The Saga of Mary Jane…



I left the Saga of Mary Jane at episode 10… I am now at 18!

This is being done as part of a series of prompts from Esther Newton

Parts one to ten will be found in the link I have attempted to embed…

For those of you who have the courage to read on…. do so!

Part  Eleven

Let’s leave Batman and Poison Ivy to figure out their new partnership, and assumed amorous liaison. Let’s also leave The Joker, as he attempts to manipulate his new found friends to aid him in his mission. If you like, assume that they have been frozen in time, though this, of course is impossible. Let’s leave them far behind, and we shall then be able to turn our attention to the two women who started this whole saga – Mary Jane Parker and Harley Quinn.

They were an odd couple indeed. One – Harley Quinn had been straitlaced until she met The Joker. Her affair with The Bat had made her more cunning and dangerous than before. Mary Jane, as we discover now, had been straitlaced until she came in touch with Harley Quinn. They money that they had from Harley’s adventures with The Bat gave them an unexpected freedom.

Both women, free of the constraints of their lovers now explored each other – mind, body and heart – with a hunger that was startling, fresh, deep and strong. Indeed, they completed each other in ways that their Maker did not anticipate.

It was one night, after an evening on the beach, while dining at a fine restaurant, that the madness truly began. What they did at the beach was their business, they reasoned; and, there was no reason for any boring, uppity and uptight woman to cast a judgmental eye in their direction, as they lay naked on the beach after making love.

Would that bitch and her wooden, hen-pecked husband leave them to enjoy a meal in peace? Oh no. No, no, no, no, no –no. She had to go and complain to the management in a loud, rude and self-congratulatory tone? Was she the keeper of the world’s morals?

God was on her side, she seemed to proclaim. Oh yes? Well, the Devil was on their side. Better yet, they also had Loki, that wonderful old trickster to stand with them in their corner.

Smiling sweetly, Mary Jane asked the woman if she would like to sit and talk it through calmly. She asked again, and again – and, again. The last time around, she asked a little more forcefully; and, then suddenly springing up, she caught the woman in her arms, and flung her across the room. A peal of silvery laughter broke out, and Harley Quinn got up and kissed Mary, her tongue exploring the deep recesses of her throat.

Stiff faces looked around in shock as the woman, still calling to God, crashed into the tables sending the plates and glasses flying. Goodness Gracious, they seemed to thing. This was not respectable at all.

‘Call the police’, a voice seemed to scream from the bar, and Harley twisted around, a smile curling around her lips. Her tongue seemed to flicker in and out of her mouth, in anticipation.

‘Catch, darling’, she purred as she tossed a strawberry that she had been licking in the direction of the bar.

A strawberry, was it?

‘Call the…….’, the voice died away in a strangulated gurgle, as smoke filled the area, as the strawberry landed with a loud bang.

The restaurant was converted into a medley of plates, glasses, blaze and madness.

The only other sound that was heard was the tinkling, slightly insane laugher of the two women as, arm in arm, they traipsed out of the restaurant.

Turning back, they suddenly curtsied.

‘The craziness has begun’, giggled Harley.

‘Enjoy your meal, darlings’, cooed Mary Jane.

Holding each other by the waist, the two seemed to dance their way out of the restaurant, leaving shock, blinded minds and mayhem behind them.

Part  Twelve

The two Hobbits found themselves stuck at the back of a rickety van. This is the price that had to be paid for being small in structure. That is all that the four could afford at the time, even though The Spider claimed that this was the best way to move. A rickety van provided them with the necessary subterfuge.

They tried to sleep, but the van’s bumpy progress kept interrupting their lascivious dreams of Mary Jane. They had, anyway, been in a long slumber since the Third Age had passed into the Fourth; and sometimes the memory of the old days merged with images of the present. Disgruntled, they opened their eyes and thought, ‘the story has finally shifted back to us’. Miffed they were, thinking that there had been too much focus on the other players in this sordid little saga.

“But, the storyteller must be fair to all, must give proportionate weightage to all”, a voice spoke in their ear. “Who is that?”, asked Frodo sharply.

“Who am I? I am the storyteller. I am the weaver of tales. No, I am not in your story, but just stopped by to see how you are doing, and heard your complaint. No, I am not in your story, but I felt that I must interject, lest you Hobbits rail on about being mistreated.”

