---
[Scene: Abandoned subway station – 3:04 AM. Rats scurry through flickering light. Water drips from cracked pipes. Broken benches line the platform like forgotten graves. Graffiti reads: "WHO DECIDES JUSTICE?" in dried crimson paint.]
The silence wasn't empty.
It was layered—thick with old screams, the whispers of those who vanished, and the slow breathing of a city pretending it was still alive.
Joker sat on a rusted bench, mask half-off, eyes unreadable—two dying embers reflecting the pulsing red of a broken neon sign.
One leg rested on the bench. The other foot tapped slowly, the rhythm matching the drips echoing from overhead. In his hand, he held something—small, metallic, worn smooth with time.
A child's dog tag.
The name had faded.
JOKER (thinking):
They say power corrupts.
That's a lie.
Power just... reveals you.
Corruption was always there.
Power just tore the wrapping off.
He looked up at the flickering lights. Shadows danced across the platform. His reflection on the tile floor looked more like a silhouette—faceless, cracked, incomplete.
JOKER (thinking):
The first time I saw someone die...
was the last time I thought the world made sense.
---
[Flashback: 16 years ago – A registration checkpoint. Afternoon. A line of civilians. Posters show smiling "heroes" above the words: "SCAN TODAY, SAFE TOMORROW."]
The room smelled like disinfectant and metal.
A girl—maybe fifteen—argued with the guard. She wore a red scarf. Her fingers trembled, but her voice didn't.
GIRL:
You don't get to scan my mind.
That's not safety. That's control.
HERO #1:
You're resisting a legal order.
GIRL:
I'm protecting my soul.
Joker—young, quiet, and still unnamed—watched from the corner. She had given him half her sandwich that morning. He hadn't spoken much. She had smiled anyway.
They slammed her against the wall.
HERO #2 (coldly):
Resisting scan. Class C infraction.
Her head hit the floor. Hard. A crack echoed.
Then silence.
Joker froze. His limbs didn't move. His breath caught.
They turned away. One of them laughed.
HERO #1:
She should've complied. Rules are rules.
HERO #2:
Collateral damage. Get someone to clean this up.
Something inside him screamed. Not aloud.
Inside.
A sound only he could hear.
A red flicker crossed his vision.
JOKER (thinking):
That was the moment.
The moment I realized the first rule.
Power obeys no one.
Except itself.
---
[Scene: Present – Rooftop of a ruined church. The city below breathes in fog and neon. Lightning cracks the sky. Rain cuts the silence like needles.]
She stood there—like a statue of judgment.
Eva.
Class A. Enforcement Division. Perfect record.
Her boots clicked on the stone. Her aura blazed blue—like ice sculpted into fire.
EVA:
You're the one they call Joker.
Mass murderer. Hacker. Terrorist.
They say you kill only the powerful.
JOKER (stepping forward, grinning):
No.
I kill those who lie with a smile.
EVA:
You're deluded.
Justice has laws.
You're just another angry child who never healed.
JOKER (voice colder now):
And you're a soldier who never asked why she was given a gun.
She launched forward. No warning. No ceremony.
Her punch hit like thunder.
Joker's ribs shattered. He flew back, smashing through a gargoyle.
He coughed blood. Laughed anyway.
JOKER:
Still following the manual, huh?
She charged a sphere of electric energy in her palm, hovering midair. The sky echoed with thunder.
EVA:
Surrender.
You're outmatched.
JOKER (rising, bones clicking):
I don't fight to win.
The church trembled.
JOKER (eyes glowing):
I fight to remind them…
what losing feels like.
His aura erupted—black surrounded by flickering red, like fire trapped inside ink.
The temperature dropped. The air rippled.
In an instant—he vanished.
Eva's eyes widened—but too late. A whisper grazed her neck.
JOKER (behind her):
First rule of power…
Don't play fair. Just play real.
His hand touched her shoulder.
A surge of corrupted aura exploded—like a vortex of screams, memories, and twisted energy. It slammed her into the air, sent her crashing through the bell tower, the ancient steel bell falling beside her with a deafening clang.
She groaned. Her aura flickered. The rain drowned out her pain.
Joker stood above her. His silhouette framed by lightning.
Breathing heavily. Not because he was tired—because something inside him was fighting to stay human.
EVA (through broken teeth):
You... talk about truth.
But you hide behind a mask.
He crouched down. Pulled the mask off.
His face—still young. Scar down one cheek. Eyes like old fire.
JOKER:
No.
He leaned closer.
JOKER (whispers):
I wear this so people stop lying to themselves.
He stood up. Walked to the edge of the rooftop.
Behind him, Eva's hand twitched. She tried to summon her aura again—but it sputtered out like a dying spark.
JOKER (thinking):
They'll rebuild her. They always do.
She'll come back stronger. Angrier.
Maybe next time… she'll listen before she shoots.
He looked down at the city—streets glowing with artificial life, while the alleys rotted.
JOKER (softly):
This city doesn't need heroes.
It needs a mirror.
Lightning flashed. Thunder answered.
---
[Scene: A run-down diner. The flickering TV plays the news.]
ANCHOR (on screen):
Breaking news—Class A Officer Eva is in critical condition following a rooftop altercation.
The suspect, known only as "Joker," has once again evaded capture.
Public opinion is divided. Some demand stricter surveillance.
Others are calling him... a necessary evil.
DINER CUSTOMER #1:
They should've killed him on sight.
DINER CUSTOMER #2:
Maybe.
But he's not wrong. I saw what the officers did during last month's sweep.
[At a corner booth: A young boy sits alone, schoolbag beside him. He stares at the TV.]
His fingers draw in the condensation on his glass.
A sketch of a laughing mask. Red eyes.
MOTHER (off-screen):
Come, Arun. We're going.
The boy hides the sketch. Nods.
But as he leaves, his eyes linger on the screen.
---
[Cut: Security room – unknown facility. Multiple screens monitor city feeds. A man in shadows watches the footage of Joker fighting Eva.]
AGENT (off-screen):
Should we deploy Omega-class agents?
SHADOW MAN:
No.
Pause.
SHADOW MAN (coldly):
Let him burn louder.
The more noise he makes...
the easier it will be to bury him in silence.
---
[Scene: Joker walks through a tunnel — emergency red lights cast long, demonic shadows.]
His coat drips. Each step echoes like a countdown.
He passes a mirror shard nailed to the wall. His reflection glitches—flickering between Joker and the boy he used to be.
JOKER (thinking):
They think the world's broken because of me.
But it was already cracked long before I smiled.
He walks deeper. Past a painting of angels with their faces torn out.
Past a wall where someone scratched the words: Truth is not justice. Justice is not truth.
JOKER (thinking):
Heroes are currency.
Villains are warnings.
I just chose to be the alarm they can't shut off.
A faint click echoes in the dark behind him.
Footsteps. A presence. But Joker doesn't look back.
He knows they're watching.
Maybe a spy.
Maybe someone who still thinks they can "fix" him.
JOKER (out loud, without turning):
You watching this, world?
He stops at a rusted door. Lays a hand on it. The metal buzzes faintly under his touch—reacting to his aura.
JOKER (smiling):
Keep your heroes.
Keep your codes and courts.
He pushes the door open. A flood of light spills through, bathing his silhouette.
JOKER (final thought):
A villain who tells the truth...
is more dangerous than any god who lies.
He steps into the light.
__________________________