Somewhere untouched by the sun, in the groaning, rusted belly of the world, a subway train raced through silence. Inside, a man with a grin-shaped mask—Joker—sat lazily against the cold metal wall. His eyes were empty, but his thoughts churned like a storm.
He stared at a steel door, beside which hung an emergency axe, frozen behind clear glass. Without warning, his body lunged. His hand smashed through the glass, grabbed the axe, and in one swift motion, he leapt out of the train still hurtling along the tracks at mad speed.
His body crashed onto the hard concrete floor. He lay still. Then slowly rose—wincing, smirking bitterly as he clutched his dislocated shoulder.
"Annoying... My shoulder breaks at a time like this," he hissed, sliding one hand into his pocket.
He staggered forward, limping through a long, bleak tunnel. The air was heavy, thick with whispers from the past. At the end of the tunnel stood a steel door. He opened it without hesitation.
What lay beyond wasn't emptiness... but a city.
An underground city.
Blooming in darkness.
A mute civilization that lived without a sky.
Joker's eyes widened—not in fear, but in fascination.
"Incredible... They actually live down here," he murmured, half in awe, half amused.
His steps led him to a stone staircase that descended thousands of levels into the deepest black. As his feet touched each step, the gazes of the city's dwellers pierced him like daggers—laden with suspicion, hatred, and ancient rage. But Joker returned them with a crooked, defiant smile.
He was more broken than all of them.
At the city's lowest depths, he found a grand gate sealing off a hidden chamber. In front of it stood two towering guards, unmoving like war statues.
"Hey... don't you recognize me?" Joker's voice was soft, but dripping with arrogance. "You should've welcomed me with red carpets and applause."
No answer. Only stillness.
Joker let out a slow breath.
"I suppose... you need a reminder of who I am."
BRAANGG.
In a flash, both guards were hurled against the wall. Stones scattered, shards of metal rained down. No one saw what Joker did. Not a single soul had time to react.
He brushed the dust from his clothes with a flick.
"So irritating... To be treated like a stranger. When I—I am a masterpiece of madness."
Then, with light steps as if dancing on ruin, Joker pushed open the gate. Soft light bathed his face. His eyes narrowed, his lips curled into a grin.
His left hand rose, slicing the air.
"Arashi… Arashi… Arashi…" His voice echoed, theatrical.
"Don't you… recognize me?"