The screeching of tires against wet pavement. The metallic crunch of twisted steel. The world spinning in chaotic motion.
Then—silence.
Joker, or rather, the girl she used to be, sat in the wreckage, her tiny fingers trembling as she reached out to the cold, lifeless hands of her parents.
The flashing red and blue lights bathed the scene in unnatural hues, sirens wailing through the darkness.
Her parents, her siblings—everyone—gone.
Just like that, in an instant, the world ripped them away from her.
She was alone.
---
The first foster home was warm—kind faces, gentle voices, people who tried to fill the void left behind.
For a brief moment, she thought she could heal.
But fate had other plans.
A mysterious fire consumed the home one night, its flames devouring everything in sight. The smoke was thick, suffocating, burning her throat as she stumbled out of the wreckage.
Her foster parents? Gone. Just like before.
Once again she was the only survivor.
And so, she was sent elsewhere—to a home where kindness did not exist.
---
The second foster home was a house of nightmares.
At first glance, it appeared normal—a small, worn-down suburban home with a rusting swing set in the backyard and a fence one gust away from collapsing.
But inside…
Inside, the air was thick with despair, the kind of quiet suffering that clung to the walls like an invisible stain.
The foster parents—if they could even be called that—were a pair of twisted, broken people, their love for children twisted into something vile.
Joker—back when she was just a girl, innocent and hopeful—was placed under their care at age ten.
By then, she had already learned that life was cruel.
But she had no idea just how much worse it could get.
---
She arrived with nothing but a single backpack containing:
A few old clothes
A stuffed rabbit with a missing ear
A notebook filled with childish drawings of the parents she lost.
"Welcome home, sweetheart," the foster mother cooed when she arrived, kneeling to touch her face.
But there was something wrong with her smile.
A hollow, twisted thing.
And the father… he didn't speak. He only watched.
His eyes were cold, calculating.
Even at that age, she knew how to read people.
They weren't happy to have her.
They were happy to own her.
---
It started subtle.
At first, it was small punishments for insignificant things.
Forgetting to say "Good morning."
Speaking too much.
Not smiling when spoken to.
She was given one meal a day. A single slice of bread, stale and dry. She would stare at it blankly, forcing herself to eat every crumb while her stomach cried for more.
If she ever asked for more food, she was told:
"Greedy little rats don't deserve anything."
---
By the time she turned eleven, the punishments had escalated.
If she spilled water—
She was forced to kneel on uncooked rice for hours, her skin turning raw and red.
If she made too much noise—
She was locked inside the pitch-black basement, where rats scurried between her legs, and the air reeked of mold and urine.
If she cried—
The foster father would tighten his grip on her wrist and hiss:
"You have nothing to cry about."
And she would nod, forcing the tears back down.
Eventually, she stopped crying altogether.
---
No one in the neighborhood knew.
Or no one cared.
Every time she stepped outside, she put on a perfect mask.
At school, she was silent, obedient, invisible.
She never made friends. What was the point?
Love was an illusion.
Kindness was a weapon.
People would only pretend to care.
Then, when they tired of you, they would discard you.
It was just how the world worked.
---
She turned twelve when it happened.
A storm raged outside.
The foster father had been drinking.
She knew that was bad.
She could see it in the way his hands twitched, the way his lip curled in frustration at nothing.
The foster mother sat at the kitchen table, stirring a cup of black coffee, watching everything in detached amusement.
And then—
"Come here, girl."
Her stomach twisted.
She hesitated.
The man's eye twitched.
"Come. Here."
Her body moved on its own, trembling as she stepped closer.
She was already bracing for impact.
The slap came faster than she expected.
She stumbled, hitting the floor.
"Dumb little rat, why don't you ever listen?!"
"She never listens." The foster mother sighed, tapping her fingernail against her mug.
"That's why you need to teach her properly."
---
She Blacked Out.
That was the first time she had truly blacked out.
When she woke up, she was in the basement, her body covered in welts and bruises.
The door was locked.
The air was thick with dust.
And she couldn't move one of her legs properly.
She stayed down there for three days.
No food.
No water.
No light.
She stared up at the ceiling, her mind slipping.
That was the night she realized—
She would never be free.
---
The next time she escaped the house, it was on a rainy afternoon, she ran straight to the cemetery.
She collapsed in front of the Six gravestones, hands clutching at the cold earth.
"I can't take it anymore…I miss you all so much…" she whispered, kneeling in the damp grass.
Her fingers brushed the cold stone as tears slid down her cheeks. She whispered, voice hoarse.
"I don't want to be alone."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"I don't want to be alone anymore…"
That's when HE appeared.
A tall, hooded figure, standing just behind her, watching.
"Poor child…"
She turned, startled.
His voice was deep, velvety, wrapping around her like a cold embrace.
She should have been scared.
But she wasn't.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
"A friend," he said.
He knelt beside her, eyes glowing beneath the shadows of his hood.
