PART II: Transformation

A/N: First and foremost, I am so sorry I have been absent from writing! My excuses can vary, however this time I decided to transform a little bit of myself before I could write this portion from experiences and overcoming ones own trepidations. I really have no idea how to explain it other than what you will read following this message. How you perceive it, is your own and there is no right or wrong way that it is read. And what do I mean by PART TWO? Well, you will see very soon!

Warning: Terror, maybe some offensive themes, mpreg, (slight sci-fi) or whichever you could call it. Oh and lots of violence and blood. Ya..

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters belonging to DC or the Nolan-verse.

His eyes shot open after minutes of deprivation of light, finding tiny fibers in the abused rug, his own ruby blood reflecting off of the miniscule hairs. His chest heaved in gulps of oxygen feeding through his asphyxiated lungs. The consciousness that was Jack Napier awoke…

…white flashes erupted in his revelation, a searing pain in his backside where Mario thrust into his body held his consciousness to reality.

I...

I saw… I saw Wayne Manor fall… Bruce and my…

He squeezed his eyes shut, wincing.

And they're going to… because of him.

Because of Mario!

His breath was stolen from him; he gulped for air.

"No." The low voice chilled his bones.

His head was pressed to the soggy carpet, and he pried his eyes over to the far side of the room.

The supernal being materialized itself in wisps of black smoke in the corner of the office, and lowered its dripping scythe bowing to Jack. His dark chocolate eyes widened in horror as he recognized the being, its lengthy black tendrils of silk rushing at him. The world caved in on him, images shaking from their foundations in his metaphysical cognizance. It consumed him.

The thunderous noise of Wayne Tower collapsing roared in his ears like a nearby freight train, its ashes covering the cold ground.

He could see the sparks through the black clouds, spinning like a tornado around him.

His insides contracted, the world around enwrapping him in waves of nausea. He was going to be sick.

Then a cry of an infant, the twinkles of the beady black eyes.

The world flashed a bright light.

The soft yarn on his fingertips…

Another heartbeat…

He leaned his head back upon the headboard of the billionaire's bed breathing a heavy sigh of relief, cradling the newborn within his arms against his warm chest. They would rest for the next half hour, allowing the child its first meal and Jack much needed resting time. His palm cupped her tiny head and stroked the feathery blonde hairs with his fingers. The child was breathtaking, and a symbol to himself of the innocence he had lacked. He watched her, and imagined the years he would spend with her, all the memories they would share together.

She had barely even cried at the first breath of life and now lay content and satisfied upon her father's breast. Pools welled up within his burning eyes as their bond grew, and attempted to control his heaving form from sobbing.

He squeezed his eyes shut, pinching away tears under the realization of how much he wanted to be a father.

Tear drops trickled down the indentations on his cheeks and into the corners of his mouth; he drew in a heavy breath of air, knowing it would be the only time he would have with her. How much he wished the Joker could simply just vanish so he could have a second chance at life, and be the good Jack Napier with a family and…

Love.

His form sobbed out when the word entered his mind. The baby cooed and licked its rosy lips, wondering what had interrupted its parent and blindly groped around Jack's chest and sternum with its curled tiny fingers. Oh how he had already found himself in love with his daughter, and how hard the decisions had become.

Jack stroked her face lightly with his thumb, and she held on with her tiny fist. He leaned in and brushed his soft lips against her forehead, and drew back. "I'm sorry."

The memory dissolved within the inky drapes of the Reaper's cloak, the specter standing above the graveyard.

Watching.

And waiting.

Jack lay suspended at its feet, staring into the crevice-like eye sockets. He parted his dry lips, whispering as his voice cracked. "Don't kill it…"

The being tilted its draped skull.

His chest heaved. "I know you can hear me…" He drew in heavy breaths, faster. "LISTEN TO ME!" The Joker snarled at the Reaper, his desperation flooding in his weary eyes. He fought his common sense in desperation, believing this was not his end.

"You're not real."

Its horrid yellow dentures did not move; its unspoken voice resounded through Jack's vibrating eardrums. "I am real."

It howled with laughter, the baby's cries becoming louder.

"No…! Stop!"

He could hear the Italian's hooting and the candy apple red blood that speckled a white cradle.

"STOP!"

"You have the power to stop it all. A life for a life."

Jack panted on the ground, his thoughts spilling out of his lips habitually, "Why is this happening to me…? Who are you?"

"You know who I am." The familiar voice echoed within his consciousness, drawing his ego nearer to the surface. The satin black garments dissolved around the hooded figure's stance, Jack's glistening eyes following up the skeletal frame as it grew flesh and a horribly scarred red grin.

A brackish blood dripped from creases of its lips, baring its yellow teeth in a sardonic grin at Jack.

Dread ceased the young man's thumping heart; it laughed at him in his ever familiar cackle. "'Who are you?'" It mocked at him.

The troubled man covered his ears with his palms, trying to escape from his own venomous words. His knees buckled, bringing him to the ground.

"Kill them… and then you will be free."

