Joker
Story Two: Gotham's Red Knight
Chapter One: Inauguration
Happy tales too you, dear reader! This is Story Two in my Joker Origins series. If you haven't read Story One, then I suggest you do so before moving on. It has been too long a break but luckily, I have completed a large chunk of my novel so now I can return to doing what I love to do most: keeping you entertained.
'Gotham's Red Knight' is very different to 'Start of a Joke' as you will soon discover. We're moving into completely uncharted territory here and let me tell you, this was very difficult to write. New characters, new settings mixed with classic themes and references, I hope you enjoy the little details as much as I have adding them in. Feel free to review or PM you opinion on the story, but above all, enjoy!
Side Note: Thank you very much MintierBadger, Keywee and Nina Feliz for your great support and reviews! I hope you both enjoy this story as much as (or more than) the first!
Large cloudy white lights slowly hovered around him. They disappeared and reappeared around the corners of his eyes. Echoing sounds could be heard in the distance but he was so tired, so very tired, that he couldn't make any of them out. A gentle clatter above him, the soft rumble underneath, a mixture of warmth and chill on his skin. It was all so puzzling to this boy. He was about to ignore it all and close his eyes when the pain throbbed in his head, waking him up entirely. All the noises became deafening, the feelings increased in sensation and the lights searing. There was so much movement for such a small car. The outside whizzed by in a flurry of headlights and rain, the random sudden honk of a horn blaring in his ears, making them hurt. The car jumped up and down, jolting along with the imperfections of the road, making him feel sick and dizzy. All too unkindly of the universe, the heat suddenly vanished from his body, plunging him into a shivering fit. "You guys take it easy!" insisted Red, watching the boy lying on his lap. The coats weren't working and the car heater hadn't kicked in yet. "He's pitching a fit."
"I can't drive slower unless you wanna get pulled over." Talked back Zed, having enough trouble as it was keeping a clear view of the road ahead.
"We can get pulled over." Rebutted Trent in the passenger seat. "It's not like we got a dead guy on us anymore."
"We got guns on us, moron! You try to explain to a cop why three guys and an out-cold kid are coming from the docks with a recently fired shooter!" dared Zed. "And when he sees the trunk full o' blood, you think that won't tip him off?"
"He was shot in the warehouse."
"Yeah, but we gave him a preview before the premiere to get him in the car. More juice than a tomato."
"You guys shut up!" ordered Red, seeing the boy's discomfort at all the noise. His eyes were swirling in their sockets at all the sharp movement. "Just get us there without mouthing off." He cupped his hand on the boy's cheek and leant in close. "Hey. Focus on me. Look at me." He said quietly. The darting eyes slowed down until they met with Red's. "We're gonna help you out, okay? Are you okay?"
Suddenly, there was a loud crash and, as if time had been taken away, the boy found himself being carried into a small kitchen. It had been transformed into some kind of makeshift surgery room despite the fact that it was clearly falling apart. Red and Trent laid him down on the table. Zed was in the far corner with another man who didn't look so pleased. "What is this?" he asked, astounded by what the others had dragged in. "Are you guys nut?! You brought a kid in here?!" He was shushed aside as a fifth man entered wearing operating gloves and scrubs.
"We found him on the pier just lying there out cold." Said Red. "Anything you can do, Hillocks?" The man with the gloves examined the boy thoroughly with the rest looking on.
"He's suffering from...exposure. Hypothermia, pneumonia, I can't be sure." He guessed.
"What do you mean you can't be sure?"
"I do bullet wounds, Red. I'm not exactly qualified." Hillocks returned to the boy. "We need to change his clothes, dry him off and get him somewhere warm. In the meantime, I'll see if I can treat this gash on his forehead. It'll need some stitch work; be thankful I know that much-"
"Whoa, hold on a second!" shouted the man with Zed. Hillocks started getting prepared while the others turned their attention to the man. "Am I the only one who doesn't like this in the slightest? That you brought a boy into our hideout!"
"Nobody cares about your opinion, Hunt! I call the shots, here!" enforced Red.