"I can bring them back."
Her breath hitched. "You—what? How?"
"All it takes is a simple deal."
Her breath hitched.
Her hands tightened into fists.
She should have asked how.
She should have questioned why.
But she didn't.
She was too desperate.
Hope flared in her chest. She didn't hesitate.
"Yes! I'll do anything!"
The figure chuckled, extending his gloved hand.
"Then we have a deal."
---
The moment her fingers touched his, an eerie chill crawled down her spine.
Darkness wrapped around her like vines, suffocating, overwhelming.
Her body collapsed onto the ground, the cemetery warping into something… wrong.
She tried to scream—but no sound came.
A grave stood before her, freshly dug. The name on it was scratched beyond recognition.
Her hands dirty and bloodied, she tried to stand but her legs wouldn't move.
"Oh, I forgot to mention something, little one," the hooded figure murmured, standing over her.
Her heart hammered.
"You won't remember who you are… or why you're here."
The moment he spoke, her mind shattered.
She stared blankly, confused, lost.
"Excuse me, sir… but what was I doing here?" she asked, tilting her head.
The figure crouched down, patting her head like a child.
"You were just coming home."
She blinked.
"But first, you should go get me more souls, my little Joker."
A smile spread across her face.
"Yes, sir!" she said cheerfully, skipping away.
Then, she paused, turning back.
"By the way, mister… what should I call you?"
The figure's smirk widened.
"My name? My name is.....Azrael."
---
She wandered the graveyard, humming a tune.
A happy family sat just outside, sharing ice cream.
Her smile vanished.
She walked toward them, head low.
"Help… help!" she cried. "My parents fell into a hole!"
The father stood immediately. "Stay here, I'll check it out."
As he entered the cemetery, a thick fog descended.
His voice was wary. "I can't see with all this fog…"
Then—a foot.
He tripped, crashing headfirst into a tombstone.
SPLAT!
Joker stared at his lifeless body, watching the blood drip onto the stone.
A switchblade fell from his pocket.
She picked it up.
Outside, his wife and daughter waited.
The little girl tugged at her mother's dress.
"Mommy, when is Daddy coming back?"
The mother smiled gently. "Let's go check on him."
As they stepped into the fog, Joker moved.
She jumped onto the mother's back, slitting her throat without hesitation.
The woman collapsed, blood pooling beneath her.
The child screamed, sobbing as she clutched her mother's hand.
"Mommy! Mommy, wake up! I'm scared!"
Joker tilted her head.
"You don't need to be scared. I just want to play with you...."
With a quick motion, she drove the knife into the girl's back.
The child fell forward, lifeless.
Joker sighed, kneeling beside her.
"Now you can stay and play with me forever."
She picked up the girl's doll.
A cold light swirled around her, merging her with the puppet.
Joker smirked, strings wrapping around the child's body.
"Well, now I should finally be able to leave this cemetery. But first, a promise is a promise…"
With a flick of her wrist, strings shot out of her fingers then tightening around the child's lifeless body. She then began to use the strings to move the little girls arms and legs; having her do a little dance.
"Well, aren't you just a cute little puppet? Let's go play."
The two disappeared into the fog.
---
~Back in Present Day~
The circus tent loomed above the trio.
Joker perched on the tightrope, grinning down at them.
Suimin pointed at her, his expression deadpan.
"Hell no. I don't want to join your little freakshow. And what did you do to NoobMaster69?"
Joker pouted, swinging upside-down from the tightrope.
"We're not freaks, you dimwit." She spun playfully. "And I already told you—he joined my circus! Would you like to play with him again?"
Suimin cracked his knuckles.
"No. And you took my gaming rival away, interrupted one of my naps, and honestly? I'm done playing around."
Kurai and Hikaru exchanged glances.
"What do you mean… playing around?" Hikaru asked.
Suimin yawned, stretching his arms.
"I've been holding back. I could've easily beaten those puppets, but… that would've taken effort."
Kurai immediately smacked him on the back of the head.
"You Kool-Aid monkey! My big brother could've gotten hurt because of you!"
Suimin rubbed the spot, groaning. "Alright, alright, geez. Let me access 1% of my power."
The air crackled.
Suimin took a deep breath, electricity surging through him, forming a massive drum on his back.
His eyes flickered, turning a deep yellow.
He vanished.
Lightning struck across the tent walls, illuminating the arena.
Then—BOOM.
The puppets atomized in an instant.
Suimin reappeared, yawning. "See? Easy."
A dark aura erupted from Joker.
Her smile twisted into rage.
"How dare you…"
She dived at them, knives gleaming in the air.
"YOU TOOK MY FAMILY AWAY FROM ME!"
--------
The moment Joker dove, the wind seemed to vanish.
Kurai's scythe was in her hands in an instant, her body moving on instinct. Hikaru stepped in front of Mamoru, Durandal glowing bright as a miniature sun. Suimin exhaled calmly, his drum still glowing with residual electricity from his last attack.
