DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters, as much as that would be great, alas...
SUMMARY- PLEASE READ: The story of how the Joker came to be, using an alternate route, not the vat of acid thing. Just wanted to write a whole new take on this character and his life. I've made up some new characters and changed the outcome of a few. This is based off of the looks of the new movie (The Dark Knight) and off of Ledger's Joker and just the way he looked normally. (Remember that "normally" part, its important for the first part of the story) May he rest in peace, he is going to be extraordinary, fearless, scary, amazing, all of the above and much more. This is written in honor of his last movie, I hope you all like it. R&R please
DEAD WEIGHT
The long mahogany table stretched into the dining hall, draped in the finest green silk table cloth money could buy. Opalescent champagne glasses and fine dinner wear was laid out, each of the plates was spaced equally. White candles and low lit chandeliers made the room glow with a medieval sort of light. Car doors thudded shut out side and the guests were ushered to the side door as to not call attention to their whereabouts. Men in tailored suits and coats filed in murmuring to each other, while looking about this beautiful and dangerous place they had been invited to. Sam O'Connor stood at the end of the table ready to take his enemies into his arms.
"Gentlemen!" he said bowing slightly and snapping at the butlers to take their coats.
Joe Ciardi and his crew of about five men walked in procession to the opposite end of the table. Joe stopped to talk to Sam.
"We're keeping our promise? What we agreed on?" Sam nodded.
"I remember last time, you made me and my boys look like we had shit for brains. Very unprofessional. Remember, I came here tonight to show that I as well as my crew have class, as we always have and that it doesn't blow in with the northern wind."
Joe's ominous form moved closer in on Sam. "So, that wont happen again will it O'Connor..." They locked eyes, Ciardi was testing him, knowing what a short fuse he is, seeing if he would repeat his last folly. Joe walked away leaving Sam to simmer in his own frustration. Truth be told, it wasn't his fault. "Damn you Jack." Sam thought to himself."That boys too smart for his own good. We can both get dipped in shit and he'll come out smellin' like a rose. Always a little too charming, a little too witty, a little too he cant keep from smiling at Ciardi's girlfriend. He knows full well what he was doing, but..." Jack entered the room dressed in a grey tailored suit. He winked at Ciardi as he passed."Always two steps ahead of everyone here, including my self and more importantly, Ciardi and his crew. That's why he's my top hit man..."
Sam sat at the head of the table. Dinner had gone somewhat smoothly, though he could start to see Ciardi's temper bubbling up. Sam could tell that he hated being in his house, hated not being the one in power, hated knowing that if him or any of his men tried to pull anything, not only would they all be dead in matter of seconds but it would start a full on mob war in the streets of Gotham. The tension threatened to snap at any moment, like an over stressed violin string. Both bosses knew that they didn't need any more publicity than they already received from the weekly police reports. Once again Sam had to thank Jack for this underhanded power play.
"There's no way it wont work." Jack had told him a week before. "They'll be completely powerless. They'll have to listen to us and more importantly, have to keep their mouths shut, and..." Jack had leaned over Sam's desk, his sandy blonde hair looking particularly disheveled. "All those shipments of dope he wants off the south docks wont move them selves. He knows he needs our help, and in order to get it sacrifices will have to be made on his behalf." Sam had gotten up, patting Jack on the back. Good thinking Napier..."
Jack looked around the table, scanning Ciardi's crew as well as Sam's. He finally arrived at the man sitting across from him, a beefy brainless looking hulk belonging to Ciardi's crew. He was staring at Jack with an unexpected shrewdness.
"What a waste of time." He thought to himself. "We've made our point and Ciardi has already agreed to everything. My plan worked, so what else is there?" He glanced at Sam, a feeling of disgust came over him. "Talk about a waste, working for king ignoramus him self. These two "powerful" men, these top mob figures of Gotham: they don't know their ass from a hole in the ground." Jack looked at Joe, finding that he was staring right back. A broad impish grin spread over his face. Joe stood up and threw down his napkin.
