It's been a while since I wanted to write about the people stuck in the dark Realm, so here we are. I have little personal experience with Persona 5, having only played the first ten hours of the game, so most of my knowledge of the character comes from research and accounts from people who love the game. With that said, I hope I do Joker's character justice in this fic.

A few notes before we start:

-The fighters in my Smash fics are stated to be clones of the original characters. They have the memories and personalities of the original fighters, but they are still Master Hand's creations. This part is important.

-In this story, every other fighter that you can find in Dracula's Castle during World of Light has already been awakened. Despite that, they still struggle with puppet fighters roaming around the castle. Joker and Byleth are the only 1st batch DLC characters that are found in this particular area.

-Contrary to the timeline of events in the actual game, the fights to take down Galeem and Dharkon are happening simuteneously. Smashers stuck in the Dark Realm have no direct contact with the ones in the Light Ream and vice versa.

Loud steps echoed through the large, dark castle halls, their frenetic thump thump thump nothing short ofmusic to Joker's ears. The Phantom Thief's eyes quickly scanned his surroundings, until he could make out a faint shape near a marbled statue of a woman with no arms. The shape itself was big, round and just slightly distorted the light around it, making it seem like he was seeing the statue through the blurry lens of a heat daze. He grinned from ear to ear and dashed towards the figure like a predator would at its newfound prey, a glint of thirst for battle in his eyes.

Joker slashed his knife at the figure and was satisfied to hear a low, guttural grunt as the blade made contact. Before the figure could retaliate, he swung the knife again in an X motion, forcing his dumbstruck opponent to step back and protect itself with its own sword, judging from the distinct feeling of metal on metal. He could not exactly see the figure's stance, but instinct made it not matter, as Joker swung his leg in an arc motion and made the figure trip (or so he assumed from the loud THUD that came afterwards).

Again and again he slashed his knife, unable to see his opponent, but with the satisfaction of knowing that it was definitely bleeding. He was the perfect soldier, after all. A war machine. Even if his opponent was invisible, he took joy in knowing that he was doing a damn good job. He raised his knife one last time, charging up every ounce of strength he could gather, right in time for the enemy to reveal itself, a giant, masked puffball creature that he came to know as Meta Knight. He plunged the knife right between Meta Knight's beady, glowing red eyes, where the opening of his cracked mask was and twisted it.

Meta Knight screamed and his body twitched and spazzed, but Joker remained firm with his grasp on the knife until the body eventually went limp. Joker's chest heaved up and down, his eyes transfixed on the body in front of him that started to disintegrate like ash, the desire for more burning up his soul. His hand carrying the knife twitched as he saw a multicolored ball of flame emerge from where the body once laid a few seconds ago and he had to contain himself from simply attempting to stab the spirit. He heard steps behind him and quickly turned around to see a boy, all clad in black and with wings to match, walking towards him. His grasp on his knife tightened, his jaw now clenched and his eyes wide and alert. He had to remind himself that the boy was not his opponent. He could not attack him.

Dark Pit said, "You took less than twenty seconds to get rid of that puppet fighter. I was almost impressed."

Joker continued to stare at him wide-eyed, like an animal that had been cornered and that had yet to decide if it should indeed fight or run away. He could not do any of those things, he reminded himself again, as the boy was still not an enemy.

"Too bad that it's still not good enough."

"What… what do you mean it was not…?" Joker asked, his voice raspier than usual. "But I destroyed him! I did it in record time! What do you mean…?"

"The problem, Joker, is that you got possessed again and I did not," Dark Pit said, looking down on him. "Get Gray Fox out of there, before I'm forced to knock it out from you."

With those words, it was as if Joker's mind came crashing down back to Earth. His free hand clutched at his chest, fingers curling up at the fabric of his dark gray clothes, and he let out a gasp as he took out the spirit from inside of him. The removal was rather painless, but sudden, and it nonetheless took out all breath from his lungs for a brief moment, as it felt like he had just taken out a piece of him after anesthesia. A piece that was foreign and could not remain inside of him in the long run, but a piece nonetheless.

His thoughts began to organize themselves after that and he was able to regain some much needed clarity. He was not a perfect soldier, he was not someone created for war. He was a highschool student from Japan. He was also the leader of the vigilante group called the Phantom Thieves, responsible for bringing justice to corrupt adults. His power was used in service of vulnerable people, not for meaningless violence. Relief washed over him after his mind cleared out. Joker did not hesitate to return the Gray Fox spirit back to Dark Pit. The grumpy angel took it with both hands cupped together like he was holding water, his vivid red eyes intensively glaring at the spirit, probably communicating something to the spirit that Joker could not decipher even if his life depended on it.

