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                   Joker's Little Dashie                   
                     -by Jabberspike-                      
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                   Joker's Little Dashie                   
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Joker's Little Dashie
I have a job to do.
This city, this place filled with rainwater guzzling down drains, alleyways that reek of trash and the whinging of cowards and saps, needs a bit of lightening up. I mean, I hear people complain about how poor and run-down this city is, and how they wish they could escape to a magical fantasy world blah blah blah, but they do nothing but sit around and wait for someone to pat them on the shoulder and sing them a lullaby. I’m actually doing something about the state of this place. I’m bringing it comedy.
Oh yes, humour. There certainly is a dearth of it round these parts. I mean, sure, you see the occasional stand-up here and there, but I like to think I’m giving something with a bit more substance than complaining about airline food. I mean, really, what’s wrong with it? The last plane I hijacked had some pretty nice peanuts, as I recall. But I digress.
So I’ve escaped from Arkham Asylum again, and so has Harley. How long was I in there for, this time? A month, a week? Two days. And just after the new mayor gave that boring speech about how he’ll make sure to heighten security. He’s an idiot, the guards are idiots, the Batman’s an idiot. The news hit that I escaped and the lounge lizards complained about Gotham being run by morons and how they were smarter than the pigs in charge. They may not have laughed, but they did see the funny side.
Bats likes to brag on about how he hopes to inspire people to do good and contribute to the community – yeah, good luck with that – but I like to think I’m the more inspirational. When the old gear-a-roos in my head start a-turning, I think up the biggest, most spectacular crimes the world has ever known, and thus, the other criminals realise they have to work harder. I mean, look at Riddler. Once he was just nicking stuff and leaving calling cards, now he’s building huge death traps that could only be turned off by reciting the entire works of Charles Dickens! I had something to do with that, I know I did.
I’m not in the mood for anything major tonight though. Just a jewellery heist, methinks. I’ll steal a necklace or two, toss it in an alleyway for some bum to pocket, then go home and watch a bit of Frasier. Then again, it might have a tiny little flair to it, as old Mxyzptlk has offered to help.
Oh yes, him. Recently, some of the crooks from Metropolis have been packing their bags and going over here to Gotham, because they’re scared of Blue Boy punching their face in. Just last week, Toyman and the Prankster were robbing the bank. Didn’t take long for them both to get a batarang where the sun don’t shine. Should have left the killer dolls and the exploding whoopee cushions to the professionals.
Mxyzptlk, however, came here because apparently bothering Supey had lost its charm, and he wanted a change of scenery. I met him during one of my little projects, going about turning all the fire hydrants into buffalo, and I saw that we had a lot in common. He explained to me his little run-ins with Supes, and I told him that Guano-man was more in need of a few laughs than that boy scout. Besides, I can’t dislike a man who looks like Elmer Fudd.
So Mxy became an on-and-off participant in my schemes, and by on-and-off, I mean he vamooses for three months every time he’s dumb enough to say his name backwards. Really, our first job together was going great – I was driving schmucks insane while he was creating giraffes out of thin air – until Batbrain swooped in and said ‘Stop this Kltpzyxm!’ Then Mxy’s all ‘We ain’t stopping this Kltpzyxm, whatever that...oh nuts!’ and disappeared. And then there was that incident with that Discord fellow...
But I’m nothing if not willing to give second chances. I’ll still let him hang around, I mean, with magic, I can save money on henchmen. Me and Harley are going to rob the jewellery store, while Mxy turns the witnesses into monkeys or whatever he feels is most appropriate for the situation. We’re like the three musketeers.
We wait behind the bins in an alleyway – ‘Can’t we choose a less icky place to hide, Mistah Jay?’ asks Harley – until I count from three with my fingers, and we charge in. Harley tosses a brick into the window, and the sound of the alarm is music to my ears – so much so I dance right into the store. After Harley and I collect some goodies, we sit back and wait for the good guys to arrive. The lazy cops take their time, but they eventually arrive. ‘Come out with your hands up!’ Oh, please.
It’s Mxyzptlk’s time to shine.
