Chapter 16-[Inglês-Americano] Palhaço criando filhotes, não morreu, bem bom(O texto fornecido consiste em caracteres chineses que não podem ser utilizados na saída. Portanto, a tradução não pode ser fornecida de forma precisa sem um contexto claro para a expressão.)

Page (1/3)

Megan followed the tail and slowly made her way to the cafeteria. Here, she was about to reach up to grab a tray and look at the dishes. As soon as she moved, Killer Croc took the tray for her and waved it in front of her to signal, but Megan was slow to react. A pitch-black, razor-sharp claw, capable of crushing concrete and steel, gently brushed her shoulder as it pushed her forward. Only then did Megan grasp a bit of his meaning and quickened her pace, her gaze falling on his lowered claw.

Killer Croc served her food. Considering that children have smaller appetites and more sensitive taste buds, he didn’t intend to bully her. He scooped up what he believed were normal, likable foods: grilled sausages, boiled shrimp, bacon, some salad, and a glass of orange juice. He also took a nearly raw tender steak for himself.

He seemed not to glance behind him but was aware of every move she made. He placed her tray on the table before heading elsewhere to eat. Normally, Killer Croc never cared who saw him gnawing on bloody raw meat, but now he was more cautious.

Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, arrived before them and watched the whole scene. A sullen, hypocritical smile hung on his face as he grabbed his tray and sat in the chair beside Megan. Ignoring how children usually disregard their surroundings, he rested his elbow on the table and pointed a fork vaguely at Megan.

He greeted her, “Hey, look who it is. Arkham’s little star.” His tone was affected and overly theatrical, so much so that the sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.

The Scarecrow leaned in closer. “Can you talk to me? I heard your daddy lost his temper and gave you a beating. It was just a joke, right?”

There was a rumor in Arkham’s high-risk zone that the Joker had beaten Megan. It wasn’t baseless: first, inmates in nearby cells heard the sound of falling clutter and a crowbar hitting the ground; second, the child hadn’t been seen for over a week.

Today she appeared—healed, in their eyes. The weather was much better than the winter when she first arrived, with temperatures roughly ten degrees Celsius warmer. Her clothing was lighter but altered prison garb, with wide sleeves and pant legs. When she raised her hand, faded bruises were visible.

The Scarecrow reveled in her misfortune. He wouldn’t physically harm Megan, but he delighted in foolishly talking to her, probably because she was a quiet listener who wouldn’t suddenly lash out. She was civilized.

Megan ignored him, but that didn’t stop the Scarecrow’s biting sarcasm. Many disapproved of his behavior.

Two-Face tossed a coin to Megan but felt no obligation to shield the Joker’s amusements. He glanced once and disinterestedly turned away. Recently released from solitary confinement, the Mad Hatter was curious about the new girl.

He paid more attention to young girls; before, he preferred blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls—the classic “Alice” image. But this child was different.

Black hair, green eyes, and rather frail and short.

He lifted his teacup and muttered toI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.