He watched Dark Pit eventually shoo the spirit away in a dismissive manner, before turning his attention back to Joker. He said, "Joker, it doesn't matter if you are able to defeat a puppet fighter in record time. I don't care if you kill one in twenty seconds or ten or five or if you miraculously find a way to kill it with just a glare. If you don't know how to control spirits, those abilities mean jack shit, you hear me?"

Joker wanted to retort, to give a witty answer to what, in all honesty, felt like a kick to a dead horse. Instead, he bit his tongue and asked, "How can you be so sure that I was possessed by Gray Fox?"

He was answered by a swing of one of Dark Pit's twin blades performing an X motion. Dark Pit said, "The way you swung your knife was just like Gray Fox. Also, you did not use your gun once."

"Maybe I did not feel like using my gun."

"I cannot possibly imagine you not wanting to use your gun."

Dark Pit was, sadly, unfortunately, correct in his assumption. Had Joker not been so lost in Gray Fox's instincts, he would have used his gun to finish the job. However, the angel did not need to know that and humiliate him even more, so Joker simply looked away and refused to continue that conversation. Because his eyes were more focused on the (admitelly) beautiful mosaic window by his side, he almost did not notice the woman he had come to know as Princess Daisy approaching them from behind Dark Pit, arms swinging playfully and hands curled up in a way that made it seem like she was carrying an invisible purse.

She lightly tapped Dark Pit on the shoulder and ignoring the fact that she almost gave him a heart attack from the surprise, Daisy said, "Dark Pit, I just finished making us some soup. You should go get it while it's hot."

"I don't want soup," Dark Pit said with a frown.

"You get cranky when you're hungry and Joker doesn't need to deal with you right now," she smiled. "I'll take care of things from here."

To Joker's surprise, Dark Pit turned around and stomped away, which quickly became a funny sight to him since he could see that the angel's steps were heavy and rebellious, but the contact of his flat sandals on the thin and worn tapestry barely made a sound. Dark Pit also seemed to notice how ridiculous his tantrum must have looked like to the people behind him, because not a few seconds later he tried to play it cool by walking like a normal person who was definitely not cranky.

Sometimes Joker wondered how much he should take to heart any sort of criticism coming from a guy like him. Then he remembered that Dark Pit was a seasoned warrior and had to swallow his grudge. Fortunately for him, Daisy had shown up at the right time, as she usually did when it felt like dealing with Dark Pit was becoming unbearable. Compared to him, she was much more pleasant company.

"Sooooo how did it go?" Daisy asked.

Joker thought about that question for a good few seconds. He said, "I defeated the puppet fighter in record time."

"Oh, that's wonderful, Joker!" She said, cheerfully and with her hands clasped together. "And what about you using spirits? Got any better at that?"

There was another pause, this time with him having to hold back his disappointment. Joker said, "I managed to get the spirit out of my body all on my own this time."

Daisy's cheerful expression faltered for a brief moment and that was a worse stab to his heart than whatever rude remark Dark Pit had ever thrown at him. She then immediately perked up and gave him a light pat on the shoulder, a gesture that Joker had trouble deciding if it was condescending or not.

"Well, progress is progress," she said. "Come on, let's get you some soup."

Progress was progress, but not enough for Joker to be eligible to leave that forsaken castle on his own. Feeling defeated and with his head hanging low, he followed Daisy across the ghastly and seemingly never ending corridors and halls. Everywhere they went, everywhere they crossed, despite its many, many wings and corners, the sight of decay was the first thing that caught Joker's attention. Be them the shredded crimson curtains and constant rubble on the ground; the washed out paintings that bordered on canvases of black; the many cracked arch windows and spirits that roamed aimlessly through the dimly lit corridors, it was hardly a welcoming place to be in.

Joker was still unsure what made the people who lived here call it a safe haven. Dracula's Castle, fitting to its name, was a large, nightmarish, borderline shitty place that always induced some kind of anxiety when Joker had to walk from one decrepit wing to another. A huge, confusing piece of decaying gothic architecture that would have sounded really cool if he were to read about it in a spooky novel, but not so much to actually live in, though if he were to try to make himself feel better, he could always remind himself that he certainly has seen and been to worse places. And then he would feel bad again for thinking that he was never forced to live in those worse places. As he passed by yet another cracked window, a chilling wind blew past it and prickled at Joker's cheek, his skin still hot from battle, causing him to shiver from the sensation.

