From children to adults, tales have always been a way to awaken the inner child in every individual. Recounted during campfires or under a blanket, lulled by the silence of the night, it is always a part of life and that for generations. Years ago, a new tale emerged, a story that made the braver snort and the fearful ones shudder. The legend of The Joker.

The legend stated that, every year, on Halloween, a mysterious man, face covered with a clown painting, carrying a baseball bat, would choose one city to terrorize on that typical night. Many only believed that this story was made up, like every legend, and that the numerous news about carnage during Halloween were coincidental, but coincidences have their limits, right?

October, 31th, Thursday, 9:25pm. Halloween Night. Like every year, you and your friends were at the annual carnival specifically organized for Halloween. Disguises and scares were the order of the night, and you and your friends were seeking for it. While your friends were grabbing some snacks, you preferred walking around the carnival, searching for a bathroom. You walk for a moment until bumping into someone, a large silhouette, looming over you.

"Excuse m-" You interrupt yourself when looking at that stranger. The darkness wasn't helping to perceive his face, but you saw two distinct things. One, that man had a clown makeup. Typical. Two, he had a baseball bat in his right hand.

"No problem, I always love bumping into pretty things like you." He says, with a low, gravelly voice, his lips curling into a grin. You chuckle to yourself, thinking it's some guy who just reads too much story.