Before I became a DM I spent a fair amount of time working for a professional wrestling company.
I won't say which one, but let's just say it once got sued by a federation of animal lovers and to this day features worldly wrestlers everywhere.
When I was first starting out as a DM, I read as much as I could (including tons of posts on this very subreddit). I built complex encounters and antagonists I thought were compelling, but when it came to running my sessions with them they often felt a little anticlimactic. That's because I was investing all my time in the payoff, and none in the build. And that's when I remembered everything I learned while I was working with in-ring talent on their characters their definitely real life selves: The build is everything. Now that I use pro-wrestling secrets* to develop my NPCs and encounters, I'm the best DM there is (ever was, or ever will be). At least to my party.
Below are a few lessons I learned from my time just outside gorilla, as well as a few examples of how they translate to your work as a DM.
For clarity these terms will come up alot, so here are simple definitions:
"heels" = "bad guys"
"babyfaces/faces" = "good guys" aka "your party/their allies."
"Heat" = "an emotional reaction." In general, you want the audience to be emotionally invested. Heat is the name for that investment, whether they love or hate someone.

*these aren't really secrets—they are the basic building blocks of compelling storytelling, and oftentimes can be boiled down to a single maxim: give the people what they want...just make them pay (and/or wait) for it.

Everyone Who's Anyone Has At Least One Nickname
The Undertaker is also: The Phenom, The Deadman, Big Evil, The Lord of Darkness, The Demon of Death Valley and 'Taker if you're nasty. And that's just one guy (and like, only half his nicknames...). Any of your NPCs that you're planning to throw at your party as possible heels should have a cool moniker or two to help establish their renown within the world you're creating.
Perhaps more importantly, each member of your party should be given the chance to earn one. You will be surprised how awesome your rogue feels when one of their NPC allies starts referring to them as "The Graveyard Whistler" following their steely performance during a crypt-based encounter.
As your players conquer various encounters, nicknames are a cool way to weave their exploits into the narrative on a regular basis. In my experience, you'll find players actually start incorporating their given monikers into the way they play their characters. A nickname is the first step toward turning your heroes into superheroes—don't miss out on the opportunity.
Everyone Sells for Your Superheroes (So When They Don't, It Means Something)
I put this close to the top because I think it informs everything about the way most pro-wrestling is booked. There are a few guys/gals on the roster that are unbeatable. Let's call them Superheroes (when they're a physically intimidating heel, they are usually referred to as "monsters"). Andre the Giant. Hulk Hogan. The Rock. Undertaker. Goldberg. John Cena. These wrestlers rarely, if ever, lose. If they do lose, it's typically under special circumstances (their opponent cheated, they were injured, they were supremely outnumbered, their opponent covered them in cement, or someone poked them with a very powerful finger). If a Superhero loses "clean," meaning none of that previously mentioned interference, it is often part of the coronation of a new Superhero.
Everyone on the roster sells for a Superhero. A Superhero's punches hit harder. Their bodyslams bounce you off the mat. Their penetrating stare sends you scrambling back up the ramp and into the locker room. Superheroes beat local competitors in 10 seconds, or destroy previously celebrated opponents in what are called "squash" matches—a total annihilation meant to reinforce that the Superhero is unbeatable.
Your party are fledgling Superheroes, and will reach proper Superhero status as they progress in level. So when they use a weapon or cast a spell or talk their way out of trouble, have your lower level NPCs sell for them. Basic bandits should flee in fear when your paladin drops that first smite. Skeletons shudder and rattle the moment a cleric shows their holy symbol—they know all it'll take to render them to dust is the whispered name of the cleric's god. A rogue's knife doesn't miss...the opponent got lucky dodging to the left at the precise moment...a twist of fate the target knows they're unlikely to repeat.
When Andre the Giant was bodyslammed and pinned by Hulk Hogan at WrestleMania III , it was the culmination of one of the longest, most successful builds in pro-wrestling history. And it cemented Hogan as an unbeatable force, because he had dethroned the boss. The monster. The 8th wonder of the world. Andre sold for Hogan, and elevated him as the heir apparent.
By having your lower level NPCs (and even some in the mid-tier) oversell for your party, it'll mean more to your party when they come across a monster or miscreant that takes the full weight of a great weapon master's heavy swing, shrugs it off and hands them a receipt: a full bore punch to the throat.
Now your party is facing a formidable foe—they've never been in this situation before. And when they finally succeed in defeating this new opponent, they'll feel that much more unstoppable (which is, of course, when you throw an even bigger monster at them).
When in Doubt, Give 'em a Gimmick
Some cynics might view this as lazy storytelling (and they might be right!) but even some of the best written characters in history have a "gimmick"—i.e.: a shtick...a clearly articulated angle...that thing that sets them apart from other, similar characters. Walter White wasn't just a drug kingpin—he was a brilliant chemistry teacher who used his brain to rise through the criminal underworld. Tony Soprano wasn't just a mob boss—he was a mob boss dealing with panic attacks/depression, whose family issues were as complicated/stressful as his "family" issues. Dr. Gregory House is just Sherlock Holmes in a hospital. Gimmicks are pretty much character premises, but in pro-wrestling, they have a way of informing entire identities.
Sure, Jake "the Snake" Roberts is a mentally intimidating dude—but that notion gets cranked to 11 when he shows up in the ring with a cobra in a sack. The Undertaker, a walking avatar of death itself, who buries his opponents (including his brother!) alive, evokes far more dread and intrigue than "Mark Calaway" ever could. Some gimmicks are simple ("He's a warrior, but he's like...the Ultimate Warrior.") and others are complex (Randy Orton, the Apex Predator, is also known as the Viper because his most devastating strike can come out of nowhere). But all WWE gimmicks have one thing in common: They exist. Pretty much every Superstar has one.
If you're building an NPC you want your party to love (or hate), make sure they have a thing that sets them apart from the rest of the crowd. Give them a nickname only those who speak Thieves' Cant understand means they are "Untouchable." Give them a blade that can end a life with a thought which they constantly brag about never having to use. Give them a profession that also doubles as a menacing, occasionally ridiculous hint at their underlying savagery (see: Mark Henry, aka The World's Strongest Man," or Brutus "The Barber" Beefcake, or Irvin R. Shyster, aka "IRS.").
A gimmick is a way to crank an otherwise unmemorable NPC to 11 (everything in pro-wrestling is cranked to 11. Like, 11 is the baseline), and helps your party know who they are up against—and in many cases, how they can shut them down [see Good Gimmicks = Great Weaknesses].
"Parts Unknown" = Instant Backstory
Don't have a good idea for a gimmick for an NPC or magic item? Take another cue from Vince McMahon's playbook and simply describe them as being from "Parts Unknown." Demolition, Papa Shango, Ultimate Warrior and a dozen other WWE Superstars were billed as hailing not from Omaha or Albuquerque or Cleveland, but from "Parts Unknown." Where is that? NO ONE KNOWS. That's what makes it scary/cool/intriguing. It's instant mystique.
Now, this might read as lazy to you cynics out there, but high level works of fantasy use the same trick: see: 2001's monolith. The Next Generation's Borg. Even the Joker, one of the most considered villains of the modern era was, until pretty recently, backstoryless.
Sometimes a mystery is more terrifying than anything you could come up with on your own. If the most powerful NPCs in your world can't explain the origin of a recently summoned entity or artifact, well, that sounds like something your heroes should approach with caution (or reckless abandon...their choice).
Every Good Villain Deserves a Valet
If you've got a heel you know your party is going to love/hate, double down and give them a valet. A valet can take many forms. Sometimes they act as a hype man/woman, other times they serve as arm candy, a prop to showcase just how much better the heel's life is than your own or sometimes they are a heavy...a wall of meat to keep the heel from taking any sort of beating (there is no faster way to build heat than for a heel who deserves to be punched in the face than to have them step behind a wall of harder-to-punch flesh).
Valets often serve to offset the strengths/weaknesses of the character to whom they are assigned. Again, this is classic storytelling. Falstaff and Hal. Laurel and Hardy. Pinky and the Brain. Pro-wrestling just does it overtly and often (usually to protect a storyline or, in some cases, hide the wrestler's weaknesses). Monsters like Brock Lesnar aren't much on the mic? No problem: enter Paul Heyman.
Give your charming rogue a droll sorceress who can snap her fingers and summon a demon. Give your posh prince access to the hired goon who single-handedly dominated your party in the area's underground fight club. Give your dragon-lich an incredibly weak but utterly hilarious underling who can add some levity to otherwise intense "my evil plan is falling into place" monologues.
When your heel has a great valet, your party gets the bonus of kicking the ass of two characters they hate. Alternatively, they have a character they can use as leverage against the heel (perhaps, like Heyman, they work for the highest bidder, and would be willing to turn on their client for a better offer).
Repackage Your Failures into Successes
Look: You're going to screw up. You're going to create a character you think is an easy sell: let's call him Rocky Maivia. Rocky Maivia is the future! He's gonna be amazing! He will create heat simply by showing up. And then, when the pyro goes off...well, it's a dud. Well guess what! You're Vince F'ing McMahon! You create and destroy characters with a thought! You don't have to stick with Rocky Maivia! You are not a failure! You are simply biding your time, letting the crowd think you've made a mistake. But as anyone who has met him will tell you he's told them, Vince McMahon doesn't make mistakes. Rocky Maivia? No. That's the Rock. He's always been the Rock. And now, he always will be.
Demented Dentist Isaac Yankem? No...that's KANE, the Big Red Monster.
Hunter Hearst Helmsly, the Connecticut Blueblood? Uhmm...no. That's Triple H. The Game. The Cerebral Assassin. The World's Most Hydrated Man.
"Stunning" Steve Austin? No, make that Stone Cold Steve Austin, the Rattlesnake, he of the Gimme a Hell Yeah.
The "Bottom Line" as the artist formerly known as Stunning Steve might say, is this: you're going to invest a lot of time in a character and your party is going to wipe them out. You're going to create a fully developed backstory for a villain you think is dark and compelling only to watch your players laugh in your face and make a joke about the accent you gave them. You will toil over your notes for a delicious monologue and then watch your players choose to violently attack rather than listen to what your villain has to say. So many times. And you might think you have failed...but you are not a failure. You're Vince McMahon. You walk like this. You are a god.
If an NPC you thought had potential as a foil gets annihilated due to your party being OP, great. Did your party know he also made a deal with several different infernal authorities and is now a revenant that sleeplessly seeks their utter demise? Did your party know that nefarious noble with the funny accent was actually a weakened rakshasa who underestimated them but won't make the same mistake twice? That NPC your party chose to sneak by rather than encounter face to face? Oh shit, did you know that NPC has access to a helm of scrying and plans to see them later in more ways than one?
When something isn't working for you or your campaign, feel free to trash it. Keep the parts you like, or find creative ways to bring your personal favorites back in a fresh way. If your party can't remember the name of an NPC you care about...guess what (what!): to quote the Rock...it doesn't matter what their name is. You can rebuild them. You can rebrand them. You can return to glory.
Mediocre Heel + Good Heel + Random Heel = Great Stable
Similar to repackaging, and often a part of one, building a stable is a great way to take B-level talent and turn them into an A-list draw (see: The Shield. The New Day. The Nexus...sidenote: Stables often start with a definite article).
The truth is, your party is a stable—a group of individuals united out of convenience and (typically) a singular purpose (they might even have a name. It might even start with 'the'). But they all have individual goals. If your party can form a stable, why can't your NPCs?
Perhaps all the NPCs your players have dispatched over the past few months have decided they don't like the new heroes in town kicking them around, and they've formed a Justice League of their own. Or perhaps the seemingly disconnected events of the past year (and the NPCs associated with them) have all been part of a larger plan that's only just now coming into view.
You can get more mileage out of your lesser heels as well as more satisfaction out of encounters by having your party face off against familiar enemies who are now more powerful because they've allied with other known entities. "You mean the cult from three sessions ago that we barely defeated has somehow allied themselves with the New Kobold Order, from our very first session, to bring more gold to the dragon we nearly killed last month? Well...that sounds...bad." No. It sounds great.
Kick Them While They're Down (So You Can Lift Them Up)
You'll see this a lot when a babyface is angling for a title. It's not enough for a guy like John Cena to beat his opponent. After all, John Cena is a Superhero who could beat anyone. That's why you have John Cena get injured during a meaningless tag team match the week before the championship fight. Now he has a bad shoulder. Oh no! And the heel doesn't care that Cena has a bad shoulder. In fact, the heel just keeps working that shoulder over and over and over until Cena may as well be fighting the guy one handed.
But that's just it. When someone says "I could beat you with one arm tied behind my back," well, that's a claim that means more when you back it up. The crowd will root for Cena to defeat his foe in a weakened state (at least, the 10 and unders will).
Find a way to weaken your party so that the obstacle they're facing isn't just an enemy.
Curses. Exhaustion. Difficult Terrain. Anti-magic fields. Make them run a gauntlet (in WWE a gauntlet match is basically one guy vs. a series of tough opponents as part of one fight) by forcing them to experience more encounters in a day than Kobold Fight Club might deem reasonable or fair. You think Vince McMahon cares about what's fair? (spoiler: he does not). He cares about what sells. And desperation sells.
If your party feels overmatched, outgunned, outnumbered, and out of spell slots, it'll be all the more impressive when they come out on top. And if they don't...you do not have to kill them to "maintain realism." There are fates worth than death. You can just have one of your heels take everything they care about. Kick them while they are down. Rob them of their pride, their freedom, their dignity...their precious gold and preciouser magical items.
The struggle to get it all back will mean that much more.
Good Gimmicks = Great Weaknesses
The best gimmicks often come with something another wrestler could theoretically exploit for leverage. Macho Man Randy Savage didn't just love Slim Jims. He had a valet named Miss Elizabeth. They got married! It was amazing! While the Macho Man's gimmick wasn't necessarily "guy in love," (his gimmick was "guy on cocaine") but his devotion to Miss Elizabeth was definitely a big part of his character. That's a gimmick. And therefore a weakness. So what did Jake "the Snake" Roberts give the happy couple as a wedding gift? That's right: a cobra. (Note: It was not on their registry.)
Speaking of Jake "the Snake"—he had a number of snakes over the course of his tenure as a pro wrestler. The snake that was first introduced as part of this gimmick was named Damien. A guy who carries a snake in a bag into the ring with him is a great gimmick. But again, creates a great weakness. That's why Earthquake (a guy whose gimmick was that he was so obese he could shake the very earth just by sitting down) squashed Damien by sitting on him in the middle of a match. Twice! Earthquake later fed the remains of Damien to Vince McMahon and Lord Alfred Hayes. THIS IS THE ESSENCE OF PRO WRESTLING.
If your party is facing a great heel with a great gimmick, that character's weaknesses may be self evident. In Undertaker's case, for a while there his power allegedly came from something called "the Urn." Whomever controlled the Urn controlled the Deadman. The parallels to D&D tropes should be pretty clear there. "Monster X is unstoppable...but it's possible if we get our hands on Artifact 3, we can bring the monster under our control."
Giving your NPCs a weakness or two for your party to exploit is not taking it easy on them. In fact, it allows you to refocus your encounters on problem solving rather than just on combat. This is a great fix for DMs in the mid-to-late tier of the game when your party is effectively impervious to any threats. They aren't just fighting a villain—they are fighting a villain by solving a puzzle.
Stick it to the Smarts
In pro-wrestling parlance, there are "Marks" and there are "Smarts" (there are also "Smart Marks" or "Smarks"). Marks are people who believe everything they see related to pro wrestling is real/unscripted. Smarts are the opposite, and understand that pro wrestling is a business/form of entertainment with a specific audience (Smarks are Marks who believe wrestling is fake but love it in spite of (and sometimes because of) this fact).
Vince McMahon is not in the business of giving a shit what the Smarts think or think they know about what's happening backstage. The only time he cares is when so many Smarts think something is true that he can use their belief to his advantage (see: the evolution of Vince McMahon, friendly ring announcer to Mr. McMahon, arguably the greatest heel in pro wrestling history).
In D&D, metagamers are Smarts. The players who have read the Monster Manual (and the various supplementary titles) cover to cover and know every detail about every creature you could possibly throw their way, who are the first to say "they can't do that" when your NPC uses Dimension Door to move 500 feet instead of the published 400, who say things like "How can that creature deal 48 damage if we are Level 4? That's beyond our challenge rating!"—those are Smarts.
Smarts think D&D has rules—rules they can memorize and use against you at the table. You are absolutely welcome to agree with them, but that's not DMing like Vince McMahon.
If you want to DM like Vince, the only rule of D&D is you're the DM and whatever you say happened is what happened. Period. If you say it exists, it exists. Your players might ask "Why? How? Who?"—and you can flash the grin that accompanies ultimate power and say "Because I said so."
That's admittedly extreme, but so is the Smart's position ("This book I read before the session said X, Y or Z...so you're wrong" or worse "That's not how I do it in my game"). If you're feeling equitable, and want to split the difference (something Vince would never do, except for when he agreed to the Daniel Bryan push, but, I digress) meet in the middle and use what a Smart thinks they know against them.
As an example: Smarts know a creature only has 3 Legendary Resistances, and will strategize around this fact, holding onto a killer 7th-level spell for after that moment when the dragon uses its LR a third time. Well guess what, sucker—this ancient being has EIGHT Legendary Resistances, one for each of the centuries its been alive. Reveal this intel and watch them get sick to their stomachs.
This isn't being petty (though it certainly can be)—it's good storytelling. You have to keep people guessing. And if your players think they know everything about how your world works because they read an outside source, and you know this, you can flip their expectations back on them. Example:
Expectation: The Monster Manual says hags only hang out in covens of three. Reality: This coven formed a stable (see above) with two other hag covens, they call themselves The Triumvirate, and you just killed 3 of their sisters. The other six are on their way back to the nest. Whoopsie! Who's smart now?
The Art of the Swerve
Similar to using what your players know against them as a way of subverting/exceeding expectations, a swerve is a pro-wrestling term that basically means "doing something other than what the audience is planning to see," and typically involves storyline.
As the Monday Night Wars drew to a close, Vince McMahon sent his son Shane to sign the paperwork and purchase WCW as part of a cross brand takeover. Shane signs the paperwork (expected) but uses his OWN NAME (swerve!), effectively becoming the owner of a rival company overnight, and kicking off the "INVASION" storyline and like, 2 years of WWE content.
When CM Punk was dealing with contract negotiations, it was a forgone conclusion he would lose his championship bout with John Cena, as there was simply no way Vince would let someone like Punk win a championship, let alone against John Cena, to say nothing of the fact that Punk had cut a promo in the weeks prior that dunked on the entire concept of being a company guy. And yet—swerve—he walked out of Chicago and (at least in storyline) the company as WWE Champion.
Swerves happen in fantasy/sci-fi as well. Two notable examples both feature in spoiler-filled Game of Thrones recaps, and involve things that can/can't happen to supposed main characters' heads and what should/should not take place at colorful weddings. Those moments took the characters by surprise because they subverted the rules of the world (in so much as they proved rules only apply to those who believe in them) and they took the audience by surprise because they used our expectations against us. ("Sean Bean can't die! He never dies in anything!")
You can swerve your players by thinking through what their expectations for an encounter will be, then do the opposite. Or something to the left or right of what might have been promised. Or do something that isn't even in the same universe of what you'd originally presented.
Example: "Let's go visit the king and convince him to help the people of this fair city, who have been ignored by their leader for too long!"Expectation: There will be an encounter in the castle overlooking the citySwerve: There is no castle—it's a major illusion.
You can start with the swerve, then come up with the reasoning for it. You don't need to swerve just for the sake of shaking things up (although that's exactly what Vince would do), but you should recognize the swerve as a tool in your arsenal, and one that will help take your stories to another level simply by forcing you to think of the unexpected thing.
Always Build to the (Next) Pay Per View
This rule is more complicated now that WWE Network has sort of killed the idea of the PPV, but here's the gist: Each month there's a major event. That's where you want numerous storylines to coalesce— for the babyfaces to triumph and the heels to get their comeuppance.
This is a hard and fast rule: If the world wants nothing more than to see somebody punch Ric Flair in the mouth, do not—under any circumstances—let someone punch Ric Flair in the mouth unless they've paid for it. This is why championships rarely change hands on episodes of Raw or SmackDown—you want to build anticipation for a title change, rather than just allow it to happen without any buildup. That's how you make money off a PPV.
The more the heel needs to get punched, the more the heel should find ways to weasel out of it. For a defending champion, examples include:
-faking an injury to delay a match-no showing-refusing to fight unless ridiculous conditions are agreed to-getting themselves intentionally disqualified so the title won't change hands-getting themselves intentionally disqualified a different way so the title won't change hands-no showing again-faking another injury
This can take many forms in D&D. If the party wants to kill the evil princess, have them fight their way through a cavalcade of creatures and sneak through the sewers only to discover that (gasp!) the princess is in another castle. That castle is guarded by an anti-magic field and a bunch of buff tortles. So the party waits to try and catch the princess when she's at the Summer Tournament. But then the princess's courier shows up and explains the Summer Tournament has been cancelled. So the party convinces the realm's council to host a Fall Tournament. The party is pleased...they lie in wait. But the courier arrives at the Tournament in her place, with a note that says "ha, ha, ha. My castle is live-scrying the Tournament so I don't need to be there in person. Toodles." This will frustrate your party. The courier says "Milady has invited you to dinner at her castle." The party is skeptical, but they attend. The princess poisons their food...but the party was expecting poison so they're fine...but they don't know the princess is a simulacrum of the real deal, and when they slay her she turns to melted snow, and her dying words are "I'm sorry, but the princess is...in...another......castle-arrrrrggh."
By keeping your party's favorite foe just out of reach for a few sessions/encounters, you delay the gratification and help ensure that when they actually do get to land that killing blow, they've fought/sweat/died to earn it.
Blow Off to Something Bigger
When your party thinks they are at the end of their face off with a foe, don't be afraid to turn a Survivor Series showdown into a Wrestlemania-worthy main event. This is what I mean by "Build to the (Next) Pay Per View." You don't just want to delay the payoff/gratification as part of your build—you want to spin a partial pay off into something biggebettemore exciting.
In pro wrestling, this can take several forms, but the most common is "If you beat me at event X, you'll win a title shot at event Y," or the heel is forced into a contract signing to defend the title and it's a no DQ match so they can't weasel out of the defense this time, or the babyface finally (finally!) wins the title...but the moment the belt is in their hands after an utterly exhausting match, a new contender comes out of nowhere and challenges them to a title match, and the new champ loses before they can get to their feet. This starts a new program between your hero and a new challenger.
Generally, the last match in a program between two wrestlers is called a "blow off"—it's the match that ends one story for a wrestler so they can start a program with another one. Due to D&D's de facto episodic structure, you can create a blowoff in your campaign simply by introducing a new shiny object for your party to chase once they've finally accomplished a longterm goal.
The best blow-offs don't bookend a story—they start a new chapter, utilizing elements/moments/sleights/intel from the previous pages.
Once your party conquers the princess, they find out her courier is the one who's been pulling the strings all along, and he's kept the party busy long enough for his plans to finally come to fruition.
Or the dragon hoard features evidence of a conspiracy involving the disappearance of your party's favorite NPC...and it points directly at your party's paladin's dad!
Or the kindly treasure hunter who fearlessly led the party to the heart of the dungeon makes off with the loot while they're battling the creatures that guard it.
Finding ways to blow off into something bigger for your party will drive your narrative forward while keeping it rooted in the present moment. Your party's passions will be influenced as much by what you're telling them as what you're keeping from them. They'll be so motivated to chase the things that are important to them that they won't even notice how neatly it all connects behind the screen.
Know When to Humble Yourself
Yes, you're Vince McMahon—the walking, talking, mugging millionaire megalomaniac who runs D&D sessions with the confidence of a guy who has all the power. But even Vince knows when it's time to be sprayed with beer, or smacked in the face with a bedpan, or even have his head shaved by a future president.
If you rule your table like Vince would, you're going to frustrate your players. This is totally fine, provided you know when to allow them to release that tension on your creation. You aren't trying to beat them—you're trying to entertain them. Sometimes that means letting them have the W, especially when they've earned it.

There are dozens more examples but I feel I've gone on longer than Shawn Michaels v. Bret Hart at WrestleMania XII. So instead, I'll leave it here and leave the floor open for those of you who know more about DMing and D&D than I do pro wrestling to add your thoughts on the above.
And if you end up using any of the strategies above in your future sessions, give me a hell yeah.