He floats on out of the store, fingers at the ready. Me and Harley hide behind a display, waiting for our cue. The most important part of comedy is timing, after all. As we watch from our hidey-spots, Mxy stands before the police, looking as smug as usual.
Then he makes an elephant fall from the sky.
I cringe a little at his choice of animal – elephants are far too obvious – but the cops gasp in confusion, so it’s time for me and Harley to do our stuff. We spring out with our novelty guns, unleashing torrents of streamers onto the old bobbies. The streamers wrap around the police, incapacitating them and causing them to bounce around a bit. I do laugh at the squirming cops, and Mxy laughs too, but I still say ‘Couldn’t you have thought of something more original than an elephant?’
‘What?’ Mxy shrugs. ‘I distracted the police, didn’t I?’
‘I suppose...’ I begin, right before a batarang knocks Mxy’s bowler off.
‘Hey, watch the merchandise!’ Mxy screams to the approaching shadow. Yeah, cops have their ups and downs, but Bats is the one when you want to have fun.
Looking up at Mxy, Bats’ eyes narrow and his face twists into a snarl. ‘You again.’
‘Yeah?’ Mxy asks, raising an eyebrow. ‘What about it?’
‘Wasn’t bothering Boy Scout enough?’
‘Oh, listen to you!’ I say, raising a finger. ‘Oh, I’m so darker and more mature than Superman, blah blah..’
He punches me and I slam right into the wall.
That’s what I like to see.
Of course, Harley springs up with that hammer she always seems to pull out of nowhere, with the cry of ‘Don’t hurt Mister Jay, B-Man!’ And as per usual, Bats pulls the hammer out of her arms, grabs her by the neck and slams her face into the pavement.
And Mxy’s just floating around doing nothing.
However, as I rummage about in my pockets for any lethal rubber chickens or exploding jack-in-the-boxes, Mxyzptlk twitches. Batman looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. With a flick of his finger, Mxy conjures up a classic: the boxing kangaroo. The kangaroo leaps towards Batman with its arm outstretched and WHAM old Bats is stumbling around backwards. Seeing her chance to defend yours truly once again, Harley gets back onto her feet, fists raised to the air before she pounds them down on Bats’ skull.
Just as I consider running off to get some popcorn, Batman lifts Harley by the wrist as if he’s Bamm-Bamm and throws her right at the boxing kangaroo, making it explode.
Who knew magic could have such shoddy workmanship?
After seeing his creation go boom like that, Mxy gawps before adding ‘Time I wasn’t here’ and vanishing. I do more or less the same.
Although Mxy did disappear from our little escapade, he did reappear at our hideout after Harley and I escaped from Batman. He poofed right in, still smiling as if he had actually accomplished something.
‘What were you thinking, man?’ I yell at him as he sits down, ‘Were you trying to get us caught?’
‘What if I was?’ said Mxyzptlk, ‘What if I wanted you to go back to Arkham? I mean, you need help.’
‘
Flattery will get you nowhere! Why did your kangaroo explode? You’re supposed to be the most powerful being in the universe!’
‘Sue me! Magic ain’t all it’s cracked up to be! Sometimes you get results you don’t like!’
I chuckle, as that’s really the only thing I can do at times like these. ‘It’s funny really. You, an all-powerful wizard from another world, can’t defeat Super-stooge and now can’t defeat Bat-bum.’ I poke his nose, a grin stretching my face. ‘You’re no better than Discord.’
‘Hey!’ cried Mxy, rising higher. ‘Leave the ponies out of this!’
Still smiling, I sing as I waggle my fingers about. ‘My Little Mxy, I used to wonder what dumbness could be, until you showed off your idiocy...’
‘That’s it!’ Mxyzptlk raised his hands in the air, causing a hammer to appear above my head. As I seize it, Mxy continues, ‘Go find yourself another imp, ’cause if this is what I’m getting from you, I’m offski!’ And with that, he disappeared.
All of a sudden, I’m filled with anticipation.
