Scarlett glanced sideways at her twin brother. Hunter was practically vibrating in his seat, even though the film's pace had slowed. His eyes were wide, his hands gripping the armrest.
"Oh my God! This is so good," he whispered. "I know it sounds bad, but I love the Joker."
Scarlett gave him a skeptical look. "Don't you mean you hate him?"
Hunter paused to think, then leaned in. "I hate what he does, but I love watching him. Every second he's on screen, I'm hooked. And when he's not there, I'm still thinking about him. I think I have a man-crush on this guy. Especially that voice. If I were gay, I'd totally do him."
Scarlett rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling. Her brother's enthusiasm was exhausting and contagious.
On the screen, Harvey Dent's descent into darkness was underway. His face half-burned, his mind fractured, and his morality slowly crumbling.
Meanwhile, the Joker's final masterstroke began to unfold: two ferries. One filled with civilians. The other with convicted criminals. Each boat had a detonator that would destroy the other.
"I think whoever presses the button actually blows up their own boat," Scarlett whispered conspiratorially.
Hunter's brow furrowed. He considered it, then nodded. "Yeah. That would be so Joker."
The tension was unbearable, yet so well-crafted. The editing was tight, the dialogue razor-sharp, and the stakes crystal clear. Despite the chaos, it was never confusing. Scarlett knew firsthand how meticulous Nolan was for she had worked with him on [The Prestige], but this was something else entirely. A film that delivered thrills, emotions, and intelligence all at once.
If only the Oscars gave awards to action movies…
In the end, neither ferry pushed the button.
Scarlett's breath caught. Joker's plan had failed. The people had chosen mercy.
"You can't trust anyone these days," Joker muttered with a sneer, pulling out a separate detonator of his own. "You gotta do everything yourself."
Then he tilted his head.
"By the way, do you know how I got these scars?"
Scarlett giggled quietly. She braced herself for another ridiculous, fabricated origin story.
But instead—
"No," Batman growled. "But I know how you got these."
He clicked something, and blades shot out of his forearm guard, slicing through the cables that connected the Joker to the detonator. Then Batman lunged forward and hurled the Joker off the building. The madman didn't scream or panic, instead, he cackled like it was the punchline to his own perfect joke. For a split second, the crowd in the theater thought Batman had finally crossed the line. That he had killed him.
But then a rope appeared which seemingly had caught on to the bad guy.
Suspended upside down, the Joker swayed in the wind from the edge of the skyscraper, his breath ragged, but his grin wide as ever.
"You just couldn't let me go…" he said through heavy breaths. "You truly are incorruptible, aren't you? You won't kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness. And I… won't kill you… because you're too much fun. I think you and I… are destined to do this forever."
The line hit like a punch to the chest. It sounded like a twisted love letter from the Joker to Batman.
Scarlett stared at the screen, frozen. She wasn't alone. The entire auditorium was silent, not out of boredom or disinterest, but because they were captivated by the intensity of the scene.
It felt like the movie was winding down. That was until Joker, in his final scene of chaos, reminded everyone of the last card he'd played, Harvey Dent.
Scarlett's stomach twisted. Harvey had been the city's white knight. Gotham's clean hope. If he fell, everything fell with him. So when he held Gordon's son at gunpoint, unhinged and burned half to hell, there was no redemption. Not for him.
Batman took the hit. Literally. A bullet to the chest. But he saved the boy and took Dent down. Gordon looked devastated. The loss wasn't just a man. It was an idea. Harvey Dent was so much more than just the DA.
And then came Batman's final choice.
"Gotham needs its true hero," he told Gordon. "You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. I can do that, because I'm not a hero like Dent. I killed those people… I'm whatever Gotham needs me to be."
Scarlett felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. This wasn't just an action film. It was a tragedy dressed as a blockbuster.
She thought of the films that had defined her childhood—[Back to the Future], [Terminator 2]. They were classics. Untouchable. But now... this? This was on another level. A modern epic.
As Batman roared off into the night on his Batpod, the police chasing him like prey, Gordon's voice closed the film like a prayer.
"He's the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now… So we'll hunt him, because he can take it. He's not a hero. He's a silent guardian. A watchful protector. A Dark Knight."
The screen faded to black.
'The Dark Knight' appeared in white.
Then—
'Directed by Christopher Nolan.'
And then… silence.
Until the next frame appeared.
'Starring: Troy Armitage'
A large image of the Joker faded in behind the text.
Gasps exploded across the theater like fireworks.
A ripple of shock turned into a wave of chaos.
"What!?"
"Are you serious?!"
"No fucking way!"
Scarlett's heart thudded in her chest. She turned toward the screen slowly, as if confirming it would make it any less surreal. But the truth was in front of everyone. The Joker had been Troy all along. How did she not see it coming? And now that she had seen it, she couldn't unsee it.
