Smile (Part 2)

He saw the torn-up paper balls scattered at Alberto’s feet. They were no different from the ticket in his hand—just scraps of random news reports and blank paper.

When had he truly started believing this thing was a ticket? Believing there would really be clues on it?

Was it when Schiller insisted that he drive the Batmobile to the TV station mailbox to buy tickets? When they actually went to the theater entrance to have their tickets checked? Or when both Schiller and Alberto looked at him with utter certainty and recited clue after clue?

Batman suddenly understood that none of those were the most important reason. The root cause was his Pride.

He had always believed that everyone else was drunk while he alone remained sober. He thought the madman on the stage was no different from the rabble on the streets. He disdained trying to understand him, disdained getting involved, and so he had never truly participated from beginning to end.

And so he had been played.

There had never been any clues from the beginning. This was merely a group of lunatics executing a pack of fools.

"Do you know what this means?" Schiller stood up, bracing his hands against the seat in front of him as he asked Batman.

"It means the previous joke was genuinely funny."

Schiller turned and took the popcorn bucket from Alberto’s hands. He grabbed the paper balls inside and tossed them into the air. "See that? This is ‘money.’"

"…This is what they pursue. Isn’t it funny?"

Joker stared directly at Batman. Suddenly, he lowered his head, letting his green hair cover his eyes. "Do you really not want to laugh at all?"

"Enough." Batman leaped to the front of the stage.

"This farce should be over." His voice was edged with irritation.

"Before coming here, I pulled up all the historical records of Gotham Grand Theater, including its construction blueprints."

"And in the past few minutes, I finished reading all of them."

As he spoke, Batman turned his gaze toward the center of the stage. "The theater was built by former European aristocrats. To keep the actors’ footsteps from being too loud and affecting the performance, they did not use the hollow wooden stage common in United States opera houses. Instead, they built a solid stage from a single mass of rock. Your footsteps earlier proved that as well."

"From the time you issued the announcement until now, unless you used explosives, you would not have had enough time to dig a hollow into a stage like this and hide bombs inside."

Joker stared at Batman. Then, suddenly, he snapped, "How do you still not understand? This isn’t a detective drama! You idiot!"

"Forget it. You’ll understand. You will…"

He twisted his neck, then his waist, before tearing off his tie and undoing the buttons of his suit jacket. His body was covered in bombs. As he unbuttoned his jacket, he said, "I told them I should’ve bought one size bigger. This is really a little tight."

"Oh, look, you were right! Great Detective Batman! The bombs are right here!"

"Look, there are so many of them!" Joker tucked his chin back and looked down, trying hard to see the bombs hanging from his waist.

"I’m about to detonate them! I’ll blow you and all these idiots on the stage straight to heaven!"

Joker threw away the triangle, pulled a handgun from his waist, and pointed it at Batman. "And don’t even think about stopping me!"

Batman stood opposite him without the slightest hesitation. Before Joker could make another dangerous move, several Batarangs sliced through the air above the stage, cutting the hemp ropes suspending the people. They all fell to the ground, crying out in pain from the impact.

Joker’s attention was drawn by the sudden shrill screams. In that instant, Batman rushed forward. He first kicked Joker’s arm joint apart, sending the handgun flying, then punched him in the face. He immediately locked an arm around Joker’s neck, dragged him backward to the ground, and dislocated his other arm.

Joker screamed as he fell. Batman crouched down, intending to remove the bombs from him first. The instant he lowered his eyes to meet Joker’s gaze, he saw a triumphant smile spread across his face.

A scream suddenly rang out from the center of the stage. The fat Haru clutched his throat and collapsed, a small iron rod used to strike the triangle embedded in his neck.

Another burly man had attacked him. He seized Haru by the throat and pulled out the iron rod. Blood splattered in an instant. Haru clutched his neck and fell lifelessly to the floor. The man said, "You low-class nouveau riche! You dared humiliate us, I—"

Before he could finish, bang! Cherie held a gun in trembling hands and shouted viciously, "I’ve had enough of you! If you hadn’t insisted on throwing that party, would we have made such fools of ourselves?!"

Two people died in an instant, and every member of the court began frantically struggling free from the ropes around them.

When they had been hanging in the air, no amount of struggling seemed to help. But after the ropes suspending them were cut, the hemp rope binding their bodies was not knotted. Once the loose end was severed, the bindings slackened, and the stronger people broke free first.

The triangle Joker had thrown away and the handgun that had flown off had both been picked up. In the melee, everyone used whatever they could get their hands on. Some grabbed broken bricks, some unraveled hemp ropes. Their eyes were bloodshot as they attacked one another like madmen.

