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Chapter 357 Joker and Deadpool
2022-10-19 Author: Great Demon Spirit
Gotham City had recently become very lively—so lively that it made many people uneasy.
After several years of peace, all sorts of ghouls and demons in Gotham City had suddenly emerged overnight.
Criminals, bounty hunters, mercenaries, and gangs all appeared in a swarm.
The Joker was up to his daily routine of provoking Batman, engaging in complex, cerebral crime games, but now, it was clear that a new batch of players had joined the game.
Bruce had just walked out of the mayor's office. His face was expressionless, but anyone could see the gloom in his eyes. The city's wealthiest man was not in a good mood.
In fact, it was quite foul.
He and the incumbent mayor had gotten along very well over the past few years. There always seemed to be a tacit understanding between them to handle thorny issues in the most efficient way possible.
But Bruce was no fool. He had long since sensed that there was something off about this mayor, that he was someone Tony had put in place.
But what of it? What could he do? Kill the mayor directly?
How would that make him any different from a criminal? Not to mention, this mayor was doing a damn good job.
The phone rang. His old butler, Alfred, delivered some terrible news.
"Sir, the Joker has once again declared war on Batman in front of the media," Alfred said.
Bruce's voice was cold. "What did he do this time?"
"He killed five people. He said it was a gift to celebrate Batman's five-year retirement."
"That villain!" Bruce's expression turned cold and hard, a frigid light flashing in his eyes.
Although the Dark Knight had vanished from the public eye for five years, it didn't mean he had completely disappeared from the world. Rather, he was observing the world, observing this city, from a different perspective.
It had been a very, very long time since a major incident had occurred in Gotham City.
The soil where the gangs thrived had been dug up by Tony five years ago and paved over with concrete. The criminal underworld was ruled by a gray character named Anderson, who used iron-fisted methods to purge batch after batch of death-defying new gangs. As long as the source of sin, the Court of Owls, didn't stir up trouble, the common gangs were easy to deal with.
The Court of Owls was behaving itself. The more they learned about Tony, the more obedient they became, not daring to make a move rashly.
On the civilian level, a man named Old Jack was in charge of supervision. This old man, who was just a tramp a few years ago, had fiercely taken control of a large portion of Gotham City's weapon channels, becoming a loyal operative for A.R.G.U.S. stationed in the city.
In addition, the mayor provided convenience for Old Jack and Anderson, both overtly and covertly. The entire city of Gotham City had been completely transformed. Its crime rate plummeted, making it one of the cities with the lowest crime rates in the United States—although the slaughter of gangs continued in the shadows, the ones dying were the ambitious ones, and no one pitied them.
Because of this, Gotham City had received commendations from the White House on more than one occasion.
But now, Gotham City had suddenly become lively again. All sorts of strange people were pouring into the city. There were even citizens who claimed to have seen battles between sorcerers and demons, only to be laughed at.
But Bruce knew it was true. He had come to see the mayor to confirm this very news.
Bruce put down the phone, his brow slightly furrowed. His senses, which had not dulled, clearly caught the scent of danger.
The term sorcerer wasn't so hard to accept these days. Bruce had forced himself to accept these new superhumans, though he wasn't exactly thrilled about it.
His intuition told him that perhaps it was time for Batman to don the cape and cowl once more. He would not allow this city to descend into chaos again. The "City of Sin" moniker had been so hard to shake off; he would never let anyone pin it on them again.
The Joker wanted to play with him? Fine. They would see who could outplay whom.
Bruce took a breath and walked with a difficult limp. The first thing to do before Batman's return to the darkness was to find a way to heal this crippled leg. On rainy days, the throbbing pain in his leg would remind him of Harvey, the Two-Face who went from a Knight to a criminal, whom he had knocked off a tall building to his death.
Five years was long enough to change many things, but some things could never be changed.
...
In a hidden location, a bizarre conversation was underway.
"...A lot of people think I'm a madman, Joker, but I know you won't. You'll agree with me, right? I always tell people, don't think so highly of yourself, you have no idea how great other things are. I've seen lots and lots of troublesome guys, and I've been killed many times, but nobody cares about me..."
The Joker licked his lips, acting completely insane. Every few moments, he would stick a knife in his mouth and slide it back and forth, muttering something under his breath that no one could understand.
The strange fellow before him was someone he had met not long ago. After just one glance, this mercenary, who called himself Deadpool, had stuck to him like glue, spouting incomprehensible nonsense.
"Look, Joker, you're an amazing guy. I mean, right now you're nothing, but in the future, you could be amazing. I've seen a lot of yous, and every one of you is surprising, and even more annoying..."