"I don't think you've taken into consideration the implications of bringing him here!" fought back the man called Hunt. "You don't know a thing about the kid; he could have a family that will send the cops looking for him! He could escape and talk about how he was taken to this place to the wrong people! What then? You gonna feel good about yourself for calling the shots and the cops down on us?!"
"He's got a point, boss." Agreed Trent. "I'm all for helping the kid, but we shouldn't have brought him here."
"So we attempt surgery in the back of a moving car? Yeah, great plan." Scoffed Zed.
"What else were we supposed to do?" asked Red.
"Dump him at the freaking hosp-" screamed Hunt but Hillocks had just had enough.
"Quiet! All of you!" he roared, silencing everyone else. "Take it outside and settle it. He's here now and I need to work. Your shouting match isn't contributing to his recovery rate so get the hell out." Hunt was about to argue back but Trent held him, leading him out of the kitchen.
Zed was next to leave, muttering; "Insensitive prick." Red followed, pausing for a moment at the door to see the boy one last time. As Red turned away, the boy looked down at his arm where Hillocks was injecting a syringe full of liquid. He tried to sit up but Hillocks softly held him down with the aid of the sedative draining his energy.
"You'll be all right, kid. When you wake up, it'll..."
The morning had come so slowly. Only Red seemed unaffected; pacing up and down slowly, only two steps forwards and back. Hunt just watched him, unimpressed and downright disappointed that their leader could be so stupid. Zed, Trent and Barlow were seated around a small table playing cards but very quietly. Hammond, who had arrived with Barlow earlier that morning, was sitting on a stool, reading a newspaper. Only the clock, the occasional flick of a card and the rustle of paper broke the silence in the bar. At least the place wasn't due to open for another three hours, so there would be plenty of time. They were all just waiting for the news about the boy. Some hoping that he will pull through while others...didn't. One man, Hammond, didn't really care. "Hey, look at 'dis." He said, opening up the paper so that the headline was visible to all; 'Tragedy Strikes Gotham'. "Looks like da Wayne family got wacked. Joe Chill. Ah, some two-bit wallet snatcher tryin' ta make a name for himself. Heh, left the kid alive, though-"
"Shh!" hissed Trent as Hillocks entered the pub, very tired himself. Red changed direction towards him. The others, except for Hunt, stood.
"Well, he'll be okay." Informed Hillocks outright, not in the mood to milk the suspense. "I can't guarantee what condition he'll be in when he wakes up. That was a nasty bump to the head; could be fine, could have memory issues or he could be a vegetable."
"Hopefully the latter." Piped up Hunt.
"But," continued Hillocks, ignoring Hunt's remark, "he should be physically fine in a couple of days. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I need to get some sleep myself and I hope you don't mind me using the sedative...that is unless any of you have been shot?"
"Yeah, Hillocks. I shot ya girlfriend last night." Jibed Hammond. "Think the cops'll be able to take ballistics offa dis gun right here?" He grabbed his crotch and mockingly squeezed himself. Hillocks rightfully flipped him off with a tired smile.
"Go ahead, you earned it." Said Red, rubbing the back of Hillock's head as he walked towards the stairs. "You guys stay here." He ordered the others as he entered the kitchen. Everyone took their seats again, a little happier than before.
"Thank God he's fine." Said Barlow. "Where did you guys find him again?"
"Lying on the docks." Zed regaled. "Unconscious and out cold."
"Unconscious means out cold." Smirked Trent.
"I know what it means!" Zed shook him off. "But the kid was pale as a ghost; looked like he'd taken a nosedive into the harbour, shivering from the cold. Probably would've died if we'd left him there."
"Maybe you should have." Commented Hunt immediately. "It would have been better for us, much less trouble."
"Listen, Hunt, I can see where you're coming from, but you weren't there." Said Trent. "I mean, it was our decision and I for one don't want a kid's life hanging over my conscience, you understand?"
