Joker Redesign Novels & Stories

"There's nothing left to fight for. The company's bleeding. Even with Jennifer gone, people don't trust us. They see the scandal. They see my name. They leave." "Then we change how they see you." "How?" She pulled out her laptop. Opened the presentation. Turned it toward him. "Like this." He looked at the screen. His eyes moved across the slides. The new logo. The messaging. The complete rebrand. "You made this?" His voice was quiet. "Tonight. All of it. A full campaign to rebuild Knight Security's reputation." He kept scrolling. Stopped on a slide that showed the new website. His photo. His statement. Raw. Honest. Vulnerable.

The people who ruined her life. She glared at them as she noted down their faces, height, build, and everything. There were six men and one woman. They all had tattoos of a cat in their left arm except for the last one. He sat majestically on a chair behind her, smoking a cigar. He was wearing dark glasses and a face cap, successfully covering most of his face. Jade could guess that he was the mastermind. The others were just working for him. When she would take her revenge, he'd be the one to suffer most.

“It’s – well. Some of it’s really bad. But you must know that, right?” Ace thought about the beatings that had gone on for hours; the crunch of lower leg bone; the knife carving out his left eye; the razors cutting the skin off his chest. Joker had insisted on removing his Fallen Angels tattoo personally, claiming that a cock-sucking traitor had no right to have it on his body any longer, and Ace still wasn’t sure if Joker had been more outraged by his disloyalty to the club, or his homosexuality.

skin looked like simple, unpolished slate. From the center of the square, where the emerald Hearth fire should have been, a man emerged from a pillar of Liquid-Cyan. It was Jackson. But he was not the boy of nineteen, the Vizier, or the God of the Noon. He was a man of thirty-nine, dressed in a suit of woven light that mirrored the Magistrate’s armor. His golden eyes were gone, replaced by two unmoving, cyan lenses that scanned the square with a terrifying, clinical indifference. This was the Jackson of the Zero Cycle—the version of the architect that the First Luna had tried to "Fix" by removing his capacity to fail, and in doing so, removed his capacity to love.

“Rest. You’ll need your strength for the Blackmoor board meeting.” I watched the door click shut and immediately moved to my desk. I grabbed my charcoal pencils and my sketching tablet. My mind wasn't on pack wars or mating bonds—it was on the sharp lines of hockey jerseys and the branding of the Blackmoor Wolves. I sketched until my fingers went numb, pouring every ounce of the betrayal I felt into the aggressive, dark designs of the team’s new armor. The portfolio was finished within the week. I sent it to Apex Syndicate, the elite design firm that handled the visual identity of the Mafia-league hockey teams.

She walked towards him and hit him in the back of his head. "What are you wearing, Al? We are not on the beach for sh*t's sake!" she exclaimed. The good looking man frowned. "No one has a violent reaction to my clothes except you." Maia put her hands on her waist. "First, they are afraid of you, and second, they find you hot. But, not me." "Well, that's my charm," the guy laughed. "How disgusting," she shook her head in disappointment. Alcot Blake Basil, the twelfth rank ambassador and the youngest wolf in the council. He is the Queen's nephew, also known as The Joker, for he is a clever, smart, and strong wolf, but cunning, cruel, brutal, and has a lot of mysteries under his sleeves.

My mouth falls open. "We haven’t officially met; I’m Joker. I like to bite parts of people off and burn ‘em while they are alive, so it's easier to skin ‘em. Sometimes, I like to give ‘em adrenaline to keep ‘em awake while I cut ‘em open and pull out their insides. Which is ya choice?" he says matter-of-factly and grins, and I stare in shock. Ebony rolls her eyes as if this is totally fucking normal. It's not. Even Wesley is silenced. Joker seems totally unphased by the guns pointed at him.

he flirted. "Hands off my sister." Joker snarled as he pulled me away. "I'm your Pres." Thrash teased. Joker just shrugged and hugged me closer. "So? I'm the VP. Doesn't matter. She's my sister. You can be replaced. She can't." Joker grunted back and we all chuckled. Joker joined the Saints a month or two after leaving the Lost Boys. He loved it there and he felt safe enough to start therapy and change at least some of his ways. Gone was the Joker that would barely touch or speak. He was a different man.

Last time he talked to Rhett, he’d called him a Joker and handed him a joker card from his newly opened deck. Rhett loved his expensive cards. It was so beautiful. The joker card could’ve been on display in an art museum. All black with a CGI-inspired tessellated profile—the whole deck had cost hundreds, glimmered like diamonds, and smelled like money. An artist had handcrafted each image, spending days on every card. There was so much detail in the Joker. Dark lines outlined him. On his face, he wore a huge silly grin, but in the background, a mirror stood against the wall. There, the Joker frowned and tears streamed down his face.

Aesthetic's POV: “ Let me introduce myself first. “ The man with a friendly personality exclaimed and stand up with full of excitement. He have this very alluring smile but an eyes that can make thousands of women cry. His hair was shaggy, opposite to his face but his presence was very light. As if he can't hurt you, but I know that those fangs of him can torn my own flesh apart. Though I’m not that scared to him, but I won't let my guards down. “ My name is Joker, but I prefer to be called as Jake. “ He said while looking at me with his lips stretched widely. I don’t know if I'm gonna laugh or what, but his name sounds so funny. Joker? Well, his sunny personality proves it. “ And yeah! I’m