Chapter 30

Megan remained silent on the phone, but the adults were patient and had plenty of time. Eventually, Scarecrow waited for her slow, faint "woo."

There was no strength in it, nor any particular meaning. She was always stingy with expression, though if one were to dig deeper, it stemmed from a profound lack of self-awareness, followed by a series of cognitive, mental, and logical issues that could not be resolved overnight.

Scarecrow was not surprised by her "woo." He had been on the scene a few days prior and had witnessed the event with his own eyes. He had known about it far earlier than Joker. The state she was in after she first made a sound was not good, but that was because she had gone back to perform her newly learned "woo" for her daddy, and his praise had given her the courage. As a psychology professor, he could deduce the key points with his eyes closed.

As for why a child who could vocalize chose not to speak? Previously, having never heard her voice, they had assumed it was aphasia caused by brain tissue damage; later, they thought she was simply autistic. But her condition was clearly improving, and her speaking was only a matter of time.

After a brief moment of reflection, Scarecrow returned to reality and relayed the child’s "woo" to Joker, just as he had promised.

He said, "Your daughter misses you. She’s saying you abandoned her and that she’s been crying in fear all by herself. Now that she’s finally managed to call, she’s saying she wants to see you immediately; she can’t wait."

The words tumbled out of his mouth, unmoored from the truth. Whether Megan could or would express so much was something they both knew, but that didn't stop Scarecrow from enjoying his habit of making things up and embellishing them. Besides, what part of it was wrong? Joker had been looking after Megan for over half a year—save for that one time he struck her—and her reliance on this "good father" in their daily life was obvious. Now that the father and daughter were separated, surely Megan would find it difficult to adjust?

Scarecrow also had the good intention of letting the sick daughter see her father, lest she really go off somewhere to cry. What if Killer Croc found out about this and decided to make a move against Joker? Then he would lose a partner.

Beside him, the tall, slender man in a rose-red suit and top hat looked gentlemanly, leaning on his cane. He raised an eyebrow at the remark. He didn't take Scarecrow’s nonsense to heart, but feigned surprise and laughed, "You say she misses me? Good. Then bring Megan here!"

He was truly insane to utter such madness. They had kidnapped the mayor, a news story that had already blanketed the city, and Batman was currently hunting them! Yet, Joker wanted to bring Megan to his side...

Was he deciding that it was time to harvest this amusement called Megan? Or did he have other plans?

Scarecrow hadn't expected this response before he spoke. With his gas canisters strapped to his body and his scarecrow mask on—leaving only his eyes and the stitched-up mouth visible—it was difficult to read his specific emotions.

There were only the two of them and a person already controlled by gas present. Scarecrow stared at Joker for a moment. He shouldn't care so much. Withdrawing his gaze, he chuckled softly, "Very well. I haven't seen Megan in a few days either." A flash of gloom passed through his eyes.

Thus, Nelson went to bring Megan. Megan was an obedient child who never wandered off; she followed quietly the whole way, only looking around with curiosity.

She could not express herself, but when she saw Joker, her eyes noticeably widened. She became a bit more lively, shuffling her short legs until she finally stopped and pressed herself against Joker’s side, resting her head against his leg, unmoving.

This was already a sign of dependence, and the object of it was Joker. Seeing her foolish appearance—unaware of who the truly dangerous person was—Scarecrow couldn't bear to watch and turned his gaze away.

Joker, accustomed to her leaning on him, wondered if his little puppet had changed at all after only a few days apart. He bent down and pinched Megan’s chin to lift her head. He saw that there was no emotion in her eyes; they were wide and unblinking, fixed on him.

But when she met his gaze, she squinted, feeling a bit uncomfortable, her eyes blinking rapidly in an uncontrollable tremor. This told Joker something.

Joker was deeply surprised, but he did not show this fervor. He waited to see if Megan had any other expressions. She whispered, "...Woo."

It was exhausting for Megan to look up at him. With her neck stretched, it was difficult to make a sound. Her voice was light, muffled, and heavy. Finally unable to hold it, she lowered her gaze, letting the full weight of her head press onto Joker’s hand.

Joker weighed her head, which felt light in his hand, and a profound, meaningful smile stretched across his pale face. "We’ve only been apart for a few days, Megan? Did you miss me that much?"

His voice was lowered, deep and eerie. He leaned down again, those twisted green eyes staring intently at Megan, yet he could read nothing from her face. Only her breath fell onto his palm, felt even through his leather gloves.

Well, she was still that foolish child, completely unaware of fear. He patted her cheek and let her go. However, Nelson had received some news and walked over to whisper something to Joker.

The exaggerated, hideous expression on Joker’s face shifted slightly, becoming more genuine, more joyful, yet even more terrifying. He let out a laugh and said to Scarecrow, "The GCPD is heading this way, so *he* must be close as well."

They both knew who "he" was; they had prepared all of this for that very person! But once he arrived, the whole situation would change, and he wouldn't be able to spare any attention for Megan, so she should leave now.