"I hear that." Agreed Barlow. "I mean, when I get up to the pearly gates and God goes over my life and what I've done, I know he isn't gonna forgive me for leaving a kid in the lurch. That's just...inhuman."
"Who say's you're goin' up when you die, Barlow?" joked Hammond, laughing at his own joke while nobody else did. Hunt was still not amused.
"Then at least take him to a hospital." He complained once again. "It would have been simple. He could have a family calling the police for a door to door search right now. Especially after this whole Wayne business, don't you think they'll come down even harder on us when they find out we've kidnapped a child?"
"Hunt, he might be an orphan, have you considered that?" argued Trent. "A street urchin that ran into the wrong crowd. All I know is that no kid, silver, wooden or plastic spoon, goes around wearing those kinds of clothes."
"Probably should've shot you off the pier and saved us the trouble." Muttered Hunt. That straw broke the camel's back; Trent stood up to round on Hunt but, luckily, Barlow and Zed were quick to hold him back.
"Don't bother. He's a wasted punching bag, leave him." Beckoned Barlow. Slowly, and with a little regret, Trent composed himself and sat back down. Hunt half-smiled to himself; these people were idiots. He knew they were needed as the hired muscle, but decision makers they were not. They would see it his way some day. He hoped that Red had lost his senses, so that on the day they understood, they would turn to somebody else to lead.
He was only aware of his soft breaths as they inhaled and exhaled through his system. The black was a protective cone isolating him from the outside. This truly felt like he was sleeping but self-aware. Slowly, as happens with everyone when they begin to awaken, his strength grew and grew until there was enough to force his lids open, scuffing his eyes as lightly as a feather. A light bulb that hung several feet above was the first thing he saw, its soft glow comforting his eyes. Looking down, he saw a man sitting on a stool by the table, one hand propped up on the table holding his head up, the other dangling from its edge. It took a moment for one of them to acknowledge the other. "Hello." Said Red in a less gruff tone. They boy rolled off the table top and tried to run for the door. Red grabbed his shoulder and, with one firm grip, pulled him away, back towards the table. "No you don't!" He huffed as he lifted the boy and sat him atop the counter, holding him in place until he settled down. Red looked the kid straight in the eyes. "Don't do that." He said, the gruffness returning. He knew he had to tone it down. "What's your name? Can you tell me what it is?" The boy didn't answer. Not a peep. "Look, if you don't tell me, I can't let you leave." Again, no response. "Fine." Red walked towards the door but-
"I..." began the boy, trailing off at the end. When Red turned around he saw the worry in the kid's face. "I don't know." Red nodded, a little annoyed at the answer. At least it was something, so he tried again, kneeling down beside him.
"You have a mummy and daddy?" he asked with his 'friendly' voice. The boy really had to think about this. After a few moments of concentration he finally shook his head. This was a good sign but it just made Red all the more curious. "What happened to you?" This made the kid even more frightened, his eyes widening in the horror of his situation.
"I can't remember." He answered. The boy looked from the floor up into Red's face. He hesitated before slowly crying silently. Red was unsure as to what he should do. He sat there scratching his head while tears dropped onto the floor. Red began to extend his arms, uncertain if this was the right way to go about this but was caught off guard when the kid forced himself into the hug, his sobs a little louder. They were linked together for a few moments in silence. Red was even more irresolute; he didn't know how to proceed in comforting this child.