“Ah, my friends, but I must introduce myself. Call me…. Call me…. Call me Loki. Yes, call me Loki, if you may”, I said with a smile, and sat down between them, rubbing my hands. “My, this space is cramped”, I said, as I sat amongst them. “Now, what may I do for you?”

“Give us more space in this story”, demanded Frodo. “Yes, and stop making us seem like nostalgic little wimps’, said Sam. “We did fight dragons after all”.

“Yes, yes, yes, my Little Lords”, I said sweetly, all the time wishing they had bought a more spacious van. “I shall do what I can. And, now I shall be off…” What had that wizard said, about never underestimating a Hobbit? Damned wizards!

“Hey little Hobbits”, shouted Spidey from the front. “Talking into the air, are you?”

“We are talking to Loki”, said Sam proudly.

“Crazy little Hobbits. Sometimes they talk of Dark Lords, and sometimes they talk of Norse Gods. Crazy, crazy, crazy”

The two men sat in the front in the front, shaking their heads. An uneasy truce prevailed between them. The Spider quite fancied himself in his role as crime buster. Yet, there he was, sitting in a van with The Joker – he, who had been an arch criminal.

“Yes”, mused the Spider. “The Joker is a has been. Once this is over, I will bust him, and once again, I will be King of My Yard. I just need this little adventure to be over, and I will once again be the top crook buster!”

United for now, in their common chase for the two women, a question remained unanswered – one that would eventually beg to be answered – is, did they actually want the women back? If not, then what were they chasing? A mirage?

In the meanwhile, the two Hobbits sat in the back of the van, grumbling under their breath. The disdain with which the two companions has treated them had united them again, but for what purpose? The Ring had been disposed of. Mary Jane had gone. To what purpose then?

The Grand Picture would be revealed in due course. The van rattled on along the misty highway, threatening to break apart at any minute. Yet, there was steady progress.

Over them, unknown to them yet, a bat like shadow was slowly starting to appear above the horizon behind them.

Part  Thirteen

The night was young, and the fireworks were starting to go off. “Damn us Americans”, thought The Bat, “And, damn Alfred, and his British customs. Why do we have to celebrate Guy Fawkes Day?. I can set off enough fireworks if I want to.”

“Sir, are you aware that some believe that Guy Fawkes Day is actually an arrogation of a much older, Celtic Pagan festival called Samhain? Festivals, sir, pass on and transmogrify into new forms, even though the roots remain the same. It is a pity, sir, that we forget the roots, while seeking out new forms, and bless the Gods of modern day television. Alas, sir, Guy Fawkes Day will be taken over by that American abomination called Halloween. Samhain is forgotten, and so will Guy Fawkes Day. Which is why, sir, we must preserve what tradition we can.”

Alfred’s smiling and unctuous face peered at The Batman and Poison Ivy from above a tray filled with whisky and ice, as the two prepared for a quiet, fireworks filled evening at home.

Indeed, the fireworks were magnificent. Not so far away, The Band of Black and Red stopped their rickety little van, to gaze up at the sky, as the black ink of night was temporarily blotted away by flashes of light.

“Coo, I do love a good show, do I”, said Frodo to Sam.

“Do you remember The Wizard?”, asked Sam, as he remembered the nights of celebration in the Shire just before the passing of The Third Age.

The nostalgia that was filling their hearts was rudely shattered by the Joker screaming, ”Damn The Bat”, as a bat like display of fireworks suddenly filled the sky.

“Yeah”, snarled The Spider. “Damn that Bat.”

“We have competition”, he said.

They looked grimly upwards at the sky.

Part Fourteen

“Who’s Bob?”, asked Harley with some suspicion in her voice. She did not like the idea of Mary Jane taking a shine to a man – or woman, for that matter – and Bob’s name had come up a couple of times during Mary Jane’s mumblings in the night.

“Bob?”, asked Mary Jane with a from. She paused, “Oh, Bob!”, she said, her face suddenly clearing. “Bob was my priest and confessor as a child. I think I dreamt of him last night.”

“And, of what did you dream, my dear”, asked Harley, snuggling up to her.

“Oh, I dreamt I was in confession again”, sighed Mary Jane. “I dreamed that he asked me many questions.”

“What kind of questions?”, asked Harley, running a finger slowly down between Mary Jane’s breasts. Mary Jane smiled, and arched her body at the touch, and then continued.

“Oh, I dreamed that he asked me many questions, which is strange. I don’t remember him asking me many questions when I was a child. But, he had lots of questions for me now.”