"We're done here... I will not stand to sit here and have this sonuvabitch cad grin at me!" Joe's crew got up also. "What the hell O'Connor, he disgraced me last time and now you let him sit here and do this?! Smile at me?!" Joe pointed at Jack. "What are you thinking, huh? What are you thinking!" The beefy man who had been sitting across from Jack pulled out a gun and pointed it at Jack's chest. Instantly both Joe and Sam's men all had guns pointing at one another. Jack still sat in his chair looking him straight in the eye.
"Go ahead, sweet cheeks, see what happens." "Shut up Jack!" Sam bellowed.
Joe lowered his gun and the rest followed reluctantly. Slipping his gun back into his coat Joe started to march out of the dining hall, his crew following. He pointed at Sam. "This is far from over O'Connor." He turned his back, his voice echoing harshly through the cavernous room. "You keep that puckish excuse for a man away from me and as for the those shipments at the docks, we can do with out you."
The heavy door thudded shut as the last of Joe's men left, leaving the room and Sam's men silent. Sam turned and placed his gun on the table. He looked around the room at the stony faces staring back at him out of the dusky air. He ran a weary hand over his face.
"Jack you stay here, the rest of you can leave, we're done." They all cleared out quickly and soon only the two were left. Jack slouched back in his chair. Sam walked over and stood directly next to him. "Stand up." Jack remained seated looking straight ahead. "I said stand up, boy. I'll bash that pretty face of yours in if you don't get up right-now." Jack stood up coming eye to eye with Sam. They both stood motionless until Sam spoke. "Why... why did you do that. You just screwed me and the rest of my guys including yourself out of a huge amount of money and now Joe's probably got a hit out for you. You're my top hit man, your smart..." Sam stepped closer his voice rising. "Which makes me wonder why you just did this! Why huh?!" Sam grabbed a steak knife off the table and held it to Jack's neck. Jack backed up grabbing one also pressing the tip firmly into Sam's side. "Whaddaya gonna do hmm?" Sam said pressing the blade deeper. Blood started trickling down Jack's neck and soaking into his shirt. "You gonna spill my guts all over your nice shoes? Watch me bleed to death?" Jack smirked. "Just give me the word, Sammy, and I'll do the honors." Their eyes locked for a brief second, then Jack pushed Sam backwards sending him off balance. He jumped on the table and slid across, dragging the table cloth off the edge causing plates and silverware to crash to the floor. Sam regained his balance and started running after Jack grabbing his gun off the table. Jack was already almost to the door he slid his own gun out of his jacket just as Sam fired two shots at him, one grazing his left shoulder. Jack ducked around the corner. He could hear other men coming down from the upstairs, yelling to each other.
"Show your face godammit!" Sam roared as he advanced on Jacks hiding place, and before Sam could react Jack darted out and fired two shots into his head.
As he burst through the side door he spotted one of Sam's body guards in a black SUV. He fired another shot through the window killing the driver. He shoved the body into the passenger's seat and floored it. Soon the SUV was tearing down the long driveway into the inky night. He could see another pair of headlights in the rear view mirror advancing quickly. Jack turned onto the low road that would lead straight into the heart of Gotham. Luckily he had never told any one where he lived so all he had to do was ditch the car and make sure his brains didn't get blown out.
"Simple enough." He thought to himself. There were no more car lights behind him. The SUV barreled down the narrow street at ninety seven miles an hour. He looked over at the dead body slouched next to him, a stunned expression plastered on its face. Jack started to cackle uncontrollably.
"Stupid bastard! HHEEEAAHAHAHAHA!! Im glad your dead!!"
Soon he was in the dingy east side of Gotham. He pulled into an alleyway and turned off the car. No one was around except for a street person in the opposing alley. He calmly took the bottle of scotch the body guard had been drinking out of the cup holder and began to pour it over the seats, chugging the last bit left in the bottom. He took out his lighter and threw it onto the front seat, then turned his back and walked out of the alley leaving the last bit of evidence to burn its self away.
The pain in his shoulder was becoming increasingly worse and already his shirt and back were soaked with blood. His apartment was only a few blocks away.
"So what if I bleed to death... at least the pig is gone. Ill die a happy man in the middle of a disease ridden street. Now that's glory." He started to laugh again drawing the attention of a prostitute who hit on him from the corner. He took out his gun and fired it at the lamp post next to her. She screamed and ran down the side walk almost tripping over herself.
"One down, one to go." Jack said to himself.