I know what ol’ Mxy’s like. He’ll go back to his fifth dimension or Metropolis and sulk or throw a tantrum. I’ve seen that happen, and it usually involves fish falling out of the sky. I recall one incident where he lost a card game to Metallo, and guess who began suffering rust problems for the next few months?
Now that I’ve ticked him off, he’s going to do something to me. He’ll make my hair blue, he’ll make an anvil fall on my hideout, he’ll give me a never-ending itch on the end of my chin. And when that happens, I’ll be ready. I’ll find a way to get the last laugh, and maybe even turn the situation to my advantage. If Mxy sends a ten foot monster to my door, I’ll make it a rug! If he makes my arms elastic, I’ll use them to strangle Bats with. He’s not as clever as he thinks.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, My Little Pony is on. That always helps me relax.
Three months. Three months since the day I gave Mx the old heave-ho. Three months and no revenge, no pay-back. Knowing that he more than likely got tricked into saying his name backwards again when he left, today seems like a likely day he’ll try something.
Odd that I should be thinking that right now.
While pulling another heist, I run afoul of the Prankster and his henchmen, and they began shooting at us. It’s nice to see that he’s ditched that creepy Toyman freak, but a lame copycat’s still a lame copycat. At least the Riddler put his own spin on things.
Ah, yes, old Oswald Loomis got his dumb kids’ show cancelled and turned to crime afterwards. It takes one bad day etc.
Harley whacked at a henchmen or two with her good old hammer, and I had a chance to use my extendable boxing glove, but Pranky managed to dodge every one of my strikes. How could he anyway? He’s nimble for someone so fat. And his legs are so spindly. I half expect them to snap under the weight at any moment.
‘Come back and fight like a man,’ I snarl at the running Prankster, ‘or whatever you are. What’s the matter? You took Supey’s punches so go on and take mine!’
Finally he stands still, and waggles his finger at me. ‘If you insist,’ he says, holding out a remote control. Well, at least he isn’t putting pennies in his ears. He presses a button on the remote, and, of course, a giant robot chicken rises from the ground.
If I could have made one, and would have made it look cuter.
‘Run, Mister Jay!’ squeals Harley as she grabs me by the wrist. I consider punching her and freeing myself from her grasp, but the kid means well so I let her drag me away. Not that Prankster’s robot is worth much bother anyway; I mean, it’s shooting a giant seltzer bottle at me. It isn’t even filled with acid.
Holding as tightly as she can, Harley takes me to the closest alleyway, and, despite a ‘Poo-ey’ as she does so, she dives right in, hiding me and herself behind a selection of dustbins. That’s a good plan actually; Prankster has such a notoriously short attention span that he’ll likely bugger off if I do nothing to him. Yet Harley still seems afraid of him, even squeaking in fear at his ridiculous contraption.
‘Harley,’ I say to her, ‘there’s nothing to be afraid of. So stop squeaking.’
‘I’m not squeakin’, Mister Jay.’ Indeed, I hear a squeaking noise again, and Harley’s mouth doesn’t open. I also hear a rustling, and a slight pitter-patter too. Probably a rat, was my first thought, but then I looked further to investigate. And so did Harley.
‘Mister Jay! Mister Jay!’
A being emerges from a pile of crumbled-up newspapers, and Harley seizes it immediately. Thus, I can’t get a good look at it with Harley crushing it under her arms. ‘Aw, look what I found, puddin’! Ain’t she just adorable!’ Then she holds out the being right in front of me.
It’s Rainbow Dash. As a filly.
The sight of this young pony makes me turn away, not because it’s strange – can that word really be used in this place anymore – but because I am suddenly reminded of when Discord came here. Sure, I did do a number on him, but after that incident, I certainly did not want any more residents of Equestria coming to Gotham.
Did Mxyzptlk do it?
Odd that on the very day I suspected Mxy would try something funny, I run into this. Any minute now, little Dash is going to turn into a bear or a space monster, and I’ll use my good old acid-shooting flower on it. Then I’ll laugh right in the little twit’s face.
‘Aw, there there,’ said Harley, cradling the little filly. ‘Mommy’s here.’
