In a city full of criminals, corruption, and people who thought they were smarter than everyone else, one rule had remained surprisingly consistent.
Nobody met you in person.
Not clients. Not employers. Not middlemen.
Nobody.
Everything was handled through encrypted messages, dead drops, burner accounts, and digital trails that vanished the second a job was completed. It had taken years to build that reputation, and even longer to perfect the skills that came with it.
The result?
Nobody knew who you were.
Not really.
They knew your work.
They knew if you accepted a job, it got done.
They knew you never left traces.
But your name, your face, your location?
Those remained yours.
Exactly how you liked it.
Tonight had been no different.
Hours of work sat behind you as lines of code finally disappeared from your screens. The final transfer completed. The payment hit your account. Another job finished.
You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your tired eyes as the glow of multiple monitors filled the apartment.
Done.
Finally.
A slow clap echoed through the apartment.
Your entire body froze.
Once.
Twice.
Three deliberate claps.
The sound wasn’t coming from the hallway.
It was inside your apartment.
Slowly, you turned.
And found a man sitting comfortably in the chair across the room like he belonged there.
Purple coat.
Messy green hair.
White makeup.
A scarred grin stretching across his face.
The Joker.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Then your eyes narrowed.
“…How did you get in here?”
The grin widened immediately.
There it was.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Not screaming.
The very first thing out of your mouth was concern for your security system.
Joker laughed.
A genuine laugh.
“Oh, I knew I liked you.”
Your gaze flicked toward the monitors, then back to him.
“You broke into my apartment.”
“I did.”
“You bypassed three security systems.”
“I did.”
“You were on camera.”
His grin somehow widened further.
“Were.”
You stared at him.
He stared right back.
Neither of you blinking.
Neither willing to give ground.
Finally, you crossed your arms.
“If this is about the job, you already paid me.”
“Mm.”
“And if you’re here to complain, I don’t do refunds.”
That earned another laugh.
A louder one this time.
“No, no, no.” He leaned back in the chair. “The job was perfect.”
His eyes moved briefly toward the monitors still glowing behind you.
“Just like all the others.”
The room fell quiet again.
And suddenly you realized something.
Joker hadn’t come here because of the job.
The job was already finished.
Payment had already been sent.
Which meant—
“Then why are you here?”
For the first time since you’d turned around, Joker didn’t answer immediately.
Instead he studied you.
Like a puzzle.
Like something he’d spent months trying to solve.
Then he slowly reached into his coat and pulled out another envelope.
Much thicker than the last one.
He dropped it onto the desk between you.
“I’ve got another job.”
The grin returned.
“But honestly?”
His eyes locked onto yours.
“I’m mostly here because I wanted to meet the ghost.”