Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm Chapter 815 - 798: Tomorrow’s Headlines

Aurora, Colorado.

It was 11:15 p.m.

The Century 16 movie theater was packed, its grandest screening room, the Central Cinema, filled to the brim. Not a single seat remained empty.

On the screen, Joker played, gripping the audience in a trance of focus.

No one noticed the man slipping through the side door—a figure cloaked in black, clad in a bulletproof vest, a riot helt, and protective goggles. He pried open the door and crept inside.

The theater's lobby had gone quiet, the late-night crowd thinning out. This was the last big wave of viewers for the day. The midnight showings drew a different sort—downtown's poor, gang mbers, anyone chasing a cheap ticket.

No one paid any mind to the oddly dressed man as he slunk into the central screening room.

He made his way to the back row, far left corner, and stood silently, eyes fixed on the massive screen.

On it, Arthur Fleck was being beaten by a group of suited-up Wayne Enterprises employees, his laughter sharp and desolate.

The man's body trembled.

Jennifer Higuma, seated in the back row, glanced at him, startled. What's with this guy? she thought. Dressing like so kind of freak just to watch a movie?

She had no idea what was coming.

The man was Jas Hols, a white resident of Aurora.

Once a neuroscience PhD student at the University of Colorado, born December 13, 1985. Twenty-four years old.

To those who knew him, Jas was painfully quiet, a little withdrawn.

During his grueling doctoral studies, sothing broke. Academic struggles led him to drop out just last month.

Jas was a comics fanatic. When Batman: The Dark Knight hit theaters, he beca obsessed with Heath Ledger's Joker. The quiet, honest kid everyone knew once got into a fistfight defending the character from soone's badmouthing.

Then ca Todd Phillips' Joker. Jas was hooked, consud by Arthur Fleck's descent. In the five days since the film's release, he'd seen it four tis.

He morized Arthur's lines, reciting them like scripture:

"The worst part of having a ntal illness is everyone expects you to act like you don't."

"You never listen, do you?"

"I used to think my life was a tragedy. But now I realize it's a cody."

"Is it just , or is the world getting crazier?"

"Laughter is my mask; pain is my makeup."

"Sotis, your smile is the best weapon against this insane world."

"In this mad world, the only crazy ones are those who aren't crazy."

"Our laughter is the start of their fear."

He dyed his hair green, called himself the Joker—Batman's nesis.

The stranger Jas beca, the more people pulled away from him.

He didn't care. It felt right. It made him feel closer to Arthur.

Sotis, he overheard whispers and imagined they were about him, painting himself as an outcast, utterly alone.

Lost in his obsession with becoming Arthur, Jas watched his fourth showing of Joker and had an epiphany: he needed the world to see him, just like Arthur did.

How had Arthur done it?

Oh, right. He killed. Live, on a high-ratings TV show.

The TV part was out of reach—no talk show would invite Jas. But killing? That wasn't so hard.

This was Arica, after all.

Since a high-profile TV appearance wasn't an option, Jas chose a place with aning. Murray Franklin's talk show held significance for Arthur, didn't it? So Jas picked the movie theater—specifically, the one playing Joker.

He wanted to unleash himself in front of Arthur, to show his idol he was his truest disciple.

"Our laughter is the start of their fear," Jas muttered under his breath, echoing Arthur's words.

His body shook.

He raised his gun.

Bang!

"Pop, pop, pop… pop, pop, pop…"

Gunfire erupted, and Jas let out a wild laugh, mimicking Arthur's cackle. He tossed a tear gas canister into the crowd.

Boom!

Screams tore through the theater. The air filled with the stench of blood.

Jas felt electrified, alive in a way he'd never been. At first, his laughter was forced, an imitation of Arthur's. But soon it was real, bursting from deep within.

He chased the fleeing audience, gun blazing, firing at anyone in sight. He paused only to reload, his shots relentless.

Jennifer Higuma had been watching him. She heard his muttering, saw him raise the gun. Her heart sank as she realized this wasn't so quirky costu—this guy was about to shoot.

She dropped to the floor.

Bullets whizzed over her head, striking the rows ahead. Shell casings rained down, one scalding her forehead.

She froze, too terrified to move, until the sound of his footsteps faded.

She'd escaped death.

The police arrived.

Jas didn't run.

He stood at the theater's entrance, peeling off his goggles and helt, tossing them to the ground. Smirking, he spread his arms wide, facing the nervous cops with their guns drawn. "Took you long enough, boys," he said coolly.

Cara flashes popped around him, capturing his image for the morning papers.

Jas felt incredible.

For the first ti in his life, he was seen.

From this day forward, no one would ignore him.

Ha ha ha ha…

His laughter erupted, tears streaming down his face.

The officer about to cuff him flinched at the sound, startled, and tackled Jas to the ground in a heap.

"He's copying the Joker! That laugh!" soone in the crowd shouted.

"You're goddamn right," a reporter muttered, eyes gleaming.

Copying the Joker? Perfect.

Tomorrow's headlines were set.