The camera was set up close to the opposite wall of the tunnel. The tunnel was underground, slimy and eerie. The cheap construction lighting flickered dismally, crackling ominously. Perfect staging for something like this.
He walked casually as he could towards his victims, trying hard not to betray his excitement. His left hand, gloved in purple leather, clenched upon a thick blade and tossed it sporadically to his right hand. He turned around to check the camera—a red blinking light told him he was good to go.
He began to chuckle at first. It grew into chortles and snorts as a woman cowered from him, held in place by binding ropes. She began to whimper and beg, "No, please…"
Another coward. Another beggar. Most of them were like that. He ignored her pleas and advanced with his knife.
The blade slowed the scream emerging from her lips. She realized her mouth shouldn't be moving, or taut for that matter.
He smiled at her widely, laughing insanely between his yellow teeth. The knife cut smoothly from the corner of her lips to her cheekbone. The muffled scream from before reemerged, only to be drowned out by the blood that filled her mouth. He cut the other side slowly, savoring the dark red liquid pooling on her teeth and on his gloves. He withdrew the blade with a flourish, laughing still, and drew it smoothly across her unblemished throat whilst her eyes begged him to end it. She slumped onto the tunnel's damp floor as he wiped the dirty knife on her expensive, silk suit. He then summoned grungy tubes of black and white paint, and began to transform her face. He did the eyes last, gently on the lids but roughly and messily around the cheeks and brows. The same way he applied his own mask.
He then drug the body into a sitting position, closer to the camera. The corpse was smiling with its own blood, leering at the line of those waiting for their own demise.
One down, four to go, he thought.
The next act was a man, dressed crisply. He had silent rage in his eyes. No coward here. The rage was wasted though—swearing wouldn't save him from his fate. The Joker ignored the indecencies being shouted and shoved his blade inside the man's mouth. Within seconds, the cursing faded, leaving the laughter free to echo within the tunnel. The man's face was painted. Another bloody smile lined the tunnel's walls.
The next two victims went just as quickly. They were older, and male in appearance, but they weren't men. Anyone who screamed and cried like that could not be called brave. The laughter surged on.
The last one.
It was a girl this time. She was a teenager. He expected her to cower, to scream. Somehow, he didn't find cowardice as disgusting from a girl as from the previous corpses. She was quiet though. Her eyes never left his, didn't widen in fear at the knife, at the blood. He paused. The laughter faltered.
"Aren't you scared?" he asked, mockingly. His laughter returned in short bursts.
She just looked at him wearily. Her eyes closed slowly, until it looked as if she were asleep.
Now, there was a rare reaction, he thought. He cocked his head, mildly curious of this young woman.
Her eyes remained shut, but she never tensed or flinched. He touched her mouth lightly with the bloody gloves, allowing his laughter to fade. The knife raced across her throat, ending it quickly. More painlessly than he would have preferred, but she had earned that. He waited a moment, allowing the life to flow out of her. He then painted her visage, this time adding a smear of red oil paint to the mix, and propped her up with the rest of them. She didn't belong with them. He tucked a card into her sweater gently.
He then walked towards the camera, bowed, and exited the tunnel.
Insane laughter resonated there for some time, in company with four bloody smiles and one wild card.