After all, Joker was not as Scarecrow had assumed; he didn't want to discard or expend her just yet. He always had patience. He did, however, remember to bid her a proper farewell, even if he might go see her again tonight.

"Good girl, Megan. Go play with Nelson now. You’ll see me tonight."

After this hurried encounter, watching Joker’s henchman and Megan depart, Scarecrow tilted his head and asked in disbelief, "So you two actually have a father-daughter bond?" One could hear the skepticism in his tone, though he was really telling the joke to himself.

As he spoke, he subconsciously adjusted the gas canisters on his body. Only he knew what he really meant by that question.

Joker noticed the detail out of the corner of his eye, leaving him with only a smile twisted with madness. He turned his gaze toward the mayor, who remained trapped in terror, and said, "I’ll leave a gift for them at the door, and then we proceed as planned."

...

Nelson brought Megan back to the two-story house. Before leaving, he glanced in a certain direction, but did not go to investigate, choosing instead to drive away.

In the corner of the area he had looked at, a blonde man stood with a live falcon on his arm. Pressing his earpiece, he relayed information to someone not present: "Just a little brat. She doesn't look like anything special, and it didn't matter that we grabbed her, but I was discovered by that driver."

The person on the other end ordered in a deep voice, "Then ignore it. Go watch the other areas. Batman is about to begin his move."

The blonde man had no complaints. He acknowledged the order and set off. He was quick and agile, with the falcon in the sky acting as his eyes. He knew where he was going and which target to pursue. Even if this target belonged to their leader, followers like them were like this—never questioning or acting disobediently.

On the other end of the communication, in a temporary base, a man with a physique so muscular it was almost inhuman cracked his neck and wrists, the joints popping. He muttered to himself, "Joker, Scarecrow..."

"If I have curiosity, then all of my desires should be satisfied, for this is Gotham."

"—My promised land."

He had a premonition that he should take a look, so he set off.

Megan sat on the living room rug, clutching the yellow Bob. Beside her lay the round puppy doll Bob had given her that morning. She thought that the doll was not a ball, but they were both very round.

If she poked them with her finger, she would find that the dolls were very soft. She tried to think and recall a ball, but her mind was a blank slate—a brain that had yet to build a complete memory, cognition, or logic—and her search was destined to be in vain.

She felt empty and at a loss. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Megan looked up, then looked again.

Bob had gone out, leaving her alone in the house.

The person outside kept knocking, very politely knocking only three times each time, repeating it every half minute. This continued sporadically for over ten minutes, yet the knocking never betrayed a hint of impatience or frustration.

There was no response from inside. Finally, the person outside spoke in a deep, powerful voice, "I will meet you at the window." He had come up with a solution himself.

Megan saw an extremely muscular figure stop outside the window next to the living room. As he crouched down, a face covered by a mask appeared. The eye area had been specially treated and looked red. His gaze scanned the interior and easily locked onto Megan. He spoke in the tone of stating a fact, "I am Bane. I am your friend."

The words used to coax a child came easily to him.

His gaze rested on Megan for a long time. He was a man who had been locked in a water dungeon for ten years; he knew exactly what loneliness tasted like. But the cage, only three steps away, could not contain his ever-growing thoughts. He had learned to live with darkness, tides, evil, and solitude there. Seeing this child now, he clearly understood her problem.

Unlike him, whose body was imprisoned while his mind transcended the realm, the child before him...

"Your soul has long since withered, buried in a grave, but clearly, you have had an unusual encounter."

Someone had forcefully chiseled open the walls trapping her, luring her out with water. Had she believed them? A villain had beguiled an ignorant, innocent child, but he had also brought her new vitality, allowing her to live well here.

Bane knew that person was Joker. He stared at the child before him and said, "I know. You are lured by death, so you can actually come a little closer." He raised one arm, his muscles and veins bulging, revealing an unparalleled sense of power.

"I am your friend." He said the sentence a second time.

Megan originally ignored his words, but she had the concept of "friend" in her mind. One dared to say it, and the other dared to believe it. The child, clearly convinced, walked forward to observe her new friend.

Having lured her over to the window, Bane could have acted immediately if he wanted to. But just as he hadn't forced his way into the house, he didn't make a move now. He only watched her with a heavy, oppressive gaze. She, however, had no perception of emotions or feelings yet.

Her soul was flawed, her will dim and unclear, but for her, survival was an achievement.

This was an individual different from him—weak and powerless. Bane had survived and escaped from the hellish Peña Duro prison, but he had ruled it before he even escaped. All the criminals there had submitted to his perseverance and his martial might, not to mention the biochemical experiments he had undergone, which had further enhanced his physique and strength.

He scrutinized her, but decided in the process that he need not be so harsh. No one was him, just as no one could surpass him. He was destined to rule Gotham, defeat that so-called Dark Knight, and master everything here.

Each of them had their own path to follow, rather than repeating the path of another.

Bane pointed at her with his finger. "You have good fortune, child. You survived in the face of fate. Perhaps that is your tenacity. I wish you the same for your future."