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

At a speed that the human eye can capture, but the elderly will definitely not be able to stop.

……

The old clown pinched it between his fingers and laughed: "...You think I'm a bit of a loser, little brat."

Immediately afterwards, the flying knife exploded.

Thick smoke and flames engulfed the luxury car.

"What a shame, he's such a waste to begin with." Damian turned back to look at Batman:

"Is this your old enemy from thirty years ago?"

Batman's eyes didn't leave the fire: "As you can see."

……

Lucien also felt the power of the explosion from a first-person perspective... The cameras and eavesdropping devices were all damaged. He took off his headphones, and the last image he saw was a suddenly elevated field of vision.

——Is this the old clown injecting himself with Titan poison, or a purified and concentrated version? It will fill the clown's loose skin with muscles, and will make his staggering steps burst out with a speed far exceeding Bolt's.

It would enhance the old Joker's reflexes and strength to Bane's level... or even more.

The most special thing is that it will not damage the host's brain and IQ due to excessive or pure intake.

…it simply kills the host.

Lucian recalled the scene when he and the old clown decided on this plan that would definitely lead to his death.

It was midnight, the overhead light was dim, and the old clown listened to this necessary condition for reaching his goal, his dark green eyes filled with tenderness:

"Work on yourself, dear... You need to at least make sure you're on par with Batman."

Lucien looked him in the eye. "There's another way."

"No, use this." The old clown shook his finger. "I don't have much time left to live. Besides, the heir has grown up. The incumbent should be honest and abdicate peacefully..."

"Happy retirement."

……

The sun rises from the horizon and then disappears into the clouds. The light changes. It struggles out in the evening, bright red like a heart.

"Dong, dong——"

It's a knock on the door.

After not receiving any feedback from the scene, Lucian exited the interface... He did not smoke in sorrow, nor did he stare blankly in a trance.

I opened the game...and played Minesweeper all day.

"Little~Rabbit, be good~ and~open~ the~ door——"

A strange tune mixed with the sound of knocking on the door came.

Lucien clicked on the surveillance camera outside the door... It was the old clown with a deflated upper body but bulging muscles in the lower body... He leaned against the door as if he had no strength left, staring at the cat's eye with his bloodshot eyes.

Maybe it was to scare him.

……

Lucien stood up, opened the door, and was about to pretend to be startled when the shriveled body leaning against the door collapsed as the object it was leaning against moved away... and fell on him.

"..."

My hand touched the condensed blood, and when I moved him, I noticed his stiffness.

"..."

Lucian laid him flat on the ground, checked him again and again, and found that the old clown was dead. He tilted his head in disbelief:

"So your last words are to be a good little bunny?"

"Open the door?"

……

The paint-painted makeup on the old clown's face had tiny cracks due to the expansion and contraction of his muscles... These cracks mixed with wrinkles looked like a broken SSR card.

Perhaps it was because of the venom, the old clown had just died, but he began to rot and a foul smell came from his body.

Lucian's eyes moved to his swollen lower limbs, and he felt that he had reason to suspect that this was already gigantism.

"Don't worry, I'll come up with a classy epitaph for you. As for your last words... I'll capture this video and enter it into the Guinness World Records for 'Most Childlike Last Words'... You should hold that record for a long time."

The clown now has a skeleton upper body, is dressed in a bouquet of flowers, and the splattering blood makes his face as elegant and weird as a girl in the rain.

And the crow... the blood light shone through the curtains, and the black mourning bird made a rough sound.

……

The old clown died, but he completed his mission... to bring back Paul.

Lucian saw the angel of death with broken arms in the corner.

Paul had lost too much blood, his lips were pale, and he was in shock.

"Okay, now you can pray that I can save you." Lucian picked him up. His arm, which had a smooth cut surface, was simply bandaged... but the blood soaked the gauze, requiring a blood transfusion and more detailed treatment.

……

There are many safe houses in the Old Clown area, and Lucian installed a lot of medical equipment in one of them during this week.

"First... a blood test. Forget it, let's try some type O blood. Don't blame me if you're unlucky enough to be Rh negative."

Fresh blood was pumped into Paul's body. Lucian tested his blood and observed his reaction.

There is a way to deal with rejection...you can use venom to keep yourself alive.

He sat under the electric light, stopping Paul's bleeding, bandaging his wounds and treating him. Lucian was too tall for him to bend his back, and his shadow was projected onto the wall behind him, some of it short, some of it huge.

……

Like a medieval plague doctor.

……

The crow did not fly away, it still perched, still perched.

Perched on the pale bust of Pallas above the door; its eyes are like those of a dreaming demon, and the light shining on it casts its shadow on the floor...

Will my soul be freed from that shadow floating on the floor?

-Never again!

(Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven)

Chapter 129 Hypocrisy

Behind him was a statue of an angel holding a torch. Paul stood at its foot, listening to the devout praises of the believers kneeling in white robes:

"You bring order to the city..."

"You bring justice to the city..."

"You are a selfless saint, a statue sculpted from mercy and blood, an angel living on earth... You are a brave man, you are a hero..."

"You are integrity, you are justice, you are right... you are the path to ultimate salvation..."

Paul looked into the distance... In Gotham, where churches are everywhere, everyone was dressed in white and was vegetarian. They were humble, courteous, and orderly.

"This is what I want—"

The believers handed him the torch and kissed his toes, with fanatical glint in their eyes.

Paul bent down to catch it... but suddenly realized he had lost his arm... blood splattered across his white robe...

"No!"

He uttered short syllables from his throat, and then a dark cloud suddenly enveloped him.

...black, bat-shaped clouds.

"You are a loser, no one will recognize you." A familiar, hoarse voice came.

Paul looked up, almost trembling with fear:

"Batman!"

……

"Calm down, honey, this is the Joker... there's no Batman here."

A frivolous voice with a hint of laughter woke Paul from his nightmare.

……

He gasped, opened his eyes, and saw the clown... His memory gradually returned, and Paul remembered everything he had experienced before. He closed his eyes and said slowly: "...Thank you."

"You're welcome." The ending tone of the answer rose slightly. Paul looked over and saw the brightly colored, bony face in the dim light.

For no apparent reason, he recalled the words in his dream, "No one will agree with you," and asked in a dry voice, "Really?"

"what?"

"Does the Joker really approve of my approach to governing Gotham?"

"Oh, of course~"

Paul breathed a sigh of relief...though he had no idea what he was confirming.

But the Joker continued, "The Joker does approve of your governance of Gotham, dear. There's no need to question it, it's just..." He clicked his tongue:

"That clown isn't me... This is a game called 'Three Clowns'. You could call it a play, of course. Anyway... The clown who recognized your rule died not long ago... And I." He turned on the light, and the room suddenly became bright. Saline solution flowed uncontrollably from Paul's eyes, blurring his vision.

……

"It's the new one."

"And unfortunately, I don't really approve of your rule over Gotham~~"

……

Lucian looked at Paul's blank expression and smiled more sincerely. "You look very sad. Don't be like this, dear. Look here."

He placed a small jar where Paul could see it. "This is his urn...oh, a jar, an urn." He tapped the jar with his index finger knuckle.