But they soon discovered the best place to seize weapons.

One person rushed into the orchestra, intending to grab a music stand as a weapon. Another charged over to attack him. After one exchange, one of them swiftly snatched up a violin bow lying nearby, caught the other off guard, and looped it around his neck from behind.

He shouted, "It was you who threatened me just now, telling me to comply with their demands so you could get the real answer! Die!!!"

He yanked hard. Blood sprayed high into the air, shooting toward the ceiling above the stage like a crimson fountain, like flowering vines climbing the framework.

Batman, who had just rushed over to stop them, was splashed all over with blood. The thick stench of it rushed into his mind, leaving him dazed for a moment.

Only when the corpse opposite him fell did the killer suddenly drop to his knees in panic. "No! No… What have I done? But…"

"I wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t wrong. I saw him trying to press the button. He wanted to kill me…"

The same words rang out over and over. Screams rose and fell. Batman turned stiffly and looked toward the stage, which had already been dyed red with blood.

The old curtains on the theater stage, once a darkened crimson, had returned to bright scarlet, as though they had gone back to that glorious age.

He heard laughter coming from Joker’s direction. At first it was only a breathy chuckle, but then it became manic laughter. He laughed until he could barely catch his breath. "Hahahahahaha, you really…"

His arms could no longer move, but he still struggled into a sitting position, then leaned against one corner of the stage and forced himself to stand. He laughed as he moved, choking himself into a coughing fit.

"I have to congratulate you… Batman! You succeeded in getting your revenge!" Joker staggered forward. He was nearly about to collapse, but he still struggled to support himself.

"Your enemies are dead. Do you see?"

Blood from Joker’s nose ran all over him, but he still dragged himself forward until he reached Batman. Gasping for breath, he said:

"Your enemies died so miserably, so pathetically…"

He swallowed. His voice was like dry, rotting wood as he spoke with difficulty. "This is my gift to you, Batman. My gift for our first meeting."

His voice was full of delight, even carrying a hint of eager, ingratiating expectation. He sniffed, trying to suck the blood back into his nose, but failed, making him look rather ridiculous. "Even though your gift for our first meeting made me bleed so much, I’m still very happy."

"I think I prepared my gift well. Look…" Joker swallowed again and shook his head, as if trying to clear it.

"I’m a bad guy. I organized a kidnapping, then brought in plenty of people to cheer for me."

"And the TV station… they can all see it. Ha, I admitted it. I did this. I… I’m a criminal, a villain."

"And you… you’re a hero. You saved them. You bravely charged onto the stage, confronted the vicious kidnapper covered in bombs, showed your wisdom and courage, and then you successfully saved them, right?"

"Your enemies were all bad people, a bunch of selfish bastards. So after you saved them, they killed each other, and then they died." Joker’s tone grew more and more excited.

"But you’re innocent. You did everything you could. You were even a hero…"

Joker was beginning to struggle for breath. Some of his mad ramblings were drowned out by his gasping. Then he looked up at Batman with difficulty, staring straight into his eyes. "I’ve done so much for you, and I only need you to answer one question. Just one question…"

"Please, Master Batman, answer me! Answer this poor man…"

"I’m really badly hurt. It really hurts…" Joker began to cry, but soon he sniffed hard again, trying to suck back his nosebleed, and said:

"When you saw my performance, when you saw the enemies you hate being humiliated, tortured, and reduced to such pathetic ugliness…"

His entire body began to tremble. He asked frantically, "Answer me. Answer yourself…"

"Did you, even for a moment… want to laugh?"

Batman’s fist gradually clenched. The veins on the back of his hand nearly burst free from his Gauntlet. Joker leaned forward as though he wanted to press his ear against Batman’s chest and listen to his heartbeat.

Joker could no longer hold on. He collapsed, groaning in agony, though soft snickers were mixed into it. "You can’t accept the answer in your own heart, can you?"

"Why do you find it unbelievable? Why do you feel so miserable? Why do you feel your mood getting worse?"

"Someone who thinks they’ve gone mad just because they want to laugh is the one who’s truly mad!" Joker shouted with all his strength.

"Why are you doing all this?" Batman finally spoke.

He had finally recognized what made this madman different. He had finally stepped onto the same stage as him, asked his question, and waited for an answer.

Joker lay on the ground, his chest heaving as he continued gasping. At last, he stopped laughing. "Because I’m a Joker."

"I just wanted to make you laugh."

Finally, as the theater lights went out, Batman heard the pleading in his voice:

"Laugh… Batman."

Laugh, readers.