“He asked me if I believed what I was doing was good. He said that when I was with Spidey, I was a good, law-abiding citizen. That now, I seemed to have abandoned everything, and gone off on a reckless path. Where would this path lead me? Did I choose to go on this path, or was I seduced into travelling along these new roads? Was I truly happy, in my heart of hearts, and was I going to abandon my principles altogether?”

She paused, as Harley’s tongue gently rolled around her nipples. She sighed and stroked Harley’s head, enjoying the sensations that were rippling up and down her skin and nerves. Her fingers caressed Harley’s back, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to be consumed by the sensation.

“And, then what?”, asked Harley, looking up, almost slyly.

“Yes, he continued along this way, and then asked if I thought I was proud of myself now”. Harley’s head moved down, but Mary Jane’s hand arrested the downward movement, and looking into her eyes, she said, “I told Bob that I don’t care if I am damned to Hell or whatever he had in store for me. I told him that my path may be reckless, but it is my path. I told him that I love you deeply, and it is with you that I will travel down the roads and highways of life. This is what we have chosen together. This is what I told him, and then he asked me if I missed my life with Spidey.”

“I laughed out in my dream, and told him that the old life was dead. The new Mary Jane, the true Mary Jane had been born. He then asked me one last question – whether I was convinced that this Mary Jane was truly authentic. To which, I screamed at him, and told him to get out of my subconscious.”

She stopped speaking, and kissed Harley Quinn with a hunger that was more intense than it ever had been.

This, my friends, is where we leave them for now. You, gentle and foolish reader, can use your imagination to create a picture of what you think they did next. I, Loki, shall not indulge your salacious fantasies.


Part 15

Red. Blood red lipstick adorned their faces as they left that morning. At the start of their relationship, they had considered adopting a signature look, and then they decided against it. Too easy to identify, they figured. So, they compromised a bit. They would wear the same costume each time, but would vary the colour combination each time.

“To the market!”, cried Mary Jane.

“Why the market?”, queried Harley

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe, the market will drum up some surprised. I do love markets sometimes. Always full of the most interesting people, and smells and colours. And, of course, things to choose from.’ She added the last, with a meaningful pause.

“Then, let’s go to the Gypsy Market!”, squealed Harley. “I do love the gypsies. Always so mysterious. Always exotic, always singing strange songs, and selling some of the most quirky stuff.:

“Oh, but we don’t want to buy things, do we?”, asked Mary Jane, with a mischievous smile. “We just want things, and we just want to have fun today. Because, that is what girls want!”.

Laughing in the happiest manner, the two of them sauntered off. Harley Quinn was wearing her favourite shorts, a tight T-Shirt, and was sucking on a lollipop. She looked the very essence of a fun-loving college girl, as she danced and skipped her way around the market.

Mary Jane. She was wearing a tight mini skirt. Blood red, to match her lipstick. It almost seemed as though there was nothing below the dress, but she was always just a little bit demure.

They walked around the market, hand in hand. Sometimes, they would eat a sweet, and sometimes would grab another lollipop.  The two girls sipped some juice – they were very careful. They ate some salad from time to time.

They were on their best behavior. No explosions or hitting innocent people on the head. Just a hand finding its way to the delights of the morning. Just around lunchtime, Harley stopped and said, “I am hungry. Let’s eat.”

They walked into a little restaurant, where they were greeted by the most incredibly odd looking little man.

Dressed in somewhat outlandish clothes, with a huge mustache that covered most of his small face, he ushered them in. Smiling in the most ingratiating manner possible, he led them to their table, and produced the largest menu that they had ever seen. It resembled a large, thick school book.

“What would you have, this fine day?”, he asked, a sly little smile on his face.

“What do you suggest?”, asked Harley Quinn, smiling innocently, and leaning forward slightly. “Tell me, my friend, what should we eat this fine day?”

“If my ladies would allow me”, he said, “I would like to suggest some lightly fried goldfish, topped with some mustard sauce. Ah, and what mustard we have for you. It is indeed, a special mustard, called ‘kasundi’, from the exotic land of Bengal in faraway India.”

Throwing back her head in laughter, Harley said, “Okay, my little friend, let’s have this.”

“I seem to have seen him before”, said Mary Jane, with a frown. “But…… where?”

Soon enough, another little man came by, with a huge plate of steaming hot goldfish, with a golden yellow mustard sauce liberally poured over it.

