Chapter 747: Theater Murder Case (Part 1) (Patreon)

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Joker tugged at the lapels of his coat and spun in place, showing off his new attire to Batman. Setting aside the explosives for a moment, this was indeed a brand-new suit, completely different from the one he had worn during his last performance on stage.

However, as he completed his spin, he realized that the scene he had anticipated had not unfolded.

Normally, when Batman saw Joker carrying explosives, he would immediately step back, assume a tactical defensive stance, and loudly exclaim, "Joker! Stop your evil plan!"

But at this moment, Bruce looked up and met Joker's gaze, and they both stood frozen for a moment.

Joker lowered his head to look at himself, then raised it to look at Bruce, and then lowered it again, as if he doubted that he was experiencing some kind of illusion.

He let go of his coat, wiped his nose with his arm, and sniffed hard, saying, "No, this isn't right. You're not Bruce; you're Batman... You're Batman right now, and I can smell that unmistakable scent of pain."

Joker wrinkled his features and leaned closer to Bruce, sniffing vigorously. He said, "Yes, that scent of fear from the bat, a mixture of blood and foulness. I can smell it from two kilometers away. There's no one else in Gotham with that scent."

Suddenly, Joker jumped back and shouted desperately at Bruce, "Batman! How could you do this? Why aren't you wearing your combat suit? Why are you waiting at the hospital entrance instead of on the rooftop of a building?"

He once again pulled open his coat and shouted at Bruce, "Look at me! I've got plenty of explosives! Enough to send half of Gotham into the sky!"

Joker gestured wildly with his arms, describing the mushroom clouds that would follow the explosion.

He swallowed hard and hobbled over to Bruce, pressing the bomb against his eye and saying, "Do you think this is a prop? No! Smell the gunpowder on it; it's freshly manufactured, the tastiest big bomb!"

However, Bruce seemed completely lost in his own thoughts. Ever since he had left the hospital, he had been in this typical state of trauma re-experiencing, where patients with post-traumatic stress disorder would become visibly numb when confronted with scenes or situations reminiscent of their traumatic experiences.

As Bruce had just walked out of the hospital, he was overwhelmed with resistance at the thought of returning to the empty Wayne Manor, which reminded him of the day his parents had died.

Every day in Gotham had a similar weather pattern, with gloomy daytime skies and rainy nights. Despite the Wayne couple's on-site deaths, their bodies were still taken to the hospital for examination. Young Bruce had sat outside the hospital entrance in a daze.

Because whenever he thought of returning to Wayne Manor, he couldn't help but visualize the scenes missing two people, his parents.

The loss of loved ones was an inevitable and essential part of life, but for some, the process of their loved ones going to the hospital, undergoing treatment, a doctor pronouncing death, and the issuance of a death certificate was etched vividly in their minds. Bruce was no exception.

This kind of stress response needed time to ease, but Joker had no idea what had happened and suspected he had encountered a fake Batman.

He took off his coat, shook it vigorously, and crumpled it into a ball, saying to Bruce, "Look! A bomb! Repeat after me, bomb!"

"Don't you recognize it anymore? Have you forgotten? The three workers I blew up at the chemical factory and the auto repair shop owner I blew up before. Don't you remember?"

Seeing Bruce's complete lack of response, Joker looked shocked.

He took a deep breath, stood still, hands on hips, and suddenly, as if he remembered something, he excitedly jumped and said, "Oh, I know, it must be the clothes. Wait for me!"

After saying that, Joker disappeared into a small alley next to the hospital with a whoosh. It didn't take long before the sound of a truck started, and when Joker came running back, he was wearing a different suit.

"Batman, look, this is the one I used to wear regularly before. Now you should recognize me, right? I'm Joker, the world's greatest comedy artist, Jack!"

Joker took a deep breath, swallowed hard, then tugged at the hem of his clothes, handing it to Bruce and saying, "Look, there's still blood on it... Whose blood was it again? I can't quite remember."

Then Joker crouched down, brought his face close to Bruce's, and looked at him with hopeful eye contact. "Do you remember now?"

Bruce moved his head slightly, glanced at him, but then turned his head away.

Joker pursed his lips, then lifted his own lips, revealing his teeth in a rather menacing manner.

He bent down, half-squatting in place, stomped his feet vigorously, and then ran off again. After a while, he changed into the work clothes of a truck driver.

"Now, you must recognize me, right? This is the outfit I wore the first time we met! Look at me!"

Joker spun around, waved his hands, and took off his coat again, vigorously waving it in front of Bruce. But Bruce didn't react at all.

Realizing that this approach wasn't working, Joker resorted to some physical force. He grabbed Bruce's arm and tried to pull him away, but Bruce's limbs were stiff, and his reactions were slow. Joker was getting tired and gasping for breath, but he couldn't move Bruce more than ten meters.

However, he didn't give up and stubbornly tried to drag Bruce towards the side of the hospital building.

Bruce was trapped in terrifying scenarios imagined in his mind, but that didn't mean he had no instinctive reactions. He stood up, following Joker's force, but as soon as he reached the side of the hospital, his breathing became rapid again. Shortly after, he found a step and sat down.

Joker, exhausted, bent over, clutching his knees and panting heavily. His disheveled hair obstructed his view, preventing him from seeing the surroundings clearly.

