A Three Jokers Orgin story. So there's been a lot of Joker in the news lately. Lots of debate about giving him an origin story. Should he have one? Should it be multiple choice? Should it be a mystery? Well I'm curious by nature. I love the origin s...
I followed the boss out of the warehouse. His pace was rather fast. I wasn't sure what he wanted with me, but after the display I just witnessed, I sure hope I'm not on his bad side. He gets in the driver's seat and I hear the vehicle crank. I peer through the passenger side window. He motions for me to get in. I hesitantly open the door and get inside with him. He takes off. After a moment he pulls off his red hood. He tosses it in the back seat and ruffles his hair with his hand, glancing in the rearview at his reflection.
He sighs and focuses on the road. "Tell me Johnny, what else do you know about me besides where I live?"
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He cuts his eyes over at me.
He could make his eyes seem so disconnected from things, as if he didn't care. It was like a poker face. Yet he asked me the question. And to be honest, his real face was much more intimidating than that hood he wears. But I guess he had a good reason for hiding his identity from us. It could, in fact, be for a number of reasons.
See, I did do this trace on him when I started working for him. I wasn't one for jumping head first into opportunities without weighing out all the good and bad aspects. That's how I made my decision. It wasn't hard once I found out where he lived. He lives under the name Melvin Reipan, but I doubt that is his true identity. Melvin Reipan claims to be a middle class man who has a small software company. He claimed to be married to an Angela. And all of that sounds fine and ordinary. But this man, the man I called boss, he looked too young to even be out of high school. But no average kid behaves, thinks, or acts as he does.
I knew there had to be more. And tonight he had said the words I needed to finally put it all together. He said he was rather recently a man who gets answers, a man that interrogated and kills. Only one thing fits that job description, and that's a Gangster. More specifically, a mob hit man.
Normally I would brush that off as a young man's lies of bravado. But I had heard things, having had mob connections here in Metropolis. I've overheard conversations about how Carmine Falcone had a hit man so young that he couldn't even get in his clubs.
And that's when the bells went off in my head. He was that kid hit man I'd heard about. They said he was very serious, very stiff, very proper. They said he never seemed like he ever enjoyed anything. And I saw those things in this young looking boss of mine beside me. I knew I had to be right, the pieces all fit.
"Besides where you live boss?" I ask.
He smirks with a huff, "Oh I know you looked into me. I know that because I did the same thing with you. You're not a guy to blindly walk into anything, am I right?"
"I couldn't find much of a paper trail, you covered your tracks very well," I start. "You aren't from here. I noticed that everywhere you go, home, work, meeting places, they all faced East. To me that says you have eyes on Gotham. Maybe it's your future, maybe your past, but the place means something." I hope having the answers right now doesn't get me killed. I saw his eyes tonight as he did a number on Jimmy. It didn't bother him one bit. It was as if he'd done it a hundred times.
