Board Thread:Fanmade/@comment-26912075-20180317205445/@comment-26912075-20180413185739

J: As Joker crawls on the ground, breathing heavily and suffering an abnormal amount of pain, dragging in dirt and bacteria in his wounds as he attempts to escape Manhattan Transfer. This was to no avail, as Joker could not reach another place where he can be protected in the time it would take for another volley to be redirected at him by Manhattan Transfer. He was a dead man, as no one could help him. Jolyne was too inexperienced, Spartan was busy with the guards, and the only other stand users in the area would be ones who wish to kill him. He had no choice but to sit and wait for the next volley or until the time it would take him to lose consciousness. "I suppose this is the time when my life flashes before my eyes. Where I examine all my regrets and voice my wish to atone for them. It's a shame that, even after all these years, there are parts of my memory that are missing. My later years and my earlier ones are both missing, perhaps gone for good. Perhaps this is the payback I deserve for what I did in Morioh. No matter what way I try to excuse it, I suppose murder will always be a crime. It's true, how can I say that I am better than a killer like Kira. Perhaps I could've changed my life for the better, but, what's the point of dreaming at this juncture." Joker laid quietly on the ground, whispering quietly to himself, smiling if only for a brief moment, relieved that he at least attempted to do what he saw fit. As he closed his eyes and laid, he could feel the eerie sense of death slowly approaching, heralded by the crackling of gunfire. It was the end now, he could, at last, be relieved from the earth. The bullets drew closer and closer until Joker could hear them from his position. That, he believed, is the sign that his death would be just moments later. However, he soon heard a small crackling sound and found that his pain hadn't increased any more. He opened his eyes, only to find the sniper rounds laying on the floor before him, bent in as though they hit a solid object that could resist them.

"What? How is that possible?" Joker paused to think for a moment before a shadow blocked his view. There, standing above him, was the figure of Requiem, looming over him, covered in small holes where the bullets lodged in Joker's body. "Oh. So you returned." Joker pushed himself up slightly. "I suppose fate has given me one last hurrah before death." Joker attempted to stand, but fell over and collapsed on the floor once again. Requiem reached down towards him and latched onto his arm, pulling him up fully to a standing position. Joker looked at his arm in shock, but found that it was the same it had been before Requiem touched it. He smiled, but this time that smile wasn't a smile of acceptance, it was one of determination. "Alright, let's finish off Johngalli A and that strange stand in the water. Then, we'll retreat for now." Joker stepped forward confidently.