RR link
Previous chapter (RETRO COSMOS)
​ #2 - THE TWISTED HEIST ​
A star had just gone out in the distance, sending its entire system, planets and moons, into oblivion. So, what was a simple life compared to a sun? Did the human existence that earthlings highly cherished in the past deserve so much fuss?
I would say no, of course, because I’m a cat. Our condition to us felines will never have to pale in front of a shiny astronomical object. Mine specifically, don’t you think?
Oswald Avery was merely a Homo sapiens. A retired buccaneer, fermenting his adulterated wine on the carcass of a drifting supercargo; all under the remodeled features of a former Galactic Trade Company’s pilot. Alas, regardless of the genetic disguise, the FID rarely lied. It hadn’t fooled us and the masks had fallen off. Just like him.
I’m such a poet.
Anyway… Avery had had a long life of crimes and adventures. He was full of energy in his youth. And as in the universe, nothing is lost, nothing is created, everything is transformed, this energy was reincarnated in a nice amount in our bank account once the old picaroon flatlined.
“We finally got it! And it was a traditional Martian contract. Payable remotely, on condition that the FID is validated. How about that?”
“God… Lee … you’re talking to yourself and it’s only 8 a.m.,” Ali grunted behind me.
My couch potato of an associate had her head still stuck in the cereal box she was nibbling before falling asleep binge-watching Captain Caveman on ABC.
“To begin with, it’s 8 p.m., Martian Time. And we do have a positive balance in our bank account for the first time in months! Do you know what that means, partner?”
“Shopping, bitches!” she shouted as she hurled herself into the void, gliding to the bathroom in the weightlessness.
With the cardboard box on the top of her head, this sugar bishop was swimming after the remnant cereals that floated on her path like Ms. Pac-Man.
“Hell! Have I just opened Pandora’s box?”
The liner Danaë and its forty-eight post-nuclear Baltimore-XVIII heavy reactors made its annual cruise from Lunapolis to the suburbs of Ceres, in the belt. Its figurehead with the effigy of the Greek princess was a two hundred meters long, green ceramic statue. The size of the ship exceeded some inhabited asteroids’ diameter so it possessed its own substantial gravitational field.
“It’s quite a symbol of the decline of humanity,” I said to Ali, pointing with my chin at this unique work of art.
“Why?” my partner asked without caring whatsoever. “Spill the beans, Plato.”
The Kitty had obtained permission to dock and began its approach. I concluded then:
“Humanity no longer erects great and beautiful things without turning them into a shopping mall.”
The gold and ivory Danaë was one of the most luxurious epicenters of human decadence in the system; comprising hotels, casinos, megastores and amusement parks spread over a dozen centrifugal rings. There was something for everyone’s wallet, ready to be emptied, whether one was welcomed at the port or had joined during the crossing.
And to my great regret, the cape of the Danaë was just passing by us that week.
“I believe we should keep our savings for the maintenance of the Swallow. The dashboard lights up like a Christmas tree. Some parts need to be changed…”
“You’re such a bore with your adult talks,” my partner said as she left the fitting room of a luxury chain overlooking the main deck. “What do you think of that? Sexy as fuck, right?”
Her camisole didn’t hide a single inch square of flesh and I subtly pointed it out to her:
“It’s a bit of a back-alley Sally.”
I took a blow on the nose which, this time, was amply justified.
“There’s nothing chicer than Borderline. You don’t know anything about fashion. It’s crazy!”
She was furious. It was entertaining. But she was right. The human female fads were way over my head and I wasn’t a good adviser. Mostly because I didn’t care. At all.
Fortunately, the upscale shopping mall where we were staying had provided us with a free assistant who was even more servile than a decerebrate canine. As usual, the robot carrier that accompanied us did the job by flattering her with its unbearable honeyed tone:
“I find you charming, Madame. Here we have the latest fashionable lingerie on Mars. It’s an ephemeral collection that appears to have been specially made to mold your discreet curves, which seem to have been sculpted by the seraphim.”
Ali gave me a satisfied look that I pretended to ignore. Then she backtracked into the fitting room to put her black suit and pink jacket back on.
I took the opportunity to climb on the shoulders of this silly robot, servant of our servants and last link in this hierarchy whose origins go back to Ancient Egypt.
“One more move like this and I’ll turn you into a gum dispenser.”
The automaton apologized before my partner’s head emerged from behind the silk curtains which were far too fragrant for my taste.
“I just checked; it’s too expensive anyway. I ain’t buying it,” she announced. “Can you order a taxicab to take us to the hotels’ ring? You’d be a sweetheart.”
Happy to leave this irascible human with her robotic slave, I proceeded to the nearest service terminal. By the time I requested a vehicle, a flying cigarette dispenser could light me a Lucky.
“It’s forbidden to smoke in our store, Monsieur.”
The customer attaché, in his blue silk suit with elephant legs, had appeared out of nowhere. Yet, with such a shiny tie, this punk should have dazzled me from the Kuiper belt.
“Please be kind and get me a Pepper Coke instead of ruining my eyesight…” I grumbled in response.
I was in an awful mood. I definitely hated shopping. And people. Yet the pedestrian avenues of the Danaë had a very exceptional population density. Perms were making a strong comeback, as were neon tattoos and overly open flowered shirts. Under the false UVA/B sun, it was a true dance of flesh, steel and plastic bodies with assumed nudity. Implants and surgery erased the hazards of the genetic lottery for better or worse. It was so superficial. So futile. So human.
“Hello, handsome!” Ali cried out, a large smile across her face. “Lee? You didn’t tell me you knew Christophe Lambert! You know I'm a huge Highlander fan!”
My partner had just joined me, arms loaded with bags massive enough to live in it, start a family and park my chromic Pontiac Firebird. All were filled with C$400 t-shirts and sneakers that she didn’t need and would only put on once.
“No smell. Hologram,” I conclude by throwing my cigarette butt through the smiling ghost.
“Shame!” Ali sighed.
She then looked at her terminal, and continued:
“Do you think I have time to grab a watch module? There are sales in the Japanese aisle! I saw some GD-8 that would go well with my new Game Pocket! This boat is fucking rad!”
Ali could not stop humming Who wants to live forever. I had to rub my temples to avoid a migraine before the arrival of our taxicab five minutes later.
These were miniature limousines with double fake leather benches, facing each other at the back. There was a minibar with expensive multicolored drinks and sugar-soaked snacks, the sapiens’ primary source of calories and high Gs space travel drug. For the sensitive, the smart-fridge provided diet sodas with aspartame, but no one took it. Finally, there were free Gauloise cigarettes next to the ashtray on the armrest. And even Tylenol!
“What a time to be alive!”
Right after leaving the fashion district, a soft voice of a young woman, who appeared to us through the armored porthole separating her from her customers, finally emerged from the cockpit:
“Good evening! I’m Miss Meera. At your service. Hotel de Saint-Malo, correct?”
I nodded. She smiled at us. She was beautiful with her incredibly dark night metal skin that contrasted strongly with her silvery-white hair. She also had charming ivory eyes with absolutely no reflection. They were a mesmerizing void of light.
In fact, it was so rare to deal with a real person, and not an AI, that we engaged rapidly in a lovely and honest discussion with Meera. We were mostly talking about life on the Danaë. As she stated, the rules on board were very strict, even military. All was done to make sure that the customer had the most pleasant time at the expense of everything else. Finally, according to her, her condition wasn’t the most to be pitied in the cosmos. And she was fully satisfied with this precarious semi-nomadic existence.
“And what about you? Are you here on vacation or in transit for work?” she eventually asked. “What do you do for a living?”
Should we have told her that we were executing infamous people so Ali would collect expensive t-shirts and I could fulfill my nicotine addiction?
“Don’t get me wrong but I saw that you had a gun. Are you in the police… or are you pirates?”
It wasn’t the first time someone asked us this question. Although weapons were allowed on most ships and stations, it wasn’t wise to display them unless you were looking for trouble. Unfortunately, hiding such a large caliber under such a tight vest was a Herculean task.
“You can get much farther with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone”, simply quoted Ali, her forehead against the window covered with scented stickers.
Meera laughed before continuing:
“Very well, Al Capone. I understand that you’re not the type to let yourself be taken advantage of.”
The taxicab entered the central expressway after the water park then suddenly swerved violently to the left.
“What is going on?” I gasped.
After crushing the safety railing, we fell from one rotating bridge to the other in a frantic cavalcade. Judging by Meera’s swear words, this ride wasn’t part of the show.
Avoiding the stalls of an art market and a group of children coming out of an arcade, the driver finally managed to recover in extremis. It was about time, because within seconds we were passing through the transparent protective wall of the hotels’ deck.
“A thousand apologies! Another one of those mor… clients from the Middle System who doesn’t know how to use a rental car,” she shouted through the window. “Are you guys hurt?”
“No, thanks to you,” I replied, my tail spiked over my head, taped to Ali’s neck now decorated with bloody scratches.
Although my human forehead now had a bump on it the size of a golf ball, it was true that Meera had just saved our lives. This young girl had unsuspected driving talents despite taxicabs’ lack of handling. She didn’t belong here, playing the steward in a yellow circus uniform. This woman should have been a fighter pilot; or a NASCAR driver on Canyon Creek.
“In any case, here you’re almost in front of your hotel,” she replied. “You don’t have to pay anything, and I apologize again for the scare.”
From the outside, the taxicab now looked like a can of nutrigel after going through a crusher. Yet, it still worked. May God Darwin bless Venusian steel.
After thanking her, we wished Meera a good day. But the cockpit window suddenly went down on the passenger side. The smile of the driver had faded. She had tears at the corner of her white eyes.
“Wait!” she asked. “This weapon… do you really know how to use it?”
So, life on the Danaë wasn’t so sweet. As Meera explained to us in a secluded alleyway, a trio of criminals had come to threaten her a few days earlier, after finding she was a bodacious driver. They were preparing a heist in one of the flying city’s fifty casinos. The young woman was now ready to pay the price to settle the case.
“What is your opinion about this whole situation?” I asked Ali, once in our room, a small yet cozy suite whose glass walls overlooked the vacuum of space.
My human had applied a brownish ointment on her hump, which disappeared soon after, leaving only a slight pinkish hematoma.
“Meera said she would provide us with more details tomorrow. However, if she ponies up the cash, I don’t see why we would refuse. We ain’t mercs but these three guys must have a bounty on their heads. Let’s do our job, right?
“Indeed…”
All we had to do was wait for more instructions. Fortunately, it had been months since we had been able to take days off except on miserable gas stations full of drug addicts, implants scavengers and prostitutes.
After another morning of shopping, Ali went to the thalassotherapy center of the neighboring hotel. Her main occupation? Overeating sushi made by 3D nutrigel printing while getting massages.
Alas, I didn’t have the time to bask under the false sun of the lakeside resort and get my belly stroked. As a good captain, I had to go to the maintenance to fix the numerous damages of the Kitty. As always, the bill would be higher than expected.
Everything was orchestrated so that we would never hold a positive balance in this corrupted system. We had to chain contract after contract.
But Meera’s gig didn’t sound right. There was something I didn’t like and I couldn’t catch it yet. All my cat sensors were in the red. Unfortunately, the bounty hunter’s ones only saw the green of the bills.
Don’t judge me.
The young taxicab driver had finally contacted Ali again by holoconference in the early afternoon, shortly before I joined her at the exit of the tanning booths. Or as I called them: human toasters.
“Have you finished roasting like a Thanksgiving turkey?” I asked her as she plunged into the icy water of the adjacent basin, under the lustful gaze of a group of cadets from the Marine Academy.
“Meera will pick us up with a new taxicab in the hotel parking lot,” she whispered once back to me. “Alongside her, we will meet two of the criminals at the burglary location, shortly before midnight.”
“Go on.”
“We take care of these guys and we catch up with the last one: the band leader, in the storage cavities of the hangar reserved for the ship’s logistics. Below the last rotating ring.”
In Eve’s costume, Ali came out of the basin, not without deliberately drenching me. The water had a nasty chemical taste from being filtered day after day.
“Do you have any intelligence on these jokers?” I insisted while lighting a cigarette.
“The Broadway Gang. Three brothers. C$45,000 for the trio. We will also be able to recover at least C$10,000 of Techno-federal tax on their ship depending on its condition. Easy cash with the dollar credits that Meera promises us…”
