He saw the scattered, torn pieces of paper by Alberto's feet. They were no different from the ticket in his hand; nothing more than random press releases and scraps torn from blank paper.
At what point exactly, had he genuinely begun to believe that these were tickets? That they contained actual clues?
Was it when Shiller insisted he purchase a ticket from the television station's mailbox while driving the Batmobile? Was it when they had taken their tickets to the theatre's ticket check? Or when Shiller and Alberto, full of conviction, read out those supposed clues to him?
Batman suddenly understood that none of these were the real reasons. It all came down to his arrogance.
He had been maintaining a mindset of believing himself to be more vigilant than the others, thinking that the maniac on the stage and the people on the streets were no different. He disdained to understand them, let alone get involved, and so, he was never part of it from the beginning.
And, as a result, he was fooled.
There were no clues to begin with. This was only a group of lunatics executing a bunch of idiots.
"Do you know what this means?" Shiller stood up, leaning on the back of the chair in front, asking Batman.
"It means that the joke from earlier was truly hilarious."
Shiller turned to Alberto and took the popcorn bucket from his hand, scooping up the paper scraps inside. Lifting it into the air, he said, "See? This is their 'money'."
"Isn't it hilarious? ...This is what they've been pursuing," he added.
The Joker on stage stared straight at Batman. Suddenly, he lowered his head, allowing his green hair to cover his eyes. "Don't you find this even a tiny bit humorous, Batman?" he asked.
"Enough." Batman leaped in front of the stage.
"The farce ends here," he growled, his voice burning with anger.
"Before coming here, I pulled up all the historical records of the Gotham Grand Theater, including the architectural blueprints."
"And in the past few minutes, I have gone through them all."
With that, Batman cast his gaze toward the center of the stage. "This theater was built by former European nobles. To prevent the footsteps of the actors from being excessively loud and disrupting the performances, they did not use the hollow wooden stages common in American operas. Instead, the stage was solid, made completely of rock, as your earlier footstep sounds confirmed."
"From the time you issued the notice until now, unless you used an explosive, you would not have had enough time to carve a hole into such a solid stage to hide a bomb."
The Joker stared at Batman. Suddenly, he snarled, "How do you still not understand? This isn't a detective drama! You numbskull!"
"Forget it, you'll understand. You will ..." He twisted his neck and waist. Then he removed his tie and unbuttoned his suit jacket. His torso was lined with bombs. As he unbuttoned his jacket, he murmured, "I told you I should've bought a larger size. This is really tight."
"Oh, look, you were right, Great Detective Batman! The bomb's here!"
"Look, how many there are!" The Joker craned his neck downward, peering down at the bombs strapped around his waist.
"I'm going to detonate them soon! You and all the idiots on this stage will be blown sky high!"
The Joker tossed away the triangle iron he had in his hand, and pulled out a handgun from his waist, pointing it at Batman, "And you won't be able to stop me!"
Batman stood opposite him. He didn't hesitate in the slightest. Before the Joker had made his next threatening move, several Bat tags whizzed through the air, slicing off the ropes suspending the audience above the stage. People dropped to the ground, screaming in pain.
The Joker was distracted by the deafening screams. In an instant, Batman charged. First, he kicked the Joker's arm, causing the gun to fly out of his hand. Then he landed a punch on his face, following it up by grabbing him by the neck and throwing him backwards, dislocating his other arm.
The Joker fell to the ground, screaming. Batman crouched down and began to disassemble the bombs strapped to his chest. Just as he glanced down at the Joker, he noticed a smirk of satisfaction spread across the Joker's face.
A sharp cry rose from the center of the stage. A man named Haru collapsed clutching his neck, a small iron rod used for striking the triangle iron embedded in it.
The man who did it was a strong-looking man who pulled the rod out of Haru's neck. Fresh blood splattered as Haru gripped his neck, collapsing lifeless on the floor. The man growled, "You bunch of lowly parvenus! How dare you humiliate us, I ..."
Before he could finish his sentence, a gunshot echoed. Cheli, his hands trembling, was holding a gun. He roared maliciously, "I'm sick and tired of you! If you hadn't insisted on throwing that party, we wouldn't be in this disgraceful situation!"
Within an instant, two people were dead. All the court members were frantically trying to undo the ropes that bound them.
While they were hanging in the air, numerous struggles seemed worthless. But after the ropes holding them suspended were severed, the ropes around them were not firmly tied and became loose. The stronger ones managed to break free first.