‘Harley,’ I say, putting my hands on my hips, ‘You do know this is obviously a trick, don’t you?’
Harley looks up at me, still cradling Rainbow Dash, eyes bulging. ‘What do ya mean?’
‘It’s Mr. Mxyzptlk, you idiot! He put that there to mess with us!’
Putting her fingers in Dash’s ears, Harley cried, ‘Don’t talk like that round the baby!’ She bit her lip as she set Dash down, looking at me. ‘You ain’t gonna kill her, are you?’
‘No! What’d be the fun in doing that?’ Oh, she always gets emotional when children are involved. I give her a hug before I pick up Dash myself. ‘Let’s play along, shall we?’ If only to make Harley happy, I give Dash a little tickle on the belly. She giggles, and such a mellifluous giggle it is.
‘Um, excuse me?’ comes an echoing voice, ‘Giant robot chicken wreaking havoc here!’ I pay him no attention, but instead look at the little pony in my arms. So much sweetness, so much innocence, so much potential. ‘Oh, screw you then,’ says the Prankster  as his robot walked away.
‘Aw, let me hold her, puddin’!’ said Harley, and I do as she requests. ‘Let’s take her back to the hideout!’ She began rocking the baby Dash again. ‘Did ya hear that? We’re going to take you home where you’ll have lots of lovely toys to play with, and I’ll feed ya every day...’
I know it’s a trick. I know something’s wrong about this. But I can’t disappoint Harley, so I let her take the little Dash back to the hideout. Besides, if she isn’t going to explode or turn into a monster, I suppose I better take advantage of the situation. I’ve always wanted someone to follow in my footsteps, someone to carry on my work after I’ve passed on. On the off-chance that a baby pony really did find a way into our world without the help of a certain imp, imagine if none other than Rainbow Dash were to continue my legacy. Just think, a symbol of innocence and charm, the greatest criminal mind in Gotham. I’ve built my entire career out of corrupting beloved children’s entertainment, so perhaps this is a sign.
Either way, it’s going to be fun.
‘PUDDIN’!’
I am aroused from my afternoon nap by Harley’s screeching. ‘Dashie’s hungry!’
Rising from my seat, I respond, ‘Then feed her!’
The cries of Dash perfectly complement Harley’s voice. ‘I fed her yesterday, it’s your turn! Honestly, do I have to do everything around here?’
It has been a few months ever since Harley found Dash in the alleyway, and those months have been, how shall I say, hectic. After so much time, I became convinced that this wasn’t a trick by Mxyzptlk because he wouldn’t wait months and months to subvert our expectations. Like those kids on Facebook and Twitter, he believes in instant gratification.
Now I’m beginning to believe once again that this is a prank, and a damn good one at that.
Rainbow Dash sits atop her high-chair, a miniature throne from which she can screech and wail to her heart’s content. I flash her my famous smile in hopes that she would do the same, but still she pounds her hooves on her little table, her mouth becoming a black hole. So off I go to the cupboard, pulling out her baby mush and I stuff it down her mouth. ‘There. Now keep quiet. Daddy needs his rest.’
Her response is to spit the mush in my face.
As I wipe the mush off of my famous face, I notice her laughing and clapping her hooves together. She’s laughing at me. ‘Why you little...’
‘Puddin’!’ Swerving around, I see Harley with her hands on her hips. ‘You even think of harming little Dashie...’
‘Okay, okay, Harley, lighten up!’ I smile again as I turn to the small filly, still laughing raucously. ‘You know, you remind me of myself when I was your age!’ I pat her on the head, right before she bites my finger. ‘YOW!’ A half-hour is spent hopping around the room until I slam her down on the ground. ‘That’s it!’ I snarl, as she runs across the floor, ‘Come to Daddy, Rainbow Dash...I’m going to show you how to fly...’
A pan hits my face.
The last thing I see before falling unconscious is Harley wagging a finger at me.
Hardly a moment’s peace these days. Our little Rainbow Dash may be older than we thought she was, but she still wakes me up with her knocking and banging about. Then again, I do want her to follow in my footsteps, and her knack for causing unrest is somewhat similar to mine.