Now sitting on the ledge, my partner splashed her feet to demonstrate her eagerness to head back swimming.
“Excellent! This will pay for the maintenance and allow us to save some money on our way to the belt.”
“Can I go now?” she asked, sliding back into the water.
“You may,” I had concluded before seeing her leave for her absurd wanderings that would fill her afternoon.
I myself was very busy making eyes at the wealthy guests of the hotel restaurant to glean a few pieces of Peking duck or juicy crabs. They were real farm animals from Mars. Not nutrigel. It was worth abandoning a little dignity aside.
With a full belly, I finally joined Ali in the middle of the evening. Arriving in the corridor of our suite, I crossed the group of cadets noticed near the swimming pool. They seemed tired but blissfully smiling as they just discovered the nirvana. And I knew why…
“Ali? Are you ready?” I said as I walked through the half-open bedroom door.
Her dressing gown had been thrown on the floor. Her gun and badge were resting on the bedside table against a giant bottle of Koala Springs soda and a pyramid of little Yoyo Mints.
To be honest, I expected a bigger mess.
“Gimme five minutes,” she replied while in the shower.
An hour later, we met Meera in the staff parking lot behind the recycling stations. Without further discussion, we joined the expressway in the taxicab. Between two noisy info-ads, the radio played Sweet Transvestite then the rest of the mythical Rocky Horror soundtrack.
“I wonder what Tim Curry’s up to these days,” asked Ali while browsing the intraweb on her implant.
“Being legendary as usual,” I answered.
Afterwards, the casino was in sight. But once on the forecourt illuminated by the gold and silver bulbs, we heard gunshots and screams. My partner and I quickly realized that this was a violent robbery rather than a modest heist.
“What the fuck, Meera?” Ali asked, turning to the porthole that separated us from the cockpit.
There was a hint of irritation in her voice.
Meera remained mute, her hands on the wheel and her gaze forward. In the rear-view mirror the young woman looked panicked.
The right door of the vehicle suddenly opened and two men sat down in front of us. They were wearing theater masks: the first was Melpomene, the sad grimace of tragedy; the second, Thalia, the twisted smile of comedy. Each brigand carried a huge metal block under his arm; drawers that were sure to be full of cash. On the other hand, they held their still smoking ZeG-4 machine guns even more firmly.
When they saw us, they both gasped, in unison:
“What the fuck, Meera?”
One… two. One… two.
Four holes in their faded tuxedo. Four bullets as big as a cat’s eye that silenced them forever, before slowly repainting the bench in red.
“What the fuck was that? You killed them!” Meera shouted this time, as she started the electric engine. “You had tasers at your disposal, you psychos!”
She had finally turned around. Her voice was quivering. She was no longer panicked, but angry.
The tasers must have slipped between the seats because I hadn’t seen them. My partner raised her eyebrows and it made me realize that their use had never been in mind.
“We’re bounty hunters, not 9 to 5 social workers!” continued Ali. “Now, you gotta motor, otherwise the cops will shoot our ass on the spot before we could even meet the third dude!”
Meera put her foot on the pedal and one could almost hear the noise of the thrusters melting the white asphalt.
“I can perceive the sirens, Ali,” I concluded before Meera entered the ring's external road reserved for logistic transport.
We then had the shortest car chase we had taken part in. The Danaë security forces may not have had the best elements in the system, but Meera’s talents didn’t give them a chance. We had crossed half a dozen rotative bridges to the rhythm of Take on Me, zigzagging between expressways and maintenance tunnels to arrive before the song ended at the deserted logistics hangar.
It was similar to a huge supermarket with honeycombed shelves. Each of these garages, dimly illuminated by red LEDs, housed a delivery or transport vessel. There was the most impressive fleet I had ever seen.
In one of the first level’s cells stood, between a set of clamps, a Swift-0 scout, from Peugeot Corp, with wings spread. The Swifts were small and very high-end single-seaters. They could be modified to integrate weapons systems, but their primary characteristics were velocity and evasion.
Leaning on the flank of the mono-turbine, the last of the three criminals, a tall blond man with a “Chevy Chase” prominent chin was looking down on the approaching taxicab.
“Were they planning to escape on that ship? The three of them?” I remarked when the vehicle stopped a few meters from the small vessel.
But Meera ignored me.
“Hand me the money, I’m going out. That was the agreement.”
The porthole opened at its base, allowing us to pass the steel cash drawers. Once the taxicab’s ignition was turned off, only their holographic numbers glowed in the dark.
“It’s all over if his cronies don’t stick their noses out of the car,” Ali replied, finally giving the second drawer away. “He’s going to figure out that it went south. He will kill you!”
Outside, the man was getting impatient. Blinded by the taxicab’s headlights, he came closer before exclaiming:
“Zéphyr, are you there? Where are my brothers? Security is closing all the departure modules. We will be stuck here, for fuck’s sake!”
He now had a gun in his hand. A machine gun identical to those of his companions currently bathed in their blood, nailed to the seats.
“Zéphyr? Wait… I know that name!” I meowed to myself.
The doors and portholes of the taxicab were locked. Ali and I were now stuck in the back with the two flatlined and most wanted criminals on the ship.
“Sorry guys, but I’ll handle the rest.”
Miss Meera, alias Zéphyr, smiled at us through the armored glass just before leaving the cockpit by the driver’s door.
“What a fucking piece of shit… Lee? Do you have a plan? I think the windows are bulletproof. I don’t feel like testing. Especially if it’s bouncing around with us inside, we will be turned into ground beef!”
“Did you forget who I am, my dear?”
I was already crawling under the seat, between a pair of Méduse shoes and half nibbled fried rat wings. It was time to demonstrate all my infiltration skills learned from Ninja Gaiden. Unfortunately, both the crab and the duck slowed me down and my belly remained for a few seconds stuck under the driver’s seat with my head on the brake pedal. How outrageous!
From the porthole, I saw Ali watching what was happening in front of us, near the ship. Our eyes met for a brief moment and I could read on her lips: “diet kibble”.
“Better off dead!” I shouted.
My paw reached the bottom of the dashboard, activating the mechanical opening of doors and windows. And, accidentally, the loudest horn in this dimension.
“My bad!”
My sapiens immediately jumped outside, pointing her gun to Zéphyr. Surprised by the thunderous din, her target pivoted towards us, uncovered, turning her back to the human with the magnificent chin and his ZeG-4 who yelled:
“What in the whole universe is that? Wait! I know her! Did you bring us bounty hunters? You were clearly planning to double-cross us!”
The man shouted and his gun produced a rain of bullets. It first hit the windshield of the taxicab, passing through the conductor compartment where I was. The rounds bent the windscreen, but it held. This wasn’t, however, the case for the hood, protecting the engine and the reservoir full of coolant, which ended up covering the seat and my face.
Fortunately, the sticky alcohol allowed me to escape from this trap and jump out of the vehicle through the window I had previously opened. But, once again, a fire ring enveloped the ZeG-4’s cannon.
“This is how I die…” I meowed, eyes closed.
I was violently tackled and hit the ground. Zéphyr had saved me at the last moment, just before bullets obliterated the front of the taxicab.
Other projectiles ricocheted off the metal money drawers on the floor and got lost in the ceiling, activating the fire sprinklers. This incident triggered a silent light alarm throughout the hangar while the mobster prepared a new salvo.
“Don’t hurt my pilot, you narbo!” roared my partner.
Ali, this time taken as a target, retaliated. She fired a single shot towards the rascal with a formidable precision. No one knew how to handle such a heavy gun as she did. She was my human. She was the best in her field: murder.
And I taught her everything. Almost.
The leader of the robbers tried to reload the magazine of his weapon, unaware that his heart had been punctured a few seconds before. Adrenaline was doing its job. But the blood loss caused by the explosion of the aorta at its base, near the ventricles, gradually stopped him in his gesture. His pressure dropped and the bloodstream no longer reached the brain sufficiently. He was already in a coma when his shoulders touched the ground. He was luckier than the average Joe and died a few seconds later.
“Is everything all right?”
My voice was trembling, still in shock from this disaster. I was wet and frozen.
Zéphyr got up with difficulty. Next to us, one of the metal drawers was opened, revealing a bunch of green bills and a much stranger booty: an eight-inch gold diskette with suspicious Chinese symbols.
Well… I couldn’t read them but Chinese symbols on stuff are always suspect, aren’t they?
But there were more important matters. Because my partner, on the other hand, stayed on the ground. Blood was dripping from her black suit and mixed with the clear firefighting fluid that was falling like an endless rain.
I tried to talk to her again but my voice was lost in a groan.
“Why are you whining, you big baby? It’s just blood.”
With her nose in a puddle, my sapiens smiled at me. Her left hand was compressing her abdomen. The bullet had passed through the external oblique muscle, far from the stomach.
It wasn’t that bad after all but she had scared me. And that deserved a scratch on the wrist that made her scream:
“What the fuck?”
“And the medical expenses? Have you thought about medical expenses? We don’t have insurance!”
“God, Uncle Scrooge! I hate you!”
“We won’t be able to fix the Kitty with your heroic outbursts!” I fulminated to mask my joy of seeing her in one piece.
“I will kill you, Muppet! I almost died! I don’t give a fuck about your rusty trash can which flies like a brick!”
It was true that we hadn’t had a fight for a long time.
“Guys…” intervened Zéphyr.
“What?”
Ali and I had spoken together.
“These three ruffians had planned to steal the diskette drive from me once I got back. I needed a hand, so… thank you… I guess.”
“You’re welcome,” my human answered dryly while sitting.
Although Zéphyr saved me, I didn’t share the same kindness:
“Wait, we’re not letting him go! Do you know who he is?”
Zéphyr. Prince of thieves. And yes, he wasn’t much of a princess either. Just an androgynous cyborg. A breakout king wanted throughout the entire system for his affiliation with the Data Brokers’ Guild. With an incredible bounty of C$800,000, she or he… whatever… was the knight of the brokers’ chessboard.
“I think we’ve had enough for today,” Ali said. “Unless you hope to go after him with these big fat guts of yours.”
“By the 79 moons of Jupiter, you shall pay for this, woman!” I meowed, angry.
My ears were backwards and my hairs were spiky. But soaking wet, it just made Ali and Zéphyr laugh.
Disgrace!
“He’s so cute when he’s furious,” he joked.
Now on his knees, the night-skinned androgynous was blotting Ali’s wound with a torn piece of fabric from his driver’s uniform.
“But more seriously, I need to go. With the bounty, you’ll be able to repair your vessel. As for the hospital fees, I will contact a good friend who will take care of you for free. She’s the ship’s chief medical officer.”
“Thank you,” I simply replied as he helped my partner get back on her feet.
“It’s the least I can do. I wasn’t interested in money. More important information is contained in this,” he said as he was picking up the floppy disk.
This golden diskette must have been worth a lot of cash for Zéphyr to play a taxicab driver to ensure coverage. I had perceived that something was fishy!
Then, halfway to his Swift-0, Zéphyr stopped. I witnessed his hesitation.
“There was nothing personal, you know. We’re all just trying to make our way. The best we can…”
And he ultimately left before adding:
“Maybe we’ll see each other again! You seem like fun.”
Before fleeing away, Zéphyr abandoned one of the boxes near the criminal’s corpse. Thus, he validated the theory of a robbery that had gone wrong. When the security arrived a few minutes later, we were the heroes of the day. And with a little bribe, nobody cared about Zéphyr’s missing ship.
This whole story surely left us a bitter taste. A feeling of defeat and humiliation that the swimming pool under the synthetic sun couldn’t make disappear even a week after.
“He undoubtedly played us as we were rookies, with his little face of a young innocent girl in distress,” I said to Ali right after the end of the daily Brett Maverick.
This old show was dispensed on a couple of giant screens suspended by drones.
Until now, Ali had remained silent on her deckchair; with a brick of sour juice stuck between her breasts and a pair of straws between her teeth. Only inaudible grunts emanated from her mouth since the departure of the sexually unclassifiable mugger.
“I wonder what information this fucking cyber-Tootsie could have been looking for in that casino,” my human mumbled as she squeaked her rainbow flip-flops.
“Admit that it’s not really that question that puts you in such a state…” I answered, now well installed on my motorized buoy that I had gotten as a gift in a diet kibbles package.
“You bet! I will have a nasty tan mark on my stomach with these bandages!” she exploded, spitting out her plastic straws with infinite curls.
My float slipped towards the ledge as a robot came to bring us our next glucose overdose.
Ali finally added:
“I swear that if we run into him again, I’ll smack his fucking angel face.”
Back to business!

