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

He is a subordinate of the Saint Bat and acts as a scavenger.

The Torchbearer's voice came out dully: "Clown?"

"Now is not the time to ask about my identity." The gun did not move away. "Why don't we curse Jean-Paul together for the sake of this gun?"

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't want to know anything. I just want to hear you scold that thief."

It's something a clown would do.

Gas flowed through the black ducts on the Torchbearer's mask, but was pinched before it curved to the box on his back.

"The venom is so scarce...it's so scarce that it exists only as a gas...you can see how stingy he is."

As these words were spoken, the pipe was torn apart, fresh air rushed into the hood, and the Torchbearer fell silent.

"Hurry up, curse at me." The clown obviously couldn't wait any longer and reached out to knock on the hood, making a loud bang.

The shock-absorbing material made the Torchbearer feel less uncomfortable, but he also knew that the Joker's patience was limited, and it was only out of loyalty that he remained silent...or perhaps it was just because his twenty-eight years of ruling Gotham had made him arrogant.

"Tsk." The clown could only say regretfully: "You disappoint me so much."

Then "bang——"

The helmet fragments exploded along with blood and the smell of burnt flesh.

"It's a pity that you're surrounded by a fake who doesn't take you seriously, otherwise I would be happy to torture you."

The gunshots are very loud... There's nothing you can do about it, even a high-powered gun with a silencer will still be loud.

There were noisy footsteps outside, followed by the door being pushed open.

"... Let's clean up. First blood delivered by a certain undercover agent."

The Joker put the gun back in his arms and grabbed one of them: "Where is Corbett?"

"Before, uh, in front."

"Don't be so scared... Any cigarettes?"

So he held a cigarette in his mouth and walked out, the strong smell of nicotine filling his lungs, but when he reached the door, he looked back at the splattered blood, shrugged, and said to someone unknown:

"He started it first, it was self-defense~"

……

I don't know why, and I don't know who started it, but the DC world, especially the Gotham heroes, have a kind of cleanliness obsession with not killing people... and it's a compulsive behavior of not killing people themselves and not letting others kill people. This behavior is especially obvious in fan fiction.

Will the world explode if we kill people?

...This stereotype will also lead to another result - if the protagonist changes from not killing people to killing people, the audience will assume that he has become evil.

But has Lucian turned evil? Has he become the Joker?

He took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew out a leisurely puff of smoke: "Whatever...you can shout whatever you want."

"Just be a clown."

……

He is transparent and stubborn oil, and he doesn't care about his own existence, so he coexists peacefully with water.

……

Oswald was sitting alone in the room... smoking too, but unlike the Joker, who was so tasteless and didn't care about the quality of the cigarettes, he only smoked high-end cigars.

"...I remember that you didn't smoke cigars to have an addiction or to vent." Lucian flicked the ash on the ground without any moral integrity, and there was a hint of hostility in his words: "Does this make you look more... pretentious?"

Oswald regained the slickness he had shown many years ago when facing a group of lunatics, and even became more good-tempered as he grew older. He only uttered a series of meaningless nasal sounds.

Lucian sat down diagonally opposite him - there was a large round table - then leaned back in his chair, put his feet on the table without any psychological burden, and stretched them out.

"I really miss your rare uncivilized behavior." Oswald just sneered, without any harm.

"That's because I just killed a guy... I just wanted to share the brains stuck to the bottom of my shoe with you."

"Oh? Who?" Oswald didn't look... What's the point of looking? He couldn't tell which unfortunate person's brain it was based on its cookedness or color.

"The Torchbearer... broke into my room and tried to kill me." Lucian lamented, "I didn't mean to kill him. I swear I'll let him go if he says a few bad words about the Angel of Death."

"But you know, he won't tell." Oswald obviously understood.

"Yeah... Of course I knew he wouldn't tell me." Lucian sighed, "He's really arrogant... Why does he think he won't die?"

"If I told you to lick my shoes or I'd kill you, would you do it?" He then remembered Oswald doing the same thing in the TV series "Gotham" and shook his head in boredom: "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked such a presumptuous question."

