"You've come."
"I've come."
"You shouldn't have."
"...Didn't you ask me to?"
That evening, Bruce-already transformed into Batman-arrived at the agreed location, and the exchange above followed.
"Never mind." Morin waved his hand, his interest fading. "It was just a spur-of-the-moment roleplay."
He had already decided not to use Bruce for gags anymore.
This guy simply didn't know how to play along. There was no fun in it.
"What's the result?" Bruce asked, long used to Morin's habit of speaking nonsense and going straight to the point.
"At this moment," Morin said, hands clasped behind his back as he looked into the distance, "the curtain is rising."
"Our show has begun."
"My audience has taken their seats."
"Let's begin."
"..."
Bruce's mouth twitched slightly.
He stayed silent for a long time.
Those words should mean everything was ready.
But for some reason, Morin felt... not just strange.
More than strange.
For a brief moment, Bruce seriously considered abandoning the plan entirely and crushing the opposition head-on.
In the end, he said nothing.
No matter how absurd Morin acted, Bruce trusted his abilities.
Two days later.
Wayne Enterprises.
Press conference.
"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne!"
A reporter held up a videotape.
"This is a tape we received-from the Joker! He said it must be played publicly before the press conference begins, or else he will... punish Commissioner Gordon and Judge Dawes-Rachel Dawes!"
"Check it," Bruce said to a staff member.
The staff member took the tape, inspected it, and found nothing abnormal.
No bombs. No traps.
He shook his head.
"Play it," Bruce said calmly.
Camera flashes erupted again.
The video began.
"Batman has brought order to Gotham. Beauty has returned to the world. He is the embodiment of justice. He is an angel from heaven."
The tone was poetic.
The trembling voice ruined it completely.
After the recitation, silence followed.
Only static filled the room, stretching the tension thin.
"Hehehe... hahaha... hehehe!"
Laughter echoed.
It started soft, then grew louder, drilling straight into the nerves of everyone listening.
The reporters stirred.
The laughter stopped abruptly, as if the speaker had nearly run out of breath.
Then a face appeared.
White. Red. Black.
A crimson smile stretched almost to the ears.
The Joker.
"Why so serious?"
He tilted his head, the exaggerated makeup making the smile even more grotesque.
No one laughed.
"This is a happy day," the Joker said cheerfully. "Because the legendary Batman is about to meet everyone!"
"So I found a priest."
The camera turned.
A priest stood there, wearing clerical robes, a cross hanging from his neck.
A crooked Batman cowl sat on his head.
More absurdly, the holy image behind him had also been painted to resemble Batman.
"Morin?" Bruce whispered, frowning.
"It's handled."
Morin's reply came instantly.
Bruce's heart eased slightly, though the frown remained.
A performance had to be complete.
"Batman," the Joker continued as the camera turned back to him, his face filling the screen, "in Gotham, you're like an all-powerful god. Bringing warm light to the world... hahahaha... tsk tsk."
He laughed strangely, then licked his lips twice and panted.
"I can barely breathe!"
"So," he said softly, "are you Batman?"
The camera swung back to the priest.
No response.
The Joker suddenly roared.
"Look at me and answer!"
"...No..." The priest's voice trembled, on the verge of tears.
"Then why are you wearing his cowl?! Why?!"
"Because... because..."
The priest wanted to say the Joker had forced it on him.
He didn't dare.
"Let me answer for you," the Joker said gently.
Too gently.
"Because you believe Batman can save you like a god. Make Gotham better. Eliminate all evil. Right?"
"...Yes?" the priest replied shakily.
"So that's it..."
The Joker nodded as if enlightened.
"So Batman is a god! He can make Gotham beautiful! He can eliminate all evil!"
"Hahahahaha!"
Hysterical laughter filled the screen again.
"Batman," the Joker continued, smiling wide, occasionally licking his blood-red lips, "if you're a god, you should be able to find me."
"If you're a god, you should be able to save everyone without anyone getting hurt."
"Which means..." His voice dropped. "You should also be able to take off your mask at the press conference and show everyone your god-like face."
"Promise me you won't do it alone."
"And promise me you won't fail."
"Otherwise," he chuckled, "dear Commissioner Gordon, Judge Dawes, this poor priest... and many others... will all die."
"Hahahaha!"
The video ended.
It was a perfect trap.
A game designed so that no matter the choice, the outcome was loss.
The moment Bruce made a decision, the Joker would win.
Reveal the mask, and Batman's identity would be exposed.
Public trust would fracture.
The symbol would lose its meaning.
Who could say Bruce Wayne wasn't fighting crime for the benefit of Wayne Enterprises?
Refuse, and people would die.
Batman's credibility would collapse anyway.
There would always be voices saying-
"It's just a face."