Hello again, everyone! I have come to bring you another neckbeard experience since people seemed to want more. Also, to the YouTubers that read my last story, I am so glad everyone enjoyed. Our tale today isn’t as horrific as Gundambeard, but it was still pretty creepy. So, I hope you guys are ready for the ride. As always, TLDR at the end
Some people were a little confused with how the Gundambeard story ended, but I did give his gifts away to neighboring children (I didn’t know his address and he delivered them in person, so I couldn’t send them back. Lucky me, right?), and it was actually my dad’s sister that told him my address, since she knew this guy’s dad, but this woman actually knew that GB was insane. Needless to say, I cut ties with her and we are now as much enemies as Stormcloaks and Imperials.
Anyway, let’s meet today’s star performers.
Faith: Me, 23F, same gothic, introverted, cosplaying, nerd and by now, a rather crabby little human. Apparently, still neckbeard bait.
Mason: 26M, my older brother, still that overprotective, wrestling loving boi that will throat punch someone for messing with his baby sister.
Goku: Our neckbeard of the day, 24M. To this day, I still don’t know much about this guy, other than he should have a big red flag tattooed across his forehead and probably shouldn’t be within 30 yards of any event involving human interaction. Dude, if you ever see this, and you know who you are. I hate you. Also, you ruined Dragon Ball for me.
This story actually happened in March of this year. Yes, the cursed 2020 gives me another neckbeard.. I wanted a fresh start, but instead I get a stalker. Not cool. Again, since I’m always on my phone, and my laptop is a piece of crap, I am back bringing you a new story on mobile, so sorry for any mistakes.
This story starts where every horror story begins. Online dating sites. Since I didn’t wanna use something that I had to pay for, because I’m broke as a joke, my dumb self decided to try Facebook dating! I know, how could Faith get any stupider since the last story, right? Everyone is entitled to one stupid mistake in their life, right? Well, apparently this is mine. I had made the account in November of 2019 and was seeming to do pretty well. Aside from the sleezeballs and “nice guys”, that is. Until February when we meet Goku (you’ll understand why he is named this soon). He liked me on the site, and he seemed normal enough, so I matched with him. We begin chatting and he finds my Facebook page. Which is weird enough since it only shows my first name on the site and we have no mutual friends. I added him and he began messaging me, little by little at first.
It started out with messages like “Hi, how are you?”, “You look great in your pictures.”, “You must be big into horror movies.” and things like that. My profile picture at the time was a shot of me in my favorite cosplay with a fellow cosplayer, and absolutely wonderful fella, dressed as Jason Voorhees (my favorite slasher) from a previous con that Mason had taken. “Thank you. I really love horror movies and anything of the like.” I replied. Finding the conversation to be quite pleasant. At. First.
Two weeks after we start talking about random nonsense, he asks if I want to be his girlfriend. Mind you, I had never met this guy before or anything like that. “Goku, I think that’s a little too fast. I don’t even really know you all that well.” I replied. When I tell you that this guy’s profile was weird, I’m not exaggerating. His whole timeline was made up of nothing but face swapped videos, pictures with e-girls that looked extremely uncomfortable (I felt so bad for those poor girls), and the most neckbeard quotes I had ever read. Like those cringy thrown together pizap ones plastered on a Joker picture. I immediately thought “Faith, you incompetent ninny, what have you gotten yourself into?”. Well, readers, it gets worse. Much, much, worse.
Fast forward a week and my favorite local cosplay convention is finally coming to town. I told Goku that I just wasn’t comfortable going out with someone that was so pushy and that I hope he understood. He said yes and I didn’t hear from him for the week.. Until the night before the con. My phone begins blowing up with notifications from both Facebook and Instagram. Like, comment, like, comment, like, comment, I thought it was just my friend (We’ll call her Jigsaw for this story since she loves the Saw movies) who just had some really exciting news to tell me since she’ll text me like a mother who you missed two calls from. I’m putting the final touches on my cosplay, which wasn’t really much as Mason walked in the room “Geez, Faith. Is Jigsaw okay? Your phone is going crazy.” He asked “She was. I thought she was going to shower and eat.” I answered before looking at my phone. It wasn’t Jigsaw, it was Goku. Who had found my Instagram and liked every single picture I had ever posted, commenting creepy crap on them, such as “My beautiful girlfriend” and “That’s my baby”. Dude, seriously? I had to literally go on my pictures and delete every single comment. Which took like 45 minutes. 45 minutes that I could have used to work on my cosplay. I decided to message this guy “Goku, please stop telling everyone I’m your girlfriend. I told you, I wasn’t comfortable anymore.” I told him “Is that why you never accepted my request?” He asked. I looked farther down into the abyss that was now my notifications and saw it. “Goku added you as his girlfriend.”. Nope, nope, nopety, nope. I quickly declined the request and replied “Declined.” before getting back to my outfit.
Finally, it was con day! I was mixed emotions that day, I was extremely excited for the event, but I was also really worried because at the time, my grandfather’s health had been rapidly declining and, due to the plague, we couldn’t go see him. Finally, my parents were allowed to go, so they told us to go ahead to the convention and have fun. When I began getting ready, I realized something. A key piece of my cosplay was missing. I had forgotten to look for it thanks to having to delete creepy comments from Goku. I was gonna cosplay Shota Aizawa from My Hero Academia, but I couldn’t find my scarf. So, I decided to pull out my handy dandy go to cosplay when things go wrong. Lara Croft. I only had about 30 minutes to get ready, so Mason (who was cosplaying WWE Superstar, The Fiend) helped me with the paint. I had to get the ‘dirt’ on my back, arms, shoulders, face and such and fake blood on my face. (that guy is a life saver). I drove us there since I have a knack for remembering directions and poor Mason is directionally challenged. It took us a little longer than usual since the main road was closed, but we got there on time and in one piece.
When we got out of the car, I pulled out my phone to text my mom that we had made it safely and to tell Jigsaw that I would keep an eye out for anything she might like as a gift. She lives a state away, so I have to mail her gifts. Unfortunately, by this time, we were no longer friends with Link, which sucked.. Fenix, who wanted to come, unfortunately had to work. I would have loved to seen him at this con. But, instead of getting to text my mom, I get a message that makes my blood run cold. “Hey, are you at the con yet? I am.” Read a message from none other than Goku. Now, I hadn’t told Mason of the situation, because I figured I could handle this on my own. But, I didn’t tell this guy I was coming to the con. I told him nothing about it at all! So, I was a little worried that this guy might cause a scene or something. I wish that had been all.
Mason and I paid our way in and immediately went to looking at some of the artwork and pop vinyls the vendors had for sale before deciding to go say hi to some of our favorite con friends. We go say hello and give hugs to our favorite people, Ashe, Papa, Noir, and Sparrow (names changed, of course), before deciding to check out the action figures, comic books, and more really cool thing being sold. Then, I spot Goku. Dragon Ball cosplay tank shirt, a purple hat that Barney the Dinosaur would punch himself over, literal pajama pants, and flip flops. He didn’t actually have a facial hair, but it was trying to grow and to his neck it was going. I quickly snatched Mason behind a comic display and finally explained everything “Mason, I really need your help. There’s a guy here and I’ve already tried to get him to leave me alone, but he’s still trying to talk to me. If he bothers us, can you make him leave me alone?” I asked as I could see his facial expressions behind the mask go from “wut” to overprotective in a heartbeat “He comes over here trying to mess with you, he gonna ‘let me in’.” He assured. Fiend reference for those wondering. I pointed him out and Mason starts watching this guy like some kind of terminator. We begin walking around and then get spotted. I noticed Goku kept his distance, but had his phone in his hand. I never got any messages, then it hit me when I heard a click. He was taking pictures of me. I kept leading Mason around the conversation building to try and lose him, but this guy found us no matter where we went. This went on for over 2 hours. He never tried to talk to us, just stood around corners with his phone in his hand. This guy thought he had some James Bond level skills, when in reality, he was worse than the rhino scene from Ace Ventura. He almost knocked over a fake plant.
I was getting sick of being followed. He was on the verge of getting beaten with a foam board pick ax. I then had to stop to tie my boot, so I sat on the floor with Mason standing guard so I didn’t get stepped on by any poor unsuspecting tall or masked con goer. Then I saw a pair of shoes that I didn’t recognize. I looked up to see, and I will never forget this, a Pokémon thief. He had a bag full of Pokémon thrown over his shoulder like a weeb Santa “Are you Faith?” He asked “Yes..?” I asked. Why didn’t I just lie and say no? “Oh, good! That’s Goku!” He replied. This was one of the suckers I saw walking around with Goku earlier before he broke off to play secret agent. I didn’t recognize him with the rest of his costume on. “Oh, okay.” I replied. My go to ‘I am extremely uncomfortable, get away from me’ line. My memory kinda blacked out and I remember I was in the bathroom, hiding and beginning to hyperventilate. Then I remembered something, I had left Mason. I stayed in the bathroom for about 5 minutes before poking my head out and seeing my little Fiend just waiting by the door “Where’s Goku?” I whispered “That guy? He left. Guess he didn’t wanna let me in.” He answered. I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t wanna cover him in brown Halloween paint. He told me a little of the conversation, but I forgot most of the details. But, that guy was about to get a hand shoved down his throat if he didn’t leave me alone. The rest of the con went great! Mason had scared Goku completely out of the building and even bought me a Jack Skellington picture to make me feel better.
On the way home, I gave Mason my phone and told him to block Goku on everything he could find. I later found out that my grandfather had unfortunately passed away while we were at the con, but my parents didn’t want me to know while I was there. Had I known, I’m pretty sure that guy would have been choking on that foam board pick ax I was carrying. I’ve been back to cons since then, but thankfully, I haven’t had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing Goku again.
Thank you so much to everyone that reads this little nightmare of an adventure! May your quests in life always be a bountiful success and may your path be clear of neckbeards. And for my fellow con goers, if someone is stalking or harassing you, don’t be afraid to call them out for being the creeps that they are. Love you all!
TLDR: Creepy neckbeard from a dating app thinks I wanna be his girlfriend after rejecting him and proceeds to stalk me at a cosplay convention until he is threatened by The Fiend.