Deadpool chattered endlessly, occasionally slamming the table and pacing back and forth like a neurotic. Having finally found someone who didn't treat him like a lunatic, he was determined to talk his heart out.
"Hey, buddy, you know what you look like right now? A drunk! Ha, but I know you're not a drunk, because a drunk couldn't speak such clear nonsense—I mean, your topic is very interesting, but I think it's boring. Let's talk about something else," the Joker mumbled, then shouted loudly, pulling the knife from his mouth and stabbing it viciously into the table.
Then the Joker began to mutter under his breath, neurotically carving a pattern on the table—the pattern of The Bat.
"Oh, you're really starting to annoy me. I really want to slice you in half..." Deadpool said, somewhat displeased. He drew his carbon steel blades and gestured toward the Joker's neck.
The Joker grinned maniacally. "I'm suddenly starting to like you a little. Hmm... I like the you right now, more to my taste. The red you and the black you are different, after all."
"But I still feel awkward..." Deadpool looked down, tugging at his pitch-black clothes with a frown, a little unhappy.
His originally red suit had suddenly been entangled by a pitch-black symbiote, turning it into this. But he thought it was novel, so he hadn't torn it off.
This black thing gave him a newly colored battle suit, greater speed, and stronger power. Oh, the only drawback was that it would amplify his inner desires, but that wasn't a problem, was it? The great Deadpool was always a good man who could control himself.
"Why don't we just go do something more interesting? I'm so bored. I can help you find some fun, but it'll cost you. My commission is very expensive," Deadpool rattled on. Seeing that he had caught the Joker's attention, he said excitedly, "Batman! Or should I say, Bruce Wayne!"
"Joker, I propose we go make trouble for Bruce Wayne directly! We'll hold knives to his and his girlfriend Rachel's necks, and then—poof!—smoke will rise, and Batman will swoop in to save Rachel!"
Deadpool described the scene with wild gestures, extremely excited.
But the Joker suddenly stopped what he was doing. He whipped his head around, his already hideous face twisting into something even more terrifying!
"What did you say? Do you have any idea what you're saying? The one I'm after is Batman, that The Bat~ not some rich boy Bruce!"
The Joker suddenly went berserk. He snatched the knife, lunged forward in a single bound, and began stabbing Deadpool viciously in the stomach—one stab, two stabs, a dozen stabs in total, and he just kept on stabbing.
(end of chapter)
2022-10-19 Author: Great Demon Spirit
Gotham City had recently become very lively—so lively that it made many people uneasy.
After several years of peace, all sorts of ghouls and demons in Gotham City had suddenly emerged overnight.
Criminals, bounty hunters, mercenaries, and gangs all appeared in a swarm.
The Joker was up to his daily routine of provoking Batman, engaging in complex, cerebral crime games, but now, it was clear that a new batch of players had joined the game.
Bruce had just walked out of the mayor's office. His face was expressionless, but anyone could see the gloom in his eyes. The city's wealthiest man was not in a good mood.
In fact, it was quite foul.
He and the incumbent mayor had gotten along very well over the past few years. There always seemed to be a tacit understanding between them to handle thorny issues in the most efficient way possible.
But Bruce was no fool. He had long since sensed that there was something off about this mayor, that he was someone Tony had put in place.
But what of it? What could he do? Kill the mayor directly?
How would that make him any different from a criminal? Not to mention, this mayor was doing a damn good job.
The phone rang. His old butler, Alfred, delivered some terrible news.
"Sir, the Joker has once again declared war on Batman in front of the media," Alfred said.
Bruce's voice was cold. "What did he do this time?"
"He killed five people. He said it was a gift to celebrate Batman's five-year retirement."
"That villain!" Bruce's expression turned cold and hard, a frigid light flashing in his eyes.
Although the Dark Knight had vanished from the public eye for five years, it didn't mean he had completely disappeared from the world. Rather, he was observing the world, observing this city, from a different perspective.
It had been a very, very long time since a major incident had occurred in Gotham City.
The soil where the gangs thrived had been dug up by Tony five years ago and paved over with concrete. The criminal underworld was ruled by a gray character named Anderson, who used iron-fisted methods to purge batch after batch of death-defying new gangs. As long as the source of sin, the Court of Owls, didn't stir up trouble, the common gangs were easy to deal with.
The Court of Owls was behaving itself. The more they learned about Tony, the more obedient they became, not daring to make a move rashly.
On the civilian level, a man named Old Jack was in charge of supervision. This old man, who was just a tramp a few years ago, had fiercely taken control of a large portion of Gotham City's weapon channels, becoming a loyal operative for A.R.G.U.S. stationed in the city.