“Smell the aroma, my ladies”, he smiled. Or, did he smirk? Mary Jane was convinced that he had smirked, and she was suspicious. Was something afoot?

Harley leaned forward to take a deep breath, and at that instant, a huge explosion of gas seemed to erupt from the fish.

“Mustard gas…..”, she seemed to hear, as a hand grabbed her.

Her senses reeling, she was losing consciousness rapidly, and the last thing that she thought she heard, was a manic cackle; a cacophony of insane laughter that she had thought she would never hear again in her life.

Part 16

Unnoticed by people on the ground, bats had been circling in the air for a long while, and soon enough they returned to the Bat Cave. The Bat had read about magicians in the Third Age, and how they had used crows, ravens and other birds as spies. He had trained bats to be his loyal spies.

He had always congratulated himself on reading a lot of history, especially of the times before The Fourth Age – the Age of Man. He drew much inspiration from these times, and prided himself on being much more than a grim-faced man in a cloak, with a bag of tricks and fancy gadgets.

The news left him cold. He sat alone in his chamber for a while, his blood turning to ice. It hardly seemed to move in his blood vessels, and his face looked silvery blue, almost translucent. He sat there for hours, contemplating his next move, and then abruptly got up.

In their bedroom, Poison Ivy was pacing up and down, wondering where he was, when the door opened. Quietly, every so quietly, it opened, and she stood facing the man who had become her partner, accomplice and lover. He seemed to give off a silvery aura, and she froze at his touch. Looking deep into his eyes, she seemed to fall into the depths of Hell.

Hell, was not just a place of eternal flame. A correction, if you please – Hell was not just a place of eternal, scorching flame. It was also a place of cold, barbaric ice.

She looked deep into his eyes, out her hands on his shoulders, and then closed her eyes. After a long while, she quietened her mind, and stood there in silence. They seemed to stand there a long time, and then suddenly they both opened their eyes at the same time.

Flecks of blue danced in his black eyes, and flecks of red danced in her green ones. Hers was the Hell of the scorching flame, a perfect counterpart to his icy, bitter, cold Hell. They were now were the perfect partners.

Until this moment, they had been joined together in body, and in their passion for crime. They were now joined in their hearts and souls. Their souls joined together in harmony, and seemed to twist around each other – a coiled rope, if you may – ice and fire running up and down the length of it.

“It is time”, he said, “for us to leave.”

“Where to?”, she asked.

“We need to teach some errant young boys, who is the master of it all”, he said.

She stepped back, and looked deep into his eyes.

“Do you still love Harley?”, she asked

“No”, said the Bat. “Love for her died a long while ago, but I do have a fondness for her. I love you.”

“I love you too”, she replied with a smile. “Let’s go.”

There was a moment of silence, and then she giggled. “Let’s unleash some hell….”

The Bat smiled. “I will freeze that cackling laugh.”


Part Seventeen

Darkness engulfed them. They groped about, flailing their arms and coughing in the musty room, and finally their fingers touched.

Her breath rasping, Harley managed a croak, ‘The Dark Knight will come for us’.

A tight slap sent her reeling back. ‘You still have feelings for him, you bitch’, came an angry voice in the dark. ‘How could you?’

‘No, I have no feelings for him. But, he and I have a legacy, and he will respect this.’, replied Harley. Her fingers reached for Mary Jane’s face in the dark, and she squeaked, ‘Please darling, you must believe me’.

A long pause followed, and then came a reluctant, “oh, alright” through the darkness that enveloped them.

Light streamed in through a break in the wall, and a cackling laugh was heard. The room was suddenly filled with blinding light, and the two girls found themselves huddled in a corner of their room, shielding their faces. Ice seemed to run through their veins, and they froze in fear and panic.

Fighting back the desire to blubber like fools, they lay back, hands held tight.

“So, you think you could escape us?”, a voice sneered. Mary Jane opened her eyes slowly, to see Spidey sneering at her. His eyes and demeanor had changed, and he was no longer the loving Spider she had known. He was a stranger- arrogant, cocky, insolent and full of anger. He seemed to want to assert his superiority over her at all costs, and he stood there in the arrogance of his pride in having her as his prisoner.

Meanwhile, two smaller gentlemen appeared from behind his knees. The two hobbits no longer seemed the gentle souls that she had known. A sneaky vengefulness and spite seemed to have entered their mien, and she could not believe the transformation.

