Milk_Is_My_Drug
patreon
Chapter 36: Vegas' Worst Show
🕑 Added 2025-05-21 08:08:57 +0000 UTCAshborn sat silently in the backseat of a sleek, black car moving through the glimmering and loud streets of Vegas. His eyes were fixed on his phone, where a live feed had been running for a few minutes now. The Joker’s chaos was already in full swing.
Onscreen, the Justice League raced against time, disabling bombs scattered across Vegas—on bridges, in parks, near and inside casinos while having to fight the super powered individual Joker freed from Cadmus. Each success came with mounting tension, not knowing if they will be able to stop all bombs in time. And with the Joker watching them closely, it only added to that pressure.
Ashborn watched it all, calm and still as ever, the flashing images reflected in his gaze.
The car slowed. “We’re here,” the driver said.
Ashborn stepped out of the car and before him loomed the TV station where the Joker had claimed for his “party”. Ashborn already knew what awaited him inside. He glanced at his watch. 6:55 PM. Then entered the building.
The halls were empty, clearly the Joker had either killed the people or tied them somewhere out of the way. But Ashborn didn’t care much about that. Soon, he could hear the faint sound of laughter echoed ahead—high-pitched, deranged.
Finally, he stepped into the studio.
Cameras were pointing from all directions at the center of the stage, where a lone figure sat, Ace. A young pale girl in a simple black and white cloth, still as a statue, her eyes staring unblinking and void of emotion, fixed straight ahead at the camera.
The Joker stood in front of her, cackling to the camera like a game show host on the brink of collapse. When he noticed Ashborn entering, he paused… then grinned.
Ashborn offered a slight wave, leaned casually to one side, and gestured for him to continue. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
The Joker stared for a beat, then howled with laughter. “Ahh! Now that’s the spirit! Ladies and gentlemen, the real guest of honor has arrived!”
He turned the camera, angling it so it now showed Ace fully.
The viewers were trapped by Ace’s power but they were still able to comprehend words and what was going on.
Across the country, tens of millions who were watching the live stream were staring helplessly with eyes wide, expressions locked, minds blank. Ace’s gaze reached through the screen. Her power didn’t just manipulate reality—it rewrote perception. Those exposed were paralyzed, trapped in mental prison of their own hallucinations.
“And there is little Ace,” the Joker crooned, walking a slow circle around her. “Little Ace. Born cursed. Born with power. And what did they do? The government kidnapped her and threw her in a cage, experimented with her. Said she was dangerous. So they made her wear a headband. They turned her into a sweet little puppet, didn’t they? Made her quiet. Obedient. Because gods forbid she hurt someone by accident! Ha!”
His grin widened.
“You see, her power lets her alter your reality. One look, and you see what she wants you to see. For most people, that’s madness. Terror. You can’t even look away from her now, can you?”
He tilted his head, laughing again. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not affected. I’m already mad!” He tapped his skull. “Upstairs? Lights out, baby!”
Then, he turned to Ashborn.
“But enough foreplay. For today’s big finale, we have one last guest!”
He theatrically bowed. “Ashborn, my good buddy, step into the spotlight. The stage is yours!”
Ashborn stepped forward confidently in slow deliberate steps. The Joker aimed the camera so that both Ashborn and Ace were in frame.
Ashborn smirked, eyes on the girl. “You really pulled off your biggest stunt yet,” he said coolly.
The Joker’s grin sharpened. “Of course! And I wanted a little… heart-to-heart with you after the last two times before the curtain falls.”
The Joker looked at Ace with a glint in his eyes and a wide smile, he said “Acey, why not give him a piece of you mind”
Ace’s gaze shifted for the first time. She looked directly at Ashborn.
There was silence in the room for a few seconds, then nothing happened.
The Joker’s grin melted into a baffled frown. His eyes darted between Ace and Ashborn, clearly not comprehending the lack of reaction. Ace, still seated, was staring right at Ashborn unblinking, intense. But Ashborn was perfectly fine.
“Uh… Acey?” the Joker’s voice cracked with uncertainty. “Juice up, sweetheart.”
Still nothing.
Ashborn slowly tilted his head, still smiling, as he drew a gun from his coat and aimed it lazily at the Joker. “Am I the only one having a strong sense of déjà vu?”
The Joker blinked rapidly, gears turning but finding no traction. Ashborn is still smiling like usual.
“Why are you not going crazy?” the Joker asked, clearly confused.
“Good question,” Ashborn replied. “I guess we just confirmed I’m also insane. But again, who needs sanity? It is overrated, don’t you think?”
The Joker took a nervous step back. “On second thought,” he muttered, “Inviting you was not the brightest idea…”
Ashborn didn’t reply. He simply extended his free hand, palm up, fingers twitching in a beckoning gesture.
The Joker stared at it, bewildered.
“My souvenir,” Ashborn said calmly. “The dagger. You have one. Hand it over.”
The Joker’s eye twitched violently. He reluctantly pulled a small knife from his coat and tossed it toward Ashborn. Ashborn caught it, inspected it, then looked back with unimpressed eyes.
“This is just a regular knife.” He raised an eyebrow. “Where’s the good stuff?”