But it’s been so long since we last pulled a caper. Oh, I remember when the museum unveiled that priceless statue. I told Harley we should go steal it, but Harley thought it would be too dangerous for little Dashie. I said we should bring her along, and Harley made me sleep on the couch that night.
‘Puddin’!’ cries Harley, interrupting me from my thoughts. She isn’t the same girl I fell in love with. Still, I walk on over to her, and see her stroking Rainbow Dash. ‘Dashie wants to play outside.’
Though I want to say, ‘Why don’t you have her play in traffic?’, I tell myself that then, Mxy will win, and I would lose the chance to corrupt a cute little pony. Harley hands me the catcher’s mitt we pilfered from some kid in the streets, and we have a brief little game in the alleyway before retiring back to the hideout to watch some TV.
‘Don’t watch too much TV, Dashie,’ said Harley, pointing upwards, ‘Your eyes will go square.’
We sit down, and though I turned it on to watch some good old Bugs Bunny, the first thing I tune into is the news. ‘We are here live at the Gotham Sweet Shop, which is being held hostage by the Prankster...’ Indeed, the cops are swarming around the shop, held back by men in chicken costumes with giant boxing gloves on springs.
The Prankster is still in Gotham, still stealing my schtick. Oh, he is though, isn’t he? I’ve been gone so long, taking care of Dash, that he had ample chance to move in. Oh, I could just imagine the look on his fat little face when his stupid crimes go unabated.
‘Harley!’ I cry. I straighten myself out to make an announcement, right as I hear a small noise from beneath me. Rainbow Dash looks up at me with gigantic eyes. ‘Dashie!’ I say, clasping my hands, ‘Would you like to come with me to the sweet shop?’
‘Mister Jay!’ Harley stood up. ‘It could be dangerous!’
‘It’ll be good for her, Harley,’ I say, beginning to feel like my old self again. ‘Crime and destruction build character! You, of all people, should know that.’
If Harley was going to be a negative Nancy, I decided to take Rainbow Dash to the sweet shop on my own. The cops were still there, but they were too busy getting their high knees handed to them by the chickens. Just like them, eh?
With Dashie under my arm, I sneak into the shop, and inside, I saw ol’ Oswald helping himself to the sweets. He had just finished off a chocolate bar, and now was prancing towards the Pic and Mix. ‘Ooh, sugar mice,’ he says, picking up a plastic shovel, ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ He uses the miniature shovel to scoop up the mice and then shoves them all in his pie-hole.
‘Hey, Prankster!’ He turns around. ‘Haven’t you lost enough teeth already?’
‘Joker!’ The Prankster folds his arms and sneers at me. ‘Long time no see.’
‘Now, Pranky, prepare...woops!’ Dash leaps out of my arms and runs towards Prankster, looking at him like a dog would a mailman.
The Prankster bursts into laughter, and by god, is it grating. ‘Ooh, look what the mighty Joker has brought to stop me! A little blue pony!’ He bends over to take a closer look, his banana-like nose touching her mane. ‘Ooh, I’m terrified!’
He falls on his back.
Dash sprung up, punched him right on the noodle, and he fell over backwards. I stand there, speechless. I can’t even bring myself to look at the Prankster wiggling about on his back.
‘Dashie!’ I squeal as soon as I have the drive to, ‘My girl!’ I pick her up off of the floor and embrace her in a hug. I squeeze her tightly, even as Batman makes his appearance.
After finally getting off of the floor, the Prankster was greeted with Batman crashing through the shop window, disturbing the little figurines nearby, and the Joker dashing out of the back door.
What else could he do but what the Joker was doing?
So off the Prankster ran as fast as his skinny little legs could carry him. He wobbled slightly as he ran, thinking back to that strange little animal the Joker had on him, but still managed to escape Batman. All it took was diving into that alleyway and hiding behind the dumpster. Batman went off in seconds.
Yeah, thought the Prankster. A wise choice coming to Gotham.
