Faced with the infamous Joker, the thugs fumbled nervously, their eyes darting to their so-called "boss" for guidance.
The burly man hastily tossed aside his bottle of booze, sucking in his gut as if that would somehow make him more presentable. "Uh... Well... You said we were short on manpower, right? So, I found us a newbie."
"Relax, he's dirt poor. The guy was digging through a trash can for clothes. No way he's an undercover cop."
The Joker didn't respond, only furrowing his brows in curiosity.
Meanwhile, Leo kept his mouth shut, determined to stay as invisible as possible.
"Eh, whatever," the Joker eventually shrugged. "All the same to me."
He began to stroll around the group, his polished purple shoes clicking against the cracked asphalt. His silence was unbearable. The tension grew with each passing second. Even these hardened criminals, so fearsome in the eyes of ordinary people, shrank back like scolded schoolboys under his mere presence.
After what felt like an eternity, the Joker clapped his hands twice.
Clap! Clap!
The sound shattered the oppressive silence, and the gang exhaled in relief.
"Time for assignments," the Joker declared, gesturing to the van. "One at a time."
Nobody dared question him.
The boss, still reeking of alcohol, approached first. Minutes later, he returned, now clutching a shiny assault rifle with a smug grin, clearly pleased with his new toy.
One by one, the others followed. Within fifteen minutes, everyone except Leo had spoken to the Joker. Each emerged with a weapon and a glint of excitement in their eyes. They didn't ask each other what their tasks were—not with him watching.
Finally, the Joker beckoned to Leo.
He stole a glance at his countdown timer:
01:01:24
Good news—he only needed to survive one more hour.
Bad news—he seriously doubted the bank heist would last that long.
Maybe I can stall? Leo thought desperately. Just a little more time.
Clinging to that sliver of hope, he forced a nervous smile and stepped into the van.
The interior was dim, with the scent of gun oil hanging in the air. Across from him, the Joker lounged comfortably, one leg crossed over the other.
"H-Hello, Mr. Joker."
Leo's voice wavered as he lowered his gaze, his hands tightly gripping the sides of his worn-out pants.
Silence.
The Joker said nothing. The van, enclosed and stifling, grew quieter with each passing second. Leo felt the weight of that silence pressing down on him.
Finally, mustering the courage of a man facing his impending doom, Leo peeked up—
Only to see the Joker forming a rectangular "frame" with his hands, as though studying him through an imaginary camera.
Leo was dumbfounded.
What the hell is he doing?
Minutes passed. The Joker maintained his absurd pose, squinting through his finger-frame like an eccentric director appraising a peculiar actor. Then, with an exaggerated tsk tsk tsk, he lowered his hands and grinned.
"Can't figure you out. But I like that. You're... interesting."
Leo's heart sank.
Shit. Did he see through me?
But the Joker abruptly shifted gears, as if bored of the topic. "Anyway, about the job. You're new, and from the look in your eyes, I'm guessing you've never even touched a gun. So, we'll keep it simple."
He kicked open a wooden crate, plucked out an AK-47, and casually tossed it to Leo.
"Hold on to this. Just stand in the lobby and keep an eye on the hostages. If anyone moves… well, scare 'em a little. And if some idiot tries to be a hero…" The Joker leaned forward, his grin widening. "Pull the trigger and don't let go."
Leo caught the gun, the cold metal sending chills down his spine.
This is insane.
He was just a programmer. Sure, he'd racked up a ridiculous kill count in FPS games, but in real life? He'd never even stepped on a bug without feeling guilty.
Still, as absurd thoughts swirled in his mind, one idea stood out.
What if I just shoot him now?
The Joker sat right across from him, smiling without a care. No guards. No distractions. One pull of the trigger and he'd be the guy who killed the Joker.
He'd be a goddamn hero.
Leo's hands trembled.
But before he could do anything, the Joker sprang up, slinging an arm over his shoulder.
A strong, musky scent of cheap makeup and something unsettlingly sweet filled the air.
"First time jitters? Don't worry, newbie!" The Joker laughed, his face inches away from Leo's. "I'll teach you how to shoot."
With an unsettling eagerness, he flipped off the safety and forced Leo's finger onto the trigger.
"Line up the sights. Deep breath. Steady hands. Now… fire!"
BANG!
Leo flinched, his heart nearly bursting from the sheer shock.
But there was no bullet.
Instead, from the barrel of the AK, a comically oversized American flag popped out, flapping weakly.
"Surprise!" The Joker cackled, slapping Leo's back like they'd just pulled off the best prank in history.
The laughter—piercing, uncontrollable, and utterly deranged—filled the van. Leo barely kept from collapsing, every muscle in his body taut with panic.
"Oh, your face!" The Joker wiped away tears of laughter. "Absolutely priceless! I've wanted to say this all day…"
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a gleeful whisper.
"Why so serious?"
Before Leo could react, the Joker jammed his fingers into the corners of his mouth, forcing a grotesque smile onto his face.
"There! Now that's more like it! Let's put a smile on that face!"
Leo didn't fight back. He was too stunned. Too horrified.
Eventually, the Joker let go, still giggling like a schoolboy.
"That was fun. Now, about the job…"
He presented Leo with a choice.
"Option one: You keep the toy gun. It looks real enough. Nobody will know unless you actually fire it. Safer for you, and hey, if you get caught? It'll go easy on you."
"Option two: I give you a real gun. No tricks. No flags. But if things go south… well, you're on your own."
The Joker spread his hands, eyes gleaming with twisted excitement.
"So, newbie… what's it gonna be?"
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