#exojoker

         It’s 4 in the morning and Shaun hasn’t fallen asleep in 72 hours and he’s starting to consider that it’s an emergency before he remembers he’s in the middle of Berlin illegally and he’s thinking maybe I’m crazy. Then he remembers, Assassins. Nothing is true, I’m not tired, and nothing is permitted, I’m not allowed to be tired. If Bill heard him complain about their philosophy, that very line which brands them, he’d hear about it for days. 

          “I’m too old for this.” Shaun groans, rubbing his face as he looks pensively at the bed. It’s been a couple of years since Joker disappeared, most likely leaving on some secret mission that went awry. The compound that Shaun wasn’t technically allowed in held some memories that made him snort at their security system. Not that he couldn’t have gotten in without Rebecca’s help on Joker’s birthday anyway. Shaun had figured if Joker had left, and hadn’t tried to send for him, it meant he could move on. Continue with his life that he put on pause to try and find some solace. Find a meaning to his cause. With Joker gone, there were no distractions to keep him from the good fight. Not that he enjoyed it. In fact, Shaun felt a bitterness arising within him with each continuing day and the stress he battled every time he heard someone’s last word, last breath, last cry. It left him with many sleepless nights.

          Here, in Berlin, was his attempt at escape from that. Bill had noticed his slow change of behaviour and sent him on a trip. Visit the museum, meet with your contact, and get some rest. He almost felt like a spy sent off duty, something akin to a Bond movie. Though it was a little less glamorous than that. With a sigh, Shaun grabs the keys and heads out, pulling his rain jacket hood up tall. Even though he was supposed to relax, Shaun was very aware that his face was a familiar one, and if picked up on one of the Templar surveillance, it would take them maybe a couple of days to find him. The streetlights and neon signs illuminate the sidewalk an array of pinks and blues, electric colours that remind Shaun of Tokyo. 

         Beyond the eccentric lights, Shaun finds a bar, one he’s all too familiar with, and it’s semi-crowded so it’s really not too bad. Shaun manages to find a seat far enough away from anyone to seem eager for chat, yet close enough that he didn’t seem out of place. Shaun’s thought this over a few too many times. He orders a pint of whatever they have special before he pulls out his phone, squinting at the screen before setting it on the bar counter to shrug off his rain jacket. It drips quietly onto the linoleum, but Shaun can hear it.   

“But it’s just the price I pay.”

With a short sigh and a simple smile, all injuries were forgotten. Watching the blond roll away, his gasping laughter echoing down the hall, she knew she could not hold the snap against him. “You, a Winslet? Please. You’re much more of a young DiCaprio. I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“Why, Joker, I don’t know if we can. Whatever will my husband say?” Where she had picked up a husband, she could not say. Wasn’t it part of the plot that Winslet had a necklace and a windbag husband? “Besides, I’m not sure my arms can function after that tackle. I might never be able to reach my wallet...” She winked. “But I’m sure I can turn a steering wheel. There’s no way you soldier boys are getting me to walk that far.”

“You know, if you had to compare me to a historical figure, I don’t think Einstein would be the best fit. Perhaps start calling me Captain Sir Richard Francis Burton. Bloke was bloody brilliant, he was an expert swordsman, geographer, explorer, translator, writer, soldier, orientalist, cartographer, ethnologist, spy, poet, Egyptologist, fencer and linguist. That’s more fitting, don’t you think?” 

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a mix for the oddly quaint relationship that shaun hastings and joker share, off and on the battlefield