Chapter 53: The Jester’s Festival

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The two men, bound not by blood but by circumstance, quarreled once again. In a fit of anger, Nightwing impulsively stole the Batmobile and drove off.

“Master Dick has that kind of personality; you shouldn’t be upset,” Alfred advised gently.

“I didn’t expect him to behave like a rebellious youth even after being away for so long,” Batman grunted, turning his attention back to his work.

Alfred smiled quietly at Batman but said no more.

Time flew by. After escaping, the Joker had set several traps to mislead Batman, but Batman ignored them all. This allowed the Joker to focus fully on his plan, though he felt something was amiss.

Meanwhile, the Falcone and Maroni families scoured the city, searching for the Joker and the stolen fear toxin. In doing so, they inadvertently triggered every trap the Joker had laid for Batman, suffering heavy losses.

One evening, the Joker styled his hair to appear more mature, donned a sharp suit, applied meticulous makeup, and spritzed on perfume. He dressed as if preparing to meet his beloved.

“Puddin’, are you ready?” Harley gazed adoringly at the carefully groomed Joker.

“Mm…” The Joker adjusted his bow tie in the mirror. “I think we’re good to go!”

A pickup truck painted in the Joker’s distinctive style hit the road. In its bed were eight iron barrels emitting a continuous stream of green gas, drifting ever farther into the air.

The citizens of Gotham caught the scent and couldn’t help but burst into uncontrollable laughter, their bodies convulsing with strange movements.

“Damn! The Joker’s really pulling something big on Gotham this time,” Roland muttered, feeling a chill creep up his spine as he watched the spreading green gas.

“Boss, what do we do now?” one of his men asked.

“No problem. Head for the sewers; they’ll block most of the gas,” Roland said thoughtfully. “Find Killer Croc’s people—they know the area well.”

“And you, boss?”

“I’ll go deal with the Joker,” Roland said, stretching before hopping onto his motorcycle and speeding off.

Half an hour later, the Joker was recklessly driving his truck through the streets when Roland performed a sharp drift, skidding his motorcycle to block the truck’s path.

“Hey, Joker,” Roland threw off his helmet, wiping sweat from his brow. Beneath, he wore a newly purchased gas mask.

“Hey, Father,” the Joker grinned, leaning on the open truck door. “Our kid’s possessed by a demon. How about you perform an exorcism?”

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“Oh? Is your kid a boy or a girl?”

“A girl.”

“Then I’m not interested.”

They chatted as they slowly approached each other, both smiling. An onlooker might have thought they were old friends.

“Hah…” Roland reached out and shook the Joker’s hand.

“Oh, aren’t you worried I might do something?” the Joker asked with a sinister smile.

“Wait—when you shake my hand, your gloves won’t suddenly release an electric shock, will they?” Roland feigned fear.

“Oh, you’re thinking the same thing I am…” The Joker’s chilling grin widened as electricity arced from his pristine gloves, making Roland’s hair stand on end.

But Roland’s hand was like a vice, crushing the Joker’s metacarpal bones until they cracked.

“You’ve got some strength,” the Joker chuckled despite the pain. “Too tight a grip, that’s not good.”

“Binding a tiger requires a firm grip,” Roland said with a smile, tightening his other hand and swinging it toward the Joker’s face.

“Aha!” The Joker threw out a crocodile toy, biting down on Roland’s incoming fist.

“Ugh…” Roland tossed the toy aside, revealing two hidden chainsaw blades that sliced a wound across his hand.

The Joker’s condition was far worse. The punch had shattered his jaw, though he somehow remained conscious.

“Oh, my handsome jaw!” the Joker exclaimed dramatically. “Damn it, I’ll make you pay for this!”

“Bring it on,” Roland advanced slowly.

“Try this!” The Joker tossed several smoke bombs, obscuring Roland’s vision.

“No use,” Roland’s eyes glowed gold. With assistance from his partner, Kamaitachi, the smoke bombs were ineffective. “You won’t get away.”

“Get away? I don’t need to!” The Joker said as he climbed into his truck.

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“Words and actions don’t match…” Roland gave chase. Harley leapt from the vehicle, yanking open her clothes to reveal a string of grenades strapped underneath.

“Holy hell…” Roland’s eyes widened in shock as he stared at Harley, helpless to stop the Joker’s escape.

“Angel… you really fooled me last time,” Harley huffed, tossing two grenades at Roland.

“Hey, I’m doing this for your own good—to cure your puppy syndrome,” Roland said, shooting two cross-shaped darts that intercepted the grenades midair.

But the grenades didn’t explode; instead, they cracked open, revealing a Joker head inside.

“…You really got me,” Roland twitched his mouth. Kicking off the ground, he leapt toward Harley, his arm slicing through the air as he sent her flying.

The heavy blow knocked Harley unconscious. Roland bundled her up, tying her to the back of his motorcycle, then resumed the pursuit of the Joker.

Not far ahead, Roland spotted dozens of people hanging from the side of a hotel like roasting ducks, suspended by ropes that seemed frayed and unreliable.

“Hey, Father, let’s play a game,” the Joker called from a hot air balloon hovering above. “The ropes holding them snap one by one. There’s an air cushion on the ground that can catch only two people at a time. You have to decide where to place it to save as many as possible.”

“Don’t worry, the ropes snap slowly enough for you to move the cushion,” the Joker laughed maniacally as the balloon drifted away.

“Help! Save me first!” shouted one of the dangling victims. “The Joker tied my rope last; mine will break first!”

“Brother, I’m clergy too! For the Lord’s sake, help me out!”

“I’ve got five million dollars—save me and I’ll give you half!”

Those suspended pleaded to Roland, seeing him as their last hope.

“This isn’t hard. I’ll save them all,” Roland said, running straight up the hotel’s wall. Grabbing one victim, he exerted a controlled force to snap their rope, then skillfully tossed them onto the air cushion.

He repeated this method with the second, third, and soon all the people hanging on the wall were safely rescued.