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

"Isn't that right?"

"Of course not, darling, I don't love you."

"...I don't love you either." Lucian said in a formal and sincere tone: "Please don't slander my innocence."

"No, no, no." The clown just laughed: "That's not the case."

"I don't love you simply because I don't want to override your thoughts in the name of love and then tell you what to do."

"I don't want to plan your life or restrict your thinking in the name of love for you."

The clown showed a happy expression:

"I just want to tell you the right way to think, not to influence your concept of good and evil."

"I'm looking forward to a kind person being born in Gotham, just like I'm looking forward to this city becoming a better place."

Lucien looked at him and suddenly said, "Are you trying to whitewash yourself?"

Ordinary people would probably reject this statement, but interesting people might make a joke about it.

But the Joker is different, he admitted:

"If I don't want to be clean, why would I say so much to you?"

"But if you really want to clear your name, why would you say that?" Lucian was incredulous.

The Joker, possessing Lucian's memories, has broken the fourth wall.

Or maybe the Joker has already broken the fourth wall. Of course, the same is true for Batman. They have both broken the fourth wall, recognized their own existence, and recognized this world.

But the two sober people were willing to sink into the city of Gotham.

Lucian thought about this and said, "I don't think it should be called the Joker Virus. It should be called the Gotham Virus."

"And it's the Gotham virus that everyone here gets...you and Batman are especially affected."

"You don't understand, you pastless bastard, this is what home tastes like!"

"Damn the taste of home." Lucian didn't understand and didn't intend to respect it.

Chapter 22 The taste of hometown

Traffic was blocked, the economy was isolated, business was down, and even the internet was inaccessible because the signal towers had been bombed.

A closed environment, spectators looking down on you, bets that have nothing to do with the people involved... What does this look like?

Colosseum.

"Hello, this is Julie."

"Hello, Julie, this is Sean Santiago."

Julie was stunned for a moment: "Boss, what's going on?"

Their factory generally does not call employees after get off work hours.

"Julie, you've been laid off. You don't need to come to work anymore. Please take some time to go to your workstation and pack up your personal belongings."

The steward's voice was cold.

The current situation in Gotham is that non-essential entertainment factories are laying off employees.

A cold wind blew in through the window. Julie hesitated, still wanting to fight for it, but the steward seemed to have foreseen it and continued:

"It's not just you. I've been laid off too. Notifying you is my last job."

Julie said nothing more.

After hanging up the phone, I followed the wind to the window and looked into the distance. The low gray-black buildings were silent, and the clouds were still the same, but there was a wide light at the junction of the two, and the Gothic style that reached into the sky in the distance filled the gap.

No matter how much Julie stood on tiptoe, she couldn't see the scenery in the distance.

The puppy, who could only whimper, noticed her bad mood and came out from the corner, rubbing against her trouser leg.

His eyes moved down to the balcony, where some supplies were piled up. They were dropped by drones a few days ago.

"Wayne is the only good guy." Julie looked at the "W" pattern on the package.

Bruce Wayne is called the Pearl of Gotham perhaps not just because of his appearance and money. Although he is recognized as a fool, he is the kindest among those blood-sucking thieves and the most conscientious among the people of Gotham.

but……

"How can he be Batman?"

This is like a goddess who thinks she is noble and untainted by the dust, but in fact she has already fallen into the dust and become a prostitute.

Pig-billed bats shuttled through the gray and black buildings, like ashes drifting from the sky.

"The rich are always rich, the poor are always poor... Even the richest people are willing to play mad to save the poor..."

The cheap diamonds on Julie's phone case gleamed with a hollow, artificial gleam.

"Boom boom boom——"

There was a knock on the door, and before she could answer, a high-pitched female voice came:

"Julie! We've already raised money to pay for the sanitation costs, and I won't ask you for any compensation for emotional distress."

"Just give us your share of the supplies, okay?"

This is a male voice.

There was also noisy footsteps and discussions.

Julie's neighbors gathered at her door.

