Chapter 180: The Phantom of the Opera (Part 1)

Gordon placed the coffee cup in his hand onto the table; the cup's bottom struck the surface with a crisp sound. He sighed, pulled his chair back, and the instant his buttocks touched the cushion, he heard the old television beside him suddenly emit a burst of intense static, startling him into springing straight up from the chair.

Originally, the television was playing an ordinary drama; suddenly, the screen turned to snow, huge noise came from within, the screen flashed, and a person with a pale face, green hair, and a terrifying clown makeup painted on his face appeared on the screen.

The clown's smiling face made him look as if he were always laughing, yet a sobbing sound came from his mouth; while crying, he wiped his eyes with his arm. His voice hoarse, he said: "Breaking news: a missing person announcement from Sad Jack. My good friend Batman is missing..."

His voice was like wood burned by fire, sounding dry and rough. Suddenly, he stopped his performance, staring straight out of the screen. The corners of his mouth turned down sharply, but the makeup maintained that strange smiling face, making him look extremely twisted.

"... I will find him, even if he just humiliated me." He said with a gloomy face; when he wasn't smiling, a terrifying atmosphere spread.

Schiller, in the ward of Arkham Asylum, watched the television on the wall.

The clown suddenly made a sad expression again. He said: "I am a poor homeless wretch. After the road cracked, truck drivers lost their jobs. I still have bank loans to repay. Sob sob..."

He suddenly covered his face and began to cry; then that sobbing sound grew sharper and sharper, turning into mad laughter. He tilted his head back, his mouth splitting open, and that sharp laughter spread to every corner of Cat Getan.

"Do you think I would say that?!!" He screamed madly: "That doesn't matter!! What matters is the Bat! You bunch of idiots!!!"

He hugged the camera, that pale face infinitely magnified before the lens. As if trying to find something through the lens, he kept pressing his eyes closer.

"When was the first time I saw him? Let me think, let me think..."

"Oh!" The clown suddenly shouted, threw his body backward, then straightened up again. His hair was flung onto his forehead, his eyes covered by the shadow of the hair. He used his hand to wildly push the hair aside; the downward-turned corners of his mouth slowly lifted, his expression becoming gentle, yet even stranger.

"I smashed a thug to death with a hammer; his head burst open like a watermelon, just like that—Bang!"

"Then his companion shouted, 'The Bat will come! The Bat will come!'" The clown puckered his lips, imitating the tone of a plea for help.

"The Bat? Hahahaha, the Bat... a Bat that doesn't kill..."

"How could such a person exist? I think, these gangsters actually believed Cat Getan had a savior! Hahahahaha..."

"I deliberately blew up buildings, smashed people's heads, or made them run out to cry for help... but the Bat just wouldn't come! He refused to come see me! My savior wouldn't come..."

The clown covered his face with both hands, sliding down slowly. His fingers pulled his pale skin downward, easily revealing the red muscle beneath his eyelids.

"And only today did I learn why..."

Suddenly, he grabbed the camera like a madman again, shouting: "Because he thinks I am a killer bred by those idiots!! He thinks I am no different from the madmen on the street! He... sob sob sob... he thinks I am an ordinary madman... sob sob sob sob..."

"An ordinary person... sob sob... how can he be friends with the great Batman..."

While crying, the clown wiped his tears with his arm. He said sadly: "When I went to save him... he actually thought I was a killer from the Court of Owls..."

Suddenly, he puffed out his chest, took a deep breath to fill his lungs with air, grabbed the camera, and roared loudly: "He thinks I am mediocre!!! He thinks I am no different at all!!! This is all your fault!!!!"

"You created so many madmen!!! You made Batman think I am just an ordinary mental patient!!!! He doesn't see me! He doesn't see me! He refuses to participate in my game..."

He was almost hoarse, as if screaming; everyone in front of the television could feel his anger and sorrow.

Suddenly, he calmed down, looked straight at the camera, and said: "You have a plan, and I have one too, I have one too. I want to prove to you that I am Batman's friend. I am, I am different..."

"I call this plan..."

"The Owls are in big trouble! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

Accompanied by the mad laughter echoing overhead, a streak of lightning crossed the sky, and it rained in Cat Getan again.

The television turned back to a field of snow. Schiller stood up, took out the remote control, turned off the television on the ward wall, then threw down the remote, turned around, and said to Batman lying on the hospital bed: "How is it? Feeling better?"

Batman pressed his lips tightly, saying nothing. Schiller crossed his arms and said gleefully: "This is the consequence of not listening to advice. I told you long ago not to take that unlucky name. Now look, it's split in half, isn't it?"

Evans on the adjacent hospital bed shouted: "That has nothing to do with it!"

His voice was still a bit dry, but full of energy. The Dionysus Factor inside him before had healed all his injuries, and even the scars left from before were gone.

However, Batman on the adjacent bed was not doing so well; he was still hooked up to an IV drip, and was obviously seriously injured, unable to get up smoothly even now.

