American comics: Starting in Arkham, a system-based Batman

Chapter 111 Hero and Villain; You and Me

"Is ten minutes really enough?"

Dick questioned, noting that Jung Eun's appearance, entangled by several sharp claws, did not look very presentable.

He had eyes and could tell that the other person had suffered a lot of injuries during this period. Although they were all small wounds such as cuts and bruises, the physical and mental exhaustion was real.

Claw is a living dead assassin who knows no pain or fatigue and fights to the death, but Jung Eun is not.

"Uh—it might not be enough, but I'll try my best!"

Zheng En understood Dick's concerns and, while dodging the claw attacks, also summoned his control panel. With his current strength, it was unrealistic to expect him to defeat four claws in a short time, but with the system shop available, the probability of that happening increased significantly.

If the leader were still alive, the other party would find him the most suitable item for the current situation.

But now he can only see it himself.

Jung Eun dodged the slash from behind with a forward roll, the sharp glint of a blade flashing overhead. On the floating panel, the shop displayed a dazzling array of items.

He didn't have time to click through the details one by one, so he could only look for items that might be needed by name. After a quick scan, he directly purchased a familiar one.

【5-U-93-R (Super Potion)】

When the unparalleled sun is obscured by gloom, and the radiant chosen ones of tomorrow fall into tyranny, the sheltered and domesticated humanity will naturally seek ways to resist them.

[Details: This gadget was developed by Lex Luthor after Superman became a tyrannical ruler in a certain timeline. Ostensibly, it was created to help Earth's government produce Superman soldiers, but in reality, it was created to resist Superman's rule. It can greatly enhance the user's strength and speed, temporarily boosting their physical attributes to an extremely high level sufficient to fight Superman.]

After confirming that it was the item she needed, Jung Eun clicked "buy".

The only item that could boost combat effectiveness in a short time and was relatively easy to control was this one. Based on the comics, even ordinary people like Gordon and Montoya could quickly adapt to the boost from the super potion.

He swallowed the pill that appeared out of thin air in his palm, then suddenly swooped down to the claws ten meters away. Crazy Diamond emerged from his body, and countless fists rained down on his opponent in an instant.

Flesh and blood were beaten and reassembled, and the internal organs shifted, even causing the face on the claws to become displaced.

Seeing that Zheng En's condition had improved, Alfred in front of the screen finally breathed a sigh of relief.

But before they could breathe a sigh of relief, the Joker appeared in another shot from Port Miller.

He strolled leisurely through the empty harbor, stepping over the fallen gangsters who had been assigned to patrol.

Wearing a purple suit and a green tie, his bright red mouth stretched exaggeratedly to his ears. His eyes were downcast, his eyebrows raised, and a cane he had pulled out at some point tapped the ground with each step, ticking like a clock, standing out clearly in the empty harbor.

"Let me guess, my lovely little bat, where are you?"

He spoke in an aria-like tone, his gaze slowly sweeping over the surroundings. "You know what? I've been wanting to meet you for a very, very long time."

"How long exactly? I can't remember."

The clown walked slowly across the open space, seemingly unconcerned whether anyone could hear him. "When did it start?" he asked, stroking his chin as if trying to recall something.

He pondered deeply, then suddenly tapped his head with his cane. "Oh dear, look at my memory! How could I forget? That was right when I opened my eyes!"

"You know what? The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was you, little bat!"

The clown's tone became excited, and he spoke faster, "It was a very, very cold morning. I was lying on the ground, and the sanitation worker was about to remove the newspaper from my face. But how could I possibly miss meeting you because of that?"

"So I opened my eyes." His eyes were surprisingly bright, "and they were pitch black, right in front of my face, which startled me."

"Guess what that is? It's you!"

Alfred didn't remember his young master being filmed. He stared intently at the screen, and his expression grew even more somber after hearing the clown's subsequent words.

"You're in the newspaper!" the clown chuckled. "What I see as black ink is just the printed word 'Little Bat'!"

Absurd and illogical—it's a mental illness similar to that of the Riddler or the Calendar Man, but even more dangerous.

Alfredo stared intently at the clown in the camera lens, who was still engrossed in performing his own inner monologue.

"I was certain then that I would get along very well with the little bat, so well that no one could separate us, just like a coin always has two sides."

He was so engrossed in his fantasy that he couldn't pull himself away: "We would be as intimate as hands and gloves, each containing the other—I can't even imagine how wonderful those days would be."

"So I killed the sanitation worker." The Joker's tone shifted, his expression turning grim. "How could I allow someone to take you away from me?"

"I really, really, really want to see you as soon as possible."

"What do you look like? What is your appearance and voice like? Is the blood you splatter red?" He took a deep breath and showed a look of disgust. "I know many people don't want me to appear too soon."

"Just like TV stations need ratings and comics need sales, a story needs a beginning, development, climax, and conclusion, and it needs an appetizer, if it wants to develop and attract attention."

He clicked his tongue in annoyance and strode forward, while Batman moved alongside him from the shadows behind the shipping container. He was battling laughing gas, suppressing it with pre-prepared medication, barely managing to stay in a fighting condition.

The clown continued speaking.

"So I can only subtly remind you not to forget my existence."

"I'll wait patiently, until those small fry have whetted their appetites enough."

He drawled, "And then, ta-da! The real supervillain appeared!"

"Heroes and villains." He pointed to himself, then suddenly pointed to the shipping container where Batman was hiding, his smile widening. "Me and you."

He walked briskly along the shipping container. "Let me take a good look at you, my dear little bat."

Fine dust rose and fell on the ground. The clown tapped the spot with his cane, looked up, and saw a black cloak disappearing from the edge of the container.

Suddenly, a bright beam of light shone directly on him.

"Halt! GCPD!"