The next names came up on screen—Christian Bale, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Aaron Eckhart—but the crowd was still reeling from the first.
"That wasn't Troy!" someone shouted in disbelief. "He couldn't have been!"
But they were ignored. The auditorium had become a sea of frantic whispers, stunned murmurs, and open-mouthed stares. Some people were laughing in disbelief. Others were audibly stunned, their brains still trying to piece together the deception.
Hunter turned to Scarlett, wide-eyed. "Did you know?" he asked, his voice trembling with awe and betrayal. "That's a messed-up thing to do if you did and still hid it from me."
"I didn't," Scarlett said softly, still looking at the screen. "I swear, I didn't."
She didn't blink. She didn't breathe.
Because her mind had only one thought: She was watching Troy all along and didn't even recognize him. What kind of girlfriend was she? She didn't have the words to express how stunned she was. Troy as the Joker? Was that why he looked so amused when she had asked him for tickets to the premiere?
"I knew he went AWOL for a few months before we started dating," she finally said after a long pause. "But he told me it was to find inspiration for his music, not... this."
Hunter shook his head slowly. "Man, you're dating a psycho."
Scarlett narrowed her eyes at him. "The same psycho you were willing to 'do' not even half an hour ago?"
Before Hunter could fire back, the screen lit up again. The acting credits faded away, and the image cut to a behind-the-scenes video. Troy was sitting in a makeup chair, his face turned slightly to the side. Then he looked up at the cameraman and, in the Joker's chilling voice, said, "What are you doing here, Chris?"
Off-screen, Christopher Nolan replied, "Someone complained to me that you refused to shoot behind-the-scenes clips. So I thought I'd shoot it for you. Why don't you show the world how you apply the makeup?"
Troy gave him a dubious look. "If this clip leaks before the film's release, I'm blaming you."
The camera turned around briefly to reveal Nolan, who nodded. "I accept the blame."
The footage then split the screen in half. On one side, the film's end credits continued to roll. On the other, Troy began applying the Joker makeup.
He started by pasting prosthetic scar pieces from the corners of his lips to the middle of his cheeks. Then came the white base paint, smeared on unevenly, giving his skin a rough, weathered look. He applied the red lipstick across the exaggerated scars, and the black circles around his eyes. The result was already unsettling, but he wasn't done yet. With a wad of cotton, he smudged the makeup into a chaotic mess, making it appear as though it had been done carelessly by the character himself. It was deliberate imperfection, and it worked brilliantly.
When the screen finally faded to black, the lights in the theater rose. The audience erupted to their feet. The applause was thunderous. People shouted, whistled, clapped, and cheered. Scarlett glanced around and saw nothing but awe and excitement on every face. And even if one set aside Troy's haunting performance, the film itself had been a masterclass in direction, editing, and storytelling, packed with powerful, thought-provoking themes.
Scarlett had to admit—the praise was more than deserved.
"That was unexpected," she said, still dazed. "I'm so going to grill Troy for this. And if he doesn't answer me, he's sleeping on the couch."
Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Don't you mean he'll sleep in the guest bedroom?"
Of course. This was Troy. He didn't do anything halfway. All his houses had more bedrooms than he needed.
"And even if he didn't," Hunter added, "you'd be the one to move out since you're living in his house, not the other way around."
"I'm a woman," Scarlett replied plainly, as if that settled it.
Hunter smirked. "Didn't you used to go on about equality between men and women in all aspects? You can't have it both ways, sis."
Scarlett huffed but didn't respond. Instead, she turned her attention to the crowd, which was still clapping as if their lives depended on it.
When the ovation finally quieted down, the cast and crew stepped onto the stage. A second round of applause broke out, nearly as loud as the first.
"Thank you for that warm response to our film," Christopher Nolan said into the mic, looking genuinely touched. "I know the last reveal was a little unexpected, so I'd like to call the person in question to the stage. Please give it up for Troy Armitage."
Scarlett's eyes widened. "I didn't realize he was coming to New York."
Hunter gave her a slow, judgmental look. "Do you even know him, dude?"
Scarlett did the most mature thing she could: she gave him the bird.
Before he could retaliate, the crowd inside the theater exploded with cheers.
All eyes turned toward the side of the stage where Troy Armitage had just stepped out into the light.
"Wow," he said into the mic, his voice unmistakably that of the Joker on purpose. "That was quite a welcome. Wasn't expecting that, to be honest." He turned slightly, locking eyes with Aaron Eckhart. "Didn't I tell you to introduce a little anarchy?"
Aaron burst out laughing, walking over to pull him into a brief hug. The rest of the cast quickly followed—handshakes, hugs, and cheerful slaps on the back. And although the warmth felt genuine, Scarlett noticed the subtle shift when Troy took the second chair from the left, seated between Christopher Nolan and Christian Bale. To outsiders, it would seem random. To anyone who knew the business, it wasn't.