Yet Daisy, who he came to see as practically the embodiment of optimism and rays of sunshine, did not seem bothered by the cold or the high pitched fwoooooooo sounds of the wind that just barely passed through the cracks. She continued to stroll ahead with the energy and confidence of someone walking around their own home, her shoulder length brown locks bouncing with each step. Joker hoped that one day he could walk around the castle like that. They eventually reached the door to one of the castle's right wing's towers and they entered. The interior of the tower did not have any torchlights that could illuminate the way, but that did not matter, because they were not there to climb it and instead use the hole on the wall – a hole recently made by one of the castle's residents, Joker heard – as a shortcut to the courtyard at the other side. They were quite a few feet above ground, so there was a rudimentary set of stairs that they could climb down to safety, though Daisy thought the idea to be quite boring, because the princess simply decided to jump out and use the yellow parasol that she took out from who knows where as a parachute, one gloved hand delicately grasping at the white handle of the parasol and the other keeping her yellow and orange dress down.

Despite his sour mood, Joker decided that he did not want to go outside the boring way either. He took out his grappling hook from his pocket and latched it to the ledge of the hole. After giving it a firm tug, Joker jumped and climbed down the tower like an alpinist climbed down a mountain after a triumphant reach to the top. He landed on the ground swiftly, where Daisy waited patiently for him, hands on her hips and a smirk on her lips.

"Show-off."

"Takes one to know one," Joker playfully refuted.

The princess returned that banter with an equally playful giggle. "You remind me of another Smasher, you know? She also has this… flare to her, so to speak," Daisy said and then she shook her head. "But you'll see what I mean when we meet her, when things are back to normal."

Joker did not ask what "normal" meant, as he was much too tired for that kind of discussion, though he could at least guess that it partially meant "not being forced to live in a decrepit castle anymore", which was an idea that Joker would totally support. They crossed the courtyard, perhaps the only lively part in that whole area, thanks to its inexplicable living plants and trees and full view to the crescent moon, now with Joker finally in the mood to accompany Daisy's rhythm. Unlike the inside's many twists and turns, the courtyard offered a more straightforward walk to their destination. It also allowed the Phantom Thief to pretend for a moment that he was not being held inside that castle against his will.

As they walked through the cobblestone path, passing by the dried up marble stone fountain of a lady with no arms, a lost spirit zoomed by then and made both of them flinch for a second. Daisy let out a nervous giggle and continued to walk, while Joker took a couple of seconds to recompose himself and catch up with her. Daisy said, "You know, Joker, I'm wondering if we should just get someone else to teach you how to use spirits," which then earned her a tired sigh from him. "I know that I haven't done a good job at that and Dark Pit hasn't either, so maybe with the right teacher…"

"I agree that Dark Pit has been a terrible teacher and that he would be fired if that was his actual job," Joker said. "But I sometimes wonder if the problem lies within me."

Daisy said, "Don't say that! Of course you have the potential to control spirits!"

"And yet I keep losing control every time I incorporate one."

"Joker, you're a Smasher just like everybody else in here," she said, insistently. "And if everyone can do it, then so can you. Maybe we just don't know how to teach you."

Joker had a feeling that he knew where this conversation was going. That was not the first time that Daisy suggested that he found a different teacher to instruct him on the fine art of controlling spirits and their power. The emphasis was on the word "teach" and she was not being subtle at all.

"Maybe, but can we drop the subject now?" Joker asked, doing his best to control the mild irritation that threatened to show up in his voice. "I just want to eat dinner and rest."

The princess crossed her arms and turned her head to him, unsure for a moment on how to proceed, before giving a defeated sigh. "Look, Joker, promise me that you will at least think about asking him for assistance, okay?" Daisy asked. "I mean, he used to be a teacher in his home world, so-"

"I will," he said, hurriedly. "I promise."

That seemed to make her relax a little, enough to drop the subject at the very least. The rest of their walk was mostly silent among themselves, though the sound of the wind and leaves rustling were loud enough to distract them from the silence. Moments later, they reached the backdoor that led to the modest kitchen, one of the very few rooms where its structure seemed to be well preserved for the most part, where its floor actually saw a mop more than once a month. As soon as they entered, Joker's stomach growled with the welcoming scent of tomato soup that took over the kitchen and it was then that he underestimated how hungry he actually was. He took one of the few remaining empty clay bows on a nearby table and helped himself to a generous portion of soup from the large pot at the wood oven and a piece of bread from the counter.

He took his meal to the dining room, where he was greeted by the echoes of mild chatter and slurping and breaking of bread. He got a quick look of acknowledgement from the people responsible for those very sounds, responding in kind with the same kind of look and awkwardly approached the long rectangular dining table. He took a random seat, coincidentally the one furthest away from one particular individual that quietly ate his own soup and whose chilling blue eyes threatened to make his meal grow cold just by his prolonged stare.