In addition, the mayor provided convenience for Old Jack and Anderson, both overtly and covertly. The entire city of Gotham City had been completely transformed. Its crime rate plummeted, making it one of the cities with the lowest crime rates in the United States—although the slaughter of gangs continued in the shadows, the ones dying were the ambitious ones, and no one pitied them.
Because of this, Gotham City had received commendations from the White House on more than one occasion.
But now, Gotham City had suddenly become lively again. All sorts of strange people were pouring into the city. There were even citizens who claimed to have seen battles between sorcerers and demons, only to be laughed at.
But Bruce knew it was true. He had come to see the mayor to confirm this very news.
Bruce put down the phone, his brow slightly furrowed. His senses, which had not dulled, clearly caught the scent of danger.
The term sorcerer wasn't so hard to accept these days. Bruce had forced himself to accept these new superhumans, though he wasn't exactly thrilled about it.
His intuition told him that perhaps it was time for Batman to don the cape and cowl once more. He would not allow this city to descend into chaos again. The "City of Sin" moniker had been so hard to shake off; he would never let anyone pin it on them again.
The Joker wanted to play with him? Fine. They would see who could outplay whom.
Bruce took a breath and walked with a difficult limp. The first thing to do before Batman's return to the darkness was to find a way to heal this crippled leg. On rainy days, the throbbing pain in his leg would remind him of Harvey, the Two-Face who went from a Knight to a criminal, whom he had knocked off a tall building to his death.
Five years was long enough to change many things, but some things could never be changed.
...
In a hidden location, a bizarre conversation was underway.
"...A lot of people think I'm a madman, Joker, but I know you won't. You'll agree with me, right? I always tell people, don't think so highly of yourself, you have no idea how great other things are. I've seen lots and lots of troublesome guys, and I've been killed many times, but nobody cares about me..."
The Joker licked his lips, acting completely insane. Every few moments, he would stick a knife in his mouth and slide it back and forth, muttering something under his breath that no one could understand.
The strange fellow before him was someone he had met not long ago. After just one glance, this mercenary, who called himself Deadpool, had stuck to him like glue, spouting incomprehensible nonsense.
"Look, Joker, you're an amazing guy. I mean, right now you're nothing, but in the future, you could be amazing. I've seen a lot of yous, and every one of you is surprising, and even more annoying..."
Deadpool chattered endlessly, occasionally slamming the table and pacing back and forth like a neurotic. Having finally found someone who didn't treat him like a lunatic, he was determined to talk his heart out.
"Hey, buddy, you know what you look like right now? A drunk! Ha, but I know you're not a drunk, because a drunk couldn't speak such clear nonsense—I mean, your topic is very interesting, but I think it's boring. Let's talk about something else," the Joker mumbled, then shouted loudly, pulling the knife from his mouth and stabbing it viciously into the table.
Then the Joker began to mutter under his breath, neurotically carving a pattern on the table—the pattern of The Bat.
"Oh, you're really starting to annoy me. I really want to slice you in half..." Deadpool said, somewhat displeased. He drew his carbon steel blades and gestured toward the Joker's neck.
The Joker grinned maniacally. "I'm suddenly starting to like you a little. Hmm... I like the you right now, more to my taste. The red you and the black you are different, after all."
"But I still feel awkward..." Deadpool looked down, tugging at his pitch-black clothes with a frown, a little unhappy.
His originally red suit had suddenly been entangled by a pitch-black symbiote, turning it into this. But he thought it was novel, so he hadn't torn it off.
This black thing gave him a newly colored battle suit, greater speed, and stronger power. Oh, the only drawback was that it would amplify his inner desires, but that wasn't a problem, was it? The great Deadpool was always a good man who could control himself.
"Why don't we just go do something more interesting? I'm so bored. I can help you find some fun, but it'll cost you. My commission is very expensive," Deadpool rattled on. Seeing that he had caught the Joker's attention, he said excitedly, "Batman! Or should I say, Bruce Wayne!"
"Joker, I propose we go make trouble for Bruce Wayne directly! We'll hold knives to his and his girlfriend Rachel's necks, and then—poof!—smoke will rise, and Batman will swoop in to save Rachel!"
Deadpool described the scene with wild gestures, extremely excited.
But the Joker suddenly stopped what he was doing. He whipped his head around, his already hideous face twisting into something even more terrifying!
"What did you say? Do you have any idea what you're saying? The one I'm after is Batman, that The Bat~ not some rich boy Bruce!"
The Joker suddenly went berserk. He snatched the knife, lunged forward in a single bound, and began stabbing Deadpool viciously in the stomach—one stab, two stabs, a dozen stabs in total, and he just kept on stabbing.
(end of chapter)