"If he really cared, he'd show it."
"He's selfish."
And if he did reveal himself, those same voices would tear him apart first.
There was no correct answer.
No good choice.
Fortunately, this time, Bruce had Morin.
Which meant he had a cheat.
Playing games with a lunatic was pointless.
The Joker didn't follow logic.
Trusting his rules was stupidity.
The correct response was simple.
Ignore the rules.
Use your own methods.
When necessary, flip the table.
As long as you had the strength to do it.
Morin did.
That was exactly what he was doing.
He insisted it was a stage play called Human Hearts.
In practice, it was no different from crushing the Joker outright.
But it felt good.
So details didn't matter.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Bruce said, clapping his hands, calm and composed.
"The press conference will now officially begin."
The reporters leaned forward.
No scandal was ever too big.
Journalists who truly respected boundaries were rare.
"Several months ago, Gotham was filled with thieves, robbers, and gangsters."
"No one cared. Everyone was used to it."
"Crime was rampant, while the so-called representatives of justice-the police and the courts-looked the other way."
"This was wrong."
"We needed change."
"Batman came to me. To Gordon, who was just an ordinary officer at the time. To Morin. To Rachel."
"And to others whose names I won't mention."
"We worked together."
"We made a plan."
"We wanted to clear the clouds of crime and let the sun shine on Gotham again."
"We created a symbol."
"Batman."
"When criminals acted, fear followed."
"Darkness and the unknown create fear."
"Once a symbol has a real name, it gains a weakness."
"The Joker is a criminal."
"He saw through this."
"He used human lives and human hearts to force Batman into his game."
"He succeeded..."
"Halfway."
Bruce looked out over the crowd.
Camera flashes exploded.
They sensed it.
A reversal.
"Batman's identity will be revealed."
Bruce scanned the room.
"But not now."
"When Gotham is truly saved, Batman will reveal himself."
"And since the Joker wants Batman to play a game..."
"We refuse."
"We will send him a stage play."
"One with only him as the audience."
"This press conference is over."
"Soon, we will arrest the criminal known as the Joker."
"Oh... a stage play..."
In a dark room, the Joker watched the broadcast, disappointment and anticipation mixing in his eyes.
Something was wrong.
Things were slipping beyond his control.
Why weren't they playing his game?
"I can watch the play later," he muttered, smiling, "but boys who don't play games aren't good boys~"
He picked up a remote control and laughed hysterically.
"Tsk tsk... bad boys should be punished!"
He pressed the button.
Silence.
No explosion.
He tilted his head, pressed it again.
Nothing.
"%@*◎"
He muttered and called his subordinates.
Backup plans existed.
But their responses were identical.
"Enjoy the show."
"Mr. Joker."
One by one.
The same words.
The Joker didn't get angry.
Instead, he smiled.
"This is... interesting."
"This is the stage play I prepared for you," a voice said behind him.
"Do you like it?"
"Oh..."
The Joker tossed the remote aside and turned, tilting his head at Morin.
"I like it," he said. "But I hate players who don't follow the rules."
"Sorry," Morin replied, spreading his hands.
"I'm not your player."
"Same goes for spoilers."
"Maybe 'artist' suits me better."
"Artist?" The Joker laughed. "I don't see any art."
"Art is everything," Morin said calmly.
"Everything that can be understood."
"And everything that can't."
"All methods."
"You're like me," the Joker said, smiling.
"No." Morin shook his head. "There's a fundamental difference."
"I'm not like the artist who says all artists are insane."
"I prefer art with a bottom line."
"That's because you still have something to protect."
The Joker stepped closer, staring into Morin's eyes.
"What if one day... everything you want to protect is gone?"
"That reminds me of another question," Morin said.
"A trolley is approaching a fork."
"A group of bad kids is tied to one track. A good kid is tied to the other."
"The trolley can't stop. The tracks can't be destroyed."
"What do you do?"
"A good question!" the Joker laughed. "What would you choose?"
"A man called Batman once said he'd switch the track to the good kid, then go save him," Morin said.
"He can't."
"He said he could," Morin replied. "Because he's Batman."
"And me?"
"I'd blow up the trolley."
"Or destroy the tracks."
"Because I'm Morin."
"Hahahaha!"
The Joker laughed wildly.
"Interesting. Very interesting!"
Only lunatics-or those with absolute confidence-broke the rules like this.
In that sense, they were similar.
"But that Batman," the Joker said, staring at Morin.
"He isn't this one."
"You're right," Morin said.
"He isn't."
"So interesting... so interesting..."
The Joker trembled with excitement.
"I want to see more."
"We'll meet again," Morin said, waving his hand.
"Not now."
"I will," the Joker replied, laughing hysterically.
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