American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

Although the clown was bound into a caterpillar shape by the magic rope, he was still wriggling restlessly.

He tilted his head, his nose almost touching Batman's boots.

The green head suddenly stopped shaking. He stared at the runes on the rope, then looked up at the Batmobile that was still parked at the alley entrance, exuding a ghostly aura.

And the tin man next to him, radiating a high-purity, divine light, looked like a tin man who had wandered into the wrong set of a mythological movie.

"Wait... no, the taste is wrong."

The clown's maniacal laugh, which seemed to threaten to drag the whole world down with him, suddenly froze. He screamed as if he had witnessed a magic trick being revealed:

"This isn't a bat! Nor is it some kind of military scrap from Wayne Enterprises!"

He jerked himself up from the ground like a spring, his cloudy eyes fixed on the lower half of Batman's face, which wasn't covered by the mask.

The familiar outlines are still there, but that familiar tension—the tension of playing a cat-and-mouse game with only the two of us left in this world—is gone.

"Magic! Ha! I smell that damned stench of rabbits and witches!"

The clown burst into hysterical laughter, spitting everywhere.

"You're not him! You're not my little bat! Who are you? A double? A robot? Or some imposter from a parallel universe who's here to experience life?"

Jason, who had been wiping his gun, stopped and looked at Bruce.

To be honest, if he hadn't seen Bruce's young face with his own eyes, he might have thought that this overly sharp Batman had been possessed.

"The version has been updated, and the face is all messed up."

Xiu En walked over, as if disgusted by something dirty, and pinched the clown's greasy purple tuxedo collar with two fingers, lifting him into the air.

"DLC, you know? This is a magically modified version of Gotham, an exclusive experience for paying players."

Xiu En shook the clown in his hand.

"And, to correct you, this is called an official cheat."

Bruce didn't say anything.

He didn't care at all what the Joker had guessed.

All he had to do was clean up this pile of non-recyclable waste.

The sirens were already blaring at the alley entrance; it was James Gordon, who had quickly returned to his post after Bain's failure and remained dedicated to his work.

"Hang him on the roof of the police car, Jason."

Bruce didn't even glance back at the Joker, who was still yelling "refund!" and "rematch!" He simply pressed the summon button for the Batmobile.

"This isn't in today's lesson plan. Let's go, there are still seven strongholds."

Jason looked at his nemesis, whom Batman had completely ignored, and suddenly felt that the flames of revenge weren't burning so brightly anymore.

Compared to an epic showdown, this kind of disregard—that you're not even qualified to be my opponent—seems to be more likely to break this madman's defenses.

"That's a foul! Referee! I'm filing a complaint!"

Jason ruthlessly hooked the clown onto the flashing lights of a police car that was just entering the alley, making him look like a comical teru teru bozu (a Japanese doll-shaped object used to depict a clown).

He was still struggling, shouting and yelling as he watched the three figures walk away.

"This isn't fair..."

The clown muttered to himself.

But the chaotic fire in those eyes burned even brighter.

"Magic? Another world... Ha! Hahahaha! This means the game map is bigger! Even if it's fake... it'll still be fun!"

The police car's suspension system groaned, as if protesting that it had to bear a weight that could drive the city's most rational person mad.

James Gordon gripped the steering wheel tightly, the terrible thumping sound coming from above him like a lousy drummer practicing percussion on the roof of the car.

"I know you're eavesdropping, Jim!"

The clown's voice was still as clear as if it were a car radio.

Accompanied by the sound of the magic runes failing.

The figure that was originally bound into a purple caterpillar shape actually "slid" out along the rope that should have been indestructible.

In order to free his hand from that perfect knot, he apparently didn't hesitate to dislocate his thumb joint.

"See! This is easy!"

The clown kicked the loose magic rope aside like trash, then hung upside down like a bat, his pale face pressed against the driver's side window.

Gordon was so startled by the large face that he almost drove his car into the median strip.

"That big guy with the glowing neon sign has a kind of air about him that doesn't belong here."

The clown's face was distorted by the pressure against the glass, and his gold teeth were still gleaming.

"That magic...that resurrection...ha! I see! It's an illusion created to console some kind of regret, isn't it?"

Although he was smiling, his green eyes lacked the usual sparkle of discovery when he found a new toy; instead, they held a hollow, deep quality.

"No real bat would refuse my invitation. If it were the real him... he would turn around and look at me."

Even if it means hanging him up, beating him up, or throwing darts at him.

But the shadowy figure left too decisively, too much like it was to complete a mission, rather than because of this kind of relationship.

"So, that really... hiccup... that little bat is actually dead?"

The clown ripped his face off the glass, leaving a noticeable drool stain.

He struggled to his feet on the roof of the speeding police car, his purple tuxedo the only bright spot in the gloomy, rainy day.

The sea breeze made his sparse green hair dance wildly like weeds.

"How boring hell must be without me."

His voice betrayed a genuine sense of grievance, as if he were complaining that the vending machine had swallowed his coins.

"That guy who only has black and white clothes, without me, wouldn't even know how to make those tortures a little more interesting."

Gordon seemed to realize something and slammed on the brakes while driving at high speed.

"Wait! If you dare..."

"Don't be so serious, Sheriff."

The clown adjusted his purple bow tie.

He gave an elegant bow to the empty, overcast sky, his face still beaming with that wide smile that stretched to his ears.

But the corner of her eye seems...?

Perhaps it's because the wind is too strong and it's a bit damp.

"I'm going to prevent him from feeling lonely. I think that reason should get through customs."

When the police car came to a stop across the Gotham Bridge with a screeching sound as the rubber tires screeched against the pavement, there was no one on the roof.

Only a purple afterimage passed over the railing.

"Wait for me in hell! No early starts allowed!"

The shrill laughter lasted only two seconds before it plunged into the turbulent black sea, before being completely swallowed by a tiny wave.

James Gordon, trembling, pushed open the car door and rushed to the railing.

Only the cold seawater continued to relentlessly pound against the bridge piers.

The madman who had plagued the city for decades and created countless nightmares jumped into the sea like a child who had missed the school bus.

Gordon looked at the sea.

"madman……"

The old director took off his glasses and wearily rubbed his temples.