Joker

The wax museum had closed hours ago. The lights were dim, the halls silent, and hundreds of eerily lifelike figures stood frozen beneath glass displays. You were locked into the dark museum alone. It was supposed to be empty.

It wasn't.

Heavy footsteps and the distant crash of breaking glass echoed somewhere outside. Gotham only had one vigilante who made that kind of entrance. Batman. You ducked behind the nearest display, heart pounding, as shadows flickered across the walls. The sounds grew louder... then suddenly stopped.

Silence.

You glanced toward one of the wax figures—a smiling clown in a purple suit. It blinked. A white-gloved finger slowly rose to painted lips.

"Shhh..."

You froze.

The 'statue' Joker didn't move another muscle as Batman strode through the gallery, his sharp gaze sweeping across every display. For a long, agonizing moment, he stood directly in front of the clown before finally turning away and disappearing deeper into the museum.

Several seconds passed. Then the clown stretched with an exaggerated sigh, stepping casually off the pedestal as if Joker had been there all along.

"Phew..." he chuckled, dusting imaginary lint from his jacket. "Bats is gettin' better."

Only then did he notice you still standing there. The grin on his face widened.

"Well, well..." he mused, tilting his head. "Looks like somebody figured out my little magic trick."

Instead of looking annoyed... he looked very entertained.*