In The DC World With Marvel Chat Group

Several spotlights shone on Batman, making him squint, like a bat awakened by a flashlight in a dark cave.

"I advise you not to act now," Schiller turned to look at Batman, but saw no expression on his face. He was different from the Bruce who just started out. Through his outward behavior, it was almost impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Why?" Batman's voice was still deep.

Schiller turned his head back to the stage, and the spotlight swept over him, making his lenses flash with bright light. He said, "You have to be patient. The show has just begun."

"I don't think there's anything worth watching," Batman remained motionless, his face serious. He said, "Even if he moved the kidnapping case to the theater, it's still just a crime. He's a madman."

"He is indeed a madman, but different from other madmen."

"What's different about madmen?"

"Then why are you sitting here instead of rushing down to stop him right away? Although I advise you, I didn't stop you, and I can't stop you."

Batman fell silent.

"Because the Owl is your enemy, perhaps in your indulgence, there is a sense of revenge."

Batman was about to deny it, but Schiller said, "It's interesting to watch these unlucky actors, but if you still see him as an ordinary madman, then you will be the unlucky one."

Batman's brow furrowed tighter and tighter, but the people on the stage shifted their attention back from him. The Joker held the small iron rod for knocking the triangle, and extended it to the mouth of a fat man who was tied up, saying, "Okay, you pick an audience member and let them read the clue on the ticket to you."

"I, I..." The fat man was sweating profusely, after all, being suspended in mid-air by a rope for so long, with his physique, he was already exhausted. The Joker pouted his mouth, suddenly straightened his body, then pushed the hair on both sides back behind his ears, revealing his eyes.

He deliberately kicked his legs forward and took steps, walking as if he were marching, to the other man next to him, took off the glasses on his face, and put them on his own.

He placed the small iron rod at his own mouth, as if holding a microphone, and cleared his throat, saying, "Next, is the world's most professional psychologist, Jack, bringing you a deep analysis."

Schiller narrowed his eyes from the audience seat, and Evans instinctively moved towards the aisle, seeming to want to stay away from his professor.

"You guys are a sorry sight," Joker walked over to the obese man and said, "Your arrogant attitude is all built on a safe environment. You're standing in a safe conference room in your suits, using your ancestors' accumulated wealth as capital, thinking you're in control of everything, addicted to the thrill of being a puppet master behind the scenes."

"But when your supposed indestructible great faith is put into practice, it turns into the pain of losing vested interests. In fact, you are no different from an ordinary person who would feel heartbroken for losing five dollars."

"All great goals ultimately turn into the most mediocre regrets and pains. And when you truly become one with ordinary people, you lose everything."

"What's left after that? A fat, bloated body? A soul with no originality?"

"As actors, you are so pathetic that you can't even perform a good play by yourselves."

"What are you thinking? I know, I know, it's so hard to beg a madman for mercy..."

The obese man made a wheezing sound from his mouth, his face turning red.

As Joker had said, even the most cunning puppet master behind the scenes could not remain calm when being hung on stage by a rope, letting everyone observe their ugliness.

"Since you don't want to choose, then I'll choose for you," Joker pushed his glasses and said, "I'm sure our Professor Rodriguez has been waiting for a long time."

The obese man seemed to be suddenly choked up, and he squeezed out a few words from his teeth, "No! No...this isn't in accordance with the rules..."

"Shut up!" Joker suddenly went crazy again, using the small iron rod to beat the obese man's face mercilessly, making him unable to say anything in protest.

The obese man seemed afraid that he would do something extreme again, and he stuttered and remained silent.

Schiller stood up from his chair and said, "I'm honored to be the first one, but before this, I have a better suggestion for this game. Would you like to hear it?"

The Joker squinted at him, and everyone could feel the tense atmosphere on the field. It was as if an invisible struggle had begun, with two lunatics clashing over their respective territories.

"Better suggestion?" The Joker emphasized, gritting his teeth and grinning. "You'd better make sure this suggestion is good, otherwise I'll consider it a forfeit..."

"Of course, this gentleman wants me to give him a clue, but he can't just give me nothing. I hope to add a rule that if they want to get this clue, they must agree to one request from the audience."

After a few seconds of confusion, the Joker burst out laughing maniacally. "Oh, you're a genius!" he exclaimed.

Suddenly, his expression turned grim again. "Did you think I'd say that? That's a rotten idea!"

Schiller interrupted him and continued, "Okay, I'll retract that suggestion. I have only one question: Can I lie?"

The Joker stared at him straight in the eyes, his mouth twisted into a frown. He muttered under his breath, "I told you, I hate that name."

"Why don't you let this gentleman make the decision? Whether to agree to my request and get a real clue, or to do nothing and face the possibility of getting a lie."

"Agree to it! Hurrah!" A sharp female voice rang out, shouted by a woman hanging higher up. "Agree to his request! Do you want us to all get false answers? We'll die that way!"

