A Mere Asylum

After a long while, the screams and gunfire in the factory ceased. The smell of gunpowder had yet to dissipate, the blood on the floor was still warm, and every pair of eyes retained the terror from before death.

Joker stood in a pool of blood, dipped a finger into it, and sucked on it before making a disgusted face and spitting fiercely. "Goddamn it, I can't imitate it at all. How do those freaks smile while swallowing blood?"

Before Joker, a thin white man had his feet tied with hemp rope and was hanging upside down from a beam. Afraid that the blood flowing backward would congest the man's brain, Joker kindly cut open his neck. This way, the blood could flow directly from the wound without causing any other discomfort.

"Hey, buddy, are you all right?" Joker patted the white man's face, snapping him out of his daze.

"You demon..." The man had lost too much blood. His dry lips were frighteningly pale, and even speaking took all his strength.

"Thanks for the compliment, but I think demons are still a little worse than me!" Joker said with a grin, feeling very pleased with himself.

"All right, enough nonsense. While you can still breathe, hurry up and tell me who your boss is. You should know Gotham is a big city, and it's very hostile toward country bumpkins from out of town!" Joker shoved the man's shoulder, making him swing back and forth in place.

The man did not answer. His vacant eyes stared ahead until blood no longer flowed from his wound. Only then, at the moment of death, did he say, "I... won't tell you..."

"Wow, you're so loyal. How are my little brothers supposed to feel? They're so ashamed they can't even speak." Joker turned