The apparition dispersed into the air with a cool breeze that whipped at his partially exposed face. He was back in the office again with his face pushed into the floor. Jack gasped at the sudden sensation of his invaded body, peeking through his elbow to see the Falcone crime lord deep within his being. The pain rushed in again with the head of Mario's girth stabbing his core until his own blood lubricated the depredation.

He sealed his lips shut and tried his hardest to not contract his larynx. Mario did not need to hear his prey's cries and moans.

Mario Falcone noticed his victim pry himself from the undead with an awfully disguised yelp of pain. "Hey, you're still among the living?" He spanked his hand against Jack's bare thigh, earning a glare over his shoulder. "When you gonna die, eh? I'm starting to get a little worn out."

"As soon as you stop fucking me." Jack growled, and pulled his lips into a taut smile to egg on the Italian. "Have you checked on your wife yet?" He licked his lips and laughed when Mario's fist came down on his face again…

The Italian howled a deep cry out of his lips when a pair of knives diagonally shanked into his unprotected flanks as the Joker kicked his feet down, ejecting the concealed weapons through the soles of his shoes. A kick to his chest caused Mario Falcone to tumble backwards in a splatter of blood. The Joker quickly covered himself with his clothing and grasped onto the adrenaline rush with his life.

Mario was tossed against his mahogany desk, blinking the blur and drops of blood away from his eyelids only in time to see the Joker on him in an instant. Cool metal pressed against his throat.

He still… hasn't…

"Go ahead. Kill me, it won't do anything. It won't change who you've become, you monster. You… freak." He spat a froth of blood on the clown, knowing it had sealed his fate.

Jack nodded his head, moving the edge of the knife into the Italian's mouth. He spoke with his natural tone, bearing his cold brown eyes. "Yes, I am… a monster you created." He brushed his lips up to his ex mentor's ear, whispering. "You should have spared us when you had the chance."

Mario gasped for air, "Wh-what about my family…? What did you do to them?!"

"The same thing you did to mine."

The Italian's green eyes widened in utter horror as the blade pushed into his body. His tan skin split under the pressure of the razor sharp blade, the knife dragging along up to his ear and swiping at his cheeks until the Joker was satisfied at the blood gushing out of the agape carvings he had made. Mario's lips sputtered, attempting to speak through his torn mouth.

"Puh… th…."

"What was that babe?" The Joker grabbed the sides of his face and pulled the Italian in close. His last breaths exhaled onto his red lips, and the clown did something he would hope haunt the man into his after life. He pulled their lips together in a crimson stained kiss, twisting his knife in Falcone's gut until the breath was cut short.

The dark green eyes fogged over, his pupils dilating in the dark, black kohl-ed eyes, the last things he would ever see. Jack licked a stain of blood off of his ex-lover's lower lip. "Have fun in hell."

The man once known as Mario Falcone was dead.

He stared at the still form, waiting to feel any sort of relief, joy or accomplishment. He was silent as his life began to end itself, knowing he was burying his life with the deceased Italian. Jack pushed himself off of the still form of the late crime lord, wiping the blood off his mouth with his sleeve as a familiar chill shuddered his spine.

"And you…" He snarled through his blood stained teeth to the apparition behind him.

The Reaper grinned at him.

"It's your time to go." Jack said, limping his weak body to his duffle bag.

"You have not yet…"

"I told you." The Joker interrupted, removing a tube of white face paint from the zipper. "It's all part of a plan."

"9-11, what's your emergency?"

"Pl-please help! Help me please…!" A woman sobbed onto the phone to the dispatch.

"Yes, I am going to try to. Where are you located?"

"Um… 3273 Terrace Way… please help…! He killed them—he killed them all!"

"Ma'am, please calm down… are you in a safe area?"

"I'm in my house… I'm locked in the cellar, he locked me in here—he might be trying to kill me…!"

"Ma'am, I have officers on their way right now-"

"He killed them, and he could be trying to kill me!"

"Yes, I know, I'm sending help…"

"No, he'll kill me… he already killed my family!" The woman trailed off in crackles of static, her form heaving in big gulps of air as she cried.

"Who is trying to kill you?"

"Th… The Joker!"

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing

-"Hello?" Bill Kane snatched the cellphone off of his table in a heartbeat after recognizing the numbers appear on led screen.

"Kane… I'm here…"

"Jack…?" The elder man gasped. "Boy, am I glad to hear from you!"

"Kane… is Bruce there?"

"He's here…" Kane panted out in relief of hearing the young man's voice, catching the attention of the billionaire in the room. "It's Jack."

Bruce pushed himself off the couch, his veins pumping adrenaline through his very core. Kane offered the phone to him, the billionaire drawing in a breath of hesitation. He looked to the elder's soft blue eyes. He nodded, and Bruce held the phone to his ear.

"Bruce…?"

He bit his lip at the sound of Jack, and nodded. "Yeah… its me."

"Listen, Bruce…" Jack smirked his lips and laughed gently. "I need a ride."

"Whatever you need me to do…"

Jack stood on his feet erectly whilst fastening black pants around his waist, taking his eyes away from the corpse of Falcone. He dropped the bag over his shoulders onto the hardwood floor, exiting the room and leaving the phantom of his past locked away forever.

To be continued…