The triangle iron the Joker tossed and the crumbled gun had already been picked up. Caught in the chaos, everybody picked up and used whatever they could get their hands on. Some held fragments of bricks, some held ropes. Everyone, their eyes bloodshot, attacked each other like madmen.
But soon, they found the best place to source their weapons.
One person dashed towards the orchestra, intending to use a music stand as a weapon. However, another person rushed over to hit him. After scrapping back and forth for a while, the quicker one picked up a violin bow lying nearby. He caught the other person off guard and choked him from behind.
He bellowed, "It was you who just threatened me, forcing me to comply with their demands so that you could get the 'real answer'. Go to hell!"
He tugged harshly, causing a spray of fresh blood to shoot up high, all the way to the theater ceiling, like a bloody fountain or a flower vine crawling on a rack.
Batman, who had just rushed over to try and stop it, was splattered with blood. The intense smell of blood rushed into his brain, causing him to momentarily lose his bearings.
It wasn't until the body across from him fell to the ground and the murderer suddenly knelt down panicked, saying, "No! No...what have I done? But..."
"I'm not wrong, I'm not wrong, I saw him going for the button, he was trying to kill me..."
The same phrase echoed countless times as screams filled the air. Batman stiffly turned around to look at the stage, which was now dyed red.
The old curtain on the theater stage had returned to its original dark red color from black, as if harking back to the theater's glorious past.
He heard laughter coming from the Joker's direction. It started as a soft, breathy chuckle before morphing into manic laughter. "Hahahaha. Just as I thought..." the Joker gasped between laughs.
His arms were rendered immobile, but he still struggled to sit up, then leaned against a corner of the stage to stand. He was laughing as he moved, causing him to cough uncontrollably.
"Congratulations... Batman! You've successfully exacted your revenge!" The Joker staggered over. He was on the verge of collapsing, but he still struggled to keep himself upright.
"Your enemy is dead, do you see that?"
Blood from the Joker's nose covered his body, but he still tried to move closer to Batman, coming right up to him and panting heavily as he said:
"Your enemy died in such a miserable, pathetic way..."
He swallowed hard, his voice sounding like dry rotting wood. "That is my gift to you, Batman, my first encounter gift," he said with noticeable effort.
His voice was full of delight and even had a hint of ingratiating expectation. He tried to suck back his bloody nose, but failed, making him seem somewhat comical. "Although the gift you gave me was to make me bleed this much, I'm still very happy," he said.
"I think my present is not bad, you see…" The Joker licked his lips again, shaking his head as if trying to stay clear-headed.
"I'm a bad guy. I organized a kidnapping, and then I brought many people to watch."
"There's also the TV station... They all saw it, haha, yes, I admit it, it was me... I'm a criminal, a villain."
"And you... you're a hero. You saved them. You bravely stormed the stage and confronted the vile bomber, displaying your wisdom and bravery. And then, you successfully saved everyone, right?"
"Your enemies are all villains, a bunch of selfish brutes. So after you saved them, they fought among themselves and died." Joker's excitement began to rise.
"But you are innocent. You did your best. You're even a hero…"
Joker was starting to lose his breath. His incoherent rant was buried in his gasping. He lifted his head laboriously to look at Batman, looking straight into his eyes as he said: "I've done so much for you, and all I need in return is an answer to one question, just one question…"
"Please, Lord Batman, answer me! Answer a pitiful man like me…"
"I'm really badly hurt, really in pain..." Joker began to cry, but quickly composed himself, taking another strong breath to hold back his nosebleed, before continuing:
"When you saw my performance, when you saw your hated enemy being humiliated, tortured, and reduced to a pathetic state..."
He started trembling uncontrollably, asking, "Answer me, admit it to yourself..."
"Was there ever a moment... when you wanted to laugh?"
Batman's fists clenched tighter, the veins in his hands nearly bursting through his gloves. Joker started to keel over, as if he wanted to press his ear to Batman's chest to hear his heartbeat.
Joker could no longer hold himself up. He fell down, moaning in pain but still interspersing it with sneaky laughter, saying, "You can't accept the answer in your heart, can you?"
"Why is it so unbelievable to you? Why does it make you feel bad? Why do your emotions start to turn sour?"
"Only a person who feels crazy for wanting to laugh is truly insane!" Joker shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Why are you doing all of this?" Batman finally spoke.
He finally acknowledged the difference in this madman, finally stood on the same stage as him, asked a question, and awaited an answer.
Joker lay on the ground, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped for air. At last, he stopped laughing, saying, "Because I'm a clown."
"I just wanted to make you smile."
In the end, as the lights in the theater dimmed, Batman heard the Joker's pleading:
"Smile... Batman."