Scars Joker Novels & Stories

As if things couldn’t get worst as it is right now, her judgment betrays her greatly. Growls, loud, raw, angry and a crowd of them came from Adam side of the forest and a huge man, bigger than the creatures around him, surrounded by pure werewolves was ready to attack. It was without a doubt that the man in the middle was the leader. He has a long gash over his left eye. Scars painted his body and his left arm was covered by tribal tattoos. She knows his identity very well just by the stories Adam has told her before. Even from afar she can recognise him with ease.

"I've spent two years scheduling your life, Julian. I’ve seen your tax returns. I’ve seen your charity donations. None of it... none of it matches this." ​Julian let out a dark, mirthless chuckle. He stepped back just an inch, enough for the moonlight to catch the jagged scar running along his jawline—a mark his expensive concealer usually hid with surgical precision. "You saw the man the world wants me to be. The man who plays by the rules because he owns the people who write them. But this?" He gestured with a tattooed hand toward the distant roar of the motorcycles still idling in the yard. "This is the man who makes sure the rules don't apply to him."

he said to Richard. “ Ah right!... Miss Ann, do you have space in your schedule, I pay quite handsomely, and I could use some time with... KPORR!...” Ann stood wide-eyed as James spat blood, he had a nose bleed, and Ann had a feeling that he may have lost a tooth from Richard's blow. “ If you ever mention her name again, you will lose your head... ” Richard growled, grabbing a writhing James by his throat. “It's a threat...” He hissed before dropping him hard on the floor. Ann almost pitied him, but mind you, it only almost happened.

“You just remorselessly killed your companion, guy named Ox. Or should I say, a ringer assassin called the Joker of the Cards of Reapers?” Ox laughed lightly, bandages on his left hand suddenly fall when Aoi cut it with a sharp knife. On the back of his palm, a tattoo of a skeleton in a pitch-black cloak was holding a grayish scythe. On the side of the box, vertically written in a scary font the word “J-O-K-E-R.” A tattoo of the Card of Reapers indicating he was in a high-rank. “What's your business with me?” Aoi Akuma asked voice in a threat.

His voice boomed as Jasmine flinched, but she didn't move a single muscle as the girls guarded in front of her. Lucifer's hand clenched in anger as Jasmine ignored his orders, "You better hit the road, old man, wouldn't want the boss to put a bullet in between those eyes," Scar said in a cold, low tone as Lucifer's face hardened as he slowly backed away before looking over Scar's shoulder, "This isn't over, baby girl, you'll always be daddy's little girl," he said with a smirk on his face before walking away. Scar turned towards Jasmine, who suddenly looked green in the face. She looked as though she was about to pass out, "Jas?" Scar called out but Jasmine couldn't bring herself to reply as

The way they moved, the way they hovered behind their leader with barely-contained excitement—it was clear they relished the power they held over us. And then there was Luther. The Scarred Man. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a face that looked like it had been carved from stone and left to crack in the sun. His skin was rough, weathered, and jagged scars covered half of his face, giving him a twisted, almost inhuman appearance. His eyes, though—those cold, dead eyes—were the most terrifying part. There was no soul left in them. No humanity. Just a hollow darkness that made my blood run cold.

He strides in, a massive figure in leather, his face a war zone, a jagged scar cutting across his cheek from jaw to temple, one eye a cloudy white, the other deep and relentless, trapping me like a rabbit in a trap. That tattoo, a sun divided by a claw, identifies him distinctly: Sun Pack. His voice rumbles deep, harsh like cracked rock, slicing through the air like a knife. “Go ahead and run, girl, and I’ll bring you to Jason myself.”

A flicker of fear crept over me. Scar was heavily built and almost as tall as Wraith; his eyes were blue, and his hair was a shock of white. He too was covered in scars, but the most gruesome was on his face. It seemed like someone had carved him open from the forehead down, only to restitch him back up. The Ironside Pack were on their feet now, cheering. I could finally understand why Rex thought of ‘Scar’ as a worthy opponent. He definitely looked the part. “Last calls for bets!” a man called out, and Rex motioned him over.

I forced my eyes to go wide, playing up the clueless tourist act perfectly. “This is your ship? Oh. Okay, wow. That’s actually a little embarrassing for me.” I lifted one shoulder casually. “Still, I owe you for the jacket. Have a drink with me later. Unless the billionaire owner of The Scorpion is too scared to have a drink with a clumsy girl." Scars stared at me for a long beat. The complete lack of any internal commentary from him was dizzying. For the first time in years, I had to rely on nothing but what I could see, and right now, his expression was an unreadable wall.

“I'll teach you a lesson.” “Come on now, Xander.” Oliver's shouts were slowly morphing into laughter. “I was only messing with you.” “And I'm messing with you too.” I grinned, even though I wasn't sure he could see me. “ Since your idea of messing with me is riling me up with Kieran, then you'll just have to endure some pain.” “Look.” Oliver's laughter was uncontrollable now. “Look, I'm sorry. I was just joking. Have you forgotten im The joker?”