saga/title/fandom: Identity chapter 2 (Batman Beyond)
rating/genre:(PG-13) - Drama/Romance
warnings: violence, language
summary: Terry hasn't had time for himself lately, things seem a bit of a mess. It's a T/M fanfic - but i don't hate D
comments/disclaimers: I don’t own any of the characters, they were the creation of DC comics. This is a fanfic inspired by the Batman of the Future series, credit to the creators.Author’s note: This is my first Batman fanfic, it’s quite a daunting task, but I look forward to any constructive criticism on improving my writing as I’m an amateur at this. I haven’t been watching the show that long but it made an impact on me enough to want to write something. I apologise for any mistakes.
In an abandoned warehouse in a remote part of Gotham, five kids dressed in what looked like Halloween garb were congratulating themselves on carrying out their task. They returned with their gifts for their leader who was sitting on a makeshift throne of crates, covered in a purple velvet cloth. The place had been converted into a temporary meeting house. With the laughter coming from inside and the little homely touches it was almost welcoming, and yet something about it spelled enter at your peril. There were some bits of reject furniture inside the warehouse and the group of teens inside were lounging around looking relaxed, some were playing cards, others were playing on their handheld video games, the rest were just talking amongst themselves. The leader, seemed deep in thought but soon a wide smile spread across his face through his garish mask as he saw the five members entering.
“Good, I’m glad to see you.”
“We got what you want Mischief,” said one of the five as he placed some bags in front of him. The others also placed their bags in front of him.
Their leader picked up one of the bags and pulled out a bottle. He eyed the bottle; just the feel of it in his hands was already bringing him comfort. He opened the large bottle and took a gulp of the vodka mixed Alco pop. He closed his eyes as he felt the liquid pour down his throat. The first taste was just enough to satisfy him temporarily, before he continued to drink quarter of the bottle. The others watched him in surprise; it seemed strange that any seventeen year old would be able to drink so much without hesitation. Mischief’s unhappy life came in small flash backs as he sat there thinking about what had driven him to drink in the first place.
“What you drinking Mommy? Can I have some?”
“Listen sweetheart, mommy’s had a really rough night, go to your bed like a good little boy.”
“Will you read me a story?”
“Not tonight sweetie. Mommy’s tired.”
He took another gulp of the drink. All he wanted was to have a ‘normal’ family. At least these other Jokerz hadn’t been denied of a childhood with parents to love them, at least they were at home. He’d seen his father maybe about three times ever and his mother might as well have left him on the streets to fend for himself. She was too caught up in her own mess to have time to look after him.
“Mischief man, what are we going to be doing tonight? The real fun doesn’t usually start til 10pm.” The slim Joker boy thought he’d ask what were the plans for the night before Mischief got carried away with his drinking.
“No big plans tonight…go home to your families, enjoy a nice night of family fun.” Everyone looked over at Mischief in disbelief. He laughed out loud.
“Don’t worry, you’ll have your fun tomorrow. Tomorrow is my big night. I have to return in style. It’s good to be back boys and girls.” They all laughed as they thought about what kind of pranks they’d pull tomorrow.
“You’re dismissed, go home, get a good night’s rest and dream sick dreams.” The others started to leave, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Mischief looked at the bottle of drink he had started on. He wondered whether it was worth going home tonight, no one would really notice if he wasn’t there. The Jokerz provided some sort of love, they looked up to him. In his late night wanderings on the streets of Gotham, he quickly mastered petty theft and his artistic flair was evident on many of the walls of buildings. He enjoyed watching people look at his screwed up creations on walls the next morning. He loved the attention. At a time when he needed to express his anger at his unfair life he found the gang called the Jokerz. He quickly worked his way up to group leader with his knack for smart thinking and his talent for making gadgets. When he was younger, making things was often a pass time, taking things apart and putting them back together. It had started off with him trying to fix things he’d broken in his anguish, just in case his mother noticed that he’d wrecked something.
Things fell apart when he got shopped by the police one night for smashing up some public property. He somehow couldn’t control the anger building up inside of him that night, even though he knew he’d get caught. Maybe the alcohol had given him a false sense of invulnerability. A year in juvi had put his anger in check, it was still there, just more controlled. His mother had managed to visit him in juvi once but his father never came. If he had lost control, it was their fault.
A mother who couldn’t get a grip and a father who had more pressing matters were no longer his concern. It hadn’t been your typical boy meets girl story. His father had picked up Lara Matthews one night on the streets of Gotham while she was on the game. She was a stunning woman living life on the edge and fed up with living in desperation. He promised her nice things and excitement.
After a few years, she wanted a normal family life, but still with all the trimmings. He wasn’t interested, he revelled in living his life in an unpredictable way. Causing trouble in Gotham gave him the element of the unexpected he thrived on. In particular, his father enjoyed making the Dark Knight of Gotham’s job more challenging. Tormenting Batman with his antics proved to be highly entertaining.
Mischief hated Batman. His father had been more fascinated by the crime-fighting hero than his own son. Batman I hope you’re a weak, pathetic little man now if you’re still living. My dad should have been there for me, but you always got in the way. You think you can carry on your legacy by using someone to take your place, well then I will carry on my legacy…by making your life difficult. He finished the bottle of alcohol and made himself a bed in the corner of the room. Wonder if you’d be proud of me now Dad…I’m living the carefree life and having reckless fun and it feels damn good. Nobody can tell me what to do, where to go and you know what even if I did see you now and you did care, I couldn’t care less, to hell with family! It’s my time now.
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