With Batman gone, the Prankster leaned back on the dumpster, and pondered on the little creature Joker had brought with him. There had been stranger things in both Metropolis and Gotham, yet that little being seemed to wriggle in his brain somehow.
Knocking his head a bit, Prankster attempted to regain himself, but his stomach plunged when he heard footsteps echo down the alleyway. While the Prankster geared himself to run away, his body froze at the sound of a familiar voice.
‘Hello, Oswald.’
Him. That same frozen smile.
In a second, the familiar figure pulled out a hat and plopped it on the Prankster’s head. The Prankster stood perfectly still, his mind completely empty.
‘Now, would you mind telling me what you’re doing out here?’
Oh, I’m so proud of my little Dashie!
Even in her youth, she has such power. When I robbed the bank, she managed to take out the guards so quickly. Leaping upwards, she hit them right in the faces as I got away with the money. When I was fetching an anniversary present for Harley at the museum, she was less violent but still effective; the guard leaning down to say ‘Aw, what a cute little pony’ gave me a good chance to smash his head in with my hammer.
Who says raising a child is expensive? I’m a few bob well off now that I have Dashie. In fact, I think I’ll throw a party for her. A birthday party. It may not be her birthday, but hey, Jesus wasn’t born on December 25th.
Harl and I decorate the lair with non-lethal balloons and banners, and prepare some presents for her; treasures she helped us plunder. And I even invited some of our good friends from Arkham Asylum. Thank God for the shoddy security there; most of them are out already.
So, the party begins in the evening, and Dash dives into the cake we prepared. Hardly surprising, as ol’ Harl is the best baker in Gotham.  Sadly, not that many people arrive. Only Penguin and Riddler and Mad Hatter. Pengy and Riddles didn’t even bring a present.
‘Ah,’ says the Penguin as he observes Dash nibbling away at her treats, ‘This is what you’ve been utilising in your capers. A darling little creature; crude, yet, I suppose, effective.’
‘Are you sure you should be using her?’ says the Riddler, with a finger on his chin, ‘I mean, your wave of internet meme crimes last year wasn’t that spectacular.’
‘But my little Dashie is far more effective than feeding cats cheeseburgers!’ I blurt out before picking up Dash, ‘Yes she is, yes she is!’
‘Oh, what an adorable moment,’ says Jervis, clasping his hands together. ‘And me without my camera.’
Of course, Harley pulls out a camera and snaps a picture of me and Dash. Dash squirms a bit from the flash, but I set her down.
‘That was lovely, Jervis,’ says the Riddler, ‘Maybe Joker should put it up on his Facebook page.’
‘How droll,’ replies Penguin.
‘Anyway.’ Jervis springs right in front of me, his nose touching mine. ‘Here is my present for your little tike.’ A miniature crash helmet is plopped on a giggling Dash. ‘Oh, she likes it. And it’ll probably mean more effective headbutts too.’
‘Thank you, Jervis. See, you two?’ I turn to Penguin and Riddler. ‘Not everyone is thoughtless.’
‘Riddle me this: how do you turn a dangerous criminal into a wuss?’
‘Indeed.’ The Penguin nods. ‘The presence of infants usually can have a troubling effect on some.’
In an instant, I kick Penguin and Riddler out of the hideout. As their faces are soaked in the large puddle outside, Rainbow Dash flies out herself and gives them an extra kick on the high knee for me. She learns fast.
I laugh at the two bozos’ punishment, and then notice Hatter slipping past. ‘Hey, Hat-man!’ Harley cries out, ‘You can stay.’
‘Oh, no, my dear,’ says Jervis as he looks at Penguin and Riddler scurrying off. ‘I simply have engagements. I’ll probably make sure to visit sometime.’ And then he prances off to the beat in his head.
That guy needs to get laid.
So if the party is just me, Harley and Dashie, I thought, then so be it. At least Bats isn’t around.
Dashie’s gone.
When the party was over, I put her in the little cot Harley made and she fell asleep instantly. Yet, when I came in to wake her up, I found the cot empty. I locked the doors, and she’s too young to fly, so...
