"The Joker?" Archer's voice quivered, a mix of awe and fear echoing in the soul chamber's vast emptiness.
"Don't look so scared, kid," the Joker said, his tone teasing yet warm.
With a flicker, he vanished from the floating throne, reappearing inches from Archer, his presence both playful and overwhelming.
"I'm not here to hurt you."
Archer's heart raced, his breath uneven. "When Zero said I'd speak to my past life, I didn't expect… this." His wide eyes darted around the chamber, as if searching for an anchor in this surreal void.
"Zero, huh? The Second Emperor," the Joker mused, a glint of nostalgia in his gaze. "I'm surprised he went out of his way to find me."
"What do you mean?" Archer asked, confusion knitting his brow.
"Zero and I crossed paths centuries ago, during the Great War," the Joker said, his voice tinged with a distant sorrow that made Archer's chest tighten.
"The war!" Archer's eyes widened, hope flaring. "You know about it?"
The Joker fell silent, his face clouding as memories surged behind his eyes. After a heavy pause, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "I don't know much, kid. And I'd rather not talk about it."
"You were in it, weren't you?" Archer pressed, his voice rising with frustration. "How can you not know?"
The Joker conjured a chair from the ether, sinking into it with a weary sigh, his gaze fixed on the floor. "You've seen her, haven't you?" he murmured, his words heavy with unspoken pain. "After all, you are me."
"Seen who?" Archer's brow furrowed, his heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and dread.
"Never mind," the Joker said, shaking his head. "That war… it's not something I want to remember. Truth is, I didn't fight. I ran." His voice cracked, the weight of centuries-old regret seeping through.
"You ran? Why?" Archer's voice trembled, confusion swirling with a spark of disbelief.
"It's complicated," the Joker said, his eyes distant, haunted by shadows only he could see. "If you want to fight that war again, go ahead. Just keep me out of it."
"Keep you out?" Archer's fists clenched, his voice sharp with defiance. "Zero said our fates are tied to that war. It's inevitable, even if you run."
"Fate?" The Joker's lips curled into a bittersweet smile, pain flickering behind his eyes. "That's a familiar word." His voice softened, carrying a quiet ache that pierced Archer's heart.
"Do you want my ability, kid?" the Joker asked, his gaze locking onto Archer's with sudden intensity.
"Y—Yes," Archer said, his voice firm despite the uncertainty gnawing at him. "Isn't that why you brought me here?"
The Joker's expression darkened, his tone turning serious. "No. I called you to tell you to stop throwing yourself at Emperors. You're gonna kill yourself."
"Kill myself?" Archer snapped, frustration boiling over. "I wouldn't be in danger if you'd just give me your ability!"
The Joker leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a mix of pity and provocation. "I've watched your life through your eyes, kid. From the moment you were born, they wanted you dead—and they still do."
His voice grew colder, each word a blade. "Your memories? You have them because of me. The reason you're alive? Me. Your family? Dead. Your friend? Gone. All because of you."
Archer's breath hitched, confusion clouding his mind. "Because of me? I thought they died in a crossfire near our street."
"Crossfire?" The Joker's laughter boomed, harsh and mocking, echoing in the chamber like a cruel refrain. "You believed Zero's lie?" His voice turned ruthless, slicing through Archer's heart.
"No, kid. They targeted you. As an Emperor reincarnate, you're one of the universe's most wanted. Your parents and friend were just collateral damage."
Archer's knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, a tear tracing a burning path down his cheek.
"I'm the reason… they died?" His voice broke, raw with grief, as the weight of guilt crushed his chest.
"People like us aren't meant for loved ones," the Joker said, rising to tower over Archer's crumpled form.
"We only bring harm to those around us." His voice was cold, but a flicker of sorrow betrayed his hardened facade.
Archer's sobs quieted, his tear-streaked face lifting to meet the Joker's gaze. His eyes blazed with a fierce, unyielding determination.
"Give me the ability," he demanded, his voice steady despite the pain.
The Joker froze, startled by the boy's resolve. "You'll lose part of yourself," he warned, his tone grave. "My feelings, my thoughts—they'll become yours. You understand don't you?"
"I don't care," Archer said, standing and wiping his tears with a trembling hand. "I need to be strong—stronger than anyone—so I can protect those I have left."
"And what do you have?" Zero asked.
"I have Zero." Archer responded with a cold stare into Joker's eyes.
The Joker's surprise melted into a low, reluctant chuckle. "Protect, huh? Alright, kid. Don't say I didn't warn you."
He raised two fingers, mimicking a gun, a green glow pulsing at their tips.
"My ability is 'Feel Your Pain.' It stops attacks meant to harm you, absorbs their energy, and turns it into firepower for you to wield. You can return those attacks tenfold—hence the name."
With a flick, he fired a green beam at Archer's head.
Archer jolted awake, gasping in his bed, the dream's vividness lingering like a scar.
"Was it all a dream?" he muttered, stumbling to the bathroom, his heart heavy with doubt.
In the mirror, his reflection stared back, eyes glowing an ethereal green.
"It wasn't a dream," he whispered, a spark of excitement igniting in his chest.
But the thrill faded as the Joker's words crashed over him—the truth about his family's death, the guilt now etched into his soul. His face fell, eyes dimming with a sorrow that felt ancient, unyielding.
From that day, Archer changed. The kind, hopeful boy faded, replaced by a cold, driven shadow, his heart hardened by the weight of his destiny and the lives lost because of him.