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

Spend one day to do the work, two days to change the blood, and two days to observe.

On the sixth day, it was the clown's funeral.

Lucien looked at the dim sky and couldn't help but wonder: Are there only two kinds of weather in Gotham: rainy and cloudy?

The clown's funeral was poorly attended.

The old enemy Batman, the Red Hood who was killed and resurrected by the Joker, Oracle who had his spine broken by the Joker and took nude photos, and Lucian who killed the Joker.

None of the four had any heavy hearts or thoughts of mourning.

The whole process was peaceful and silent.

It was hard for Lucian to imagine that this super villain who had left a significant mark in the DC universe was actually dead. In order to prevent him from crawling out of the earth like the Red Hood, he was cremated, his entire body turned to ashes, and the funeral was so ordinary... Even Lucian's Joker hallucination did not appear as he thought.

Jack Oswald White

His name is engraved on the tombstone.

Then comes the epitaph:

——【I once dreamed of becoming the greatest comedian, but now I am lying in the ground, trying to make you laugh with my death.】

It feels a bit ironic.

But not like a super villain.

Lucien thought it would be something like "I am chaos" or "I will live in your hearts", which are relatively... grand and villainous sentences.

"Who wrote this epitaph for him?" I couldn't help but ask.

The oracle replied, her voice filled with a mixture of hatred and indifference: "He had anticipated his own death. This was found in his clothes."

Did you expect it?

Lucien wondered, had the Joker broken the fourth wall? Did he believe he was doomed?

Of course, it's also possible that it's just for fun?

The funeral was very short, only half an hour later, and the famous super villain returned to his ordinary identity and lay in a Gotham cemetery.

……

Lucien took a taxi to his temporary residence by himself.

...Although he didn't make Batman pay on delivery, he did make Batman pay in advance.

The residence was located in Crime Alley at Lucien's insistence - in the very building he had crossed.

The environment was not good, but the housekeeping company cleaned it in advance, so he could move in with just his luggage.

Now, he sat at his desk, opened the window, let the moist wind blow in, then lit a cigarette, squinted his eyes and looked at the fire in the distance, wondering from the bottom of his heart:

Why is there another explosion?

"Don't you have anything to ask me?"

He moved diagonally against the wall and also lit a cigarette. Through the smoke, the clown looked at him.

"Yes." Lucian's gaze remained fixed on the flames, and he asked, "Why did I kill you?"

Strange.

“Because it’s fun,” he said.

"Wouldn't it be more fun to die at the hands of Batman?"

"You are wrong. Death in your own hands is the most fun."

"Why?" Lucien couldn't help but ask again.

The clown chuckled, but there was no aggression in his expression. The atmosphere between the two was like that of friends: "Because now... we can coexist peacefully."

"I thought you'd be more of a tit-for-tat guy—like you did with Batman."

“Peace is the unwavering and unwavering aspiration of mankind.”

"Ha!" Lucian finally laughed mockingly, and couldn't help but look away and glanced at the clown: "You've ruined your character a bit."

"Haha, okay, okay, then let me answer the first question seriously." The clown said: "Why did you kill me? No! Why did you kill me!"

"I didn't mean to kill you—who would have thought you were truly dead?" Lucian was still a little confused. "Where's your Dionysus factor? Where's your immortal body? Where's your super vitality?"

"Besides, I didn't hit you anywhere vital!"

The fire in the distance showed no sign of being extinguished, emitting billowing black smoke. Lucian could clearly see the heat waves surging in the air.

"So you don't understand this... My spine was taken away by Luther half a year ago."

Luther?

Lucian thought of the radio broadcast a few days ago about Luthor's presidential bid. "And then? How did you stand? I remember you were dragging Batman here... 200 pounds, are you sure?"

"Getting to the bottom of it... that's pointless. This will be a very interesting mystery in the future. I don't want to answer you in advance. The lack of process always makes the story lose its interest."

...Riddler.

"By the way, did you kill the Riddler?"

"Of course!"

"I suspect you were infected with the Riddler virus after killing the Riddler, and then he took over your brain."

