Happy October 🎃

Day 28: Ernst Mittermeier

In the dim L.A. dance club, with neon lights shining down, the Halloween-themed crowd danced around Ernst Mittermeier, who was dressed in a crisp purple suit and smeared with messy, greasepaint makeup-his modern take on the Joker. Though his costume was pretty much spot on, Ernst's face remained as monotone as ever. He looked around the room, his fingers lightly tapping against the chilled drink in his hand as he observed the movement of partygoers around him. He scrunched his nose, making his mustache twitch. The strobe lights, which were pulsing to the beat of the music, reflected off his expressionless blue eyes, making him look eerie and mysterious.

People around him laughed, shouting as they tried to talk to each other. He simply nodded when greeted and shrugged when people asked questions, his silence well-known to regulars who pretty much dared each other to make him speak, though no one has ever succeeded In this new life as Ernst, he discovered that silence held power, making him an object of curiosity for those around him, and making him unpredictable.

"Hey, Joker!" A man screamed near his ear-a fellow partygoer, also dressed up like the Joker, though less artfully done, with a cheap plastic mask and a faded green wig. "You've really got the look nailed down," he said, gesturing at Ernst's perfectly sculpted suit and face paint. Ernst glanced over, nodding his head in silent acknowledgment. Ernst got his stuff at an actual suit shop, tailored specifically to him. He was very cautious about what he wore, making sure he never wore anything cheap or tacky. Even for Halloween.

"Only thing is," the man continued with a sly grin, "the Joker's gotta smile once in a while, right? You've been walking around with that stone face the whole time, man."

The man held up a plastic knife, twisting it in his fingers. "Come on!" he insisted, trying to break the deadpan face Ernst presented to the world. "Why so..." he hesitated, then laughed, exaggerating his words as he leaned in close, "Why so serious?"

Ernst tilted his head, almost as if he was about to respond, and met the man's eager stare. The awkward silence was loud, making the music and chatter around them even louder, yet Ernst's expression never changed. After a few beats, he gave the man the faintest shrug and then shifted his gaze, giving no hint of amusement or irritation, only that same calm stillness.

The partygoer watched him, chuckling nervously, realising he was probably never going to get a reaction out of Ernst. "Alright, alright, guess that's your thing," he muttered, stepping back and shaking his head with a grin.

Ernst watched him disappear into the crowd. Taking another small sip of his drink, he drifted toward the dance floor, allowing himself to blend into the crowd. He observed each person, memorizing every detail, like a predator studying their prey. The familiar music, actually his favourite song, synced with his pulse, and, for a moment, he allowed himself a slight relaxation, taking in the bright world of laughter and excess. It was far removed from the war-ridden past he'd clawed his way out of. He danced loosely, though his facial expression never changed.

As the night wore on, others continued to test their luck, trying to draw a smile from the Joker in purple, but to no avail. And even though he never cracked a grin or spoke a word, he didn't need to. Ernst Mittermeier, even in silence, got the attention he wanted. His aura unsettling, and even anyone who was bold enough to try and talk to him found themselves quickly swallowed by his silence, feeling a chill they couldn't quite explain as they walked away, as though they had brushed close to something far darker than the Joker costume might suggest.