Chapter 5

Upper West Side, subway station.

Dozens of police officers rushed to the scene to control the crowd, who had fallen into chaos due to the toxic gas. Batman had already located the time bomb; in his comms, Alfred was providing him with routes and obstacles.

Using the surveillance footage Alfred retrieved, they saw the subway train in motion being forced to a halt by an explosion. The passengers were panicked and in disarray. Then, some passengers pulled Joker masks and firearms from their luggage. They drove the rest of the passengers, along with the driver and conductors, off the train and into the subway tunnels.

Before leaving, the Jokerized thugs even waved the bomb in front of the surveillance camera before shooting it out.

Batman was certain he had seen the faces captured at the station and inside the train carriage. They were indeed members of the Joker’s gang—not mere foot soldiers, but the intelligent, obedient ones who worked closely by the Joker’s side.

The subway incident and the kidnapping were both orchestrated by the Joker. The situation here was complex, and he had a premonition that if the Joker wasn't here, the situation on the other side would be even worse.

He sprinted through the concrete tunnel and fired his grapple gun, swinging forward while patching into Robin’s channel. "Robin, report your situation."

On the streets of the Upper East Side, the near-adult Robin moved with agility and ferocity. He had formulated a plan the moment he encountered the group in Joker masks. He carried plenty of gear; his grapple gun was his most used tool, and his mastery of aerial acrobatics dated back to his childhood. The ropes allowed him to traverse the buildings flanking the path of the mob, hidden by the night.

From his vantage point, he could clearly distinguish the true Joker gang members in the crowd. Most importantly, they carried guns and possessed a demeanor different from the opportunists who had joined in to cause chaos and vent their malice. They stood at key positions, intentionally driving the crowd to roam the streets, turning a blind eye while the hangers-on smashed storefronts to loot, destroyed vending machines and kiosks, or started fires in the middle of the street.

They brought destruction and chaos. Robin dropped a few listening devices from above and heard too many malicious, vile words. People who were clearly not part of the Joker’s gang were huddled together, discussing where to go and who to "teach a lesson." What drove them was nothing more than jealousy, resentment, and dissatisfaction—trivial negative emotions, not deep-seated hatred.

Robin saw several of them break away from the group and relayed this information to James Gordon over the comms. The officers sent to assist him were already prepared. Since those individuals weren't carrying dangerous weapons, two officers equipped with tranquilizer guns were dispatched to intercept them.

Robin did not act rashly. Alfred was also assisting him, recording the routes of the Joker gang members from above. Combined with the surveillance footage found in the Batcave, they confirmed that the mob was operating around a central point.

It was clear their brazen march through the streets was meant to draw the attention of the police and vigilantes, tying up their energy so they couldn't reach the hostages kidnapped by the Joker in time.

It was a transparent conspiracy, but a highly effective one. They could not be allowed to continue tearing the city apart.

The group wearing Joker masks numbered about sixty or seventy, while the police and vigilante forces were limited. After all, the pressure from the Upper West Side subway attack was greater. But Robin felt no fear. He descended from the sky. The reason he chose this moment to act was, of course, because Alfred had verified the Joker’s location.

His movements were swift, but his Batarangs were faster. In a dense crowd of civilians, his Batarangs were equipped with chemical agents that released anesthetic gas upon contact.

He used this method to take out the true Joker gang members first. However, because the crowd was shifting, a few Batarangs missed their targets, and Robin landed almost simultaneously.

The thugs reacted quickly, raising their guns. They showed no solidarity with the others wearing Joker masks, firing indiscriminately—a classic vice of the Joker’s gang. When they couldn't pinpoint the enemy, they resorted to friendly fire, though they subconsciously avoided their own armed gang members out of fear of being hit themselves.

This provided Robin with an opportunity. He knocked out a few men, found a gap to slip into the center of their formation, and threw Batarangs at the panicked, mask-wearing crowd further away. As for the few actual Joker gang members, he wore a relaxed smile, swinging his rope to lasso their arms.

He cleared the mob from the inside out. A few blocks away, police cars sat quietly; the officers were waiting like hunters. Whenever someone fled their way, they were immediately tranquilized.

Even though the enemy outnumbered the police and vigilante combined, once the scene descended into chaos and the Joker gang members were no longer there to provide "courage," the mob scattered like headless flies. With nowhere to run and officers waiting at every turn, soon the ground was littered with unconscious bodies.

A tall, thin officer stepped on a Joker mask, grinding it into the pavement with his heel. "What a bunch of scumbags," he muttered with disgust. He didn't notice someone hiding behind a street corner, rushing toward him with a wooden club. He only had time to raise his arm to block when he saw it.