“…A bold guess!”

"This isn't the first time... Jack, I have a suspicion."

"what?"

"I doubt..." Lucian's yellow-brown eyes gleamed, "You know nothing at all."

"All your information comes from me. You are not the clown reborn. You are just an illusion that can only intimidate people."

"Great!" The clown couldn't help but applaud. "Right! Right! This is the reversal people want! You finally came up with an idea that really opened my eyes!"

Lucien: ...

"Are you trying to dispel my doubts with this? Trying to make me lose interest in talking to you?" The doubter flicked the ash from his cigarette with a smile. "You may be my illusion, or perhaps an illusion of immortality... But how can you prove that you're not a weak illusion?"

"I exchanged my illusion for the ability to remain immortal... Why can't it be understood as 'I exchanged my illusion for the ability to be resurrected from the dead'?"

"You are now weak, incompetent, and ignorant... Perhaps even the time you exist each day is limited."

"You can't control me, you can't influence me... As an illusion, especially a clown illusion, aren't you... too harmless?"

The heat gradually spread to the building, and with the fire in the distance as the background, the scorching air existed between the two people.

Lucian smiled slowly. "You said, 'Perhaps you could test my credibility with your own life.'"

"Then can I assume that when I truly die... you will be even stronger?"

"Or rather, your appearance wasn't due to some Joker virus... but rather because I already died once during that confrontation with the Joker—and my ability to remain immortal is a form of causality."

"Is it right?"

Chapter 9 Perhaps We Shouldn't Expect Gotham to Be Saved

“Very good…very good!”

The weak hallucination clapped its hands, gazing at Lucian with a look of surprise and anticipation, and asked softly, "You really surprise me... What else? Do you have any other theories?"

The wind carrying moisture and heat blew away the smoke in the room, and the curtains curled up and straightened reluctantly.

"Then I have another question." Lucian held the sponge filter in his mouth:

"I've retained many memories of the Joker's theories—although I can't confirm their authenticity. However, the Joker virus is notorious and feared. In almost every fanfiction that attempts to kill the Joker, people are hesitant and confused... The idea of ​​him disappearing so easily, with such a simple blood transfusion, always feels too false to me."

"As fake as the Joker's death."

"Are you really dead?"

The hallucinatory clown faced him with pale lips, blood flowing from his lower abdomen, and his limbs lost the ability to move. Lucian could even smell the blood.

"That's beyond doubt... After all, I've already written my epitaph." He was frank. "Well, did my ridiculous way of dying make you laugh?"

Have it?

Lucien scoffed.

He couldn't get anything out of this thing and even felt that this conversation was a waste of time.

After gazing at the clown for a long time, I felt itchy and decided to give it one last try:

"How about we cooperate?"

"What do you want to cooperate on?" The clown shook his head and listened patiently with interest.

"Tell me what will happen in Gotham, and I'm willing to give you the right to use my body for 24 hours." Lucian said in the same serious and sincere manner: "Perhaps there is something else you want?

"Tempting terms... But unfortunately, you're right. I'm just an incompetent hallucination. I don't know for sure." The Joker said in a regretful and innocent tone.

Lucian closed his eyes. He could hear that perhaps this was the Joker's mockery of his theory: Since you think I'm just an incompetent hallucination, how can I know what will happen next?

This piece of shit.

He completely lost interest in talking to the clown.

I put out the cigarette, looked at the fire outside, thought for a moment, and decided not to call the fire department.

It was not for any other reason, his memory told him that in America, you have to pay to call the fire department.

So I closed the window, out of sight, out of mind.

“Woo-woo-woo—”

Two tones, one high and one low, are emitted alternately with a fast rhythm, and the sound is loud and penetrating.

It's a fire truck.

White water jets sprayed onto the burning building, and after a while, the fire was reduced.

A man with burns covering more than 40% of his body was carried out. He seemed to have inhaled too little oxygen and was somewhat unconscious.

"Hello, sir, this is the Gotham Fire Department. Since you do not have fire insurance, you need to pay a $500 emergency fire service fee."

“…But, but my house burned down.”