Gordon placed his coffee cup on the table, its bottom colliding with the surface and producing a clear clatter. He sighed and pulled back the chair. The moment his backside grazed the cushion, he shot up from his seat in fright as the old box television beside him started abruptly blaring with static.
Typically, it played just any regular TV drama. But abruptly, the screen fuzzed, massive noise emanating from it. It flickered, and a man with white skin, green hair, and terrifying clown makeup appeared on the screen.
The Joker's smiling face gave the illusion that he was always giggling. But horrifyingly, he emitted sobbing sounds, all the while wiping his eyes with his arm. His voice was hoarse as he stated, "Interrupting for a missing person announcement…my dear friend Batman is missing…"
His voice was as raspy and coarse as burnt wood. Suddenly, he stopped the act, staring directly out of the screen. His lips turned downwards, but the makeup held that peculiar smile, a rather twisted illusion.
"…I need to find him even though he just humiliated me," he said darkly, a terrifying atmosphere enveloping him as soon as he stopped laughing.
Shiller, in a ward in the Arkham Psychiatric Hospital, was watching the television on the wall.
A dejected expression spread across Joker's face as he said: "I am a homeless poor fellow, after the road cracked, the truck driver lost his job, I still owe the bank a loan, boo hoo…"
Suddenly, he covered his face and began sobbing. Gradually, that sobbing morphed into a piercing laughter that resonated throughout every corner of Gotham, head held back and mouth agape.
"Did you think I was going to say that?!!" he shouted manically: "That's not important!! What's important is Batman! You worthless beings!!!"
He clung to the camera, his pale face magnified indefinitely. He appeared to be searching for something, eyes moving closer to the camera persistently.
"When did I see him the first time? Let me remember, let me remember…"
"Ah!" Joker unexpectedly exclaimed, leaning back before straightening himself. His hair flopped on his forehead, his eyes hidden in shadows. He moved the strands of hair aside haphazardly. His lips slowly curved up, an unnerving gentleness coursing through him.
"I smashed a thug's head with a hammer. Like a watermelon, it burst open just like this - boom!"
"Then his comrade shouted, Batman will come! Batman will come!" Joker mimicked the plea with a pouted mouth.
"Batman? Hahahaha Batman…a Batman who wouldn't kill…"
"How can one be like that? I mean, these mobs thought that Gotham had a savior! Hahahahahaha…"
"I deliberately bombed buildings, smashed people's heads, or made them run for help…but Batman never came to visit! Batman never came to meet me! My savior never came…"
Joker covered his face with both hands, slowly sliding down, picking at the pale skin and easily exposing his blood-soaked muscles underneath.
"Today, I finally know why…"
Suddenly, he grabbed the camera, yelling manically: "Because he thinks I am a killer cultivated by those idiots!! He thinks I'm no different from the madmen on the street! He…boo hoo…He thinks I am a regular madman…boo hoo…"
"An ordinary person…boo hoo… how could he be friends with the great Batman…"
As Joker wiped away his tears, he wept: "When I went to save him…he mistook me for an assassin from the Court of Owls…"
Suddenly, he straightened his chest, taking a large breath and shouted at the camera, "He believes I am ordinary!!! That I'm no different!!! That is all your fault!!!"
"You created so many madmen!!! You made Batman think I'm just an ordinary crazy person!! He can't see me! Can't see me! Not willing to become part of my game…"
He was almost screaming, making everyone in front of the television feel his rage and sorrow.
He then calmed down, looking directly into the camera and said, "You have a plan, and so do I. I want to prove it to you, I am Batman's friend, I am different…"
"I call this plan…"
"Owl Misfortune! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"
His maniacal laughter echoed in the sky while lightning struck down and Gothman started to pour again.
The television turned back to static. Shiller stood up, grabbed the remote control, turned off the television on the hospital wall, dropped the control, and turned to tell Batman who lay on the bed, "How are you? You feel better?"
Batman closed his lips tightly, not speaking a word. Shiller crossed his arms and smirked, "That is the result of ignoring my advice. I told you before not to use that ominous nickname. Now see, it's been split in two, isn't it?"
Evans, who was in the bed beside him, called out, "That has nothing to do with it!"
His voice was a bit hoarse but full of vigor. The Dionysus Factor inside his body had healed all his injuries completely, even his scars were nowhere to be seen.
However, Batman next to him was not doing so well. He was on IV fluids and had sustained serious injury that was evident in his inability to get up.
"Who's that madman?" Batman asked hesitantly, "After getting blown away by the explosion and waking up, I saw him squatting in front of me, laughing incessantly."
