got you...” the man said as he caught her. Perfect – she thought. He helped her onto the vacant stool next to him. “That could have been bad, hi I’m Tim. Are you all right Miss?”

“Quinn, Harley Quinn…” Tim’s eyes widened in shock at the name. “…and yes, sugar. Now, I’m great.”