Finally, a foul, cackling breath hung close to Harley’s lips, and she opened her eyes, to look at the Joker. He was on his hands and knees in front of her, cackling with a wild glee.

A darkness seemed to have come over the four men who beheld the two women who sat crouched in the corner.

A darkness also entered the hearts of the two women.

Ah, but The Dark has many shades, and many characteristics. The Dark manifests itself differently in different beings, and brings out some of the essential traits of the person it enters.

The Dark entered the six people in the room, and what different shades we see before us.

Let me, Loki – Prince of Darkness, cause the six to freeze for a while, and let me ask you – what do you see?

Do you see the Darkness of anger and hatred enter the two women? Do you see the Darkness of spite, pride and cruelty enter the men? Do you see the Darkness of sneakiness enter the two Hobbits?

What will I bring to the table now? What shall you see? Do your eyes pierce the veil of illusion? Or, will you allow yourself be carried gently into the cool night, to seek the direction this tale shall now take?


Part Eighteen

Mary Jane opened her eyes, and all she could see in the dark was a pair of glowing eyes. She almost screamed, and then managed to suppress her voice.

‘Who are you?’, she asked in a whisper. Harley Quinn was sleeping by her side.

‘Ah, you have forgotten me’, said a voice full of malice and spite.

‘Frodo?’, she asked, a bit hesitatingly.

‘Yes, it is me, Frodo. You seemed to have forgotten me, or how much you liked me. Ah yes. Now you are my prisoner. I will make you pay for your forgetfulness.’

His voice thrilled with malice, and he raised a knife to his lips. He held a candle with the other hand, and the light danced up and down on the blade. The blade seemed to smell blood, and the light danced to the smell and anticipation of blood being spilled.

Mary Jane shrank back, and seemed to cringe. She closed her eyes, expecting to feel sharp steel on her skin at any moment. Her blood seemed to congeal inside her, and the pain seemed to reach her nerve endings.

‘Please, Frodo’, she whispered, eyes shut tight. ‘Just think of the good times we had. We sang, drank and danced together. I did not betray you. I just ran from Spidey, and then I met Harley. Can you blame me for accidentally falling in love with her? You were always my chosen one, my precious.’

She opened her eyes slightly, and peered into his face half hidden in shadow. The flickering light lit up the shadows in his eyes. He looked at her and closed his eyes. He seemed to be thinking, dreaming of something.

Images of the past flashed in his brain; the memories of the two of them sitting and drinking coffee, smoking a pipe, and singing. He remembered that she was the only one who did not laugh when he spoke of The Dark Lord, and of the days of dragons and Elves.

He reeled back, eyes closed, as memories of the happier times with Mary Jane flashed into his brain. After a while, he sat up and looked at her, chest heaving with emotion.

‘My precious’, he repeated. The memory of the time when she had first said that flashed into his brain, and for a moment he was transported to that evening not so long ago, when they sat by the riverside, watching the sun go down. ‘My precious’, she had said then, and she had said it again now.

“Quick”, he muttered, almost like a madman. “Let’s go”

Untying her knots, he pushed her up to a standing position. “Wait”, she whispered. “We must take Harley with us”

“Must we?”, he asked, almost in anger.

“Yes, my precious, we must”

Quickly freeing Harley, they got up to leave. Crawling slowly, Frodo opened the door, and they crawled outside.

Stillness permeated the night, and they crawled in the dark. Freedom beckoned them, one step at a time. Finally, they reached a window to the road, and the cold blast of the night greeted them with a refreshing newness.

A thud, and a body fell to the floor. A hand grasped Mary Jane’s ankle, as she was slowly climbing out of the window.

“No……”, said a voice filled with anger, hate and malice. “My preciousssss….. she cannot leave….. Frodo wanted her all for himself did he? No……  Precioussss    is       mine….. Mine…. Mine……. “

A sudden memory lit up Mary Jane’s brain, and she was transported back to a night in her old home, when she was woken up by a voice saying, “Preciousssss, Preciousss, Precioussss”. How could she have been so blind, so as not to have noticed that first sign of Sam’s descent into madness.

The desire for freedom, and a strong distaste for Sam filled her suddenly, and she kicked with all her might.

A scream resounded in the night, and Sam’s bloody face, and his screaming voice was the last image that she took with her, as she and Harley made their crazed dash back to freedom.


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