"I saw you were home! Open the door!"

"Julie, you're sorry to everyone... It's Jamie's fault for dying in the water tank."

"If you don't open it, we'll kick it out. There's nowhere to fix the door right now, so don't blame us when the time comes."

Julie bent down, picked up the whimpering German Shepherd, and walked over.

The quality of the door is not very good, even the joints of the anti-theft iron door are rusty.

She opened the door.

"Bah! Know what's good for you!" The first person to rush in was the one who was taking drugs in the group. He spat fiercely at the silent Julie, and then rushed to the balcony.

——For convenience, the drone is dropped onto everyone’s balcony.

But after a while, his cursing voice was heard again: "Just two painkillers? Damn, damn Wayne!"

In today's Gotham, the profit margin of basic supplies is much larger than that of ordinary drugs, so the sale of drugs has decreased... Not to mention that drugs now either sell for thousands of dollars per gram, or must be exchanged for supplies.

This is very unfriendly to the drug addicts in the slums, but fortunately they found that the painkillers in the supplies released by Wayne were also addictive.

It is much more cost-effective to make painkillers than to exchange supplies for poison.

But this doesn't mean that poisonous insects turn a blind eye to basic supplies.

He cursed and stuffed compressed biscuits, drinking water, and vitamin C into his arms...

"Burns! Didn't you just ask for a painkiller? Let me go!" The other man suddenly jumped up and kicked him again: "Don't force me to beat you up."

Burns then looked up and saw the crowd glaring at him. He muttered a few words, grabbed his bulging pockets, and retreated. When he passed by Julie, he spat fiercely at her feet.

The German Shepherd bared its teeth at him, earning him the insult of "little beast", while Julie lowered her head, half-hugging the German Shepherd, without any reaction to the outside situation.

After a long time, there were messy footsteps again, mixed with a few words of dissatisfaction with the assignment.

The crowd left in a mighty procession.

The windows were still open, and the door from the balcony to the living room was also open. The wind was howling from both sides, and the broken Wayne logo was blown everywhere.

The black wrapping paper looks like a pig-mouthed bat and also like ashes after burning.

Julie let go of the German Shepherd's hand, walked stiffly to the door, and wanted to close it. After trying several times, she found that it was still broken.

She had no choice but to half-close it and then find a low cabinet to block it.

While she was doing this, the German Shepherd followed closely, its bright black eyes wet, looking both pitiful and cute.

Julie opened her mouth to say something, but she didn't know what to say, so she remained silent.

I walked to the balcony again and found that the piles of German Shepherd dog food had been taken away by someone, leaving only some plastic bags and pieces of paper.

Julie watched but had no desire to clean up. She stepped back, closed the balcony door, and then locked it.

It's already dark, it's six o'clock in the evening.

She watched the moving hands and followed them into the kitchen.

The kitchen was intact and there were some ingredients in it that could last for about a week.

Julie sprinkled oil on the pot, turned on the gas stove and range hood, then opened the cupboard and took out an egg, but looking at the German Shepherd standing quietly at the kitchen door, she took out another egg.

The dog food is gone and they need to eat something.

The range hood was buzzing, the egg was cracked on the edge of the pot, and then broken into pieces, emitting a fragrant aroma with a sizzling sound.

Julie's attention was drawn to a small piece of eggshell that had accidentally fallen into the pot.

She looked at the protruding white shell and took out a shovel from the side to shovel it away, but failed several times. She then used a knife and fork, but also failed.

In fact, the white shell did not fall on the egg, but on the edge of the pot. Most people would usually wait until they finish cooking and then brush the pot off.

But Julie was obsessed with taking it out.

One failure, two failures...

Six failures...

Finally succeeded.

Julie looked at her burned fingertips and smiled.

But at the same time, the fried eggs gave off a burnt smell.

……

People are patient, but emotions just accumulate, which does not mean they disappear. When it reaches a critical point, even if the food is just burnt, emotions will explode.