THE KILLING JOKE

Part 15: The Final Countdown

The decrepit remains of Gotham's once-vibrant amusement park loomed like a decaying corpse, a ghost of its former self. The rusted rides creaked in the wind, their colorful paint long faded and peeling, while the ferris wheel stood motionless, casting a jagged shadow over the twisted landscape. The park was empty, abandoned years ago, but tonight, it was alive with something far more sinister.

At the heart of the park, in a dilapidated funhouse, the Joker sat in front of a collection of old television monitors, the flickering screens casting an eerie glow on his white-painted face. His green hair was slicked back, and his signature purple suit was immaculately clean, in stark contrast to the chaos surrounding him. But his eyes—his eyes burned with madness.

The cameras were already rolling, broadcasting live across every screen in Gotham. Whether it was televisions in homes, public billboards, or smartphones, no one in Gotham could escape the Joker's voice tonight.

With a maniacal grin stretching across his scarred lips, the Joker leaned into the camera, his eyes wide and wild. He tapped the microphone, and the speakers crackled to life, his voice filling the city's airwaves.

"Hellooooo, Gotham!" Joker's voice rang out, sing-song and playful, yet carrying the unmistakable undercurrent of something far darker. "It's your friendly neighbourhood clown, back with a very important update!"

The people of Gotham froze. In homes, bars, and streets, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at the screens in growing dread. Joker's image filled every screen, his face close to the camera, his smile unnervingly wide.

"Well, well, well," Joker continued, his tone laced with mock disappointment, "it seems the people of Gotham have spoken! And what a disappointing result it was. After all my hard work, after all the fun we've had together, the votes are in..."

He paused dramatically, letting the tension build. Then, his smile vanished, replaced by a look of cold, unblinking fury.

"...And I got zero percent."

The words dripped with venom, and a sinister silence fell over the city.

"Zero," he repeated slowly, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. "Not a single, solitary vote. None of you even had the decency to pretend. And here I thought we were becoming friends. You wound me, Gotham. Truly."

His grin returned, but this time it was different—twisted, malevolent, and filled with malice. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs casually, as though this were all a game to him.

"But, you see, there's a little problem with that," he said, his tone light, but with an undercurrent of menace. "Because I made a promise, didn't I? A promise that if you didn't vote for me, everyone would die."

The words sent a chill through the city, every citizen feeling the weight of the threat settle in their chests. People glanced nervously at each other, fear etched on their faces, as they realized that the Joker wasn't bluffing.

"And here's the best part!" Joker's voice picked up, filled with glee. "You've got exactly six hours before it all goes boom! Boom! BOOM!"

He clapped his hands together, laughing hysterically as the screens flashed to images of Gotham's underground. Grainy footage of dark, narrow tunnels filled the screens, showing bundles of wires and explosives strapped to the foundations of the city.

"Surprise!" Joker said, his eyes wide with mock excitement. "I've been a busy little clown these last few weeks, planting bombs all over Gotham. You didn't even notice, did you? They're everywhere—under your buildings, your streets, your precious landmarks."

He stood up from his chair, pacing in front of the camera, his voice becoming more animated, almost manic. "And when those bombs go off, Gotham's going to come crashing down. Buildings toppling like dominoes, fires roaring through the streets, and oh, the screaming! I can almost hear it now..."

He paused, his expression growing darker, more intense. "It'll be glorious. Every single one of you—all those pathetic little lives—wiped out in an instant. And for what? Because you didn't think I was worthy of your vote? Because you thought you could stop me?"

The camera zoomed in on his face, his eyes burning with a mix of fury and madness. "You thought wrong."

Joker's voice dropped to a low whisper, chilling and venomous. "Six hours. That's all you've got. Six hours to say goodbye to your loved ones. Six hours to look out at your city, knowing it's about to become a graveyard. Six hours... before everything you know and love is reduced to ash."

He leaned closer to the camera, his voice now filled with a cold, sadistic pleasure. "Because the truth is, Gotham doesn't need a mayor. It doesn't need heroes. It doesn't need order. No, Gotham needs what it's always been destined for: chaos."

He laughed again, louder this time, the sound echoing through the speakers, filling the city with his madness. It was a laugh that seemed to go on forever, hollow and terrifying, like a man who had completely lost any connection to reality.

"And if you think anyone can save you," Joker added, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye, "if you think there's some hero out there who can swoop in and stop me—think again. Because this city is mine now. And by the end of the night, it'll be nothing but rubble."

Joker tilted his head, his grin widening one last time as he gave a theatrical bow to the camera. "So, Gotham, I leave you with this: Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The clock's ticking. Better make your last hours count."

With a flick of his wrist, Joker pressed a button on the console beside him, and the screen went black.

The city was left in stunned silence.

For a long moment, no one moved. The streets, usually filled with noise and life, were quiet, as if the entire city was holding its breath. Gotham's citizens stood frozen, the weight of the Joker's words sinking in. Six hours. Six hours until the city they had known their entire lives was reduced to nothing.

Phones began ringing, people screamed, and the chaos that Joker thrived on began to spread. But above it all, Gotham was left with one unshakable truth:

The Joker had them exactly where he wanted them.

And no one knew how to stop him.