Darkness crept into the Joker’s face. “Where am I supposed to keep getting unique ones? I’m a homicidal maniac, not a treasure collector!”
Ashborn sighed, rolling his eyes. “This trip was for nothing, then…”
A sudden slam of a door burst the tension. Harley Quinn stormed into the studio, eyes wild with fury.
“You slimy, cheating clown!” she shouted. “You were getting too close to that girl! I saw it! Picking her over me?! I've been there through every shootout and asylum break and THIS is how you treat me?!”
She stopped mid-rant as she noticed Ashborn pointing a gun at the Joker.
Ashborn looked at her. “You want a moment alone with him?”
Harley blinked, then nodded furiously.
Ashborn walked past the Joker and handed the gun to Harley. “I am rooting for you. He’s all yours.”
Without a second of hesitation, Harley stomped toward the Joker with a gun in hand, still yelling. “You lowlife, purple-suited dirtbag! I broke my bat for you!”
The Joker backpedaled fast, raising his hands. “H-Harls! There’s a misunderstanding here! Really! You’re one of a kind, my special cupcake! There’s a bond between us, like… like…”
Harley’s eyes softened, suddenly hopeful. “Like what, puddin’? Say it…”
The Joker’s manic grin suddenly twisted into a glare. “LIKE YOU BROUGHT BATMAN HERE!”
Then, without warning, he punched Harley across the face, knocking her sideways.
Ashborn didn’t move. His hands were now in his pockets as he stood calmly, watching like an entertained patron in a theater.
The Joker marched forward. “Come on out, Bats! I know you’re here!”
From the shadows above, a blur dropped like a hawk.
CRACK!
Batman landed squarely on the Joker, knocking him to the floor. The clown gasped, limbs flailing.
“Acey!” the Joker shrieked. “This one’s sane! Do it!”
Ace’s gaze slowly turned to Batman.
The Dark Knight staggered as it hit him. His movements slowed, his breath quickened. He raised his hands as strange visions flooded his mind—hallucinations clawing at his sanity.
Then—
BANG!
The shot echoed through the studio.
Batman groaned and collapsed to his knees… then to the floor.
The Joker sat up, eyes wide. His grin vanished entirely as he stared at the fallen Bat. Then, slowly, his gaze turned to Harley, who stood a few feet away—gun raised, arms trembling, eyes confused.
“…Oops!” she mumbled.
Then she slumped to the side, asleep from the Joker’s punch.
Even Ashborn’s eyes widened in disbelief. He didn’t plan or intend to repeat this again.
The Joker was confused and then spoke “What the hell? Why does this keep happening? Ashborn what did you do?”
“…Well,” he said, stunned. “That… wasn’t me.”
He lifted both hands slowly. “No one can blame me this time. It was your sidekick”
The Joker stood up and said “It was your damn gun again.” as he pointed angrily at the sleeping Harley.
Ashborn walked forward to the Joker slowly, when the Joker turned around, he found Ashborn hand extended into his Jacket pocket pulling a golden headband from it.
The Joker's face changed as Ashborn said “Well, well, what do we have here?”
The Joker’s eyes snapped to Ace, who was no longer sitting.
Ace was standing.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously at the Joker. And then, slowly, she began walking.
The Joker chuckled nervously, stepping backward. “Hey, now, Acey… let’s all calm down. This is just a misunderstanding, really.”
Ace’s voice was cold and deliberate. “I don’t fear you” she said, “I know what it means… to make people afraid.”
There was no humor in her tone, no madness like his. Just quiet, resolute truth.
The Joker kept stepping back, sweat forming on his painted brow. “Acey, sweetie, listen, I only meant to—"
She didn’t blink.
She didn’t slow.
And when his back finally met the cold wall behind him, the Joker dropped into a crouch, shielding his face with his arms. “Don’t hurt me!” he squealed.
Ace stopped just a foot away from him. She knelt slowly and reached a hand gently toward his head.
Her voice was soft now. “Don’t be afraid.”
She patted his head.
The Joker, peeking up with a nervous smile, tried to play it off. “That’s my good little girl—”
But the moment their eyes met, he screamed.
His limbs went rigid, and he collapsed to the ground, eyes wide open, drool spilling from his mouth. He twitched once… then went still.
Ashborn watched silently, the headband still dangling from his fingers.
Ace turned.
Her eyes locked onto Ashborn as she walked slowly toward him.
“You are different,” she said, voice low. “You don’t fear me. You don’t care what could happen.”
Ashborn met her gaze with a calm smile. “You’re just a normal person with a unique trick. Should I be afraid? Like the other idiots out there?”
Ace didn’t respond. She just turned and walked away, heading toward the broken studio doors.
Ashborn’s voice followed her. “If you need help… or someone to talk to… reach out to me. I’m Ashborn Black. I’m usually in Metropolis.”
Ace paused at the door.
She didn’t look back.
Ashborn turned toward the main camera. He looked directly into the lens.
“This is the TV station on Vegas 16th Street,” he said clearly. “Someone come pick them up.”
He gestured loosely to the scene behind him, Batman still groaning on the ground, the Joker out cold and twitching, Harley Quinn snoring gently on her side.
Then Ashborn pocketed the headband, turned, and walked out, leaving behind the wreckage of three very different knockouts.
