Chapter 6

To possess complete control over a person’s destiny was nothing new to the Joker. However, unlike the others who had begged him for their lives, the child before him now craved death. They were fundamentally different, and for that reason, he possessed the patience and curiosity to keep her around, if only for his own amusement. For instance...

In any case, she was a wooden puppet at his mercy, waiting to be molded and reshaped until she became ‘his.’

He was immensely satisfied with this child. After teasing her, he suddenly realized something and said to the henchman standing behind him, "Drag her down, leave her wherever you want, and let her finish her crying. That’s alright, isn't it?" He was accustomed to using questions to increase interaction; it was usually more interesting than giving direct orders, as it provoked more complex emotions in others.

But his henchman was a bit too rigid and dull. He simply replied, "As you command, sir," and picked up the child to carry her downstairs.

The Joker shrugged, stood up with his cane, and smiled at the Joker gang members surrounding him. "A boring piece of wood has left; now it is time for the real game. Let me think—"

Just then, a henchman holding a laptop walked over and showed him a message on the screen. The Joker’s lips curled into a sneer, though he didn't seem particularly surprised. "Our dear Mr. Bat is late again, still caught up in a game on the other side. But a little friend has arrived."

"I am well aware of your incompetence, just as the play between me and the Bat is always on repeat. So, actors, it is time for you to take your places."

Following his command, the Joker gang members went to their assigned zones. As minor characters in the play, they each had their moments, needing to perform to the best of their abilities without overstepping the constraints of their roles. Sometimes, however, someone would be chosen and given a specific mission—good or bad, who could say? It was all for the sake of the performance.

The man who took the child downstairs was likely used to being around the Joker and familiar with her personality. He brought her to a hidden corner, set her down, and even covered her with some discarded material, though he did not leave immediately.

The confused child was still sobbing, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She had made no movement during the entire trip down; she blinked when her eyes felt uncomfortable and opened her mouth when her breathing was obstructed, but she was unaware that she was crying. There was no trace of sadness in her expression, only a blank, deathly stillness in her eyes.

He was tall, his face hidden behind a mask. The boss’s order had been merely to bring her down, but perhaps out of a desire to comfort the child he had just carried, he said, "You’re in for a stroke of luck tonight, kid. The Boss doesn't give his things away to others. You are his."

So, let death take her? That was impossible. The Joker hadn't yet derived the pleasure he truly wanted.

She remained in a daze, incapable of any response. As a rotting door panel was placed in the corner, she was completely shielded from view.

When the man returned, the Joker did not ask what had taken him so long. The man who had brought countless disasters to Gotham stood before the shattered floor-to-ceiling window, the wind blowing his tuxedo tails into a frenzy and warping the flower-shaped brooch on his lapel.

After a gunshot broke the silence of the night, he turned back with a look of surprise. "The game has begun? I have been waiting a long time!"

Perhaps he had been waiting a long time, but wasn't all of this part of his plan? He represented the wicked side of Gotham, stirring up chaos, while the Dark Knight who guarded the city would always come to strike him down. Together, they sustained this recurring play, bringing ‘surprises’ to the people of Gotham and offering them their own unique realizations—

New understandings of Gotham, of life, and of the self. No one fully understands themselves from the start; one must experience all sorts of things to discover who they are and to peel back the fog to see the self hidden deepest within.

He was this way, and so was Batman. Thus, beneath the outward hostility they performed, they were good friends helping one another.

See? Explained this way, the game seemed to take on a different meaning. As a writer once put it with sharp, stinging words in a tabloid:

'Gotham is nothing but a playground for so-called vigilantes and criminals. They operate the rides and bring new gimmicks—rollercoasters derailing, bungee cords snapping, carousels strangling people, and so on. Everyone knows it is murder, yet every spectator and tourist marvels at it. They love these shows more than the law or justice, and besides, this amusement park has an operating license—it isn't breaking any rules.'

The Joker wholeheartedly agreed. But the most important thing was the present moment; the moment he heard the gunshot, he knew Robin had arrived—or rather, had broken in.

The Bat and the Little Bird always possessed extraordinary abilities, and the Joker never underestimated them. Reaching behind him, his henchman placed a walkie-talkie in his hand, and the laptop was brought over as well. On the screen, a simple model of the office building was visible, along with many small red dots representing members of the Joker gang.

By tracking the movement of the red dots on the screen in sync with the gunfire, the Joker could analyze the situation. He watched as Robin broke in from the first floor, taking down half his men in a matter of minutes. Then, Robin disappeared briefly before reappearing having cleared a long hallway, knocking out the team of Joker gang members that had pursued him.