‘HARLEY!’
‘What is it, Mister Jay...Dashie!’
‘You haven’t seen her?’
‘Where could she have gone?’
I rapidly search the hideout for any sign of her, looking under every prop, peeking behind every weapon, even checking the leftover cake.
‘Puddin’! The door’s unlocked!’
Upon hearing of the unlocked door, I burst through it, onto the Gotham streets. Penguin. Riddler. They were jealous of Dashie and wanted her for themselves. I wouldn’t exactly call them fitting parents; Riddler’s too married to his work to take care of a child and Penguin loves his birds too much. Besides, paternity does require brain cells. Thoughts of them holding Dashie in their arms sends me storming down the streets, right until I find myself looking upwards.
A Sonic Rainboom.
She did it, she actually did it. And so young too! I knew I had raised her right. Not only can she punch like nobody’s business and aid us in committing our crimes but...
A robot Rainbow Dash darts right towards me.
A rather crude robot at that, with a splotchy paint job and the worst grimace I’ve ever seen on a machine. The colours on its hair aren’t even right. I dive out of the robot’s path, running away to fetch my bazooka, only for the robot to malfunction before it even reaches me. It collapses to the pavement in an instant.
‘Mister Jay, Mister Jay!’ Harley runs up right to me, a gun in her hand. She takes a quick look at the ruined robot and says, ‘What’s that?’
‘Obviously this is from whoever has Rainbow Dash,’ I say as I tap my chin. Batsy’s not the only one who can be a detective. ‘Judging from the shoddy workmanship and the giant key that’s in its back, I’d say this is the work of the Toyman.’
Yes. I thought he was a bit quiet.
If there’s one thing that people should know about Metropolis villains, it’s that they’re pretty predictable. Thus, using my superior deduction skills, I figure out that Toyman’s lair must be in the abandoned Laffco toy factory; I’ve used that as a hideout before. I can’t believe they haven’t torn that place down yet.
I tell that to Harley and with a ‘Don’t worry, Dashie, mommy’s a-coming!’ she grabs me by the wrist and sets off towards the factory.
We arrive there in seconds, with the gigantic clown head giving me a pang of nostalgia before I think about what that perverted little midget must be doing to Dashie. ‘Hurry up, puddin’!’ squeals Harley as she bursts through the doors, greeted by darkness. ‘Where’s Dash, ya bums?’
A single, yet gigantic light illuminates a tea table before us. Sitting there is the Mad Hatter, pouring himself a cup of tea, and old Oswald, sleeping and wearing a hat with mouse ears on it. ‘Ah, hello, my friends,’ said the Hatter, gesturing towards a seat, ‘I hoped you were coming.’
‘I bet you were,’ I respond, ‘Now where’s Dashie? You better not have done anything to her.’
Jervis’ eyes narrow. ‘Have I done anything to her?’ Standing up, he points to Harley. ‘You took an intelligent young woman with a promising future and made her regress into your lackey!’
‘Hey!’
The Hatter takes a deep breath and sits back down. ‘I couldn’t bear the thought that such an innocent being could be placed in your care, so I brought her here. The crash helmet I gave her included some of my trademark technology...’ He gave the Prankster’s head a pat. ‘Now she’s in the care of me and Winslow...’
‘Speaking of which,’ I say, pulling out my gun, ‘I’d like a word with him.’
As expected, Jervis ducks under the table, and answers, ‘He should be here shortly.’
Sure enough, the factory is given a little more light, and there is Toyman himself, creepy mask and all. Ugh. He still wears it. That gigantic mask that looks like a doll’s head, always smiling. We all know I like a good smile, but not that one.
In his arms, he holds Rainbow Dash.
‘Dashie!’ Harley charges right towards him, but he doesn’t move an inch. As she comes closer, however, Toyman points a finger at Tetch. The Hatter rises and plops a top hat on Harley, rendering her stationary.
‘Hey!’ I shove my gun right in Jervis’ ugly face. ‘Nobody messes with Harley but me!’
‘Now, now, Joker.’ Toyman waggles his finger, before using it to tickle Dash. ‘Play nice.’