That was a power move.
The Joker had overtaken Batman as the top-billed actor in the event.
"So," Nolan said, adjusting his mic. "Questions?"
It was as if someone had fired a starting gun. Dozens of hands shot up. Voices clamored over one another. Reporters, critics, even random audience members who hadn't yet left their seats, everyone had something to ask. The energy in the room was nothing short of a frenzy.
A publicist rushed forward, managing to hand a mic to one reporter at a time.
"Troy!" A young male reporter got the first question. "That was a marvelous performance. One of the best I've ever seen in recent times, maybe ever."
"Thank you," Troy said sincerely, this time in his regular voice. He gave the man a grateful nod.
"How did you manage to keep it all under wraps until today?"
Troy chuckled. "You won't believe it, but no one knew. Well… almost no one. Chris knew, obviously. So did a few top Warner Bros execs, my assistant, and my manager. But even my family and friends had no clue what role I was playing. Of everyone on this stage besides Chris, only Gary realized my identity mid-shoot, thanks to our time together on [Harry Potter]." He glanced at Oldman, who nodded with a smirk. "We told the rest of the cast just two days ago, during an internal screening."
The room collectively murmured, impressed.
Suddenly, from somewhere in the back, a distinctly British voice called out, "I guessed it was you midway through the screening!"
Troy smiled widely. "Of course you did, Mum. I would've been shocked if you or Dad didn't recognize me."
Laughter rippled through the room.
The mic passed to another reporter, this one a woman with a notebook already scribbled to the brim.
"Troy," she said breathlessly, "my question is about preparation. We all saw the makeup video at the end, but I still can't wrap my head around how you managed to embody the Joker so completely. How did you get there?"
Troy didn't blink. "I took inspiration from hyenas," he said flatly.
A few people chuckled, unsure if he was joking.
"I'm serious," he added with a smile. "I watched wildlife clips on YouTube, spent a few days at a zoo that housed hyenas, and studied their posture and vocal cadence. I wanted the voice to feel completely divorced from mine: animalistic, unpredictable, and maybe just a little off-putting."
He paused before continuing. "As for the rest… I did something I don't recommend. I cut off contact with the world for months. Gave my phone to my secretary. No internet, no TV, no friends, no family. No one besides a handful of people knew where I was.
"My parents can confirm that too. I didn't call home, didn't write. I didn't even socialize with most of the cast. This was a character that I knew I could take to a level I hadn't taken any other character ever. I wanted to get so deep that when I stepped onto set, I didn't feel like Troy anymore. I was the Joker."
That last line landed hard.
Even Christian Bale looked over at him, brows slightly raised in genuine admiration before leaning into his mic with a smirk. "It helped that he was such an unlikable person on set," he joked. "I mean, I loved him for his diligence, but most people thought he was a psycho nutjob method actor. Though none of them would admit that now."
"I would," Maggie Gyllenhaal chimed in playfully. "I genuinely thought 'Frank' had something seriously going on. That's the name he went with during filming."
"Technically, I didn't lie. Frank is my middle name," Troy added matter-of-factly, drawing a new wave of laughter from the audience.
For the next few minutes, the Q&A continued, though most of the questions kept circling back to Troy. The cast played along, telling behind-the-scenes anecdotes and ribbing him with lighthearted jabs, yet the admiration beneath the teasing was impossible to miss.
When the panel finally wrapped, Troy stepped down from the stage and made a beeline for Scarlett, ignoring everyone that wanted to have a piece of him. Without a word, he pulled her into a hug.
"Missed me?" he murmured in her ear.
Scarlett shook her head, arms still loosely around him. "Not at all. I had someone to take care of me." She pulled back and gestured toward her twin. "Troy, meet Hunter. He's helping Barack Obama with his election this year."
Troy turned to him with a firm handshake. "Great to meet you, Hunter. How is it that I'm only meeting you now? You should come over sometime."
"I would," Hunter said, amused, "but you two are never in the same place. Tonight only happened because I begged Scarlett for tickets to the movie of her favorite comic book hero."
Troy turned to her, one brow raised. "You? DC? I always pegged you for a Marvel girl."
Scarlett shrugged. "Not really."
Then her tone shifted, a trace of genuine curiosity threading her words. "So… why didn't you tell me about this role?"
Troy exhaled, his voice low. "We weren't even together when I filmed it. And afterward... I guess I just didn't know how to explain it without ruining the surprise. I'll tell you everything in detail, I promise. But first—" He inclined his head subtly in the direction of Steve and Kathy, who were making their way over, both with unreadable expressions.
Scarlett winced. "Yeah. You should go deal with that."
Troy gave her hand a gentle squeeze before walking away, toward his parents.
Once he was out of earshot, Hunter leaned in and whispered, "Marry him. Because if you don't, I will."
Scarlett couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips.
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AN: Visit my personal website to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.
Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com