Damaged Beyond Repair (Joker Fanfiction)

Chapter Four: Jack Napier

I growled in anger and tore open the nightstand drawer, searching frantically for any type of ammo that could be used, but I found nothing. I felt even worse than before, now that I'd actually had spark of hope, only to see it be extinguished not a moment later. The only things in his nightstand were a few wads of money, another, empty, handgun, a few rings and chains, and, oddly enough, an old newspaper.

I pulled the newspaper out, unfolding it curiously, and noticed that one article had been circled in black sharpie. The headline read "Jack Napier, honor student at Gotham City High, sent to Arkham Asylum after stabbing father to death." There was a picture of the boy on the side. He wasn't too bad looking after all, and I even thought there was something familiar about him, though I couldn't place my finger on it. I quickly read through the article, wondering why the Joker had kept this. Who was Jack Napier? And why would a teenager stab his father to death? Looking through the article, it seemed as if he'd had everything. There were several quotes from students that had known him, saying things like "I never thought he'd do this," or "He was a great friend, no one could have ever seen this coming." One girl said "He was missing a lot of school lately, and we knew he had family issues after his mom passed away a few months ago, but we didn't know he'd ever do anything like this. He was never a violent person before this happened."

It seemed as if this "Jack Napier" person had just snapped one day and went completely insane. I couldn't even imagine killing one of my own family members. I killed for my brother. But I'd never kill my own flesh and blood. I shuddered and placed the newspaper back into the nightstand exactly as I found it.

The room smelled of gunpowder, smoke, and faintly of alcohol, I noticed as I inhaled deeply. It wasn't a bad smell, either. Kind of comforting in a way.

I walked over to the closet in the corner and saw a lot of fancy and expensive outfits hanging up. I gaped at them in shock. I'd never be able to afford anything like this.

As I looked around the closet, my eyes landed on a dusty box on the shelf up top, tucked away into the corner. Curiosity got the best of me and I stood on my tiptoes to reach it, pulling it down and grunting with how surprisingly heavy it was.

I dusted the box off and brought it over to the bed, plopping it down onto the purple comforter and opening it, half expecting it to be another stash of money.

But it wasn't.

The box was filled with pictures. Old, worn out pictures, but pictures just the same. On top of the pile was a photograph of a young boy, probably six or seven, standing next to a beautiful young lady, smiling happily. The image of two people so happy made me smile, despite the situation I was in.

I looked through some more pictures, and the further along I got, the older the pair looked. There were a few pictures with a man in them, presumably the woman's wife, but his head had been cut out of the picture.

One picture made me pause. The boy in the photograph now looked to be 16 or 17, and I realized that I recognized him. This was the same boy from the newspaper in the Joker's nightstand drawer. Jack Napier.

All of the puzzle pieces started fitting together. The Joker's real identity was Jack Napier, and he'd first gone to Arkham Asylum as a teenager after stabbing his father to death. That's why every picture of his father had been cut out in these photographs. But he'd loved his mother dearly.

I remembered the girl in the newspaper saying that his mother had passed away a few months before he'd killed his father, and I let out a shallow sigh. He must have really been hurting... although that gave him no excuse to kill his father.

I casually flipped through a few more photographs until I came across another newspaper clipping. It was an obituary.

"Charlotte Napier, dead at 36". I read the article, and it explained that the cause of death was a home robbery that ended badly. Poor Jack...