Laughing American comics, I am becoming more and more like a clown

Chapter 154 Love you

Tragedy is never the worst day. What is really bad is the day that is like a nightmare that is lingering and cannot be escaped, and lasts forever.

It is a written, fixed, and unchangeable ending.

……

After Lucian put the knife in his arms, he went to knock on Harley Quinn's door.

The door was ajar, and the rhythm of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony came from inside.

The strong melody and rhythm convey the struggle against fate.

Lucian knocked on the door gently, but there was no response, so he pushed it open.

Harley Quinn was lying on the table as if she was fast asleep, but the faint smell of blood indicated that this was not the case at all.

The window was slightly open, and the wind blew in from outside. As if calculated, a pink, ambiguous envelope swayed on the edge of the shelf with the wind, and finally blew to Lucian's feet.

Besides useless physical suicide and mental escape, a third suicidal attitude is to persist in the struggle and fight against the absurdity of life.

The surface of the envelope is written in cursive with a blue pen.

Very familiar font.

Lucian picked it up, opened it, and inside it was written:

[If it goes as expected, dear, have you given up on yourself and are ready for revenge? ]

[Can a little Oedipus Rex prophecy defeat you? ]

Lucian's temples were throbbing as he looked at the font - he was too familiar with it, the writing habits of the clown during his long time with -22 the Clown.

Although he knew that the Joker had more than one font, using this one was a provocation in itself, just as provocative as the contents of the envelope.

Lucian folded the envelope and stuffed it back in his pocket. He had a bad feeling:

-22's clown didn't disappear from his sea of ​​consciousness at all... He appeared in this world in his true form through some unknown method.

"Ah!"

He couldn't help but let out a sarcastic snort.

Oh shit.

shit!

……

Lucien opened the door and asked the security guard guarding the corridor, "Has anyone been in here?"

The security officer shook his head: "No one else except you."

"So, between the time Catwoman last appeared in your field of vision and the time I arrived, were there any shifts?"

The security guard still shook his head: "Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened." Lucian opened the door wide and pointed at Harley Quinn, whose eyeball was pierced by a dagger. "She's just dead."

Security personnel:!

……

This was the work of the clowns, and Lucien knew he shouldn't expect them to notice, and it was because he knew that it annoyed him.

The clown had him in his hands, and he was more than just annoyed at everything he did.

Lucien didn't watch the chaos that followed. He put the pink envelope away and thought of another person.

He was going to kill another person next.

……

"Sorry, sorry." He walked quickly to the front desk of Gotham Hospital, apologizing to the crowd who were pushing him along the way, and stood in front of the nurse, panting slightly.

"Is Ms. Taylor from Psychology here today?"

The nurse paused, looked up at him, then lowered her head to look at the form: "Yes, do you need an appointment?"

Lucien breathed a sigh of relief and reached out to push back the hair that had fallen into his eyes: "Yes, I need it."

While the nurse was checking in, he glanced at the people around him. Most of them had external injuries, some were holding gauze, and some were lying on stretchers. It seemed that a gunfight had taken place somewhere.

Lucian looked at the injured, then at the doctor who was performing simple bandages, and then at the slender nurse - he always felt that the clown was among them, laughing at his current appearance.

He pinched the pink envelope into some wrinkles and kept changing the feet that supported his body anxiously.

"You can go and register now."

The nurse handed over a form. Lucien took it, thanked him, and hurried to the psychology department.

……

Perhaps the name of Ms. Taylor, who only treats anorexia, has become widely known. There are not many people in front of her clinic. Half an hour later, it is Lucien's turn... After half an hour, he became a little nervous.

Ms. Taylor is not dead and the Joker hasn't arrived yet, but Lucien doesn't think he won't come, and he is more inclined to believe that he will face the Joker head-on in a while.

……

"Mr. Lucien Emerson Turner, please come in," the nurse called.

Lucien walked over and pushed open the door. He saw Ms. Taylor sitting there peacefully. After closing the door, he walked to the window and looked out through the glass.

Maybe a sniper point?

The person opposite him was suddenly shot while he was sitting down, which is something the Joker could do.

But Lucien soon realized that he was overthinking.

The window in Ms. Taylor's room is very interesting - it faces the door, and even at the maximum angle, only the patient will be hit.

Of course, the sparse sunlight that came in could only warm the patient's position, which seemed to have a subconscious impact on people, but Lucien didn't care about it.

