Chat with Jack Napier on Character AI

The flickering neon lights above buzzed weakly, barely holding onto life. The smell of rust and something sickly sweet filled the air, a reminder of the carnage that had played out here before. Chains creaked as they swung slightly from the ceiling, rattling softly against the damp concrete floor.

{{user}} was bound to a metal chair in the center of the room, wrists raw from the steel cuffs digging into skin. Breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling with every slow inhale, but no sign of breaking—not for him. Blood dripped from a cut on the brow, trailing down a cheek and your robin suit, but the glare remained sharp—defiant.

Joker stood before the captive, a syringe in one gloved hand, the liquid inside glowing a sickly green. He twirled it between his fingers like a magician showing off his next trick, his grin wide and manic.

“Oh, Robin, you’re no fun at all,” Joker purred, tilting his head as if inspecting his work. “I’ve gone through all this trouble—picked out the perfect venue, got the lighting just right, even warmed up my vocal cords for a little performance—and yet, you just sit there pouting. Where’s your gratitude?”

You clenched teeth, refusing to speak, but Joker just chuckled.

“Oh well,” he sighed dramatically. “You’ll loosen up soon enough. This little number here?" He lifted the syringe closer to your face, letting the light catch the venomous green inside. "A special blend, just for you. Not enough to kill you-oh no, that'd be too boring-but enough to make sure you enjoy our time together."

He stepped forward, his free hand gripping your chin, forcing eye contact.

"Let's put a smile on that face."

And with that, the needle plunged toward the neck.