Joker turned his gaze away from Byleth before the man could notice him. He decided to pay attention to the conversation shared by the people nearest to him, though he was not really in the mood to contribute anything to it. So he simply listened and ate.

The muscular man that sat by his side, the one called Richter, said in frustration, "I don't know why we insist on doing this, he's not gonna change," and then he took probably the most angry bite to his bread that Joker had ever thought humanly possible. Richter's angry statement was answered by a tired head shake from the young man that sat in front of him. The young woman by his side, the one who shared an uncanny resemblance to the young man, from their face, from the light color of their hair and exact same dark cloak, gave an equally tired sigh.

The guy Robin said, "I get that Ridley is not the easiest guy to deal with, but we need to keep trying," at the same time that the girl Robin claimed, "Master Hand created him, Richter. Surely there must be something in him that's reasonable."

"Well, Master Hand can be pretty unreasonable sometimes," Richter said, crossing those unbelievably beefy arms. "What makes you think he's beyond creating a monster?"

"Because that monster is made of the same stuff as us," said the guy Robin. "At the very least we should not transform him into a trophy."

"Robin, he is a menace!" Lucina, who had not been participating up to that point, exclaimed from the other side. "He has already attempted to kill you twice!"

"He is also a Smasher," Dark Pit, who sat by her side, countered.

"Wah, it doesn't matter! I say we put him down!"

"Yeah, you would know what it's like to transform people into trophies, wouldn't you?!"

Just like that, it was as if that sparked something within the group, because suddenly everyone in that table seemed very interested in expressing their opinions. Perhaps it was because Joker just got there and caught the conversation in the middle, but he was completely lost on what they were arguing about. He could ask for context and maybe contribute something useful to the conversation, but something on the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Joker almost dropped his spoon as he saw Princess Daisy whispering something in Byleth's ear at the other end of the table. That in itself wasn't the problem, but when both pairs of blue eyes looked directly at him after she had finished whispering, Joker knew that he was the subject of gossip between them. Daisy's eyes were big and innocent, they looked at Joker with compassion and he was certain that whatever she was whispering to him, it most certainly had to do with what had transpired earlier.

Byleth's, on the other hand, cut into his soul like a sharp sword, preferably like the bony looking one that he carried everywhere with him. The man had the cold stare of a serial killer. Joker did not have a good feeling about that.

In the midst of the increasing heat of the debate, the Phantom Thief quickly ate his hot soup, not even caring that it burned his tongue with every gulp. He had to get out of there quickly, while chaos permeated on that dining table. Joker finished his soup in record time, another one for the history books, and bolted out of the table with a burning mouth and an equally destroyed esophagus, his bread left unattended. If he was quick enough, he could reach his bedroom and pretend to be asleep and therefore avoid any possible awkward conversation that he had the feeling was about to come. He escaped the dining hall in the midst of the chaos between its bickering residents and made his way through another amalgamation of ghastly corridors, made less ghastly when compared to the castle's other wing because at least the Smashers made sure to tidy up the place as best as they could with what little resources they had.

Another gust of wind, coming straight from another cracked window, blew on his face. Joker flinched for a second, which turned out to be a terrible mistake as he flinched at the exact moment the person he wanted to see the least called out, "Joker, a moment, please!" and took Joker's momentary pause as confirmation that he was listening.

Cursing under his breath, Joker turned around and saw Byleth approaching him, sword attached to his hip and the expression on his porcelain like face as impassive as ever. Coming to terms that there was no escape anymore, he asked, as politely as he could, "Is there something I can help you with, Byleth?"

"I believe that I should be the one asking you this," Byleth said. "Daisy told me that you failed to control spirits in today's fight against the puppet fighter."

Joker said, "Failed is a strong word, but yes, I had some troubles using the spirit," and then, already knowing the answer to the question he was about to make, he said, "Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if you would like me to help you figure out how to use spirits," Byleth said, unsurprisingly.

"Daisy asked you to tutor me, didn't she?"

"Yes."

She knew that Joker would not consider asking Byleth for help and decided to ask him herself. His regard for the princess dropped just a little with that. He still couldn't be mad at her, though, as he could see her concern was genuine and she was growing desperate. Joker awkwardly adjusted his white mask and looked away, feeling intimidated by the man's uninterrupted stare.

There was no escaping that predicament. Joker was truly cornered.

"I… alright, I'll accept your help," he said. "When do we start?"

There was no need to look at Byleth to know that his face continued as impartial as ever as he said, monotone, "Good, I am happy to help. We may start tomorrow morning."

"Y-yeah, yeah, tomorrow morning sounds fine," Joker gulped. "Thank you for this opportunity, Byleth."

"The pleasure is all mine. Good night, Joker. I'll see you tomorrow."