A gun barrel extended from a car window, dropping the man. The club hit the officer's foot, making him gasp in pain. The officer in the car poked his head out. "Who said it wasn't? But if it weren't for me, you'd be in trouble."

"Ha, beaten by a scumbag." They laughed and traded barbs.

The threat from this group was neutralized, but the officers had to remain on-site to prevent further incidents. Robin was the only one left to find the Joker. He stepped back into the shadows, but at that moment, he received a transmission from Batman.

"Robin, report your situation," the voice came through.

Robin moved his neck, dissatisfied with the interrogative tone, but reported earnestly: "I’ve taken care of a group of Joker gang members and garbage, and Alfred has found the Joker’s location."

"You haven't left yet? Stay there..." until I arrive.

Robin sneered and interrupted him. "Don't worry, B. The situation is urgent, and we don't know the state of the hostages. I have to get there now." He cut the connection.

He leaped between skyscrapers. In the channel, Alfred started to say something, but Robin whispered, "I know what he wants to say. Maybe I shouldn't have said that, but..." He rarely stopped smiling, or rather, he hadn't smiled much since that incident, except when facing truly ridiculous enemies.

"I can't accept that ending, you know, Alfred. Am I angry at B? Or am I dissatisfied with myself?" How was he supposed to accept the fact that Batgirl had been mutilated by the Joker to the point where she could never stand again?

Barbara had only suffered that fate because she was Batman's assistant. But why? Why did the Joker never have to face any real punishment? He was just locked back in Arkham Asylum, and then, like before—

Like before, he would break out of Arkham and continue to commit unforgivable crimes. But his ultimate destination was never justice or death. Only Barbara—that brilliant, proud Batgirl—was left paralyzed, paying the price for her career in crime-fighting. And there was the psychological trauma her father, James Gordon, had to endure. It wasn't fair.

He was powerless to change it because he understood. He understood the reason for Batman’s bottom line, understood the divide between the vigilante identity and official law enforcement, and understood Barbara’s choice. She would hate herself for not being able to stand, yet she would never regret what she had done. He also saw that no matter how much pain Gordon suffered, he still held fast to justice.

On the other end, Alfred seemed to sigh.

Robin landed on a platform outside a high-rise. He promised, "I'll be careful, but that won't stop me from finishing this before Batman arrives—and giving that scum a few hard punches."

Alfred said, "I wish you success."

...

Inside the abandoned office building, the Joker scrutinized her.

The child before him had a pair of pure green eyes, empty of everything. But because she longed for death, she "saw" the Joker. She was broken, but she was directly linked to death, as if with his permission, she could have her wish.

—This was her interpretation.

To him, it was utterly ridiculous and full of fallacies. In fact, her making this choice didn't surprise the Joker, but such a simple, shallow thought was something he hadn't anticipated.

The Joker narrowed his eyes. In any case, this result was satisfying and surprising enough. A wider grin spread across his face as he stroked her cheek with his leather-gloved hand.

She looked so pitiful. Dressed so thinly, she must be freezing, right? Her short, curly black hair was windswept and messy, and she had a slight fever, but she only cared about death, and she only saw him.

She thought she would be granted her wish. Within that tiny smile lay all the beautiful, perhaps even happy, longings.

Would he ever bring her something happy, something that granted her wishes?

The Joker, of course, would never do such a thing. He raised his revolver, pressed the muzzle against the child's forehead, and watched her soul, attracted by death, rise. But when he pulled the trigger—

Only a flag with a Joker face popped out, hitting her hard in the forehead. It shattered her entire world in an instant, causing her soul to return to a dead silence. She couldn't stand steady and collapsed to the floor, dazed, tears of pain streaming down her face in strings.

The Joker didn't stop there. He pulled the trigger a second time, aiming at the unconscious hostages tied to the ground. This time, a bullet fired, striking one of them in the thigh, and blood began to flow.

The child, who hadn't received the death she longed for, only trembled belatedly when she saw the blood flowing. The pain rushed back, and her remaining consciousness became even more chaotic.

Her reaction amused the Joker. He poked her flushed forehead with his cane and said in an exaggerated tone, "Oh! Child, I'm not your Santa Claus. If you make a wish to me, I'll only bring you..."

"Everything you don't want."

He sat crookedly in his chair, yet he controlled everything about her. This was the truth, and it was exactly what he wanted to instill in her: regardless of life or death, regardless of anything, only the Joker could give her anything.