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Three Jokers
This is Part 3 of my After-Issue posts:
After-Issue Post 1
After-Issue Post 2
I wasn’t sure if I was going to make this at first, but after reading the final issue, I just had to. Like the last two, I’ll break down the issue, find some references/easter eggs, theorize and give my thoughts.
I thought there wouldn’t be much left to theorize but fortunately for me, there’s still quite a ton. I recognize that reception is a bit more mixed, but I personally really enjoyed this book with a few minor disappointments IMO. I’ll get into that.
This’ll also be my big farewell to this series after theorizing on it for almost two years. So, I know I’ve said it before, but this is the biggest post I’ve made, ever.
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I. The Briefing

The issue begins with the trio, after a brief fight, putting aside their differences and finally focusing on detective work. Something hinted at last issue with Bruce looking into his leads on the Jokers.
Credit to u/XxRambo-ApocalypsexX for the following image from his post:
https://www.reddit.com/DCcomics/comments/jj7ixa/comic_excerpt_flashbacks_batman_three_jokers_3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf
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Flashbacks
First let’s break down each.
The first we see is the Criminal, who Bruce confirms is the first he encountered and points out his more serious and focused personality. A calculating mastermind indeed.
The flashback is from a panel in Batman #1 (1940, the Joker’s first appearance), specifically the very first Joker story (there are two in this issue).
If you’ve been following my posts, this should be familiar as I pointed it out in the first post as Jason Fabok teased this on Twitter earlier this year.
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I called it!
As I said last time, this means that the original version of their encounter takes precedence over Man Who Laughs retconned version. Dick Grayson is now once again already Robin, so the Criminal likely stole jewels as well as murder his victims. His conflicts with organized crime may also be back.
Next up is the Clown, and we once again see a reference to Gaggy (the Original Court Jester and Sidekick of the Joker) and his first appearance in Batman #186 (1966). The way Bruce describes him of course matches what we know, and also very much reminds me of Mark Hamill’s Joker. Like I said in the first post, he’s my personal favorite, even if he’s the least in depth as a character.
But finally, here we have the Comedian.
Credit to u/WarWolf343. It is the obvious choice, and that actually adds a lot to the Comedian in the end which I’ll get to. Of course, that means that Rebirth image was inaccurate after all.
The implication of this of course is that Scott Snyder’s run IS considered canon to this story (which is a given if this is in main continuity), meaning Zero Year is canon. The story featuring a new version of the Red Hood gang, with Red Hood One being a true criminal mastermind, not a decoy, leading several Red Hoods. This could explain how there could be more than 3 Jokers if Bruce only had 1 encounter with RH.
Bruce points out a level of sadism under his smile that’s different from the others. I can see where’s he coming from. To me, that smile just looks fake compared to the Clown, who looks genuinely happy. Just my thoughts.
​