"Who exactly is that madman?" Batman asked, full of confusion: "I was blown away by an explosion. After I woke up, I saw him leaning in front of me, laughing at me constantly."

"I thought he was a Claw sent by the Court of Owls, so I used the anesthetic spray on my arm to spray at him, but he had no reaction at all."

"I asked him if he was sent by the Court of Owls to kill me, and he started screaming madly and smashing things, then squatted on the ground and cried."

"He punched me with his fist; I spat out two mouthfuls of blood. Then he apologized madly, ran out, and said he was going to find a doctor for me."

"I took the opportunity while he was out to bring you back." Schiller shrugged and said.

"Did he just say he created many cases before?" Batman frowned and said in a deep voice: "I always thought he was the same as those people who went mad because of the rain."

"But now, recalling it, about a few weeks ago, I went out on patrol and encountered three bombings in one night. Even in Cat Getan, this frequency is abnormally high."

"He just wanted to be your friend, but you completely didn't see him."

"There are too many madmen in Cat Getan." Batman's mouth corners turned down, looking cold and serious. "Why should I bother to distinguish what is different about them? I have no interest in entering the minds of madmen."

Schiller walked to the middle of the two hospital beds, moved a chair to sit down, then turned to the other side to look at Evans and asked him: "I explained everything to you before; the situation is just like this."

Evans's sorrow was very obvious. He said: "I knew nothing; I was kept in the dark all along. I..."

He painfully covered his eyes and said: "I clearly remember that my relationship with my brother was very good; I can even remember his smile. But if I try to recall carefully, I can remember nothing."

"Human memory has a protection mechanism. When your personality resurrects, too many memory gaps and inconsistencies are very likely to cause the personality to collapse again."

"At this time, the mind's self-repair function will kick in; it will beautify many important things to fill the gaps in your memory and the trauma of your spirit."

"I don't think he was like that; he wasn't..."

Schiller suddenly reached out his hand, directly pressed on Evans's forehead, causing his straight body to fall back onto the hospital bed, his head landing on the pillow again. Evans twitched; when he woke up again, his eyes were different.

"You should be able to see Evans's performance, right, Alberto?"

He remained silent. Although he looked exactly like Evans, when Alberto came out, his facial muscles seemed completely different.

"What I told Evans before, you must have heard too. You are actually the personality created by the Court of Owls, a killer bred by their brainwashing plan."

Alberto sneered and said: "Do you really think I am loyal to them? If I didn't act fanatical, how would they use me to complete that plan? And how would I get the chance for immortality?"

"Is immortality all you pursue?"

"Revenge... and revenge." Evans's nose twitched, making him look very fierce.

"If it is really as you say, that I am the personality created by the Court of Owls, then they made a huge mistake."

"They shouldn't have shaped me into another Godfather; they shouldn't have made me so much like my father; they shouldn't have made me into a true Falcone. No Falcone in this world would willingly be manipulated by others."

Schiller tilted his body to one side, leaning against the armrest of the chair. He said with interest: "Actually, at that time I also thought it was strange; the behavioral patterns they set for you conflicted with the thoughts they set for you."

"They wanted you to be loyal to the Court of Owls, yet they wanted you to become the perfect heir to the Godfather, to become someone exactly like the old Godfather."

"But the Old Godfather could never be a fanatic believer subservient to some mysterious organization; he only believed in himself, only in the authority in his own hands."

"So you were pretending from the very beginning?"

Alberto shook his head and said, "No, I did indeed defect to the Court of Owls, but not because I was superstitious about them; it was because I wanted to take revenge on my father."

"Before, I could never find the reason, but when you told Evans the truth, I understood."

"Understood why I felt no kinship from him at all, why I felt no trust from him toward me."

"He never regarded me as his son."

Alberto's voice grew lower and lower: "Perhaps to make me play the role of Falcone's heir well, the Court of Owls gave me no truth, so I thought I was truly Falcone's son."

"But he was not a good father; every glance he cast at me, every action he took, carried malice..."

"... He wanted to kill me." Alberto's voice trembled slightly.

"Can you imagine it?" Alberto's voice began to carry a touch of madness: "Your father saw you as a monster every single moment; every day he struggled with whether to kill you..."

"I had no idea why." Alberto said painfully, "I thought I was his son; I didn't know why he distrusted me so, even hated me. I was being driven mad by that lurking malice! I had to kill him! I had to take revenge on him!"

As Alberto spoke, Yin Wensi seemed to see, on a stormy night with lightning and thunder at the Falcone Manor, young Alberto facing the towering Falcone. Falcone held him, seemingly worried he would fear the thunder, and pulled Alberto into his embrace.

But the eyes turned away from Alberto were filled with bone-deep hatred and madness. Held in his father's arms, young Alberto looked out at the rainy night; his eyes held only fear and helplessness, yet not because of the thunder that roared throughout the entire night.