Heath walked out into the chilly air. He had stopped by his dorm room to pack a few things for the weekendin the Narrows. A change of clothes; cargos pants, thermals,and jacket. A throw blanket, bottle of water, some cassettes, his wallet and homework. All stuffed in a small duffel bag, save for the wallet and switchblade.

The wind blew and rustled his green and purple scarf to the side. He needed to do what the "voice" told him to do. The voice was always right.

He'd call. But somewhere safer. Calling so near the school, or in fact so far from the saftey of the Narrows was dangerous.

Heath 's hair was windblown, frosted with settled snow by the time he got near the narrows. Ot had been a few hours since he left school. He would have preferred going by bus, but people would look funny at at the academy kid taking the bus to the Narrows.

He was freezing. He went into a convenience store and it was warm, instantly warming his fingers. He went to the counter and smiled and bought some cigarette wraps and a lighter. Yes he bought them, why? Cause you don't steal from those who just scrape by, you steal from those who steal from the average joes through interest and loans. Those who let yo invest in stocks, even though they know you will gain nothing while they gain on your ignorance. Bankers. Investors. Stock brokers. White collar scoundrels. That's who you steal from. Not the hard workers that cant get out of the Narrows.

He paid the few dollars for them, rolled a good one in the store and left. He lit it outside, taking a deep drag. His eyes caught a man who was eying hid down. Heath took another drag, raising an eyebrow at the guy. The guy kept looking at him, eyeing him as if Heath couldn't see him.

"Yo, got a problem? Eyeing my direction, like you planning something."

"Yeah, I do. He he, Boss said to take you in." The man, now turned goonie turned on Heath.

Heath smiled and sat down his blunt on the window sill of the convenience store and cracked his knuckles and neck.

"Come on no life, got some pent up energy. Thanks for being my punching bag, bitch." Heath said, bending down on one knee, tying his shoe, planning an attack.

'You can go all out, have fun, but get answers. See who sent him. Then kill him. He won't be of further use.'

"No." Heath replied, as the goon started towards him.

'If you won't...I will.' Then the voice was silent as man pulled out a gun.

Heath threw a handful of dirty snow at the man, using the tiny distraction to charge at the man, no more than five feet away, taking out his switchblade. He avoided most of the gunfire, but one hit him, grazing his shoulder. He sliced the inside of the goon's wrist, deep enough to cut the tendons there, disarming the goon as blood seeped from the man's arm, spraying Heath in the face as the guy tried to punch him with the same injured arm...until he realized he could no longer form a fist. Heath tackled the guy using his blade to viciously stab him in the shoulder.

The goon cried out in pain but head butted Heath, sending him in the snow with double vision.

'He was sent to kill you. Do you still not want to kill him.'

"Shit. Not even close. Fuck you Mr. Voice."

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING TO!? YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD, BITCH!" The guy yelled as he climbed on Heath and preceded to punch him in the face.

Heath bucked him off, both of them wet with snow, blood splattered in the gray snow, both men covered in each other's blood.

His eye stung and the taste of iron invaded his mouth.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Heath hollered , scrambling for his switchblade that was disregarded in the snow.

The goon grabbed Heath by his hair, yanking him back, away from the switch blade.

Heath elbowed him in the face, fracturing his nose with a satisfying crunch.

Th goon let go to clutch his face and Heath reached for the knife. His fingers gripped the blade on accident slicing his fingers in the process.

Blood oozed from his hand as he went to hold it by the handle. Before the goon could get up, Heath straddled the man and held. The knife to his throat.

"Who sent you!" Heath yelled, diggingthe knife into his throat.

"I ain't tellin' you shit."

Blood started to pool around the man's throat, where the point of his knife had pierced his flesh.

"O-okay I'll tell you! Here!" The goon pulled out a card. A Joker Card.

"I'm done with this, tagging out, your turn, have fun with other me." Heath muttered.

'Finally.'

Heath woke up in the cold, his duffle,bag beside him, his back laid up against the wall of an alley.

He was so wet, and so cold. He looked down and yelled scambling away from the corpse by him.

It was the guy, he was mutilated badly, blood and stab wounds all over him. The worst was his face, a joker card laid over his right eye, and his knife, stabbed through and into the socket.

Heath retched to the side. He hadnt,remember doing this ,at all. Heath looked down on himself, blood covered his front, clothes ruined.

He needed to get home. He needed his mom, his dad. Anyone. With shaky fingers, Heath reached for his knife, trying not to retch again. He pulled at the knife, th e slow removal making , it a sickening squelching sound.

"What did you do?" Heath muttered shakily.

'What was necessary, something you would , not do.'

Heath looked down to find he was not soaking wet with blood. He rubbed his face and blood smeared further on his face.

'The shopkeeper has been taken care of as well.'

"Fuck did you kill him too!? He didn't do anything!"

'He saw, but will keep silent. He knows who you are, who your father is. He is not willing to reveal who you are in fear of your father.'

"Apparently that doesn't matter because Dad sent a fucking goon to kill me!"

Heath got up, body sore and probably stiff with bruises. He weakly grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder., leaving the body.

"I-I need to go home."

'It was one of his tests, you know that. You know what he's planning.'

"Dad, never plans. He just does shit that he wants."

'Call him.'

"Fuck him."

'Call...him, before I do.'

"You can't."

'Try me.' the voice finally said before Heath heard nothing but silence.

"Ass." Heath whimpered from the pain and the cold. He was taking alleyways to avoid being seen. Even though he was in the Narrows, he couldn't just walk out in the middle of the street soaked in another man's blood.

Heath pulled out his phone, and went to a secluded area and dialed.

"Welcome home...son." Then all you could hear was the sinister cackle of his father before the phone died.

Well guys, hoped you liked the chapter! More Joker in the future! Even more so in the next chapter. This was just a warm up.

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