"Excuse me, sir, what are you looking at?"

Came Ms. Taylor's voice.

"... Today's weather." Lucian sat down: "I'm a little worried about rain, after all, I didn't bring an umbrella."

Ms. Taylor watched him sit down and smiled gently and kindly: "I remember you, Mr. Turner."

Lucien remembered that she had called herself Lucien last time, so he felt a little surprised.

"I'm sorry," she said first, her eyes full of guilt. "My last diagnosis was wrong. Thank you for coming again. I mean, are you willing to trust me again and recalculate your mental illness?"

"..." This was something Lucien had not expected, and the purpose of his visit was not some ghost psychological problem at all.

"Don't worry, I will use scientific psychometric methods to calculate you, and then do a brain CT scan and a sand table."

"...No, no, I'm not here to do this." Lucian refused.

"Are you just here to talk? Of course, I can provide you with free psychological counseling, just as an apology for my previous behavior." Ms. Taylor crossed her arms and looked serious.

This made Lucian frown. He thought, maybe the Joker was planning to shoot him when he was most relaxed? This was also something he could do.

"Can you wait a moment? I'm a bit paranoid and want to look around here."

"of course can."

So Lucien stood up, looked behind the screen from the ceiling, opened the cabinet and took a quick look, then very presumptuously opened the drawers one by one, asked Ms. Taylor to stand up, checked the stool, and cautiously weighed the green plants. Finally, he closed the window and had to admit it.

Maybe he can only see him when the Joker takes the initiative to shoot.

So he sat back in his seat hesitantly, thought for a moment, and asked, "Okay, but what should I say?"

Ms. Taylor pulled out a few answer sheets: "You need to fill this out first."

Chapter 155 Confrontation

Lucien imagined that during the conversation, a bullet would suddenly hit her head, the ward would suddenly explode, or she would take off her face to reveal the Joker.

He thought of many possibilities, but none of them was possible. The lady explained the condition with a gentle look, and that was all, nothing happened.

He suspected that his inference was wrong and thought that the lady might have been killed after he left.

But it was impossible for Lucien to kill her in advance just because she was about to die... although he had already planned to kill her.

"Severe depression and anxiety are your most obvious symptoms now. Perhaps we can start treatment from there?" Ms. Taylor said.

"Emmm...Okay." Lucian took the prescription and treatment plan she had written. He had no excuse to stay. "...Gotham has been a bit unstable lately, so please be careful."

"Of course, please come back for a follow-up consultation in three days. I will give you a more detailed treatment plan. Alternatively, would you prefer to be hospitalized?"

"I'll come back in three days." Lucian waved his hand to refuse.

……

When Ms. Taylor saw the door closed, she let out a barely perceptible breath and relaxed the expression she had been pretending to have.

She naturally understood what Lucien was worried about. Taylor took out the headphones from her pocket and put them on her ears. Her palms were sweating from nervousness, and then she heard an old voice.

"Well done ma'am, your mother is safe. Want to speak to her?"

Taylor remembered the despair she felt when her house was broken into the night before and the knife hit her cheek, which made her lips turn even paler: "Please, please."

"You don't have to beg me, sweet boy. You're doing great."

My mother's voice came from the headset: "I'm fine, I'm fine..."

"Mom!" Taylor wanted to say, but lowered his voice, concerned: "How are your legs? Can you still stand up?"

The night before last, bullets hit my mother's legs during the struggle.

"...It's okay, baby, I'm safe, he didn't hurt me, don't worry."

"You..." Taylor realized that his mother was deliberately covering up, so he wanted to get to the bottom of it, but was interrupted:

"You know, dear. I'm not very caring." The murderer did not hide his thoughts:

"Her legs seem to be showing signs of infection. Of course, I won't be calling a doctor, so I can't guarantee your... Mother, how long she can live in my hands? That's up to you. You have to be quick and use all your medical resources to gain her trust and cure her. This determines whether you end up with an infected mother, an amputated mother, a paralyzed mother, or a dead mother. Do you understand?"

"Please don't hurt her." Taylor begged. "Can you please bandage her... You don't have to do it yourself, just alcohol, tweezers and gauze. She has some medical knowledge."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, kid. The content of our deal this time only includes you hearing her voice." The murderer's voice was full of hypocritical helplessness.

Taylor didn't care about that and just begged: "Just a little bit, please, my mother is not in good health..."