[Meanwhile] [3rd person POV]
The Joker stumbled through the swirling mists of reality until, finally, he landed on the cracked pavement of the run-down street. He blinked multiple times and looked around. This wasn't his warehouse, this place was somewhere new and deserted. The stench of rotten bodies filled the air, and the sound of faint groans came from within the shadows.
He pushed himself up, brushing off the dirt and debris that now clung to his outlandish purple suit. Joker flicked his gaze around, taking in the crumbling buildings and abandoned cars, and a few regular walking zombies, going their own way. A grin spread across his painted face, a mad gleam in his eyes as he realized the nature of his new playground: a world overrun by the living dead.
"This is just... deliciously delightful!" Joker spoke to himself, his laughter echoing down the deserted street. He flexed his fingers, feeling the comforting weight of the revolver tucked into his waistband and the familiar grip of his knife. "This place... Ah, now I have a purpose."
His musings were interrupted by the guttural moans of a group of zombies walking toward him from the corner of the road. They were a pathetic bunch, walking forward with arms outstretched, eyes clouded with hunger. Joker's grin widened as he observed their jerky movements and decaying flesh.
"Time for a little target practice," He murmured, taking out his revolver.
He began to fire shot after shot, relishing the smell and feel of the smoke rising from the gun's muzzle. His laughter only intensified as each zombie slumped lifelessly to the ground. He felt a rush, unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. The simple sight of the undead corpses made his blood sing with delight. He spun around in circles, shooting down zombies. In an instant, six zombies had fallen dead with small holes in the center of their foreheads, their dark blood sprayed like a fountain in the air and oozed from their heads onto the floor.
The seventh one lunged at him.
Joker dodged its grasping hands with ease. "Oopse!" He slipped behind the zombie, bringing his knife up in a swift arc that severed its spinal cord with a sickening slice. The zombie crumpled to the ground, twitching feebly. Yet, it began to crawl toward him. "Ah! Such determination!" He mused, as he brought his foot up and stomped the zombie's face in with a heavy crunch, turning the rotten, broken brain into gray pulp.
"Hehehehe... Aahahahaha..."
Joker began to jump on that zombie, smashing it to a mush and splatter, just like those worms.
After he'd tired himself, he walked over to the edge of the curb and sat down, kicking his heels as if this was some normal day at the amusement park.
"Ahem... Who knows what fresh devils are in my mind..." He grinned devilishly as his words hung in the air before continuing, "I am the realist, here. And Mr. Zombie was just about ready to kill us both."
After taking a rest, he began to walk again. On his way, he noticed a big warehouse on his right. He decided to take a peek, only to find a hoard of zombies hiding inside. He was insane, but sane enough to know not to go in alone. So, he continued to walk down the streets.
Joker soon spotted movement not far from his position.
He crouched behind an overturned truck, peeking through the wreckage to observe a small group of survivors huddled around a makeshift camp. There were four of them—two men, and two women—each armed with whatever weapons they could scrounge.
'Well, well, well... What do we have here? Survivors! Yes. A zombie world without survivors is just too bland,' His eyes narrowed as he watched them, noting the way they bickered and squabbled over their little rations. They were a ragtag bunch, barely holding it together in the face of overwhelming odds. Perfect for his purposes. 'Those weapons in their hands are such a waste.' A large grin spread across his face.
He studied them carefully, assessing their strengths and weaknesses. The leader, a burly man with a bushy beard, seemed the most capable, while the others followed his lead with varying degrees of reluctance. Joker could see the cracks in their fragile alliance, and he knew exactly how to exploit them.
As they wandered through the street, searching the cars, Joker spotted another opportunity. A pair of motorbikes lay half-hidden beneath fallen branches and dirt. Perfect transport for his purposes. All he had to do was steal one of those and leave the others stranded. But leaving them alive in this harsh world would be a terrible thing, no? It would be better for them to rest in peace.
'There's something satisfying in killing all of them in their sleep and leaving only one survivor. A weakling survivor.' The idea was rather appealing. 'A perfect sequel. No, no, no... That's too evil. But I'd very much like to backstab them or maybe it's better if they fought among themselves until they have killed each other and the last one becomes a villain. Not that I'm complaining... I will just need the right time for my little script.'
After thinking for a bit, he decided to approach the group.
He stood tall and proud, a manic gleam in his cold eyes, and an insane grin stretched wide on his pallid lips. Joker gave them one last look, before walking over to the camp and raising his hands up in surrender.
As he drew closer, the survivors jumped to their feet, weapons raised in a defensive posture.
"Whoa there, friends!" Joker called out. "I'm just a fellow wanderer looking for some company in this delightful apocalypse."
The leader, a man named Greg, eyed him warily. "Who are you, and what do you want?"
"Name's J," Joker replied smoothly, flashing a disarming smile. "I'm just passing through, thought maybe we could help each other out."
Greg hesitated, glancing at his companions for their input. The group seemed divided, suspicion and desperation warring in their eyes. Joker seized the moment, stepping closer and extending his empty hand toward the leader.
"Let's be honest," He began. "In this kind of world, we gotta stick together if we want to survive. If it were up to me, you guys are the only humans around. Don't look so surprised. The reason I approached your group is that I thought it might be the safest one around." Joker lied through his teeth, playing them perfectly. The last part wasn't exactly a lie, since these men held guns.
Greg nodded reluctantly, lowering his weapon. "Alright, J. You can stay, but no funny business. And your weapons. Keep them to yourself."
Trust in a stranger isn't a norm in this dying world. But they were desperate for new companions because things weren't going well with just four of them. Last week they lost three members to the Raiders, so, they didn't have a choice but to let him Joker their team. If he turns out to be a problem, then they could just use him as bait. It's a win-win situation for them.
Joker beamed, slipping into their midst with ease.
As the days passed, he ingratiated himself with the group, sharing tales of his own survival and listening intently to their stories. He was careful to play the role of the new outsider, offering assistance and advice while slowly planting seeds of doubt and discord. At night, he would creep into their camp under the guise of needing to piss and rifle through their supplies. He was careful not to steal too much, taking only a couple of cans of food or ammo every night and placing them in Greg's belongings.
He noticed the way the two women, Sarah and Jane, bickered over leadership decisions, each vying for Greg's favor. Joker capitalized on this, whispering sweetly in their ears, stoking the flames of jealousy and mistrust.
Soon enough, the rations ran out, and the survivors grew anxious and desperate.
"Where the fuck is my food? You bitch! You stole it again!" Jane shouted at Sarah, accusing her of theft. "And why do you always get extra supplies? You've been eating up, but not giving the rest of us anything!"
Greg and John stepped forward, trying to separate the two women. However, neither side backed down.
As the fighting escalated, Joker decided to take a closer look.
In all this ruckus and commotion, he finally stepped in with his great solution.
"Now, now, now... Ladies and gentlemen, I think I have a wonderful solution!"
Everyone stopped fighting and listened to Joker's words. They seemed so intelligent and trustworthy to the ears that they seemed unable to ignore them.
"Since we've been having a little shortage of rations and my lady here thinks someone stole her food... Why don't we settle this dispute like sane human beings? Right?" A large grin adorned his lips, and his body was in the form of a playful shrug, as if to show he meant no malice with his words and was trying to help the entire group.
"You know who stole my food?" Jane's voice trembled as she cried out, her eyes wild and bloodshot.
"How would I know? But why don't we search everyone's bags? The thief will surely have more food than ours, no? Heheh," He chuckled.
John was the first to agree with his idea, which soon resulted in the other two being pressured and given no option.