Recovery

"I still think about her, you know."

He sighed with a subtle pain behind it. He looked at the ground, reminiscing about the very moment it happened. That bang. Who knew such a commonplace sound could be received as unfamiliar and leave such a profound impact?

"All the time."

He took a long drag from the cigarette hanging from his mouth, took it out, and exhaled a long stream of smoke. As the smoke cleared, he looked back up towards the setting sun, revealing his figure. His face was riddled with scars and showing signs of aging. His nose was notably broken and unnaturally curved to the right.

A gun clicked behind him, and he chuckled a bit.

"I imagined discussin' this was always a waste of time."

As he turned slightly, he faced a man wearing a dark brown overcoat that playfully flapped around his ankles in the wind. The man had on a dark yellow, checkered shirt that was tucked in neatly into his black, pinstripe pants. His belt hung around his groin and wrapped around his waist in a curved fashion. His belt buckle was of the shape of an eye, which was rather peculiar. He sported a black cloth which wrapped around his mouth and covered the rest of his neck. A small scar stuck out from behind that extended upwards to his left check. Clearly he wasn't too fond of showing it off.

He wore a black, cattleman hat that was fading in color along the rims. His hair was growing long, and seemed rather messy and scattered around, as if it had a minds of its own. It was auburn in color, something that was immediately striking. His eyes were also a bright yellow in color; mesmerizing, really. It was nearly impossible not to look into them. And once you did, well, may God bless you.

*"Guess."*

The man pressed his hands down on his knees and slowly got up. The man holding the gun adjusted his posture, readying to fire any second. It was clear he was hell-bent on killing him; there was absolutely zero indication of hesitation.

"Ya got me right where ya want me, yeah?" provoked the man, smirking.

"You think you're the only one who thinks about her? You heartless prick!" the man holding the gun spat. His voice was quite hoarse and, quite frankly, uncomfortable to hear.

"'Course not," he began. "She was a beautiful angel--"

The man with the gun shot the ground in front of him, abruptly cutting him off. He began to breathe rapidly and shook his head, aiming his gun once more at the man.

Now in full view, the man had a black coat that was outlined in shiny, vibrant red. He had a lacey pattern all over his coat, indicating either he was wealthy by luck or otherwise. He wore a maroon-colored vest and a black dress shirt underneath. He had on a black and red belt to boot, and wore black pants that were clearly taken care of. He had a white, handlebar mustache and white, slicked back hair that shined as the setting sun bounced off of it. His eyes were also a vibrant yellow.

"If yer gonna do it, just do it already. What's this stallin' about? It ain't like you."

Tears welled up in his eyes and he closed them shut, tsking.

"She had to die," the man spoke, his voice lowering as if he himself didn't want to hear it. "You know it, don't you, Scottie?"

Scottie pulled down the cloth around his mouth, revealing an ugly, jagged scar that ran down his cheek and spread across his neck. Tears began to roll down his cheeks.

"She was my goddamn daughter, Bill," he responded, weakly.

Bill sighed and threw his cigarette to the side, looking to the right. He felt the warm wind blow down the field and hit his face; he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, returning to face Scottie.

"That fact doesn't invalidate what I did, and deep down, you know it."

Scottie gritted his teeth and swallowed that pill hard.

"There coulda been another way," he responded. "But you never *listened* to me!"

"No, Scottie," Bill sighed. "There weren't *any* other way. You just wanna believe that."

Scottie looked at Bill and his tears began to blur his vision. He wiped them away and saw his daughter standing beside him with blood all over her chest. Her eyes were hallow. He gasped in horror and shook his head, backing away.

"You see her too, don't ya?" Bill asked, looking to where she was; she wasn't there from his perspective, but he knew she was there.

Scottie knelt down and covered his eyes, beginning to weep. Bill sighed and began to walk over to him.

## Under the Gun Stuff

### Origins

* Two entities, the Red and Black Jokers, have existed since the dawn of time.
* The Red Joker ensures order, the Black Joker ensures chaos.
* They are supposed to be in balance to keep the universe stable.
* The Black Joker begins to grow more greedy and seeks a way to weaken the Red Joker and take over.
* The Black Joker possesses a man on Earth to disguise himself, making deals with people via cards and abilities in order to corrupt them and sew more chaos.
* In an effort to restore order, the Red Joker erases the memories of the corrupted so their corruption subsides.

### Pre-Series

* Scottie Cassidy's daughter, Claire, is murdered in cold blood by Bill Garrett aboard a train.
* Bill injures him by slicing his throat and cheek and throws him off the train.
* Black Joker approaches Scottie with a final card, manipulating his agony and desire for revenge.
* Scottie makes a deal.
* At that same moment, the Red Joker erases everyone's memories before the Black Joker can be all powerful.
* Scottie wanders around aimlessly in the forest for a couple of weeks.
* Scottie eventually meets up with Margaret Downes and Austin Cortez, who initially kidnap him.
* They take him to their camp hideout, and Bill is the leader of their gang.
* He joins their gang, unaware that Bill is Claire's killer and vice versa.