John Not-Dour woke up in a forest.
Reeling from the insertion into another reality, blueprints and formula raging in his mind for chemicals and augments, however all of that including the killing arts were background information compared to the unending happiness he was feeling.
John let out a giggle, then a chuckle, then a laugh.
Soon he degenerated into full belly laughter, hysteric at his luck and idiocy.
It was a few minutes before he got his laughter under control, yet that didn't stop the Glasgow smile growing on his face, courtesy of Shaper.
While happiness controlled his emotions, it didn't stop his intellect, and John was a fairly intelligent man before his transmigration, now?
With Human Augmentation and Shaper working together his mind was restructured at the cost of a large percent of muscle mass being turned into energy for Shaper to work with.
That very same biomass problem was solved when he limped over to a nearby tree, a bit of work and the large tree was turned into converted biomass ready to be assimilated.
John took about thirty minutes using the tree's biomass, and grabbing two more to complete his new genesis or rebirth.
Gone was the pale and grim man, standing now was a lithe man of 7'2, tall and gangly, yet his thin limbs did little to show the sheer strength of his body, and that wasn't even his focus.
The tall and gangly form was meant to emphasize speed, John had little doubt he would be able to run utterly nonsensical speeds.
Yet while his size was certainly alien, it was the face that was truly strange.
A Glasgow smile of ridiculous proportions and if his mother were to look at his face, she'd think you were crazy trying to tell her this was her son.
His eyes were permanent crescent moons, and the nose was nonexistent, just two holes that blended in with his now bleached complexion.
With his size of such proportion, his clothes didn't fit him, so John used some leftover biomass to make some bio-morph clothing made out of supernatural leather.
John was by no means a tailor, yet in some cosmic trick of fate, no matter what he made was always garbage, unwearable by all but the poorest and downtrodden.
Except the jester uniform of course.
If the universe was willing, who was he to deny?
Deciding to be creative and using his powers he had all the resources he could hope for.
Colorful feathers? Silks? Cotton? Wool? Leather? Dye?
All biological material, and with Shaper jamming information on how to make these things, all it took was a touch and some creativity.
With fluorescent colors such as vibrant reds and royal purple, he made bells out of bone along with a comedy theater mask.
The bone bells didn't ring like those of brass, so he swapped them out for smiling skulls, tapered onto his ankles and the floppy bits of his hat.
He added tassels and designs, testing his control over Shaper, and soon he was fully dressed in a jester outfit.
Laughing in giddiness and pride over his creation, like buying new clothes but a thousand times more satisfying.
However his laughter was brought to a low chuckle as he heard sounds unwelcome to his modified ears.
His body zoomed through the forest, like a monkey his hands latched onto a tree's branch, swinging between branches, getting higher and higher, until his eyes snapped onto the source of the earlier disturbance.
His eyes narrowed from crescents to mere lines on his featureless face, although his smile didn't dim.
Not like one could tell from the mask though.
His eyes were currently locked onto a beast of black and white, with a bone mask and exoskeleton.
It was rather 'Grim'.
'Now that won't do,' John thought, his mind racing through techniques from An Assassin's Blade on how to kill the creature.
In this single moment all four of his powers interacted with one another.
Walter White to the Nth Degree mixed and created several performance altering and enhancing drugs, the chemicals created and synthesized from Shapers ability.
Human augmentation adapted the body; drawing massive amounts of information and knowledge from both Shaper and Assassin's Blade, his body shifted.
Small pops and cracks along with a rather gross squelching sound originated from his body as the changes went into place.
Still 7 foot 2 inches, his bones, ligaments, joints and nervous system all went through an utter revamp.
His hand laid itself on a nearby branch, Shaper drawing mass from the tree and branch toward his hand silently, soon no longer was there a branch, but a glistening bone-white dagger.
It was a wicked thing, serrated and deadly. The blade sharpened and strengthened, while not a mono blade, it was close.
Springing from the crouched position, like a spectral ghost, the jester of joy, took his first life with a simple swing.
The Grimm, an Ursa Major, saw the sky, and then darkness.
Decapitated in a single draw of the blade.
"I should bring some… positivity into this world. It's so drab looking at these piles of negativity." John; no, Jester Kindly, smiled at the disintegrating Grimm. It wasn't a nice smile.