Laughing American comics, I am becoming more and more like a clown

"In this age where corpses can rise from their graves no matter how many years have passed (Black Lantern Ring), your fanatics certainly have a chance to rise from their graves and serve you again, but alas." Lucian winked playfully.

"As soon as I gave you the blood transfusion, I dragged him to the crematorium and burned him."

At least in Lucian's world, there is no such thing as resurrection.

Paul seemed to be gritting his teeth, his cheeks trembling, and his gray-blue eyes stared at him closely: "You killed him?"

"Of course not... This isn't some clichéd movie about a body double." Lucian waved his hand, setting the urn aside. "This involves rules, a fate no one wants to face, yet everyone ultimately faces. It also touches upon multiple dimensions and the self-identity crisis of many people."

He seemed to be sincerely trying to explain something, but looking into Paul's gray-blue eyes, he felt bored. "What am I telling you? An armless person cannot understand the world of people with arms. Anyway... I didn't kill him, not in any sense of the word."

"Why do you have to explain so much?" Paul questioned.

"Oh... God, you actually tried to apply the language habits and psychological characteristics of ordinary people to me... to the clown. You are really..."

The green eyes seemed to mock:

"...Great," he whispered.

"You're so smart, babe."

"But I must correct myself. I am not the murderer... I am just an accomplice, an accomplice who can choose the murderer and the victim."

"The original clown was a red claw spider, and I am his offspring. I was inevitably going to devour him when I was born... Of course, it's also like a cichlid fish. I am an egg held in its throat for protection, and occasionally, it will eat me... Or perhaps there's another metaphor: I am a female mantis, destined to eat the male after mating..."

"The relationship between us is too complicated. Do you understand? This is the Ouroboros. In the absence of food, we rely on autophagy to maintain our existence..."

……

Lucien's words were abstract and vague... It wasn't intentional. He couldn't describe the clown in a concrete, logical way that everyone could understand.

The increased difficulty of understanding will not only reduce the number of people who are patient enough to listen, but will also reduce the desire of the storyteller.

So he looked into the gray-blue eyes, drew out an "oh", and became bored and impatient: "You are such a useless piece of trash, Paul."

"No matter in which aspect, you are not as good as Bruce. You will never be Batman, let alone a so-called saint..."

"Both for Gotham and for the Joker."

Paul wanted to be angry... His face, pale from blood loss, had turned a little red: "If you rescued me just to humiliate me... then just kill me."

Lucian looked at him for a moment and snorted, "Hypocrisy... Paul, you want to live."

Before Paul could say anything, he sighed, "I can see that. Don't make excuses... I used to be such a hypocrite, even more hypocritical than you."

"Well, since we're both so hypocritical, I'll give you one last chance... a chance to pique my interest."

He stepped forward and twisted Paul's head, forcing him to look at the urn. "Regarding that dead clown, your followers now have two choices... Guess which one is true."

"Option A, his epitaph: Eternity is but a moment, just long enough for a joke."

"Option B, his last words: Little bunny, be good and open the door..."

"...Guess which one came from his mouth. If you guess wrong, I'll burn you to ashes and then mix your ashes thoroughly, consummating your romantic life together, a blind man and a traitor." He said, "Pah."

"It makes me sick."

Chapter 130 Second Generation

Paul tried to free his head from his grasp but failed. He tried to look away but unconsciously looked back at the jar.

He remained silent and did not answer, but as time passed, the hand pressing on his head moved to his neck... and gradually became heavier.

The trachea is compressed, oxygen is reduced, the face turns red, and veins bulge.

"B..."

Finally said with difficulty.

……

Lucian's multiple-choice question is not difficult, no matter who he is, no matter whether his understanding of the Joker is in-depth or only superficial.

You can guess which one is correct.

……

"Okay, B..." Lucian let go of his hand, stood up, and looked down at Paul's rapid breathing:

"What did I say... hypocrisy."

Paul looked at him, snorted mockingly, and continued, "...a thief, a villain who takes advantage of others and kicks them when they are down... a pretentious saboteur! A robber! A bandit! Vicious, hypocritical, and despicable! A bastard!!"

After the hoarseness came exhaustion, he gasped for breath.