But Oswald still didn't react, and his temper was still good... Maybe it was just because the person in front of him was an old friend who had rarely survived, and such words even made him recall the past.

The smell of low-quality and mellow tobacco intertwined and blended with each other, and the smoke curled up, and everyone was immersed in their own world.

At the end of his cigar, Oswald stubbed it out in the ashtray and continued, "Do you suspect a traitor?"

The Torchbearer sneaks into the room to kill the Joker, and it seems like there's a traitor.

"That's what I mean." Lucien was smoking his third cigarette.

Iron lung. Oswald thought to himself, "Who's the suspect?"

"No."

"Do not believe."

"Well, I doubt you, little penguin," Lucien said.

"Oh? Then I'm really scared."

……

Lucian lit his fourth cigarette. "You can guess who it belongs to. There are only a few people here."

Of course Oswald could guess...the two of them, Catwoman, Lillian, and the person he had negotiated with in the first place.

"I even forgot the name." He complained a little: "Do you want to do it?"

"Guess why I'm here with you now?"

If Lucien wanted to do something, he could have done it himself.

"I'll do it. What else?" Oswald said nothing more.

Chapter 114 "Paralysis"

"It's nothing important." Lucian fell silent. Oswald half-nod his eyes and did not urge him.

Until the sixth cigarette.

"Am I a clown?" he suddenly asked.

do not you?

Oswald couldn't say such an unemotional thing. He understood what he meant and said, "At least I think you are."

Lucien didn't ask why until the cigarette was half burned. "What's the difference between him and me?"

"If you are asking this question as the heir, I can tell you that you are no more merciful than him, please rest assured." Oswald knew that Lucien was not the original clown, but he did not think it was a problem.

"Not the heir," Lucien said. "I am his replacement."

"Replacement?" Oswald looked at him. "At least you can beat him at smoking."

"It's not victory, Cobert," Lucian repeated. "It's replacement."

"Is it acting?"

“It’s a replacement.”

Oswald frowned, not understanding what he meant.

Then there was silence again.

The seventh cigarette, the eighth cigarette... the whole pack was smoked clean. Lucien threw away the last cigarette butt and waved at him: "Let me taste your precious goods."

"What a waste." But Oswald gave it to him anyway, and not only that, he also helped cut it open.

"Thank you. I declare that you are my best smoking partner." Lucien took it and endured the milder stimulation. Although he didn't drink any alcohol, he felt drunk.

"That's really flattering. I'm so honored." Oswald sighed and the air fell silent again.

Until he snorted twice: "I thought you were going to talk about Batman...your predecessors love to talk about this."

"Batman... I would have forgotten if you hadn't told me." Lucian blew out a smoke ring and asked, "What plan did you discuss with Catwoman?"

What distinguishes him from the traditional Joker is his indifference to Batman.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"It's a clichéd idea... lure away the Angel of Death and have Tone enter Wayne Tower to rescue him." Oswald put down the scissors and pushed the entire box in front of Lucian.

"There's no need to worry about Toni's strength... His father is Bane, and his genes have mutated... He can actively possess superhuman physical qualities without relying on the serum."

Lucian continued to shake the ashes onto the ground. "Is this the new century of living off your parents?"

"This is genetics..." Oswald sighed, "The great xy."

"Honestly, if it wasn't so difficult for me to have children, I'd really like to study his genes." He fantasized, "If I had a Bane as a son..."

……

They had nothing to talk about. Lucien was smoking continuously, and Oswald was daydreaming as if no one was around.

If he had a Bane as a son…Oswald couldn't even imagine how happy he would be.

……

The air was silent but the atmosphere was relaxed. Both sides were not very alert. In the end, Oswald even fell into a light sleep with his eyes half closed.

Until I was awakened by the smoke.

"Ahem..." He looked at the air in surprise, even forming a Tyndall effect, confused: "I remember cigar smoke wasn't that big."

"Sorry, I'm done smoking these. Now they're damp and low-quality cigarettes."

There were cigarette butts all over the floor at Lucien's feet, so many that Oswald's eyelids twitched. "You've been smoking until now? Won't you die suddenly?"

"……Won't."