II. The Confrontation at the Monarch Theatre

​
\"Joker The Immortal\"
Next up we have the climax taking place in the Monarch Theatre, the cinema Bruce watched Mark of Zorro in with parents that fateful night.
Sound familiar?
We’ve had similar Joker confrontations happen in both Arkham City and recently in Joker War.
Jw’s wasn’t quite a climax as it took place in the middle of the arc, and there’s also a horde of zombies that Bruce sees as Jokers (and so fights them blindfolded). Funny similarities there but I doubt any of this is intentional. 3 Jokers was written long ago and Jason Fabok and James Tynion IV both support the idea that Joker War was made without any knowledge or consideration of 3 Jokers.
However, I’d like to talk more about Arkham City.
This was also the big ending of the game. I still remember playing it for the first time. Here, the Joker died after accidentally preventing Bruce from curing him. This was after it was revealed that he was still poisoned and that there was a second healthy Joker which was Clayface in disguise.
Hmmm. Sounds familiar.
Does this live up to those two?
IMO? Absolutely. Jason Fabok and Brad Anderson make this a fiery climactic battle while Geoff Johns does, IMO, a great job tying up what he’s set up since #1 (get to that in a bit).
The Joker’s death in AC was of course more impactful than the Criminal’s, but his and the Comedian’s plan here was great and the twist is just as good. I’ll get to that in a bit.
Lastly, Geoff Johns apparently has advised on Origins and Knight’s stories. Knight of course has the weakest, but IMO the character arcs in Origins makes it the best. The way there were “multiple Jokers” in Knight and City might have inspired him to make this. Also, both City and Knight has at least one line from thugs talking about there being or possibly being Three Jokers.
This could be a whole post on its own so better go back to the book.
The Criminal Joker reveals he wants to turn Joe Chill into the new Joker.
As I’ve said before, Jason Fabok points to Jack Nicholson’s Joker as an inspiration for him, who killed the Waynes and not Chill. Because of that, Michael Keaton’s Batman then aimed to kill him for revenge.
This confirms he did not hire Chill (who is not a hired killer).
Now, why would the Criminal want to do that….
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III. Batman’s Greatest Scar

This book made clear from the very first pages and in interviews with GJ and JF that the main theme is about scars. Physical and emotional.
This in fact the whole purpose of the scars montage with Bruce.
He’s had many, many scars from his rogues gallery, but we see that the Joker has caused them the most.
But no matter what, the scar caused by Joe Chill will always be deeper than the others.
More than Penguin, Bane, Scarecrow, Riddler, Catwoman…
More than the Joker
Well, from the Joker(s)’ point of view, that’s just not right.
To the Criminal, this meant he had to fix the Joker. To make a new one that’ll far surpass him, his other two “apprentices”, and mean more to Batman than ever. Someone “far younger and more powerful” maybe (more on the Sith Lords later)?
He’s old and tired. He can’t even laugh without crying over the pain. He wants the Joker reborn better than ever, mattering more to Batman than ever, so he could finally rest.
In my last post, I pointed this out as the motivation for the Joker and recalled how Jeremiah Valeska (Proto-Joker 2) from Gotham had a similar gripe with it.
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“I want to be the star of the show!”
So what did HE do to try and fix that?
Reenact the Wayne murders with Jim Gordon and Leslie Thompkins, complete with Crime Alley, pearls and Bruce being there to see it of course!
Now, both plans have flaws.
All Jeremiah is doing with this rehash would be to remind Bruce of that original trauma anyway. Even if Selina wasn’t there to stop him, this probably won’t make him mean more to Bruce than Joe Chi- err- Matches Malone (see: Gotham).
Unlike the Jokers in this book, Jeremiah failed to realize that Bruce will never be more broken from what he can do over than what Chill/Malone did.
The Criminal would be pulling a Batman ’89, as Bruce would know the Joker’s identity. Something the Comedian doesn’t want.
Which leads me to the twist on what the Comedian’s plan was, and to me it was genius and out of the box. Far surpassing Jeremiah and the Criminal.
He didn’t rehash or steal that trauma.
He took it out of the equation entirely.
He. Healed. It.

“It wasn’t the Joker that was broken. It was the Batman”
-more on that quote later

After the Criminal failed to turn his new potential successor, he planned to kill him and Batman instead, only for the Comedian to shoot him dead.
The Comedian was playing him all along in a plan to become the last remaining, definitive Joker and become the worst source of suffering Batman has ever had. Something foreshadowed last issue when the Criminal confirmed that it was his suggestion to reveal their secret.
And in the end?
It worked.
And it would only not work if Bruce didn’t have forgiveness in his heart.
It was checkmate.
​
BRIEF DETOUR
An evil master (cough Darth Sidious/Emperor Palpatine) failing to turn a prospective apprentice/successor (cough Mark Hamill cough), then deciding to kill said person only to be betrayed and killed by his current apprentice who tended to plan behind his back (cough Vader)? His other apprentice (The Clown and Dooku) being killed by another younger, edgier prospective apprentice (Jason/Anakin) before this?
Sorry I just had to bring that up lol. I haven’t watched Mandalorian S2’s premiere yet to not get distracted from this or my IRL responsibilities which also delayed this.
But seriously, the Criminal emphasizing the rule of threes (which is actually a real thing) last issue did remind me of the rule of two. His search for a successor and his traitorous relationship with his protégés here really, really made me see them like Sith Lords lol.
DETOUR ENDS HERE
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u/Hmz_786 and I discussed before about how the Comedian could have been planning to betray the Criminal and the others all along. Maybe even seeing the Clown’s death coming. It seems that may be the case after all. Which I will delve into more later.
Besides Jack Napier from Batman ’89 and Jeremiah Valeska from Gotham, one Joker that I got reminded of in this was John Doe from Telltale’s Batman and Batman: Enemy Within. His last lines to Bruce in the Villain ending (there are 2 versions depending on your choice of dialogue to him) evoke the themes of this story or parallel what the Comedian says here.
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(“Sure we’ve had some good times”) “I hope you’ll look at that scar and remember those good times”
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(“I wish we never met”) “I’ll be the knife on your side until the end of time”
Back to Bruce and Joe Chill.
Definitely the best part of the issue and this story, is Bruce forgiving Joe Chill and healing his greatest scar. I’ve seen people say this has been done before. That’s true, but never exactly like this, not quite to this extent.
He didn’t forgive him in his mind as an old man after witnessing a new gang of criminals act far worse than him. He didn’t just spare him and leave him to die by either suicide or murder by his fellow criminals or to just rot in poverty.
This Joe Chill was truly remorseful, dying of cancer and wasn’t active as a criminal anymore.
Bruce stayed by his side and held his hand as he passed.
This is the most positive closure Bruce has ever had with Joe Chill, ever IMO.
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“Forgiveness is Freedom”
So, the Comedian Joker won.
He healed Bruce’s greatest scar.
He killed the Criminal and became the last Joker.
But most of all, the ambiguity behind who the Joker is remains.
Or does it?
​

IV. The Joker’s Name

One thing I brought up in my last post is that the Comedian hates memory and remembering the past.
Since he is the Endgame Joker after all, that means he likes to tell his false origins as supernatural, demonic or nightmare fuel stories that prey on his victims (the back up stories).
Which in retrospect, fits with the idea that he doesn’t want people to know about his tragic past. He wants people to think he’s chaos incarnate, but he’s not.
Which is why in Death of the Family, he panicked and fell when Bruce claimed he knew his real name, which would prove he was human.
Then in Darkseid War, Bruce got the Mobius Chair.
He asked it two questions. One rhetorical for a test, and the other we assumed wasn’t. He asked who killed his parents and then asked what was the Joker’s real name, only to learn the premise of this very story. There were Three Jokers.
Here we learn that Bruce DID know the Joker’s name all this time. This means that it was also a test (which Jason Fabok has confirmed on Twitter to multiple people).
Let’s go back to The Killing Joke
The Joker attempted to drive Jim Gordon insane to prove his absurd, nihilistic thesis that life is a joke and anyone can see that just like he did by going through “One Bad Day”. Which in turn is to prove to Batman that they are alike and that he should be insane just like him.
Thing is…
…
He failed.
Jim wasn’t driven mad. Bruce wasn’t convinced and instead tried giving a counteroffer of rehabilitation. But the Joker refuses because he thinks A) He’s too far gone and B) He doesn’t trust that Bruce will keep the light on and commit to doing it.
The Joker did not prove his point and yet couldn’t accept an alternative hypothesis. If this was an official social experiment for research, he’d get an F (and then get kicked out and thrown in jail for unethical human testing without consent).
And really the flashbacks themselves prove it.
The flashbacks take more than one day. He was a struggling comedian in poverty and at times vented this on his wife.
No, that is not an invention of this book. That panel is directly adapted from TKJ.
We don’t see more from this scene in 3 Jokers, so it’s left ambiguous whether they reconciled or not the way we see in TKJ, but I think the latter works still. Even after apologizing the comedian still vented and ranted about his life. He made it clear he wants to get out of there, but he didn’t try more comedy gigs or getting his old job back at ACE.
No, instead he gave in to crime. Not too different from Joe Chill.
Note, there is an unspecified time gap between that scene and his meetings with the criminals.
He’s had 2 in fact.
He had to find them first, possibly introduced to them by the Criminal (more on that later) and then have that first meeting planning the heist and setting him up as a decoy Red Hood. From dialogue, their next meeting will be “next Friday” right before the heist. At least a week has passed then.
“One bad week” doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.
But that’s not the point.
He gave into crime even before the accident and he relied on that to save his family.
What would Jeannie think if she heard about him being willing to associate with criminals?
How would he act toward her in that 1 week where he still hasn’t fixed his life?
Whatever the case, we don’t learn his name
but we do learn that Jeannie lived.
Whatever happened in that lost week, she eventually couldn’t take it anymore and got help from cops to escape. She and her son (who IMO btw has to be 15-20 years old, or at least older than Damian) are alive in Alaska. Which is why Bruce wasn’t looking at missing Comedian files earlier, and instead looked at his globe.
This does feel like a very similar situation to the psychiatrist who tried curing the Joker in Killer Smile, only to end up driving his wife and son away and nearly killing them in the Joker’s plot to make him like him.
We then learn why Bruce can’t reveal his name, and possibly why he can’t kill the Joker.
If he reveals the Joker’s name, people will find his family and they wouldn’t be safe. The Joker would find them too.
As for the latter, if Bruce kills the Joker, he would be taking a father away from his son (more on the son of the Joker in the bonus segment!)
So in the end, Bruce had the last laugh.
He knows the Joker isn’t the devil. He was a man once. He had a wife who he loved before turning to insanity. The Joker failed in keeping the ambiguity behind himself, a week after Bruce fought the Joker (the Criminal?). He failed a long time ago.
And now,
Both refuse to reveal the identity of the other.
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V. Is the Joker Broken, or Chaos Incarnate?