"That's okay." He said in a low confident tone. "Cry. You'll feel better." Red assumed the best thing to say would be what he himself would want to hear and it was working, just not as fast as he would have liked. This wasn't exactly the best position for a man in his position to be caught in. He had to appear strong in front of everyone. "So you think you're a Romeo, playing a part in a picture show. Well, take the long way home. Take the long way home." He began to sing. The boy looked up into his face; no longer sobbing but sniffling with two wet lines swivelled down his cheeks. "'Cos you're the joke of the neighbourhood, why should you care if you're feeling good? Then take the long way home. Take the long way home." Red hugged the boy, resting his head reassuringly against his chest. "But there are times that you feel you're part of the scenery, all the greenery is comin' down, boy, and then your wife seems to think you're part of the furniture. Oh, it's peculiar; she used to be so nice. When lonely days turn to lonely nights, you take a trip to the city lights and take the long way home. Take the long way home." The boy felt warmer from within. In the haze of lost memories and a scattered past, this man was making it all seem redundant. "You never see what you want to see, forever playing to the gallery. You take the long way home. You take the long way home." Red was getting caught up in all this and he didn't mind. For the first time in a while, the pain began to fade. "And when you're up on the stage, it's so unbelievable. Oh, unforgettable, how they adore you, but then your wife seems to think you're losing your sanity. Oh, the calamity, is there no way out? Oh, yeah!" As they began to sway backwards and forwards to the melody in their minds, a bond was made. Not the strongest bond, but one that is rarely seen today. The bond of a shared hope. Unity is seldom found between strangers, at least the kind worth speaking of, but when one of lifelong value is created it is felt in the heart. It is usually those who never find it who realise they have found it before all others. The boy and the man were well aware of this gift. "Does it feel that your life's become a catastrophe? Oh, it has to be for you to grow, boy." Sang on Red. "When you look through the years and see what you could have been, oh, what you might have been, if you'd had more time. So when your day comes to settle down, who's to blame if you're not around? You take the long way home. Take the long way home. Take the long way home. Take the long way home." The boy found himself pressing his cheek into Red's warm chest, its heat making him feel tired. "Take the long way home. Take the long way home. Take the long way home. Take the long way home." Their sways began do slow, every lean growing gradually smaller and smaller with every word. "Long way home. Long way home. Long way home. Long way home." Red looked down at the boy's face, his eyes closed peacefully, no longer the object of sadness. His own heart soared; what a wonderful feeling to bring a child away from despondency. "Long way home. Long way home. Long way home..." He finished, resting his head atop the boys. Through some unseen link, Red knew that this boy had no family, that there was no one to miss him...but also no one to look out for him. "I know your name. Jack. Your name is Jack."
"Thank you." Breathed Jack. All it took was the security of knowing who he was. Red had given that to him. Red wiped away the streams down Jack's face and led him into the bar. He stood close to Jack, feeling his fingers squeezing into his arm as the men in the room looked up.
"This is Jack." Announced Red. "He's going to stay with us. As such, he must be treated as one of the group, not an outsider. Show him respect and I'll see to it that you have his. Anyone who has a problem with this loses all privileges; their profits, their protection and their place in this ring." What felt like a whole minute of complete silence passed but the cold, hard stares remained the whole time. Until everyone stood and smiled, walking over to greet their new member. They shook his hand and rubbed his hair and knocked his shoulders down a peg. Jack had never had this much attention since...ever. At least, as far as he knew.
"Eh, dis kid don't look so bad." Asserted Hammond.
"Let's just hope his English is better than yours." Teased Zed.
"Zed, upstairs." Ordered Red, nodding to the upper floor.
Zed complied and left the room with; "Nice to meet you, kid." Before disappearing with Red.
"Where are you from, kid?" asked Barlow. Jack shrugged and shook his head. "Oh, well...you ever play poker before?" Again, Jack shook his head.
"Never heard of it." He said.
"Damn Jack, you must've been living under some rock." Marvelled Barlow, directing him over to the table. "You can play with me and Trent. That's Trent, by the way." He said, pointing over Jack's head at Trent who waved. "I'm Barlow. That big lug over there with the newspaper is Hammond."
"Easy!" warned Hammond with a smirk.
"Who's that?" asked Jack, pointing to the dark eyed man in the corner. He didn't seem to blink at all.
"That's the pimple on the city's arse." Trent told Jack mockingly, laughing along with Hammond.
"Hunt!" Interrupted the man in the corner. "My name is Hunt. Welcome to the gang, young Jack. I hope you feel right at home." His voice was icier than the stares.
