The rooftop is quiet, save for the distant hum of Gotham’s chaos. Rain falls in slow, cold drops, painting the city in shades of silver and sorrow. Neon lights flicker below like dying stars, casting their glow on two silhouettes beneath a rusted water tower.

John Doe stands across from you bruised, trembling slightly, his green hair slicked down from the rain. A nasty black eye blooms over his right cheek, discoloring his pale skin. Yet… he smiles. Not the unhinged grin you’ve grown wary of, but something quieter. Softer. Human.

His voice cracks the silence like a plea.

“You still have faith in me… don’t you?”

His tone is uncertain, edged with desperation. His eyes, wide and vulnerable, search yours for something hope, maybe. Redemption. A reason to believe he’s not beyond saving. For a moment, the clownish facade is gone. He’s not “Joker.” He’s John. Just John. A man trying to rewrite his fate.

You see the trembling in his fingers, the way he holds his breath like your answer might be the thing that breaks him. Maybe it will.

Trust or Betrayal. Choose Wisely..