Welcome to another exciting story of mine! WOO! Alright. It's not excited, I know. I've had this story mostly typed up for months now and I was thinking that if I just throw it out there for people to read, I might be motivated to finish! If not then... I'm sorry for wasting your time.

Warning... this story might be sad. Please don't get angry at me.

I got the idea for this story by reading a summary on one of the Diamond games.

I do not own any of the characters. They belong to Quinrose.

The young boy watched in horror as the sword slashed deeply into his caretaker's chest. He felt rage well up inside his heart and asked himself why. Why was this happening? His caretaker has never done anything wrong. The man was a peaceful man with a cottage separated from the rest of the world, the bloody, fatal world where people killed for apparently no reason. The world that was deemed the name of Wonderland, a land of wonder. That, however, was not the case. Instead, it was a place full of death. Some welcomed death and others just brushed it off. Nobody was afraid to die. Nobody. However, this young, faceless child couldn't just brush off the ruthless killing of the man who had cared for him for so long. The boy glared at the murderer, the man who he would grow to hate with every fiber of his body.

"Who are you?!" the boy growled at the man. He quickly found his way to the side of his guardian who was still alive, but barely. The man gasped for air. Crimson liquid leaked from his wound and stained the grass beneath. "W-why did you do this?!" The boy felt tears well up in his invisible eyes.

"I am the Executioner," the man before him stated dully. He then used his cloak to wipe away the blood that stained his blade before sheathing it. He looked up at the boy with eyes hidden behind a mask. His eyes as red as the blood that was speckled across his face and as full of rage and hate as the young boy. Or possibly even more so… The man pondered for a moment, eyeing the gasping man on the ground. "I did it… because I wanted to." He paused for a moment before turning to leave the small grove that the boy and his caretaker were in.

"Just because you wanted to?!" the boy yelled, enraged at the man who had turned his back to him. "That is not a good reason to kill!"

"It is a perfectly acceptable answer," the cloaked man grumbled. "In this world, it is as good of a reason as any!" The boy clenched his fists and ran at the man. With no weapons, the boy could only beat on the man's back with his fists. The man didn't respond as the boy pounded his fists as hard as he could against his body. Tears flooded the boy's eyes as his strength weakened. His knees gave out and the young boy sat on the ground, shaking with emotion.

"W-why?" the boy asked, his voice shaking with fear. "Why must you kill? I don't… I don't understand."

"You don't need to understand!" the swordsman laughed. A twisted smile appeared on his face as he turned back to the boy. "This world is all about death! To survive you must kill!"

"But-"

"Get stronger, kid." The man said. "Learn to kill and get stronger. That is the only way to survive." Once again, the man turned to leave. The boy was unable to move and stop the executioner. He watched in horror as the man's receding form disappeared into the trees.

"Ace…" the dying man wheezed, clutching his fists. He coughed slightly as blood began to drip from his lips. "Ace." He croaked out again, calling to the young man. He quickly made his way to his caretaker's side, tripping over himself on his way. The boy named Ace couldn't speak and could only grasp at the man.

"I-It's alright A-Ace…" the man sputtered. He took in a sharp breath and flinched. "You… You will be alright."

"NOOOO!" Ace forced the words out of his mouth. "DON'T DIE!" His yelling did no good. His caretaker was fading fast.

"Ace…" the man whispered using up his final breath. His body grew limp. The boy named Ace hugged his caretaker's lifeless body. It was already growing cold.

"No…" the boy whispered. "No. No!"

~x~x~x~

"NO!" An older Ace yelled out, waking from the dream that had haunted his life. He clutched his chest in pain, feeling that his clock was still ticking. The day that his guardian died was the day everything changed. After that day, Ace didn't care about life. Ace didn't care about living or dying. He didn't care about letting those who were innocent live. All he cared about was surviving. Surviving to seek revenge. Revenge on the man who did this. Revenge for losing his beloved caretaker…

Nobody knew the teen still held the man's clock. Nobody came to him for the clock. Nobody forced him to give up the only thing left of the man who raised him…

Ace stretched slightly as he woke himself up more. There was no use in going back to sleep, the dream would continue to haunt him and grant him no true rest. He unconsciously ran his hand through his short, brunet hair before he rolled up his sleeping bag and took down the tent. He was living in the woods, unable to live in the cottage that he once called home. He was lost without his guardian, both mentally and physically. He could not find the path to the cottage, nor to the other places within Wonderland. Not that he had much reason to go to those places. So he stayed in the forest, living off the land as he was taught to.