Another male voice chimed in, "Yes, we choose the first option!"

Schiller tapped the back of the chair in front of him, making a little noise, and said, "I'm letting this gentleman decide."

"He's just a bottom-tier congressman, he represents nothing..."

"That's right!"

"How can we let a low-level congressman make such an important decision?"

"We should vote, according to our hierarchy..."

"Only high-level congressmen can make decisions, don't forget that..."

"You old-timers! You're still thinking about this at a time like this..."

The Joker's shoulders suddenly began to shake, his laughter changing from a quiet chuckle to a loud cackle. After a while, he wiped his eyes and said, "This is... quite interesting."

The fatty trembled, his chubby lips moving as he spoke a few words, saying, "I choose... I choose the first one. I can promise him one request, please tell me the true answer!"

Before the Joker could speak, Schiller took over the next step himself and said, "Alright, my request is - take off your mask, sir."

"No! No... I can't..." The fatty screamed in terror, his eyes constantly glancing at Falcone.

"I regret it!!! I choose the second one..."

"You don't have another chance." The Joker grinned, "You've already said you'll agree to his request."

With that, he tore off the fat man's mask, revealing his chubby face and ears underneath.

"Harvey Harris." Falcone smiled, obviously recognizing him. He said, "Didn't your father Bruno teach you? If you put on the mask, never take it off."

Harvey was already ashen-faced, his true identity exposed. Not only him, but his family, his power, and his property would all never see the sun again tomorrow.

The mask was not afraid of the Godfather, but the person under the mask was. The mask would not die, but the person under the mask could.

The people who were arguing on stage were now all silent. The Joker bounced to the center of the stage, opened his arms, and asked them with a tilted head, "Why are you so serious? He chose the result you wanted. Why aren't you happy and smiling?"

"Mr. Jack, can I reveal the answer now?" Schiller was like an emotionless NPC following the process.

The Joker looked like a child with a disappointed expression and said, "What a shame. I should have designed an interview segment here. I wanted to play a little longer."

Ignoring his reaction, Schiller picked up the crumpled piece of paper and, after unfolding it, read aloud, "Artemis is prettier than Athena..."

What is visible to the naked eye is that the group of people hanging on the stage paused for a moment, and then, like they were each carrying their own secrets, they fell silent.

The Joker tapped the triangle in his hand and loudly said, "Alright, that scene is over, next! Next! You, sit down, it's no longer your concern..."

Schiller obediently sat down and Batman said to him, "You're quite the devil."

"To each their own."

Next, the Joker walked over to a tall and thin man, and with the triangle, he fiercely tapped the man's ear, causing him to shake his body vigorously, trying to avoid this lunatic.

"It's your turn, who do you choose?"

"I choose... I choose little Falcone!"

The Joker first curled the corners of his mouth downwards, then twitched the muscles around his nose, revealing a somewhat fierce expression, and then he laughed again.

"Alright! Let's welcome Evans Falcone!"

He waved his arm and a spotlight shone on Evans. Schiller, who was next to him, loudly exclaimed, "I protest! Why does he have an announcer introducing him? This is discrimination! We all bought tickets, we spent the same amount of money!"

"Protests are ineffective."

The Joker then focused his gaze on Evans. Evans was stunned for a moment, seemingly not expecting anyone to choose him. It had only been three minutes since the start of this play, and he was already confused about what was going on. At this moment, he was busy trying to unfold the paper balls in his popcorn bucket to see if he could piece them together into a complete piece of paper...

Suddenly, he convulsed, and a gloomy expression appeared on his face. He stood up and said, "First of all, my name is not Evans."

He revealed a cold smile and said to the tall and skinny man, "Secondly, you can make another choice. Choose one? Or choose two?"

"I choose two, I choose two! Tell us the answer!"

Alberto's voice sounded indifferent, "The answer is that the button in your hand corresponds to the fat man."

When these words came out of Alberto's mouth and landed on the ground, the whole scene fell silent, and no one thought that this would be the answer.

The answer Schiller had read out earlier was like a mythological puzzle, full of difficult-to-understand metaphors, even for the people of Gotham, it was a bit too early. But the next second, Alberto's answer was so straightforward.

It was like a test. The first question was to ask for the general solution of a calculus equation, and the second question was to ask what you had for breakfast this morning.

"Wait!" the tall, suspended man said, "You're lying. This answer is completely different from the first one."

"Because you chose two, this could indeed be a lie," Alberto shrugged.

But the tall, skinny man heard his companion whispering.

"Halu is too heavy, he's close to the ground, even if the rope is lowered slowly, his belly will touch the ground earlier than others... "

"Yes, and this lunatic may have written several answers with completely different styles. Maybe he's not lying..."

"Anyway, Halu won't live long. Falcone knows his true identity, he's doomed!"

"He'll die sooner or later..."

"Then let's do it..."

"Let's do it..."

"Why not?"

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