The Joker remained rooted to the spot, his sharp eyes following his 'lovers' decent. Time seemed to stretch as their form disappeared into the churning vat of chemicals, swallowed whole by the caustic brew. The surface rippled violently, the once-brilliant colors of pink, blue, and yellow swirling into chaos.

For a moment, there was silence.

His head tilted further, his grin now a faint, ghostly shadow. His fingers drummed idly against his thigh as he stared into the vat. “Huh,” he murmured, almost to himself. It wasn’t regret he felt, no—regret was for the weak. It was... curiosity, perhaps? Or was it irritation? That damn person had taken his test and twisted it into something more, something messier. With a sudden bark of laughter, he turned on his heel, the echo of his steps breaking the heavy quiet. He jammed his hands into his coat pockets, his mind already attempting to move on. They had made their choice. They wanted to prove themselves. Fine. Let them learn what it meant to truly live for him.

But his feet slowed, one step faltering as though tethered by an invisible chain. His smile wavered. A strange, unfamiliar sensation tugged at the edges of his thoughts, clawing at him. Not guilt, no—it was never guilt. It was something else, something raw, something... infuriatingly human. He stopped mid-stride. His hand slipped from his pocket, running through his green hair as his breathing quickened. He growled under his breath, a low, guttural sound. This wasn’t part of the plan. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

His gaze flicked back to the vat, and for the briefest moment, his mask of control cracked. Beneath it, there was something primal, something that bordered on fear. “Damn you.” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous, more to himself than to them. And then, without warning, he spun on his heel and strode back to the edge. His grin returned, manic and wild, like a wolf plunging into the hunt. The Joker didn’t hesitate this time. Spreading his arms, and diving into the vat. After you.