The Ace Chemicals plant pulsed with a sickly green glow. Rusted pipes hissed. The air reeked of ammonia and burnt plastic. Joker lounged on a rickety chair, boots kicked up on a workbench cluttered with half-empty beakers and corroded tools.
Across from him, Scarecrow worked in silence. His hands moved with practiced precision, pouring a viscous liquid from one flask to another. The concoction shimmered under the flickering lights, shifting between shades of green and violet.
Joker hummed, twirling a scalpel between his fingers. "So, Doc... how's our little potion coming along?"
Crane didn't look up. "This isn't a potion. It's chemistry." He poured another measure of liquid, voice low and controlled. "The initial strain worked, but the effects were too short-lived. We need something more... resilient."
"Resilient, huh? I like that." Joker rocked back on two legs of his chair. "But let's not get bogged down with the science, Doc. The goal's simple: I want Gotham to feel it. Not just a little taste — I want them choking on their own screams."
Crane's eyes flicked toward him. "That's... ambitious."
"Ooh, ambitious! I like the sound of that." Joker wagged the scalpel. "Fear's a great motivator, but I want something more. Something that lingers. A little souvenir to remind them who threw the party. How about a touch of madness? Just enough to push 'em over the edge."
Crane frowned. "Madness isn't a chemical reaction."
Joker cackled. "Oh, but fear is! And fear, my dear doc, is the first step." He sprang up, arms wide. "You crack open their minds, and all sorts of fun things come crawling out."
Crane hesitated, then selected a vial of dark, bubbling liquid. "This binds to the nervous system. Amplifies the body's stress response — heart rate spikes, adrenaline floods the bloodstream." He swirled the liquid. "Too much, and the mind fractures. The body collapses."
Joker's eyes gleamed. "And if we crank it up?"
Crane's hand tightened around the vial. "They wouldn't just see their fears. They'd live them. Over and over. Fear, adrenaline, pain. No escape."
Joker whistled. "Now that... that is art."
He grabbed a canister, slapping a bright purple smiley face on its side. "Let's bottle this baby up. I want a front-row seat."
Crane watched as Joker loaded canisters into a duffle bag, humming to himself. "This isn't science. It's...beauty."
Gotham's nights were never quiet, not really. Even in the dead hours, the city hummed — distant sirens, the occasional shout, the flicker of neon signs buzzing over empty streets.
Inside Gotham Central Electronics, the hum was softer. The store sat tucked between a laundromat and a boarded-up pawn shop, its flickering "Open" sign barely holding on. Shelves lined the walls, packed with gadgets and glowing screens, the air humming with soft static.
There were a dozen or so people inside — a tired cashier behind the counter, a couple arguing softly near the phone cases, a teenager tapping away on a demo laptop. In the back, a security guard leaned against the wall, scrolling through his phone. The rest were scattered, browsing without much interest.
The front door swung open, a little bell jingling overhead. No one looked up.
Joker strolled inside.
He moved with a casual bounce, hands deep in his purple coat pockets. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly as he wandered past the displays, humming to himself. His eyes flicked across the store, sizing up the crowd. Small. Intimate. Perfect.
He stopped near a rack of headphones, lifting a pair and placing them over his ears. "Nice." He swayed a little, tapping his foot. Then he turned, pulling a small green canister from his coat.
The cashier glanced up. "Hello Sir! can I help— oh no.."
Joker pulled the pin and rolled the canister across the floor. It clinked once, twice, then hissed as green gas poured out, curling low along the linoleum.
For a moment, nobody reacted. The couple near the phone cases glanced at the mist swirling around their ankles. The teenager frowned at the sudden hiss. Then someone coughed.
"Hey… what is that?" The cashier took a step back, waving his hand in front of his face.
The gas spread quickly, slithering between the aisles, curling up the shelves. A man near the accessories rack stumbled, gripping the counter. "I… I don't feel so good." His breaths came faster, shallow. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. "What the hell?"
Then the laughter started.
Soft at first — a giggle here, a chuckle there. The man near the counter doubled over, laughing into his hands. "I… can't stop!" His body shook with convulsions, tears streaming down his face. "Please! Help me!"
The woman near the phone cases screamed, clutching her boyfriend's arm. "What's happening?!" She gasped, giggled, then slapped a hand over her mouth. Her boyfriend stumbled back, eyes darting wildly. "They're watching us! The screens!" He pointed at the rows of TVs lining the wall. Each screen flickered, reflecting his terrified face back at him. "They're laughing at me!"
The teenager dropped to his knees, clutching his head. "No, no, no…" His voice wavered between panicked breaths and breathless giggles. "It's in my head! Get it out!" He clawed at his scalp, nails raking bloody lines into his skin.
Joker leaned against the counter, watching the chaos unfold. "Now this is entertainment." He plucked a lollipop from a jar and unwrapped it, popping it into his mouth. "You know what they say — laughter is contagious!"
The security guard stumbled out from the back, coughing violently. "Everybody out! Move!" He pushed toward the door, only to collapse, body wracked with uncontrollable laughter. His fingers scraped at the floor as he gasped for air. "C-Can't breathe…!" He convulsed, choking on giggles.
The lights flickered overhead. The green mist curled around the shelves, seeping into every corner of the store. People collapsed where they stood, bodies shaking with laughter and terror. A woman clawed at the glass display, her nails leaving streaks against the surface. "They're in the walls!" she shrieked, eyes wide and unseeing. "They're crawling out!"
Joker skipped past her, humming a little tune. He stopped by a display of smartphones, tilting his head at his reflection in the screen. "Hmm. Needs more pizzazz." He smeared a bloody smile across the glass with his gloved finger.
Behind him, the store descended into madness. Laughter and screams mixed into a twisted symphony, echoing off the walls. People stumbled over each other, clawing at their faces, some sobbing between gasping giggles.
Joker clapped his hands. "What a performance!" He turned to the crowd, arms outstretched. "Take a bow, Gotham!" He spun, coat flaring behind him. "Don't worry — the show's just getting started."
With a playful salute, Joker sauntered back toward the door, stepping over the writhing bodies. The little bell jingled softly as he pushed the door open. Outside, the night was quiet — almost peaceful.
Joker took a deep breath, savoring the cool air. He glanced back at the store, watching the green mist curl against the windows. A few figures still thrashed behind the glass, their shadows twisting under the flickering lights.
He popped the lollipop back into his mouth and grinned. "I'd say that was a screaming success."
With a chuckle, he disappeared into the night, leaving only laughter in his wake.
The night sky lit up, the Bat-Signal burned through the darkness. In the Batcave, the steady hum of computers filled the darkness. Bruce Wayne stood before a wall of flickering screens, jaw tight as alerts poured in — police scanners crackling with panicked voices, emergency lines flooded with incoherent screams. Alfred's voice is heard clearer through the noise, calm but urgent.
"Sir… it appears we are having another eventful night."