The voice's downstairs were still loud.
Feste leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze empty.
I should Just leave... the Godfather surely dosen't have his eyes on me... right?
He took a deep breath and pushed himself off the wall. His footsteps echoed dully against the cold floor as he walked down the corridor, eyes drifting across the dim hallway.
What is this place...
It feels like hell.
A hell ruled by devils.
I should've just stuck to my pathetic little comedy skits...
As he reached the door, it creaked open.
Slowly.
Softly.
A man stepped inside.
Feste froze. Breath caught in his throat.
Four eyes two on each side of his face.
Each different colors.
And in his right hand... an axe.
What... what is this feeling...?
My body's shaking.
This presence... it's crushing me.
I can barely breath.
I'm... scared.
The man didn't even look at him. Feste pressed himself against the wall, slipping past and out of the room without daring to glance back.
Outside, the Slums were drowned in darkness.
No light.
Only shadows.
The air thick with the stench of smoke, rot... and blood.
He headed toward his hideout, a collapsed storage shed, barely a roof over his head but dry enough to call home.
Then it came.
Screams.
Thundering footsteps.
The sharp clatter of hooves.
What the hell...?
Horses?!
People ran past him, screaming, eyes wild with terror.
Panic flared in his chest.
He ran.
Blind.
No direction, no thought.
Just away.
His shoulder slammed into something?!
Someone?!
He fall.
The other didn't budge.
Feste looked up.
Moonlight spilled over the man's face: long black hair and a rough beard.
Mid twenties maybe.
Who is he...?
Feste stumbeld back.
And then.
The man was in front of him.
No sounds, no step. as if he had skipped time forward.
Feste collapsed to his knees.
No chance to run.
The man studied him, calm, unreadable.
"How old are you, boy?"
Feste blinked
How... old?
"I... I don't know, sir"
Something flickered in the man's expression.
Sadness? No. Not sadness.
Disgust.
Not aimed at Feste, but at the world that had birthed him.
What's with that look...?
Yeah, i'm from the Slums.
Yeah, i'm a nobody.
But does he have to look at me like that?
If he looks away for even a second... i'll strike. Running won't save me.
The man truned his head slightly.
Now!!!
Feste lunged and crumpeld.
Wh... what? My body... it won't move?!
"Hey! old man! What the hell did you do to me?!" Feste shouted, voice cracking with rage and fear.
The man didn't respond.
He was speaking-to someone. But... there was no one.
Who...
Who is he talking to? There's nobody around.
And then, he felt it.
Like an icy breath trailing down his spine.
A presence.
Malicious.
Overwhelming.
Pure fear distilled into form.
Slowly, Feste turned his head.
And there he was.
The man with four eyes.
I... i know him.
I saw him before.
But now... now he feels different.
Like a demon.
Something not of this world.
Beside him, the black-haired man tilted his head slightly.
"Lower your Qi, four eye"
he said calmly.
The black-haired man crouched down, meeting Feste's wide, trembling eyes.
"Sorry, kid" he said with an easy smile. "Wanna join our crew."
Feste froze
... What?
After everything that just happened... after all this... he wants to take me with him?
No.
Don't make the same mistake again.
Not this time.
"No, sir"
He said evenly.
"I'll stay a clown. That's my life."
The man rose his feet
"A, shame."
A light smile.
Then his gaze sharpened - serious, piercing.
"I saw something in you"
His eyes lingered for a moment, locking with Feste's red ones.
Then - they were gone.
A blink.
Vanished.
Feste stayed on the ground for a long while before pushing himself up.
I need to get back...
back to the borthel.
The streets were silent as he walked.
Dark.
The stench of blood heavy in the air.
Each step pulling him closer to something he didn't want to see.
And then - there it was.
Death.
Everywhere.
Blood splattered across walls and floor.
Bodies.
Lifeless.
Is... is the Godfather also dead
He climbed the creakinc stairs.
Above, faint screams echoed.
And then - the roof.
The Godfather.
Pale skin.
Eyes black as tar.
Kneeling, head thrown back, screaming at the heavens.
A sound not human.
As if something inside him was tearing itself apart.
Feste turned away.
Silent.
And walked out.
His boots were stained red, but he didn't care.
The smell of death clung to him - blood, rotting flesh, cheap parfume.
The way back to his shelter was quiet.
No one stopped him.
No one spoke.
Only stares.
His head hung low.
Long black hair falling over his face.
Red eyes empty, hollow.
Inside, thought, something stirred.
Dark.
Awakening.
I can feel it. Something changed to night.
"Hey, Feste! Wanna have some fun?"
One of the women called.
He stopped.
Another chance...
If i say no, i'll stay the same. That pathetic, worthless clown. But if i say yes... maybe i won't feel so weak. Maybe something will change.
He smiled.
Despite the dirt on his clothes, he stepped closer, kissed her hard on the mouth.
She like it.
She laughed.
Together, they stepped slipped into a bar, rented a room.
Inside, for the first time, feste felt control.
The women screamed his name like it mattered. Like He mattered.
Is this power? Is this what Power feels like...?
They didn't stop until morning. When he woke, she was asleep beside him.
A real bed...
Clean sheets...
Warm food.
Later, he wandered to the market square, where Jobs were usually posted - errands, information runs, anything for a bit coin.
The Godfather is dead.
No more steady job.
What's left? Bounties? Do i start hunting people now?
He browsed the mission boards aimlessly.
Then stopped.
What the...
The Two men from last night.
The man with 4 eyes and the black-haired man
His eye drifted to the bounty board.
Bounties:
The man with 4 eyes=20,000 gold.
The black-haired man=100,000 gold.
What the hell...
These guys are monsters.
Who could even afford that much gold.
"Yup"
a voice said next to Feste.
Feste flinched.
A tall man stood there.
Face hidden in shadow.
Someone he didn't know.
"They call them the Dark Triad"
The man said flatly.
"They're planning to overthrow the King."
"How do you know that?"
Feste asked, wary.
"Because they tried before.
Two years ago.
The Great war - the Battle for the Throne."
" I have a quest..."
Where is the man...?! And where are the bounties
Backt at his hideout.
Only silence.
Only question.
He showered.
Changed his clothes.
Then, as he looked in the cracked mirror
He was there.
The Stranger.
Feste stumbeld back, breath sharp.
"You... you bastard! Who the hell are you?!"
Feste shouted, voice breaking between fear and fury.
"ANSWER ME!!!"
Feste screamed.
The man smiled faintly.
And spoke, clearly, slowly.
I am...
The Joker.