He clenched the stick that he used to train himself in his fists. Since the day of the murder, the boy trained day in and day out. He trained himself in the arts of the sword. He built up his strength so that one day he could complete his need for revenge.

Somewhere nearby, there was a slight chuckle. Ace quickly spun around to try to find the source of this laughter, pointing his "sword" in all directions.

"Who goes there?" the brunet barked. He continued to stare down the trees around him, watching for the intruder.

"I am no foe." The voice sneered as a man stepped out from behind a tree. He held up his hands as if to surrender. His clothes were colored with reds and blacks. One eye was covered with a patch while the other glimmered red. Red like the eyes that haunted him in his sleep. Ace's grip on the stick tightened as he watched the man warily. Red hair drooped in the face of the man. His head was topped with a strange hat. Ace knew this was not the man who had killed his caretaker. The red eyes were not as deep or hate filled as the eyes from before. A smile played on the jester's lips.

"Who are you?" Ace snarled, untrusting of the bearers of faces. This role holder had no business with a young faceless man such as Ace, or so Ace thought.

"I am Joker." The man said, bowing slightly. He looked up with a crooked smile that twisted on both ends.

"What is it you want, role holder?" he hissed back, his words rolling off his tongue like poison. Role holders, how he hated them. The executioner was a role holder. They held no regards for those without faces.

"I have… A proposition for you."

"I'm not interested." Ace quickly said before turning to leave.

"But you didn't even hear what I had to say." The Joker sighed, slightly disappointed.

"I don't care." Ace growled. "I have more important things to do than barter my soul to the devil."

"What a painful way to say it, young man." The redhead frowned. Before Ace knew it, the man had him pinned to the ground. He struggled to break free but the man on top of him was strong. The Joker, who was practically sitting on the boy, laughed at his failed attempts. "Learn to respect your elders." He spat. Then, the Joker quickly reached around and pushed his hand into the Ace's breast pocket and pulled out the broken clock that he carried with him.

"NO!" he cried out, struggling to break free. "Eugh! Let me go you bastard!"

"It is against the rules to withhold a clock from the clockmaker, you know." The redhead said, threateningly. "I could lock you away for a long time and you would never see this clock again."

"P-please! Give that back! I'll do anything you want!" Ace called out, trying to break free. Tears welled up in his invisible eyes once more. "J-just don't h-hurt him!" the Joker smirked as he got up off the teen. He did not, however, give back the clock.

"Now, listen to my words." Joker said, pursing his lips. Ace gently rubbed at his wrists before nodding at the man. "You have much potential. I wish to harness this potential before anybody else."

"I don't understand." Ace whispered, eyeing the man and the clock he held up.

"I am the being that keeps order in this world." The Joker said bluntly. "I rule the prison, I punish those who have done wrong. However," he paused for a moment, picking up the stick that Ace once held like a sword. In the blink of an eye, the man turned the stick into a real sword. "I require the assistance of an executioner."

"Executioner…!" the boy's eyes widened as rage built up in his chest. He clenched his fists. "I would nev-"

"Don't be so hasty to decline my offer." The redhead warned, holding the blade up to the clock that he held in his hand. "You haven't even heard the entirety of my offer." The rage still bubbled up inside Ace, but he couldn't do anything. The man before him still held the clock that was so dear to him. He lowered his head in defeat. "You will become my executioner and kill all that I order you to and, in return, I shall bring back the soul of this clock."

"EH?!" Ace gasped, falling to his knees. His eyes wide as he looked at the Joker. "B-bring… bring him back?!"

"Yes," the jester nodded. Then he added "I would have uses for him."

"If you can really bring him back, I shall kill any man that stands against you." Ace declared, touching his forehead to the ground in a bow. "Tell me who you wish to be killed and the job shall be done!"

"Calm down, child. You have so much to learn." He snapped. Ace was drawn aback.

"But I-"

"This clock can wait for you to learn how to properly wield a killing tool." The Joker offered the blade that he held to the boy. As soon as Ace's fingers tightened around the hilt, he released it. Ace flinched at the weight of it, nearly dropping the heavy thing. "A stick and a sword are two completely different things. You cannot learn to hold the sword by wielding a stick." He snapped his fingers and the heavy sword quickly returned to its original form. The brunet's eyes narrowed at the light piece of wood that was now in his hands. He snapped the thing in two and threw it away. His eyes fixated on the clock once more.

"Teach me how to kill."

Thank you for reading and please review. Reviews will TOTALLY motivate me.