Ace Walker: Son of Joker

The Joker

It was dark again, but this darkness was more familiar. He was back in the basement, lying on his stomach, sprawled as if he had been tossed like a doll. Trying to sit up, he pushed up onto his elbows and felt his back protest. Tears welled up in his eyes but he continued the strenuous labor of sitting upright. His shirt was tossed next to him but he didn't make any move to put it back on. He had to see what had been done to him. He had to see. Ace struggled his way to the broken mirror in the corner. A shocked gasp escaped from his mouth.

The burn had left its mark in more then just his pain. It was apparent it would scar. Spanning the length of his back, from shoulder blades to the base of his spine and out to where his ribs bent forward was a rectangular playing card. A Joker. Ace ran a finger across it. The mark was deep enough to where he could feel the ridges of his skin in places that had been scorched off entirely. The skin was warn to his touch, like a sunburn.

What is that? He looked back by where he had woken up. It was lying by where his shirt was. How could he have missed it? Ace made his way back to the little silver box and picked it up. Now that he held it, Ace recognized that what he now possessed was a lighter. Fire. Eagerly, he flipped open the lid and was mesmerized by the small flame in his hands.

The door opened once again and down came Joker. Ace snapped it closed and into his pocket, not wanting it to be taken away. The man walked over and looked the boy over. "No more surprises today. We are just going to talk. Come up in two." He turned and walked back up the stairs without a backwards glance to be sure he was following him.

Ace stared at where the man had been standing. He wanted to talk? Just talk? Standing up, he followed his steps up that stairs and to the other room. He liked this room better then the brick one in the garage of the building. The room was cleaner, and much less cluttered. It had a few miss-matched couches, a bookcase in one corner, and a tv on the wall. The pale clown was on one couch, a metal cup in hand watching the news. "You wanted to uh...talk, sir?" Maybe it would be an apology for burning his back.

The Joker sat up, still watching the screen. He didn't seem to have heard Ace. "Dad?"Ace tried. He turned around, a smile spreading and causing his trademark scar.

"There ya go. Have a seat my boy." The clown pointed to an orange couch next to Ace. The boy sat down and tried not to stare, from both his shock and at those hideous scars. He looked away from the clown as he brought the cup Ace knew was full of the green drink in the garage to his lips. Instead, he focused on the tv, which displayed a nervous looking news reporter in front of a smoldering shop building. Glass from what was left of the windows was everywhere in the street, suggesting the shop had been blown from the inside.

...thankfully no one was injured. As investigations continue, it is clear this attack was intended to terrorize locals. According to eye-witnesses, the suspect was seen leaving the scene in a purple suit and green hair after going into the shop, pocketing a piece of merchandise, and tossing another grenade into the back of the building causing the second explosion. Firefighters reported the register was left undistrubed and...

The man laughed, he had been giggling the entire time the reporter spoke, but he had hit a peak. Ace turned and looked at the man curiously. He failed to see the humor in this.

"Ace?"

Ace looked back at the Joker. He held up a pack of cards to the boy and waved him over with the other hand that contained his drink as he sat on the wood floor. After rising from his seat, Ace walked over cautiously. When the man patted the floor next to him, he sat down. The man started laying out the cards, seperating them by color and then set them up by ranking. Twos below threes below fours. Then he shuffled them and lay them out in pyramids. He set it up so that the joker stood atop the ace in both pyramids.

"Look here." He gestured to the cards he had laid out in piles. "Ace, this is our standings. In the world we live, people have a place. Everyone is a card. Some are fours and some are kings." He pointed to the cards in the black pyramid. "We are a bit different. You see, we aren't classified as regulars in a game of cards. A joker is sometimes kept from the game. An ace can be worth the most...or the least; it all depends on the game. But when we are in the game, we are the strongest. Right now, you rank under me, but what about when I am gone?" He took the joker card from the demonstration, leaving the black ace of spades on the top. "Then you will be the top dog, to say." He smiled, deepening the sick scars on his face as he looked at his son.

Ace tried not to meet his gaze. He really didn't trust this man. Even still, he was curious to know what he was talking about. "Why does there need to be someone on top? Why does everyone need to have a rank?"

That seemed to make him mad. Joker's face contorted into a scowl, making him look crazed with his permedant smile. "No. That would never work. Everyone is a greedy human being. They only think of themselves. That's all they care about. People in this world will do anything to have power, even if it means stepping on those around them to get there." He breathed and turned his attention back to the news, taking a sip from his cup. "Maybe next time, I'll take you with me when I run out." He pointed at the reporter, who was now interviewing some of the victims of the explosion. "It could be a ... father/son thing. Y'know, for bonding."

Horror clear on the boy's face, he couldn't help but ask "When did you do that?"

Joker looked over at him. "Oh this morning. I went out after you had your little episode." Ace clenched his teeth but he continued. "I didn't really want to waste the rest of my morning waiting on you, so I went out." He seemed to be weighing something over in his head as he looked Ace over. "Hungry?"