The Joker knew those were his little tricks; the acrobat boy loved those gadgets. But Batman had plenty of gear, too. The Joker had once defeated Batman and confiscated his utility belt, confirming it was a treasure chest no less impressive than a magical pocket, filled with things even he hadn't anticipated—like shark repellent.

...Was Batman forced into the sea so often by criminals that he needed it?

He recalled the battles of wits between Batman and Gotham's criminals. Even he himself had forced Batman to jump from helicopters, leap into the sea, blow up dams and sewers—causing seawater to backflow—and explode cruise ships on the ocean, leaving everyone drifting in the water. Such things happened quite often, so he concluded that shark repellent did indeed have its uses.

Putting aside such irrelevant thoughts, the Joker turned on the walkie-talkie and directed the squads to their positions. Just as Robin made another move and appeared before his men, the Joker gang member handed the walkie-talkie, set to speaker, to him. Robin looked at them vigilantly, hearing the voice that clearly belonged to the Joker over the line.

"Why have you come alone?" the Joker asked. "Is the Little Bird no longer protected by that dark, shadowy monster? Oh, look at you, so full of life. Does it remind the Bat of something, making him not want to..."

The expression on Robin’s face, hidden behind his domino mask, fell and turned fierce. He had been taught by Batman not to listen to this madman and not to let him succeed, so he simply flicked his wrist and threw a Batarang, shattering the walkie-talkie. But he was incensed.

The Joker didn't care about the slight. He redirected the guards from the second floor to the first, watching them get led in circles. Then, at a certain moment, the elusive Robin broke through the window onto his floor. It was clear he wanted to take the Joker down with his own hands as he charged straight at him, but the Joker hadn't yet played his real hand.

He pulled a remote control from inside his jacket, nearly pressing it, but a flying Batarang shattered it. The turn of events startled the Joker. "Quick! Stop him!" he cried in alarm.

The Joker gang members stationed in the office hall all opened fire at Robin’s position. A dense hail of bullets erupted from their machine guns, but he rolled and leapt with impossible agility, throwing smoke grenades as he did.

Thick smoke obscured Robin’s figure, and the pungent gas made the Joker cough. But through his coughing, he shouted, "Oh! Child, do you see those hostages I’ve tied up?"

"You aren't playing by my rules, and I’m very displeased. If you want to save them, then you should know—the remote? Perhaps it was just a little toy for show, and it’s the dangerous items themselves that pose the real threat."

The wind gusted in, dispersing the smoke. The Joker leaned on his cane with one hand and held the other over his nose and mouth, squinting at Robin, who stood alone on the opposite side, confronting them. Robin was fully prepared to react, his teeth gritted in a ferocious expression. In contrast, the Joker remained at ease.

As the smoke cleared and the air became less acrid, the Joker smiled. "Don't be like that, Robin. You know we're just 'playing around.' This is just a little game."

Robin ignored his words and asked in a low, stern voice, "Joker, tell me clearly—what's going on with your bombs? Otherwise, I can't guarantee your teeth won't be on the floor in a moment."

"Why such great hostility? I set up the game, but you and the Bat are the players, aren't you?"

Robin sneered, "Stop your sophistry. That’s not what I want to hear." As he reached behind him to draw something, the vigilant Joker gang members poured bullets in his direction without hesitation.

But, much like how minor characters in a film can never truly harm the protagonist, the bullets only grazed Robin. A moment later, he flew out through the window he had smashed upon entering. The guards on the first floor spotted him, another round of gunfire erupted, and then everything fell silent once more.

The Joker waved his hand impatiently. "Absolutely no patience like the Bat. How rude."

He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. It was almost time. He turned around to find that Batman, whom he had just been talking about, was already standing in the shadow of an interior load-bearing pillar.

Batman’s arrival was silent. When the Joker saw him, a wider smile spread across his face. "Good fellow, we were just talking about you." Many gun barrels shifted toward Batman, but the Joker gave no order to fire, so no one moved.

In fact, Batman was the ruder of the two. He stated bluntly, "The bombs." He was too stingy to waste words.

The Joker smiled and walked a few steps closer to him, answering under Batman’s scrutinizing, vigilant gaze, "Mercury tilt switch? Pressure sensor? Contact-trigger structure? Or perhaps a timer system?"

"You know, Bat, sometimes I handle so many things, and they’re so complex, I can’t even remember them myself."

He sighed theatrically. "But it’s a real pity—the anesthetic I injected into the hostages is about to wear off. Perhaps the moment they wake up will be the moment they head to hell..."

Watching Batman step out of the shadows, bringing with him an even greater sense of oppression, the Joker spread his hands helplessly. "Fine, I’m the villain and they’re the heroes, so they’ll go to heaven. Does that satisfy you?"