Now, a lot of people think this book is painting the Joker as someone who was always bad and that this ruins TKJ. I kind of already talked about that in the previous segment, but here I’d like to bring back an old post I made discussing the conflicting views of the Joker:
From IGN
Alan Moore of course argued for the Joker being a dark reflection of Batman. Both born from tragedy.
but
Frank Miller argued the Joker was pure evil. Satanic even. Evil incarnate. Not insane. Evil.
“I am chaos. I am the devil. I am everything to you and nothing. It wasn’t the Joker who was broken. It was the Batman.”
Putting that quote in that context, it looks like Miller’s version is what’s coming here.
But I don’t think so.
As I’ve pointed out, the Comedian is a liar that takes credit from the other Jokers and pretended he was an immortal supernatural boogieman in Endgame.
This is how he wants to be seen, because he’s afraid of the truth.
In reality, he’s the only one of the Jokers who has a desire outside of Batman and apparently the only one with One Bad Day. The Clown said he loved to take credit, he teased him about being a failed comedian and the Criminal called him out for wasting time with fantasies. They were the ones pushing him down. It was the Criminal trying to get him to focus on what matters.
He almost comes off as the bullied co-worker that gets reminded every time about where he came from and he HATES that. This was his revenge. By killing them and taking credit for all their work. He became the Joker who mattered. Not Chill, the Clown or the Criminal.
“Says the failed Comedian” “There is no her. There is no one else but the Batman”
Clearly, he still loved his wife. Despite him venting to her, she and their unborn son were still the reason for him going insane. Even now he secretly fantasizes them being with them.
Another thing to take note of is that, in both the Killing Joke and Three Jokers,
He NEVER reveals this specific origin to others
It’s always flashbacks and fantasies. When he does tell false origins, it’s always to paint him as this bigger force of chaos. A façade to hide his real past that the other Jokers see right through and belittle him for. With them dead, no one else knows now…except Bruce.
Speaking of which, this makes him more like Batman.
Because the way he wants to be seen by others,
is just like how Batman wants to be seen by criminals
Pretending to be a supernatural force of nature to strike fear is now common among the two victims of trauma. He failed to prove anyone can be like him in TKJ, so he decided to embrace the idea that no one can be like him.
In many ways this also relates to the Joker movie, where Arthur pretended, he killed those people for no reason other than them being awful. Hiding his pain by embracing evil. Of course there’s also the fact that, it hurts when he laughs and likely cannot control it.
I discussed that in the last post, but it’s based on a real condition: Pseudobulbar Affect.
The Criminal’s age makes it, so he cries almost every time. But from what he asked Jason, and the Comedian in Doomsday Clock, I’m betting all the Jokers have this trait to varying effect.
Finally, before moving on, one of the most important things to take note, is that the book spent a lot of time blurring the line between Jokers and victims.
Jokers and Victims
The jokerized Red Hood/Comedian lookalaike at the beginning of the story, the horde of Jokers at the pool, and of course, Jason himself. Being the Joker in this story seems to be about taking your pain and trauma, then inflicting that onto others. Which is again, the exact opposite of Batman, which all about taking that pain, using it to do good and making sure no one else has to face it alone.
In the end, can the Comedian be redeemed?
Maybe. Maybe not. But if even Joe Chill can, maybe one day the Joker can too. Or not
This again reminds me of Telltale Joker (voiced by Anthony Ingruber). One path lets him become a vigilante modeling himself after Batman, but in the end, he just couldn’t change his fate even with Bruce’s help, and he will become a villain anyway unless you offer your friendship to him.
“I really wanted to be a hero you know. But…I-I just can’t!”
I honestly did think we could’ve gotten a redemption for the Joker. I even had a theory (never published) about how Bruce’s new yellow oval having a flashlight as a reference to the titular Killing Joke and him not turning it off. But since this book does want to be canon somehow, it’s stuck from fixing that status quo even if they wanted to.
In the meantime, we have White Knight by Sean Gordon Murphy for those who want it.
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VI. Who is the “Real”/Original Joker?

This is definitely something the book, and the Comedian specifically, want to keep ambiguous. But just to theorize, let’s list down the points for and against them.
Case for the Criminal

1. He states to Jason that he was the first Joker, and that he ran Gotham before Batman.
2. Bruce confirms he reminds him the most of their earliest confrontations. That briefing scene and the scars montage include flashbacks that clearly feature him as the first.
3. Why would the Comedian only show up WAY later if he was the original?
4. IRL he literally is the original Joker.
5. He is the oldest and his laughing condition has been the worst. He wishes to retire after this.
6. The captions place as him as number 1.
7. He’s the only one to not claim to be the “real” Joker, as to him the Joker is an idea. Meaning he’s the only one willing to create new Jokers in the first place. The others don’t want to share the spotlight as both the Clown and Comedian claim to be the definitive Jokers.
8. The Criminal acts like a boss and strict mentor to the Jokers, specifically the Comedian.
9. The Comedian, from the first pages he’s introduced to the ending, is a liar.

Case for the Comedian

1. He is the Joker who Bruce identified the past of a week after their first encounter.
2. He “has a good eye for talent” meaning he probably did find the others.
3. His normal-ish life before this and desire to hide it means he has the most to gain by making new Jokers. They hide his identity and teach him various skills. The Criminal can teach him marksmanship and planning. The Clown can teach him to be more creative and actually be funny. Meanwhile he was an ex-chemical engineer who worked at Ace so he has the means.

As you can see, I favor the Criminal, with three times the points as the Comedian’s 3.
However, if ever this becomes fully canon and referenced, there is a 90% chance the others will be retconned into being fake Jokers made for this story and there is an explanation for it.
BUT
What’s the THIRD option?
What if they were all born on the same night? This was hinted at in the first issue with the 3 Red Hoods jokerized. If Zero Year is recanonized, well then that explains how there can be multiple Red Hoods.
The most skilled and experienced at being the Criminal, the Criminal took the lead and taught the other two until they were ready.
The Comedian having the most normal life, made him the easiest and first choice for Bruce to deduce.
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VII. Who are the Three Jokers?

How did they become to be?
Now that is a question that’s been in my mind for a long time.
Earlier this year I made several posts about the Three Jokers. Last year made several Doomsday Clock posts which was what got me known.
But before all that?
Almost two years ago now, this book was announced. I was curious.
Whenever I was waiting for a car, bus, commuting or whatever after class, after training or whatever on my way home, I didn’t have anything to do but use my phone. Except I didn’t have data and I grew out of mobile gaming. Usually I bring comics to read, but one day I decided to use that time to type down notes on who I thought the Three Jokers would be. For fun. Who knows maybe I’ll be close?
I used that to also read a lot of old classic Batman-Joker comics and even episodes of BTAS, Batman ’66, Brave and the Bold etc. A few months later, I realized how long it ended up and decided, what the heck, what if I make this an write up and post it on Reddit or something.
And so I posted this:
https://www.reddit.com/DCcomics/comments/a7odrk/my_theory_on_the_three_jokers/
It was really long and REALLY messy. Very outdated too.
I didn’t make anything like it again until the Doomsday Clock stuff, but this was the first. Then a few months ago I did more when the covers were released.
So, without prolonging this any longer, the Three Jokers, who they are and how they came to be:
The Criminal
The Criminal Joker was the original Joker. A calculating and cold criminal mastermind with a method to his madness. He challenges Batman and the police. He likes to mess with gangsters because he hates organize crime. Batman is his ultimate rival. As the oldest of the three, the pain of his laughs has grown to the extent that he cries uncontrollably when doing it. Because of this he rarely laughs and smiles now.
In the past he was a criminal who grew up on the streets of Gotham. He was a rebellious young man who injected chaos onto organized crime. He was skilled in hiding his identity and was smart enough to stay a step ahead. Bank robber, jewel thief, hitman, enforcer, con artist, gambler he’s been them all. Skilled with guns, knives, explosives, poisons and more. The world’s greatest criminal like Batman is the world’s greatest detective. Eventually he rose to the top as a mob boss. He ran Gotham before Batman came in. Due to boredom he created the Red Hood gang. He named himself the Joker after the wildcard, as he planned to rob the Monarch Playing Card company next to Ace Chemicals.
Today due to his old age, he’s the one that looks the most different from the other two and so in the decades since he’s avoided fighting Batman again out in the open. Preferring instead to mentor and boss his successors. His last known appearance was in-universe was War of Jokes and Riddles.
The Clown
The Clown Joker is the classic Joker. A theatrical but murderous prankster-thief with a creativity and charisma that surpasses the others. He only kills when it’s funny. His plans are smart but also outrageous and non-sensical. He loves using gags and trick novelties, at times weaponizing them to be lethal. He recruited Gaggy from a circus as his sideckick but later ditched them and killed his henchmen. He made the Laughing Fish. He killed Jason Todd because it was funny, and it would get to Batman. No real other reason. He doesn’t need a big point. He’d love to have this fun forever if he could.
In the past, he was likely a clown. He might’ve ran away to the join a circus once and met Gaggy there. After that he left to stay in Gotham and tried to be a clown at children’s parties and such. It didn’t work out and he joined the Red Hood Gang as the Criminal’s right hand man. But really he’s the one whose origin we have no clear knowledge on other than his title.
Today he’s the substitute Joker who does the smaller acts for fun and to throw Batman off their trail.
​
The Comedian
The Comedian Joker is the modern Joker. The one with the most meaning. He believes life is a joke. He’s the most sadistic and crazy Joker. His ability to evolve and change himself is due to his Super-Sanity. He thinks outside the box all the time, even as Batman tries to make a new one around him. He is the most unpredictable and dangerous. His obsession with Batman is the strongest, yet unlike the others it’s ironically not the only thing he wants. Unfortunately, he can never have the other thing, and that’s why he’s the most hateful. Love and Hate are almost the same to him.
In the past, he was a former chemical engineer at Ace chemicals who gave up his job to achieve his dream to be a comedian. It didn’t work out. He was a poor desperate man with a pregnant wife he loved and wanted to provide for but vented his anger on due to stress. He turned to the Criminal and Clown who made him a decoy Red Hood in their gang. Before their heist, his wife left him and faked her death, which broke the man. He didn’t want to do it anymore, but he had no choice.
Today, he’s the main and only Joker left. He’s learned enough from the other two. He surpassed them in intelligence and insanity.
How they look similar?
I believe they are brothers who were separated, not at birth but early in life, taking different paths but ending up in the same place. The Criminal being the eldest at 10 years older than the youngest but looking much older due to his lifestyle pre-Joker. The Clown and the Comedian are possibly twins. That’s how the Comedian found a job with criminals so fast. That’s how they were so familiar with each other. That’s how they (somewhat) trusted each other as Jokers. That’s how Jeannie became horrified and left him. She also likely informed the police of their heist which is how security increased and Batman got there. Which is also likely how Bruce discovered the Comedian so easily. His wife was the one who tipped him and the police off.
But if ever the other two are retconned as fake later, they could always either use:

• Cadmus Tech cloning (the Joker apparently used this in ROTJ according to Terry in Epilogue)
• Multiverse/Metaverse side effect after the constant reboots and anti-reboots making them all matter (cough Doomsday Clock cough Death Metal cough Generations Shattered and Forged cough Prime Time Punch)
• Facial surgery done on the other two

Why should there even be 3 Jokers in the first place? Super-Sanity is better.
Super-Sanity isn’t mutually exclusive IMO. At least 1 of them has one with the Comedian being Morrison and Snyder’s Joker, but considering how the Clown also changed to be more lethal I’d say he too has it.
What this adds is the ability to give ambiguity to the other two Jokers while giving one a defined origin. You see Alan Moore believed the Joker wasn’t a very good character. I believe it’s partly because he couldn’t have a real origin. TKJ didn’t invent the trope of a mysterious origin for him. That appeared in Dennis O’Neil’s Joker run and Brian Bolland himself says he didn’t originally plan on making an origin for him when he pitched the book. That was Moore’s decision and the main point of TKJ hinges on it being at least generally true. So no gangster Joker who was always evil.
With one Joker having a defined origin, we have a deeper understanding of his character and motivations while still having mystery on the others. With Super-Sanity, the Joker can have an infinite amount of personalities, motivations and fake origins but since we can never know which is real, they might as well all false. Which is what the psychiatrist concluded in Serious House on Serious Earth. “He has no real personality”.