"Aaaaanyway," diverted Barlow, "how's about I teach you how to play?" He quickly seated Jack, giving Hunt a disappointed glance. Hunt just rolled his eyes and began chewing his nails down. He didn't have to like the kid, just so long as he didn't openly treat him badly. As soon as he had control, Jack would be gone like rats at an exterminator convention. The only enemy now was time...and in this time, who would he become to everyone here?
"Nobody?" checked Red, aghast. He had to make sure what he heard was correct.
"Yep. I've checked through all police records, child care records, medical records, you name it. This kid doesn't even exist; he's just not there." Confirmed Zed as he zipped back through all the files he had hacked into just in case he had gotten it wrong himself. "Your boy must've been dropped by the stalk. Look, he doesn't even have a birth certificate on record."
"What, you think someone deleted his information?"
"I think it wasn't even there in the first place. If it had been then there would be some physical evidence that would have eventually been added back into the system. Nothing." Zed lit up a cigarette. "I know you hired me on as an expert on computers, but I doubt that even if I were given direct uninterrupted access, I still wouldn't find him. So, what are you gonna do? At least there might be time to dump him before he knows too much." Zed saw the expression in Red's eyes. He had been in deep thought this whole time and it was clear that he was strongly and personally considering keeping Jack. "Look, Red...I know what you're thinking, but...this isn't the time to think about what she would do-"
"It's not her this time." Snapped Red. "It's me. I made the decision; he stays. End of story!" Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Would you both shut up in there?!" shouted Hillocks from the next room. "Ask the kid what he wants to do! Now, be quiet! I'm a doctor, not an earplug!" And with that said, Hillocks promptly and loudly fell asleep. His snores were so loud that they even carried downstairs into the pub but they sounded like the building creaking.
"Okay, place your final bet." Instructed Barlow, helping Jack move a small pile of his chips into the middle of the table. "And now we show our cards starting with me." Barlow flipped his cards; a two and a four. "Two pair; two fours. You see?" he indicated. "Now Trent." Trent flipped his cards; an ace and a nine.
"Yeah-heh!" he cheered. "Three of a kind; three big bad aces!"
"We all guessed as much from your poker face!" jibed Hammond from across the room, laughing with himself.
"Okay, now you Jack. Whatcha got?" asked Barlow. Jack turned his cards; a two and another card that didn't have a number...but it looked so familiar. For some reason, Barlow frowned and slapped Trent on the back of the head. "Nice shuffling, nitwit. What's wrong with you? There are no jokers in poker. Why didn't you take it out?"
"I didn't know there were two; I only found the one at the front." Explained Trent.
"There's one at the front and one at the back. That's the way I put the cards in the pack."
"Then why don't you tell me?"
"Because I've been doing it for three freaking years!" They both froze when they realised Jack was staring at them blankly. "Sorry kid, but jokers aren't counted in the game."
"Why not?" asked Jack.
"Well...they just aren't, is all." Barlow attempted to answer. "They're just there to liven up the deck a little. Look, here, I'll give you another." Said Barlow, taking the joker from Jack and handing him another.
"What's this one?" asked Jack.
"That's you. Well, your namesake. It's called a jack." Answered Trent. "That one's worth ten."
"That's in twenty-one, dumbarse. We're playing poker-"
"I know what we're playing!" argued Trent, interrupting Barlow. The argument was broken up by the sound of Red and Zed walking downstairs.
"Right, Jack had better come with me." Said Red. "The rest of you start setting up the place before Webber gets here. I'm sure he'll enjoy not having to do all the work around you lot. Come on, Jack." Red held out his hand. Jack walked to him, holding Red's arm instead.
As they ascended the stairs, Red shrugged as he saw their adoring smiles along with Trent's; "Aww." Jack was feeling exhausted and quite unwell. His head felt heavy and his whole body ached. At least he could have a nice, long rest.