‘I saw your robot. I wonder how much I could get at the scrapyard for it.’
‘Oh, yes. That was merely a prototype. You see, I love My Little Pony. Rainbow Dash has always been my favourite.’ He cuddles Dash harder, rubbing her against his mask. ‘I always wanted a little Dash of my own to cuddle up with, to absorb all my troubles. So I tried making my own robot Rainbow Dashes.’ Another light turned on, illuminating more of those stupid things. ‘Unfortunately, I never could get them right. So imagine how happy I was when I found her.’ He then begins to stroke Dashie.
It earns him a good old punch in the noggin.
Sadly, it doesn’t break his mask off, but he does fall on the floor, allowing me to pick up Dashie. Just as I am about to take that silly hat off Harley, the Mad Hatter finally gets some cajoles and smashes a teapot over my head. ‘Unhand the infant!’
I notice that she still has that crash helmet on her and knock it off. The second the hat is removed, she dives for the Hatter and chews at his face.  His screams send me into hysterics.
‘You’re not playing fair!’ Toyman whines as he pulls out his Super Soaker, spraying a torrent of water in my face. Ordinary tap water. Not even acid or anything like that.  Amateur. I push him right into Harley, which fortunately knocks her hat off.
‘Oh,’ says Toyman as he notices a freed Harley. ‘Hello, Miss Quinnzel. You’re looking lovely.’
‘Shut it, creepy doll guy!’ She kicks him right in the face and though she still doesn’t break his mask, she does knock him to the other side of the room.
Both the Hatter and Toyman lie on the floor – and Prankster is still under that little spell – and thus I scoop up little Dashie into my arms.
‘Well done, Dashie,’ says Harley, ‘Mommy’s so proud of you!’
‘Yes,’ I say, holding her, ‘We’ll raise you as our very own, and you’ll be the spitting image of...’
She disappears.
A pop of smoke and she’s gone.
‘Dashie? Dashie?’ I scramble about the factory, but see no sign of her anywhere. ‘Where are you, Dashie?’
‘You!’ Harley snarls at Toyman as the latter makes his way off of the floor. ‘What have you done with Dashie?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘It wasn’t that bozo that made her disappear,’ comes a familiar voice. ‘It was me.’ Who should appear in the room but Mr. Mxyzptlk?
I grumble at his entrance. ‘I suppose you got your revenge, eh?’
‘Actually,’ said Mxyzptlk, ‘Dashie wasn’t intended for you. I was trying to prove to Discord who was best! My plan was to take the strongest and most confident pony, change her into a kid and have her raised by some soppy schlub! Old goat-head thinks he’s so great because he made Dash a wimp with his magic, but the bookworm changed that in a hurry. So I thought that if she was raised to be a weakling, she’d be one forever.
‘A shame she had to fall into your hands then.’ He points at me. ‘Not only would you have made her stronger, she was making you happy, and that’s the last thing I want. I mean, I considered letting you keep her when I saw you were planning to raise her as a weapon, but when you actually seemed to take a shine to her...’
Not listening to his exposition, Harley grabs Mxy by the collar. ‘Give me my Dashie back, ya big-headed lamebrain!’
‘Actually,’ said Mxy, ‘Dashie’s got a new home now. Look!’ With a snap of his fingers, Mxy conjures up a vision of some random schlomo picking up Dash from a cardboard box. ‘She’s in another part of Gotham, under the care of some weirdo who learnt about parenting from Disney movies and who likes to moan about how his life sucks. Plus, he’s a brony, and lemme tell you, the average brony makes you guys look sane.’
Unhanding Mxy, Harley wipes away tears. ‘I guess it was too good to last.’
So thanks to Mxyzptlk, I’ve lost my daughter. I’ve lost my little Dashie, who is now in the hands of some loser with issues.
Ah well.
‘Look, Harley,’ I say, pointing away, ‘Toyman has bombs! What say you and me blow these dolts to kingdom come!’
‘Oh, goody!’
It’s a tough job sometimes. But I love it.