VIII. Who is the Best Joker? Who is my favorite?

Now if we’re going by who’s the most in depth character and best villain, then the Comedian is it. His origin gives meaning and depth to his character and motivations while making him a parallel to Bruce. His rant on the other two sums it up pretty well. He doesn’t want to give the Joker the identity like the Criminal or Tim Burton did. He was more than the Clown.
BUT
He’s not my favorite or best Joker.
u/mojothemobile said it best on a thread I saw earlier. The best Joker is the one you can laugh at as much as be scared off. A hilarious Joker that can make such vile acts seem funny. The kind of the Joker who would try and copyright fish infected by Joker venom, kill people with deadly pranks, make a Christmas special, stalk some guy who cursed at him on the road, attack Gotham with an army of bane-like Titan monsters, pull a fake Joker ga-
“Wait a minute, are you just describing Mark Hamill’s Joker?”
Yup. He had Criminal elements in Mask of the Phantasm, was the Comedian in the Killing Joke movie and maybe Return of the Joker, but in pretty much everything else (BTAS, TNBA, JL, JLU, JL action, Arkham Asylum, City and Knight (Troy Baker was more Comedian in Origins)), the definitive Joker voice played the Clown archetype.
Brave and the Bold and Batman ’66 adapted this Joker well.
Nothing beats the classics. But I understand it’s up to preference.
​

IX. BONUS ROUND

Did I have any disappointments with the book

Sure. Like I said I almost expected Bruce to try and rehabilitate the Joker again. I did wish we had more closure with Jason and Barabra.
On how little they reveal on the 3 themselves, IMO they gave enough for me to make this so I’m grateful lol but it’s probably necessary to keep ambiguity for it to be canon.
Otherwise a great book for me overall. Is it on the same level as Long Halloween or even Killing Joke?! Maybe not. But I’d personally put this equal to or greater to Hush which has similar strengths and weaknesses. Though not sure where I’d put it compared to DOTF and Endgame, but IMO this is above Joker War for me.
Before moving on, I’d like to add a random bit. The panel in the police car with the light shining on the Joker declaring he’ll be Batman’s pain until they die, absolutely great art. I think this was what Jason Fabok talked about when he said Brad Anderson homage the original colors of TKJ by John Higgins.

What about Jason and Barbara?

Jason, I think had the second most important part just below Batman. His arc is about realizing how close he is to becoming the Joker, and maybe realizing that he might need to find a new identity, which Bruce offers to him. But of course that can’t happen here or they can’t really be in continuity fully.
Barbara doesn’t get to do much but she does act as the heart of the trio who understands both and wants them to reconcile (but. She initially wanted to bring Jason in, but seeing him vulnerable as he was made her understand him more. In turn Jason seeing how she became this way inspires him to be better.

“Don’t tell me you’re a Jaybabs shipper Earthmine!”

Relax I’m not calling for that at all. I’m not really into shipping period and I do think the book could improve without it. But their relationship and parallels are important in this story and I think it was well done.
By the way, I like the idea of Jim knowing Barbara and Barbara knowing he knows.

What about Harley?

Harley in continuity appeared during No Man’s Land. That plus the Comedian wishing he still had Jeannie, means he likely filled that void with Harley, only to be abusive to her. She reminds him too much of Jeannie. Punchline doesn’t though.
I would like to share a theory I’ve had a long time now. In Case Study, it’s reveled that it was Harleen who made the report, concluding the Joker is sane, should be retried and executed. She changed her mind about it after meeting the Joker herself. She discovered the past of the Criminal, but by then he was semi-retired. If the Criminal found out he probably had the Comedian change her mind. The Clown of course likely avoids her since he hasn’t had a sidekick since Gaggy.
So she only worked with, and maybe met, 1 Joker.

Will it Canon?

^{please don’t sue me Watchtower Database, big fan}
So, after all’s said and done, is this canon?
Well it can be. I’d say, in the past of the next new timeline which restores more Pre-New 52 (including Pre-Crisis) history.
I understand reception of this is more mixed than Doomsday Clock (which wasn’t universally loved either) and not everyone, maybe most people, aren’t sold with their being 3 Jokers.
But they can easily retcon that premise out for the other things or once again give multiversal, excuses. There really is a lot of potential to deal with all of this.

Detective Comics #1000: The Last Crime in Gotham

The son of the Joker.
Gee that sounds familiar. Maybe Geoff Johns already used this concept before?
He did! In his short story in ‘Tec 1000. There are plenty of themes of family in this. The Joker died due to the chemicals that created him and somehow his son became just like the father and died too. His last act was a gift to Batman and Gotham. He left a note, emphasizing the importance of family.
Besides that, this possible future includes Barabra and (a) Jason being married and Bruce and Selina having a daughter. Though at the end it’s implied to just be a wish by Bruce.
I recommend reading this after Three Jokers. It serves as a good extra epilogue IMO.

Post-Script

Well that’s it.
This was a great series for me and I’m glad to be able to do this.
Thank you so much for giving your time reading these and special thanks to the following users I’ve had discussions about this. Whether in Reddit threads, DMs, Disqus, Twitter and more. Whether short or long they’ve helped me a lot in making this, either by giving me more ideas or motivating me to keep doing this crazy thing. Thanks also to those who appreciated these so much they used their had earned coins for rewards. I’m really glad these aren’t just for nothing, thank you.
All of these include (but definitely aren’t limited to):
u/Hmz_786, u/WarWolf343, u/HelloGoodbyeOhGawd, u/xXRambo-ApocalypsexX, u/ScottishRyzo-98, Joe57039631 from Twitter, u/Tough-Part, u/Badbatmanman, u/mrwiyagi, u/NewsYouDontNeed, u/Ricky_Ticky_Tangy, u/Ozymandias2019 and many more I probably missed looking through my history, my sincerest apologies in that case.
Thanks to you all.

Now, I don't watch Greg's videos solely because I can't tolerate him visually, which is why I am so grateful for u/FillerBear for their TL;DW work. However, I don't mind sifting through long sloughs of texts and what a time to TL;DR something recent Greg decided to vom out of his brain. Here we go.
(I may also grammar nazi a bit but it'll be limited to strikethroughs and my own opinions will be in italics. Super TL;DR below if it's too much to read)
Onision: In Real Life (Onision's Reaction to News of The "Documentary") < At your own risk!
First paragraph: To start us off, he explains why he didn't make a "monetized full video" about the documentary; he didn't "have the energy to make yet another video", something about his vanity and desire to be on camera is dead...
There are eight ellipses in this short paragraph, I find this extremely annoying at best. Moving on.
Second paragraph: He continues on about how it's not fun to make videos about his life anymore (shocker) and that it was fun to make "fake meltdowns... fake prank videos (he) did with numerous people," by which he brings Shiloh as an example; shaving her head, filming her in the shower, etc and hints that he likes Dave Chappelle. He then laments about how people used to understand his jokes but people hae "lost their memories of exactly what was actually going on back then." He brings up the typical "people are fucking stupid" sentence as the finisher for this paragraph.
There are four dashes that were needlessly used and a missing open bracket towards the end of the paragraph. Next.
Third paragraph: Using larger bold text, he makes a statement piece of sorts. Quote "It's kind of the same deal with a lot of Youtubers - they did a lot of hilarious things which, if you weren't there, you just don't get it in 2020." Talks about cancel culture and brings up that even though it was demanded of them, they are now being punished for the said demanded thing. He finds it "hilarious" about this irony, and akins it to "watching dogs attack their owner as their owner is trying to feed them or seeing a snake eat it's own tail"
He likes using the words "hilarious" and "hysterical" a lot. Just something to point out. Anyway...
Fourth part: This is going to be kinda long because he's micro-analysing the documentary summary which I'm clumping together as one part but I'll be as brief as I can.
He skims through two sentences and is agreeable to them, but the third one prompts a Joker meme as his response.
Here I'd like to clarify that he's using five different font sizes and styles at this point. Font continuity is not his strong suit.
Quote "But while his channels were twisted, his real life might be more sinister." He then states that the use of "might be" confirms that they have no proof of what they claim. Mentions Hansen coming by his house and that "blindness of society and complete detachment from facts/common sense" is why people like Joker. Some talk about being a puppeteer to people online, even when he's out of the picture. Basically reads as someone trying to prove that they're always in control period. Bullshit.
A gif of an aloof Greg clapping his hands together to transform into the Ledger Joker that looks like he just slapped himself appears. So edge. Much crin-geh. Very EUUGH.
Quote "This cutting-edge investigative series explores the mystery, controversy and alleged criminality surrounding Greg Jackson." Spends a paragraph focusing on "alleged" like a dog with a sausage, so much that the word itself is used six times with quotation marks. He emphasizes that their use of the word means they're speculating without proof and for the money. Says "Sarah is a literal criminal" and "Shiloh is a literal criminal". Same old song.
Tries to put aim the gun at all his exes about their "criminal behavior" and why "Discover" is instead focusing on "a former US Air Force cop... who literally helped the police bust illegal establishments in Oklahoma City while volunteering as a US Vet." Mentions being persecuted for speeding and blackberry bush removals. If only, Greg.
He changes font again at this point. Make up your fucking mind.
Calls Billie, Sarah and Shiloh "the three siren's". More mention of his being a US Vet, his deployments... but goes back to "the three siren's" and lambasts them about their drug using/dealing, committed felonies and disirespect for the law.
Quote "... bringing forward new research and revelations about the man that the YouTube community loves to hate." He laments about being the hated victim, how people only care for themselves and how they only care about the law "when it's on their side." Lowkey shoutout to LeafyisHere.
Font size changes AGAIN. FFS.
Fifth paragraph (finally): Here he starts revealing a lot of "criminal acts" that Shiloh and Sarah have done, because he assumes we think it's cool that they're doing crims, ending with his go-to "Sarah apologized for being a rapist" quote. He then expresses how we ignored what they did and "be on the wrong side, and have literally no concept of what reality, evidence or justice is."
I am literally going to have a brain aneurysm and I will literally drown myself in alcohol after I'm done with this because I am LITERALLY done with seeing the word LITERALLY used by a mid-30s man like a highschooler would. LITERALLY.
Sixth part: He places a Speaks video Onision's Receipts (Proving He Did Nothing Wrong) here and proceeds to make big, in bold text statements about his warning people about taking the wrong people's sides, namely Social Repose, Blaire White, Shane Dawson, Shiloh, Hansen and Joy Sparkle's sides. He then proceeds to state what was wrong about them and how he was always right with a bonus Reacts video Chris Hansen's CRIMES & LIES (The Onision Case) and a special addition of Sarah with another Reacts video Sarah Admitting To Sexually Extorting Onision & Other Incirminating Video Evidence.
Seventh paragraph: So why does this docmentary exist? Quote "It's Discovery Plus finding a way they can make money from lies." To the best of his knowledge, which let's face it isn't much, the documentary's sources are from Regina and Shiloh. Now he proceeds to emphasize how he's never met Regina, how desperate Regina was and was crazy about Kai; same treatment with Shiloh except it's calling the cops on her multiple times and her getting into trouble with fighting people "due to her difficult personality."
Eighth part: Talks about the videos talk discuss interactions with Shiloh and links DeOreo and RealStream's vids on their experience, adn then shifts to something Damon Elliot, Shiloh's former producer" told him directly about her being "evil" which he was still in contact with Shiloh. Quote "Her own music producer, trying to get me to never take her back."
Ninth paragraph: This begins with a series of confusing text with multiple double asterisks, which make this extremely hard to read. Fuck you Greg. Type like a fucking adult if you're even capable of doing that anymore.
He blatantly insinuates that we're not going to listen to him and that the reason he's linking all these videos and pictures that will follow soon after is because he wants to easy-link this to people who ask if he owns the documentary. Brings up what he thinks is fine print shenanigans that a member of his Discord spotted; quote "...in the contract it implies they can edit me out of context and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it..."
the end is near. my salvation.
He then posts three screenshots; the first is an email correspondence from Thomas Patterson asking for an interview for the documentary with a pdf attached, the second is of said pdf which is a Personal/Appearance Release Form that Greg would have to sign should he have agreed to the documentary and the third is a similar email from Thomas Patterson to Kai.
Another rogue Ledger Joker appears. How very droll.
Final part: Quote "Imagine someone making a whole TV show about you, calling it "Your Name: In Real Life" despite never having met you even once... absolutely, hilarious."
FFS I can't EVEN. Last sentence. Ellipsis "absolutely" comma "hilarious" FUCK YOU GREG. NO.
On an additional note, there was ONE comment on 9th of December from Benny Fox: "I don't know how a documentary on you is allowed? Your not charged with any crimes I know of. This is not going to go down well I suppose. You better get an attorney to help your defense or at least a public relations lawyer." Grammar is not as bad but considering I've just spent nearly two hours reading and rereading this, this reads like a fake comment.
That is two hours I will never get back. Super TL;DR is Greg has extremely questionable grammar and if this forum post had myspace options we would have seen peak myspace cringe because his choice of font sizes was aggravating. And he's regurgitating the same old shit we've been accustomed to seeing. Now I'm gonna go drink away my pain, have a good night you guys.