"Ah!" Jack awoke with a start. His throat felt like it had been screaming all night and his sheets were knotted around his limbs as though he had been tossing and turning. It had been a week since he had been christened and still the nightmares plagues him incessantly. The frighteningly frozen faces with their cartoonish expressions were unnatural. Worse than that were the vague memories of his own past mixed in with the dreams; the warped creature-esque figures, the rounded glasses, shrinking walls, drowning and the flashes of faces he knew but forgot after waking. It was all so jumbled in his mind despite what he was able to remember. It would probably never completely return but something in his mind told him that it was for the best. Jack pulled his sweaty top off and laid it out in front of him. He was startled by the door opening but it was just Red. He turned on the light and closed the door.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. Obviously, he had heard the commotion.
"I'm sorry." Apologised Jack, looking down at the shirt in shame.
"No, no. It's fine." Reassured Red, walking over to the drawer and pulling out another shirt. "I used to have bad dreams too."
"How did you get rid of them?"
"Well, I haven't yet. I start dreaming and the nightmare starts up...but then I make it go away."
"Make it go away?" Jack was a little confused. Red sat down on the edge of the bed, unfolding the shirt slowly to draw out the conversation.
"Before I go to sleep, I imagine an object. Something everyday, mundane. Something I see all the time. Then, when I dream and in the dream I see whatever it is, then I know it's a dream." He got Jack to put up his arms while he put the shirt on him. "Because I know that I'm dreaming, I have complete control over it and I can make them go away." He finished, tucking Jack back into bed.
"What do you dream about?" asked Jack innocently. Red hesitated.
He thought, considered and finally answered; "Same as you; bad...bad memories." Red could see Jack still wanted to know more but was afraid to ask. With a sigh, Red added; "It's okay."
"What happened?"
Red sighed; "Okay. I'll tell you a little. When I was young, my mother died giving birth to my little sister. My dad couldn't cope so he moved us to a small fishing village when he could make a transfer to another precinct. He was a cop, you see. Not the best but at least he wasn't crooked. That's all he'd tell us when we were barely paying the rent; 'Better being poor than a crook'. That changed when mum died. Since he didn't fish and we didn't have the equipment to learn, he went out gambling to get the bills paid. At first it seemed to work, but then he got in bed with Mr. Booze." Red smiled at his pun but his face sunk when he remembered more. "There would be the warmest school days and the teachers would all wonder why I was wearing a jumper. The house became very strict when dad was drinking. If you didn't follow an order, you'd get a reason to. There were even times when I had to take the fall for Molly. I didn't want her to get hurt by him." Red tried to keep himself together. Jack decided the best thing to do was return the sentiment.
"I can remember a little bit more. Did you want me to-"
"No." interrupted Red. "I don't want you to tell me or anyone. Do you understand?" Jack shook his head, he didn't understand why. "Being with me...with us, it's our past that is usually our downfall. You tell someone and they tell someone else and it ends up reaching ears it shouldn't. To the world, Jack, you don't have a past that people can exploit. No one can use it against you. If you are ever caught, you still have the advantage of being anonymous. That is a rare gift in this world. So don't tell me. Don't tell anyone. If you're going to have a past, you're better off making it multiple choice." Jack thought about this and understood. In some strange way he would not understand for a long time, it all made sense.
"What happened to your dad?" asked Jack.
"He got in too deep with the wrong people." Began Red. "The precinct found out and gave him his two weeks' notice. A week later, on a raid of the loan shark he had been involved with, he was gunned down." Red checked his watch. "It's really late, Jack. You should be getting some sleep."
"I can't sleep."
"Yeah...yeah. Neither can I."
And so ends the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it; I certainly enjoyed branching out in terms of characters, locations and description. The most difficult transition was writing 'Jack' instead of 'J'! You'll definitely see his character progress significantly throughout this Story. I also hope you spotted Joker references.
Unlike 'Start of a Joke', 'Gotham's Red Knight' won't all take place in real time. There will be certain yearly gaps between each one (or in some cases, during the chapters themselves). I mention this in the off-chance that you might get confused while reading later chapters.
Anyway, I better get back to writing my book. I have actually written most of these chapters during breaks from my novel, so they have probably been sitting idle in my hard drive for weeks or even months. In the meantime, I suggest you read Keywee's story: The House That Jack Built. Take care and I hope that you enjoyed reading!