Lucian listened, his eyes blinking slowly, like a frog's nictitating membrane:

"You are right, I am a thief, a robber, a gangster, a villain; vile, vicious, hypocritical; taking advantage of others, without any achievements, and with a frivolous attitude."

"I've never denied this, Paul." Lucian smiled at his embarrassment. "But this is what's happening now. Look, I didn't do anything, didn't take any risks, didn't make any efforts... but even if it's 0-0-0, I'm still the winner."

"I'm standing here, and you're lying here."

"You can only allow yourself to be teased and humiliated by me... That's it, the plot has developed here, you have fallen into my hands, and I have you without any effort."

Lucian wasn't proud of it, but he wasn't ashamed either... He spoke calmly, completely unlike his previous frenzy: "This doesn't make sense, does it?"

Paul looked up at him, suspecting that he was too angry to be hallucinating... He saw sadness in those green eyes.

"But it makes sense." Lucian continued, "Just like... I've lost interest in you now."

The core of the old clown's question is not about right or wrong, but choice... No matter what answer Paul chooses for what reason, it only shows an attitude.

His soul was defeated.

He even lost the resolve to confront a not-quite-clown.

He became cowardly and boring...or maybe he was already so cowardly and boring.

----

Tone likes to sit in a semi-public place, which makes it easier for others to find him.

"Little Bain."

The cane thudded to the ground, and Oswald came over:

"You look like you've been heartbroken."

Toni looked up at him and asked, "What's the matter?"

"I've brought some new cooperation with the new government." Oswald looked around and landed on the brand new coffee machine next to him. "This place looks really nice."

He sat down opposite her and handed her the document. “…You know, the old plan doesn’t apply to this situation.”

Tone didn't really want to talk about it, but she kept it open.

"I have the Uruguayan way—drugs."

(Drugs are legal in Uruguay and can be grown privately)

Traffic is blocked, self-sufficiency always leads to giving up some desires due to food problems, coupled with Paul's suppression... Gotham's drug industry is terribly sluggish.

"Some gourmets are also taking action. We must cooperate as soon as possible to seize the largest market...what's more." Oswald showed an ambiguous smile and wanted to say more, but was interrupted.

"No problem." Tone returned the document: "But you shouldn't have told me...I'm not the leader of the resistance. You should go find Batman or Damian."

"At least to me, you are the leader, Toni." Oswald said as if to tempt: "It has always been you..."

Tone understood what he meant. The so-called cooperation was just an excuse. He wanted to help himself regain the leadership position of the resistance army.

"You are not the first one to come to me." He explained helplessly:

"This is what we agreed upon. The Assassin's League will help me with my revenge, and when it's over, I'll resign as leader and hand over my position to them."

"It's not over, is it?" Oswald continued to fight: "Paul is still alive, Tony, revenge is not complete, it's too early to quit now."

……

Is it early?

From Tone's perspective, it's indeed a bit early.

But from the perspective of the Assassin's League, it's just right.

……

"That's not something I can decide." Tone looked through the glass at the orderly black-clad assassins outside.

"I understand... Besides, the only ones left are Joker and Paul. One is old, and the other is disabled. They're not difficult to deal with. I can handle them."

……

Tone withdrew from the resistance army, which should now be called the government army, and dressed in ordinary clothes, like Lucian, and suddenly left one day without any warning... No one noticed.

“These second-generation…”

Oswald, who had received the news, was looking through the accounts of the past few days. He sighed with some emotion and a bit of disdain: "One is worse than the other."

Oswald once had an heir - the Emperor Penguin, who betrayed him.

"Batman's second generation - Paul, Joker's second generation - Lucian, Bane's second generation - Tone... How come none of them have even a little bit of the grace of the first generation?"

"...Twenty-eight years."

"The era is over."

……

And what does Gotham look like now that the era has ended?

The church became a society, the believers became members, and the God that Paul alone became became a paradise for the Assassin's League, an organization.

Lucian's summary of the rebels at the time was correct -

"They were united by their own interests, using grand slogans to guide the ignorant. This was created to replace the holy bat."

----

Lucian had two agreements in this world, the first one was with Lillian:

"What can you offer to the Resistance?"

"One life."

He couldn't tell whether this was a fulfillment or a break of promise, but no one pursued the matter.