"I thought he was a Talon sent by the Court of Owls, so I used the anesthetic spray in my arms against him. But he had no reaction whatsoever."
"I asked him if he was an assassin sent by the Court of Owls to kill me, he began to scream and smash things, and then he just squatted and cried."
"He hit me with his fists; I vomited blood. Then, crazed, he apologized, ran out, saying he was going to find a doctor for me."
"It was while he was out that I managed to rescue you." Shiller shrugged.
"Didn't he just say that he committed a lot of crimes before?" Batman knitted his brows and said seriously, "I always thought he was just like those people who went mad because of the rain."
"But now when I think back to a few weeks ago, I was on patrol when I started to see three explosions in a single night. Even for Gotham, that frequency isn't normal."
"He just wanted to befriend you, but you didn't notice him at all."
"There are too many crazies in Gotham," Batman's mouth turned down, making him look cold and solemn. "Why should I distinguish between them? I'm not at all interested in seeing into the minds of madmen."
Shiller walked between the two beds, pulled up a chair to sit, then turned to look at Evans, asking him, "I've already explained it to you, so what's going on now?"
Evans's grief was evident. He said, "I didn't know anything, I was kept in the dark, I..."
He painfully covered his eyes, saying, "I clearly remember that my relationship with my brother was good. I can even remember his smile. When I try to recollect it in detail, though, I can't remember anything."
"Human memory has its defense mechanisms. When your personality is revived, many instances of memory loss and discrepancies would likely cause your personality to break down again."
"At that point, your mind's self-healing function will start working. It will beautify a lot of important things to fill the voids in your memory and heal your psychological wounds."
"I don't think he's like that. He's not..."
Shiller suddenly reached out and placed his hand on Evans's forehead, causing his upright body to topple back onto the bed, his head falling back onto the pillow. Evans shuddered. When he woke, his eyes looked different.
"You should have noticed Evans's responses, right? Alberto?"
He stayed silent. Despite looking exactly like Evans, when Alberto showed up, his facial muscles seemed to be different.
"I told Evans earlier; you heard it too. You are actually the personality that the Court of Owls created. You were the assassin cultivated by their brainwashing program."
Alberto sneered, saying, "You think that I'm truly loyal to them? How would they use me to complete their plans, if I didn't act fanatical? How then, would I get a chance at immortality?"
"So, you're only after immortality?"
"Revenge... and revenge." Evans's nose twitched, making him seem quite vicious.
"If I were truly the personality that the Court of Owls created, as you said, then they made a major mistake."
"They shouldn't have shaped me into another godfather, shouldn't have made me so like my father, shouldn't have turned me into a true Falcone. No Falcone in this world would willingly become someone's puppet."
Shiller leaned onto the armrest of his chair, interest piqued, "Actually, even back then, I found it strange that the behavior patterns they programmed into you and their indoctrination conflicted."
"On one hand, they wanted you to be loyal to the Court of Owls, on the other hand, they wanted you to be the perfect successor to the godfather, to become a person identical to the old godfather."
"But the godfather would never be a fanatic follower of some secret organization. He only believes in himself, only in the power he holds."
"So, you were just pretending from the start?"
Alberto shook his head, "No, I truly did defect to the Court of Owls. But this wasn't because I was devoted to them, but because I wanted revenge on my father."
"Back then, I couldn't find a reason, but when you were telling Evans the truth, I understood."
"I understood why I couldn't feel a shred of familial love from him, why I couldn't feel any trace of his trust in me."
"He had never considered me his son."
Alberto's voice grew increasingly somber, "Maybe in order to play the role of the Falcone heir well, the Court of Owls never gave me any truths. So, I always thought that I was truly Falcone's son."
"But he wasn't a good father. Every glance, every action, was full of malice ..."
"... He wanted me dead," Alberto's voice trembled.
"Can you imagine?" Alberto's voice was tinged with madness: "Every moment of every day, your father sees you as a monster. He struggles daily over whether or not to kill you ..."
"I didn't understand why." Alberto spoke painfully: "I thought I was his son. I didn't know why he trusted me so little, why he even hated me. I was driven near-mad by such fleeting malice! I had to kill him! I had to get my revenge!"
With Alberto's narration, it was as if Shiller could see that in a Falcone Manor amidst a thunderstorm, a young Alberto stood before Falcone, towering over him. Falcone held him, seemingly worried he would be afraid of the thunder. He pulled Alberto into his arms.
But the eyes behind Alberto's back were filled with bone-deep hatred and madness. As a young Alberto was held by his father, he looked out at the night's downpour, his eyes filled with only terror and helplessness. But it wasn't due to the thunder that continued to boom all night.