"She's fast," Hikaru muttered, narrowing his eyes.
"She's angry," Suimin corrected, watching the streak of black and red come screaming down from the tightrope.
Joker landed with impossible grace, crouching like a spider just a few meters from them. Her eyes glowed faintly beneath her porcelain mask, the twin knives in her hands dripping an oily black ichor. The very air around her pulsed with wrath.
"You... you destroyed them," she said in a whisper. Her voice quivered, not from weakness, but from emotion strung too tightly. "My family. My only friends. My circus."
Kurai stepped forward. "You mean your puppets? Those twisted, soulless husks? You murdered people, Joker. You made them into playthings."
Joker stood tall, knives gleaming under the tent lights. "Because I was alone! I was always alone! And they were all I had!"
She snapped her fingers.
The ground cracked.
From the shadows behind her, a dozen marionette strings lashed out—like live wires—wrapping around the central pole of the tent. Lights shattered. The tent darkened.
Suimin cracked his neck. "Guess we're doing this."
Hikaru nodded. "Be careful. She's not just a puppet master—she's the puppet." He looked to Mamoru. "Stay back. This isn't your fight."
"Gladly," Mamoru said, repressing back into their shared mindscape.
Joker's fingers twitched. Strings snapped into place, anchoring her arms and legs like a war puppet.
"Let's play."
Then she lunged.
Kurai met her mid-air, scythe slashing in a brilliant arc, but Joker flipped, her strings catching the top of the tent as she rebounded overhead.
Hikaru fired a radiant bolt of energy, but Joker spun, her knives slicing through the magic mid-flight. She landed beside Suimin.
"Hello, sleepy boy," she purred.
Suimin raised an eyebrow. "You're too loud."
His drum reverberated with a pulse, sending a concussive shockwave outward. Joker was blasted back—but the strings caught her. She rebounded, twisting midair and hurling one of her knives directly at Suimin's head.
He caught it between two fingers. "Cute."
The battle raged—metal against magic, strings against thunder, scythe against sorrow.
And above them all, Joker danced. Not like a warrior. Not like a killer.
Like a child.
Wild.
Unhinged.
Lonely.
And that made her more dangerous than anything they had faced before.
---
Joker's strings lashed out again, this time piercing the floorboards and ripping up planks beneath Kurai's feet. The fallen angel leapt back just in time, but the distraction gave Joker the edge—she swung forward and slashed Kurai's shoulder.
Kurai hissed through her teeth. "You want to play with souls? Then play with mine!"
Her aura flared, wings of black flame unfolding behind her as she surged forward. Their weapons clashed—scythe and knife, steel and sorrow. Sparks rained like fireflies.
Meanwhile, Hikaru circled to flank, Durandal glowing white-hot. With practiced precision, he lunged, his strike aimed at Joker's exposed back.
But a marionette arm—snapped from a fallen puppet—intercepted him, animated by her strings. It shattered on contact, but it bought her time. Joker flipped over him, laughing.
"You're no fun, Hikaru! Too serious! Too noble! You're just like them!"
Hikaru narrowed his gaze. "And you're just a scared girl hiding behind a circus mask."
For the first time, Joker's expression cracked. Her smile faltered.
But only for a moment.
She whirled to face Suimin next, strings latching onto overhead beams. Dozens of broken puppet torsos and limbs began to twitch and reassemble—forming a towering, grotesque amalgamation of marionette parts with a sewn-shut grin and hollow eyes.
"Let's see how you handle this, nap boy!"
Suimin sighed. "More work. Great."
He struck his drum once. Lightning forked through the giant puppet's limbs, but it didn't fall. It moved.
With the sound of splintering wood and shrieking gears, the behemoth charged.
Suimin smirked. "Fine. I'll get serious. One percent wasn't enough. Let's try... five."
Electricity surged. The drum behind him pulsed brighter, and his eyes burned golden. He vanished in a blink, reappearing beneath the creature, slamming both Arnis sticks upward in a lightning-charged uppercut.
The puppet exploded.
Joker screamed, clutching her head. Her strings writhed violently.
Hikaru didn't waste the opening. He rushed in, slashing with Durandal, cutting through a dozen strings at once.
Joker dropped to one knee, panting.
"Why… why do you all want to leave me?" she whispered.
Kurai lowered her scythe slightly. "You never gave us a choice."
Joker clutched her head in pain " That filthy liar... He lied to me!"
"Who? Who lied to you?" Kurai asked.
"He said his name was Azrael" Joker replied.
The group shared a collective look.
"Azrael? That can't be" Hikaru said.
"You know, we're fighting against heaven and if you join us you'll be able to get your revenge against him" Kurai said twirling her scythe.
Joker lowered her hands and all the puppet strings disappeared in an instant.
"Fine. You have a deal. But Azrael is mine"