Gordon was the first to get out of the car, gripping his gun tightly and aiming it at the Joker. The car's spotlight shone directly on him, making him blink and wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes with his fingers.

"Oh, how boring. The sheriff arrived a bit too early this time," the clown said, pouting. "That wicked little bat deliberately left me here."

He was so excited that he was completely absorbed in the heartfelt conversation with the little bat that he didn't even notice the spoilsport appearing.

Brock and Gordon, who got out of the car right after him, stood at the front and pointed their guns at him. "Don't move, put your things down."

"Okay, okay," the clown muttered.

One after another, police cars blocked all the surrounding roads, trapping him in a semi-circle. Several police officers got out of the cars, all holding guns with both hands and pointing them at his head, surrounding him and not daring to let their guard down for a moment.

The emergence of mentally ill criminals these days has served as a wake-up call. Unlike ordinary criminals, these criminals have brain circuits that are quite difficult to understand and communicate with.

A scarecrow seeking to spread fear and rule the entire city; a riddle teller leaving clues through various puzzles; an extreme environmentalist; a calendar person strictly adhering to holiday rituals for killing; a gang leader whose puppets obey his every command —

Even in Gotham, a city teeming with talent, these individuals are among the best, not people that ordinary police officers can handle.

The moment Gordon saw the Joker, alarm bells went off in his head.

He still can't convince himself to forget that little Barbara was kidnapped. Even though his daughter wasn't hurt, he's afraid of the next time, whether it will happen or when.

The image of the mayor's tragic death lingered in his mind, and he would occasionally wake up suddenly in the dead of night.

The mayor's face was replaced by little Barbara, who cried and called him "Daddy" —

The Joker, whom Gordon had never even seen in person, had become his nightmare; he longed for the Joker to appear more than anyone else. And now, that illusory symbol had taken on a concrete form.

The moment the searchlight shone down, he knew clearly that this was the Joker, without a doubt.

"Clang clang".

The metal cane clattered as it fell. Gordon stared intently at the Joker. "Throw everything on the ground, now!"

Being too impatient is not a good habit.

The clown shrugged, as if he hadn't seen the ring of gun barrels around him, and slowly pulled a pistol, tissues, a mirror, and lipstick from his suit jacket.

Scattered items fell to the ground, but it wasn't over yet. The clown continued to pick them up, his hand obscuring the objects.

"Show me what it is!" Gordon demanded alertly. The Joker sighed helplessly, "I was hoping to give you a surprise—"

These words instantly put Gordon on guard, and when he saw the item, his heart clenched even tighter.

The red button sat in the clown's palm, and he pressed it lightly with his fingers.

"bong

'

He gave himself a voiceover, and in an instant, deafening explosions rang out one after another.

The explosion illuminated the entire dock for a moment, and sparks fell on the ground, boxes, and strips of cloth—the slowly rising flames illuminated the clown's eyes.

The police instinctively opened fire, and dozens of bullets struck the clown's body from different angles: temples, cheeks, throat, collarbone, heart, side, abdomen, thighs—

Bullets pierced his body, and blood soaked his suit.

He stopped laughing then.

"Hey! This is my favorite outfit!"

The clown yelled and cursed, "You ruined my first meeting with the little bat!"

The blood flowed down his body, pooling on the ground, where a deep green hue could be faintly seen in the firelight.

Just like his dark green pupils, which shrank to the size of pinpoints due to excitement.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and gunpowder, mixed with a faint sweetness of blood. The vehicle that the police had surrounded the clown in a semi-circle had been mostly destroyed; some people were hit by shrapnel from the explosions, while others were crushed under the vehicles and screaming in agony.

The nearest explosion came from behind, and Gordon, who was standing at the front, was the least affected.

When the explosion rang out, he was the first to lie down and take cover. Only after the explosion had passed did he immediately stand up and confront the Joker.

Gordon knew his colleagues behind him would inevitably suffer casualties, but he had to keep a close eye on the Joker, the most dangerous character on the scene. No one knew what the Joker might do, or what kind of uncanny abilities he might possess.

Then he saw the bullets fall off the clown, seemingly without affecting him at all.

The clown bent down and casually picked up the things he had just thrown away, stuffing them back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket one by one.

Pistol, tissues, mirror, lipstick —

He twirled the lipstick, and after only two rotations, a piece fell off.

Gordon's head was still spinning from the explosion, but even so, he still managed to stand at the very front of the Joker.

"Stop—Don't move!"

The clown ignored him and started applying lipstick to his lips, drawing a smiling face on himself.

He looked at Gordon. "Why—why don't you smile?"

The Joker's signature smiling face was reflected in Gordon's pupils. He opened his mouth, the muscles in his face twitching upwards, and the itch in his throat made him involuntarily want to make a sound.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha————"

He heard laughter.

Laughter from dozens of people, emanating from their throats and ringing in his ears, came from all around him. Gordon grinned, and the Joker laughed too.

He looked at Gordon, and then at the officers behind him—some injured and lying on the ground, others struggling to their feet—and laughed. A similar smile appeared on everyone's face. "Smile, it's hilarious, haha ​​...

The clown suddenly twisted his neck, his pale face and scarlet mouth filling the entire screen.

"Why don't you smile?"

Alfred's expression grew increasingly serious.

Police officers, gangsters—everyone's been poisoned by nitrous oxide, and it's unclear whether the antidote delivered in the Batmobile will be enough.

"Dick"

Alfred turned his head but didn't see the other person. His heart tightened, and his eyes quickly scanned the Batcave while calling out Dick's name.

In such an emergency, it was impossible for the other party to go back upstairs. Alfred remembered that Dick had volunteered to take the antidote and put it in the Batmobile, and he had agreed.

But now it seems that Dick did something else as well.