Discovering that Batman's state was completely different from what he had imagined, Joker suddenly paused. His facial muscles gradually relaxed, revealing a mocking smile.

He took a lighter from his pocket and twirled it in his hand, while the other hand remained in his pocket. He swaggered over to where Bruce was sitting on the steps.

He plopped down beside Bruce, opened the lighter's lid, and said, "You know, Batman, humans have an innate fear of pain. This fear can shatter many disguises..."

As he spoke, he ignited the flame of the lighter, placed his finger over the fire, and in a short moment, he pulled his hand back, inhaling sharply. Then, he looked at Batman with a smile and said, "In reality, I've always wondered if you can feel pain, Batman. Let's find out, shall we?"

Saying this, he placed the lighter under Bruce's fingertip, but Bruce still didn't react. With a click, the lighter was closed. Joker pursed his lips and made an uninterested expression, saying, "It seems our Bat is finally losing it. Ha, I knew it; you've never shown any interest in bombs and fire. Well then, please tell me, what do you find interesting?"

Joker and Bruce sat side by side on the steps of a small square beside the hospital.

Joker looked up at the people coming and going at the hospital door, saying, "You know, people spend a lot of their time in hospitals. They'd rather spend a fortune on treating their physical illnesses than ask themselves why their inner selves are so ugly."

"I know, one day you'll be heartbroken, Batman. You see yourself as a god, but the world doesn't love gods; they only love themselves."

"Do you love them, Batman?" Joker held the lighter and asked, "Or is it that you save them because you hope to be a savior, capable of saving anyone?"

"Well, little Bat, you wait here. I'll go find out who's caused you to suffer from this lovesickness." Joker grinned, revealing a terrifying smile. "I'll make him realize the consequences of his actions."

With that, he stood up, smoothly adjusted his clothes, placed the lighter in his pocket, whistled, and walked away with brisk strides.

Half an hour later, in the office on the Iceberg Lounge Rooftop, Copperpot took two steps back, pointing at Joker. "Don't come any closer! Keep your explosive outfit away, you lunatic!"

"Shh..." Joker placed a finger close to his lips, making a hushing gesture. He said to Copperpot, "Don't make a sound, you fool. I heard Batman crying. Did you hear it?"

Copperpot's face turned even darker than the bottom of a pot. He looked at Joker's explosive-laden attire and felt his legs go weak. He had some understanding of explosives, and the stuff Joker had on him could probably blow up the entire East District.

He swallowed hard and said, "Jack, go find Batman. Don't go crazy here with me. I don't have time to play these childish games with you. I need to make money."

A twitch appeared on the right side of Joker's cheek, looking extremely menacing. He stared at Copperpot with a cold, intense gaze. "You ruined Batman's reputation and made him feel heartbroken. Now he's gone insane, suffering from an incurable mental illness. You will pay for this!"

Copperpot could sense the trembling in Joker's voice and the repetition of certain words, indicating that his mental state wasn't stable.

Copperpot and Joker were completely different individuals. Copperpot wasn't crazy; he ran a restaurant to make money.

Seeing Joker pull out a lighter from his pocket, he reached out and said, "No! Don't do this! Jack, I wasn't the one who wanted to publish that article. Someone found me and told me to do it!"

"Who? Who made you do this?"

"...Schiller," Copperpot uttered a name.

Joker closed his suit coat, fastened the buttons, straightened his tie, and walked away with determination.

Ten minutes later, he was pinned down by Schiller on the rooftop of a building.

Schiller released his grip, and Joker got up from the ground, shouting, "What are you doing?! You troublesome guy, you've ruined my toys!!!"

"But that's not a reason for you to carry all those explosives into Gotham University."

Staring at Joker's somewhat manic gaze, Schiller smiled and said, "Don't you feel curious? Don't you want to know why Batman helps others? Is it because he's truly kind or because he hopes to become a savior, to be Gotham's perfect God?"

"Now, he can never be the perfect God again. People in this city will surely believe that article, and no matter how he tries to clarify, it will remain a permanent stain."

"The name Batman might forever be associated with insults. He's no longer a figure like Jesus; no one will expect him to save anyone anymore. And now, he's suffering because of it. Why do you think that is?"

Schiller saw Joker's eyes gradually light up, and he excitedly increased the frequency of his breaths, making a gasping sound. He swallowed and said, "Yes, correct! Because... he can't be the perfect god anymore!"

"He should realize this. No matter how he tries to make amends, some people will never believe him, and many will continue to insult him. This will be like a hole in a car window. No matter how hard the wipers work, the hole won't disappear!"

Joker began to shake with excitement all over his body. He said, "He has to leave his favorite dream, leave the dream where he incarnated as a god, all-knowing and all-powerful, capable of saving anyone. He has to return to the cold, pale reality, just like me, just like everyone else in Gotham!!"

"He can only be the Bruce Wayne he despises now! He has to go back to Bruce's life and can no longer escape from reality! Hahaha!!"

As Joker laughed, tears streamed down his face. He wiped his eyes and said, "God loves the world... God loves the world... He should wake up; God never loved the world; God only loves his perfect self!"

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 748: Theater Murder Case (Part 1)