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⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★synopsis: when a simple medieval jester shows up to Gotham, stirring the curious minds of certain boys of a bat colony. What could ever go on with this child’s life.
⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★genre: oneshot special
⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★note: thanks for 3K followers!!
⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ word count: 1,296
⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★info: Taking after the inspiration of joker and Harley Quinn, aesthetic wise. They loathe that man even after the inspiration. They always loved circuses, watching the old flying graysons clips their families use to record. Their age and genders are unknown despite their small frame which makes them confused a child. People think they work joker, forcing Batman to put them on his charts. They can never caught due to always being sneaky and playful. Someone who is some random person that helps crimes and wear a medieval jest costume that is either monochrome for night stealths but is bright and happy colors for random day shenanigans. The jester, who people can’t tell if they’re a girl, or a boy. They seem genderless, they also seem skinny as well with how the sleeves of their so called costume is loose, covering their hand.
The small child, their thin body covered by the baggy medieval jester clothing. They looked around the dark city with wide and curious eyes. Walking around, the small child couldn’t help but look through alleys, ignoring the strange looks of the people in boxes and the folks giving them dirty looks.
The jester moves past a fallen man, maybe the man was just tired. The clown child looks around to see a small cardboard box. Going towards it, the child places it over the man. Walking off with more confidence in their step. “Hey kid!” a man bellowed, catching the small child’s attention, they've been picked up like a scrawny cat.
“Who do you think you are walking around this alley in that tacky colors of yours.” the man gruffed, shaking the mute child who just stared at the man with wide undisturbed eyes.
Not getting an answer, the man got angry, throwing the child. Usually, a person would expect the child to just fall harshly, but this wasn't a normal kid. The jester had landed on their feet gracefully as if defying gravity.
The child dusted themself off, keeping eyes on the big angry man. The jester moves back from the big man who pulled out a butterfly knife, not wasting time, the jester then moves forward.
The jingles of the bells on their hat and shoes jangled loudly. The small clown child jumped into the air, midway they did a triple spin kick. The man was hit on his face and the back of his head, knocking him out.
The child could only hum, taking the butterfly knife from the man and politely placing it onto the man’s chest before bouncing from the brick walls of the tight space.
The small child flipped themselves onto a fire escape before climbing onto another brick wall of a complex apartment. Climbing their way to the roof, they met Red Hood who just stared at them with two batburgers.
The juicy smell of the burger made the thin child’s stomach growl.
“You’re starving aren't you kid? I ain't here to harm you, only to get to know you.” those seem to be working as the small child with a painted face, a painted mask to hide their past forward towards the red hooded male.
But as if sensing something, the child did a spinning roundhouse kick towards a male with a fringe. “Wow! Fast reflexes!” Red Robin tries to capture the child who only stares at him and then looks back at Red Hood who sighs, knowing how this may go. The child stays still, that was before the child ran off the roof. The two male’s eyes widen.
The two red vigilantes look over the roof to see nobody, no child, no jester. Completely gone.
“Dang… guess we have to try another night,” Tim says to Jason who nodded. As much as he wanted to, his older brother's instincts were taking over.
Their small frame irks him.
Huddled in a cardboard box, the small child smelled of sweet cotton candy, reminiscent of treats from a bustling circus. But at this moment, they were just a lonely figure, aching for warmth and belonging. Denied entry anywhere, the child was mistaken for a goon of the Joker—certainly a mislabeling, but one that weighed heavy on their small shoulders.
Clenching their tiny fist, determination ignited within them. Despite their appearance, they felt an unwavering drive to help others. Emerging from the confines of the box, a small smile crept onto their painted lips, signaling the start of a journey to reclaim a piece of Gotham City.
Their first mission? Defend the local bakery. With a fierce resolve, they startled the shop owner, earning themselves some fresh bread and a handful of delectable cupcakes. The baker, initially stern, soon softened, watching the child devour the treats with wide eyes. As crumbs coated the child’s face like powdered sugar, the baker’s heart ached with a mix of pity and tenderness.
"Sweetie, slow down before you choke, okay?" she urged, her voice tinged with concern. The child nodded, ignoring the messy mouthful of crumbled icing. But when the baker reached out, accidentally swiping away some of the child’s carefully applied makeup, panic surged through the tiny form. Memories of shattered dishes flashed in their mind, and a soft whimper escaped their lips as fear took hold.
“Hey! Hey! What’s wrong?!” The baker knelt, startled by the child's distress. Without knowing what else to do, she rushed to the back, returning with a puff of white powder, gently reapplying it to the child’s face. “There!” she declared, relief washing over her as the child slowly regained composure.
After the brief episode, the baker escorted the little jester out of the shop, handing over a bag filled with bagels and a few sweets—a meager feast, but a feast nonetheless. The child bowed deeply, their gratitude palpable, before scampering off with the jingling bells of their hat and shoes echoing behind them.
As they munched on the chewy bagels, savoring their hard-earned treasure, the joy was short-lived. Suddenly, strong hands gripped the child from behind, hoisting them up into the air. A man dressed in a striking blue-black uniform, with neat hair and charming dimples, faced them.
“Sorry, little guy, I’ll buy you food,” he said, a playful smirk on his face as he swung away with a grappling hook toward the rooftops. “But first, you’ve got to answer a few questions.”
The child stood frozen, wide-eyed, staring up at Nightwing. Suddenly, a thick cloud of gas—sweet as cotton candy—erupted from their suit. Nightwing instinctively covered his nose, shocked, yet he tightened his grip on the thin child. But in a split second, the little figure slipped through his fingers like a ghost.
With an agile burst of movement, the child took off, already anticipating their escape route. Nightwing recognized the sugary scent of the gas instantly, letting go of his nose. He dashed after the child, who skidded across the rooftop. As Nightwing closed in, they turned, flashing a daring look before launching themselves into the air, landing gracefully on him. It was as if he were nothing more than a springboard for their acrobatics. But as he turned to catch them, the child vanished like smoke.
Frustrated, Nightwing pressed the comms hidden in his ear. “They’ve disappeared. Robin, you’re up.”
Meanwhile, Robin was perched nearby, eyes sharp and ready. He smirked as he spotted the child darting his way. The moment was electric. Robin charged forward, but the quick-witted jester used the boy as a launchpad, vaulting over him with effortless grace while tugging him down in a whimsical twist. As the jester sped off, the child playfully slapped Robin’s cape, leaving him exasperated. “Ugh!” he exclaimed, determination igniting as he sprinted after them, refusing to give up.
But the chase took a tense turn when the jester led the way into a dead end. “Nowhere to run! We know you work for the Joker!” Robin shouted, planting his feet firmly. The child turned, their expression still as blank as before, and exhaled slowly, as if time itself had slowed.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a wall erupted between them. Robin reflexively hurled a Batarang, but the jester countered with a Joker card, flinging it at the boy. The card began to beep ominously, its sound a countdown. Robin’s heart sank as he realized the jester was escaping through a vent, glitter exploding in the air around the child, painting the scene with chaos and wonder.
Once again, the elusive jester slipped through their fingers, leaving Bruce grappling with questions. How could such playful devices aid them? The clock was ticking. They had to catch them before it was too late.
