The Jest of Robin

13: Mini Me

Unknown Location, March 31, 2010, 15:00 EST

He was tired.

It was cold

Tears never stopped coming down his face, and he wasn't allowed to be in silence.

Any time his laughing would stop, the Joker's laughter would play again causing him to go into another fit of laughter. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted it all to stop. His throat was burning, and he couldn't get relief.

The light was turned on from the single bulb hanging from the ceiling, engulfing the room in a blinding light. Dick hid his face in his arms, curling in on himself, ignoring the pain for the comfort it brought him. He only had a moment's notice before the door was flung open, and deafening footsteps echoed into the room. The terrible laughter had stopped playing through the speakers, but he was unable to stop his own screaming laughter. He was picked up by the arms and pain flared through him as he was jostled about.

The hands that held him were warm, firm, and calloused. They weren't the hands of the Joker, and they definitely weren't the hands of Poison Ivy or Harley Quinn. He knew what they felt like, and these hands weren't any he was familiar with. He was pulled backward, letting his feet drag on the floor, not having enough energy or motivation to lift them from the ground.

He was taken through so many turns, up and down every single stair, and once they finally got to their destination, he was completely and utterly lost. He just let his head hang to the side as he focused on keeping his strength up. He didn't know what was going to happen, but given the special treatment Harley and Ivy had given him, he knew it wasn't going to be good.

He was thrown into a small room that looked like a dressing room for an actor. In it was a Hollywood vanity mirror lined with twelve brightly glowing bulbs. There was makeup scattered all along the table, and on the far side of the room was a freestanding closet rack with just one costume on it. The Flying Graysons' costume. Dick looked at the costume with tears in his eyes.

The door was slammed shut, and he winced at the loud noise. He rubbed his arms where he was dragged, before standing up, carefully walking to the chair to sit down. It was better than the cold floor, especially since his school clothes were in no way warm in the best of circumstances. He sat in the chair and felt tears prick his eyes as the Joker's laugh blared through the speakers again. He began laughing as well, unable to stop himself.

He was uncertain of how much time had passed before the door was opened again. A woman who looked to be in her very early twenties was thrown into the room. She had a small gash on her cheek that was still bleeding. Dick looked at her. Even with the state he was in, he was a hero first. His laughing had eventually subsided and he went over to her. He looked at the gash on her face. It was going to require stitches but other than that she would survive.

"Are you okay?" He asked her in a hoarse voice.

She shook her head. "I need to get you ready for the show." she managed to stutter out.

He helped her stand up. She took a couple breaths before beginning to work. She moved him to the chair in front of the vanity, and turned him so that he wouldn't be able to see his reflection. She hung up a picture behind him, a reference photo Dick realized, although he wasn't able to tell what the picture was of. She took the makeup that was on the desk before putting it on his face.

He tried to stay calm, but the makeup was coating his entire face, he felt like he couldn't breathe, everything starting to become too much. The laughter started to pour out of him without his consent, and he looked at her with as much of an apologetic look as he could give. She continued her work even as tears began falling from both of their eyes.