Night of the Return of the Joker (Part 2)

"So, the priest saw that I was different and recommended me to the priest, asking him to hire me Evans, as a tutor. Actually, he wanted me to solve Evans' problem?"

"Neither Carmine nor I could be sure if the Court of Owls was still keeping an eye on Evans. But it seems our vigilance was justified; they are indeed not giving up, and they still consider Evans a key figure in the Water Source Plan."

Father Daniel sighed and said, "This generation of the Court of Owls is far inferior to the previous one. They rushed things and left too many loopholes. I lived in that church for decades and know every single brick and tile there like the back of my hand."

"The ice storm that Gotham experienced was not enough to cause such a large crack in the church floor. They were controlling Alberto, making him test whether the Fine Wine was truly mature."

"It seems that the blow that Batman and I gave the owls didn't make them behave."

"That trick was actually very effective." Father Daniel paused for a moment and said, "It was probably the most effective one in decades."

"But that's still not enough. Remember when I told you that neither Falcone I knew the answer? That wasn't just an excuse."

"The Court of Owls may be an important piece in this game, but not the whole thing, not even the King and Queen."

"Falcone and I spent our entire lives unable to uncover the dark the Truth behind this."

Falcone shook his head as well, the glow of his cigar gradually dying out, making the old theater seem even darker. He said, "I said I didn't find them, I didn't get the chance, and that's the truth. There must be something else behind the Court of Owls."

"If the real Black Hand is still around, then killing any number of owls won't make a difference."

"I see the possibility of finding the real culprit in you and Batman." Falcone turned to Schiller, his eyes dark and unfathomable in the shadows of his eye sockets. "That's why I want to form a secret meeting, but the real purpose of the meeting is not to deal with the Court of Owls, but to deal with the darkness behind him or similar organizations."

Schiller leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He said with some emotion, "I know that anyone who has lived in Gotham for decades cannot be completely unaware of this, but I did not expect you to be so persistent."

"We don't care where you come from, or what secrets you carry." Father Daniel turned to Schiller, his gaze not as sharp as Falcone's, but always calm and gentle. He said, "If you, or anyone else, ever find the Truth, please don't forget—"

"Many people have tried for this city, but the vast majority of them did not succeed. Those who do not belong in Gotham will eventually leave."

"A lawyer friend of mine once told me that in this world, you don't necessarily have to reach the end to win."

"Alright, our stories are finished. Now it's your turn." Father Daniel smiled and looked at the stage, saying, "Our play is called 'Easter,' and you named your play 'Return of the Joker.' Is there any special meaning behind that? Can you tell us?"

"That thing beneath Gotham Cathedral isn't called the Fine Wine Pool; what's inside is called the Dionysus Factor, which can indeed grant immortality."

Schiller's words were startling. Falcone and Daniel both looked at him. Schiller paused for a moment, then continued, "But it's not an antidote, it's poison, the most potent poison in the world."

"He can create the world's most insane madman; I prefer to call him— the Madman's Blood."

"Judging from your tone, it seems like you know a lot about it."

"Gotham is not the only place in the world that has this kind of thing."

"I've almost forgotten your resume. Have you seen this kind of thing anywhere else? You told me before that you were absolutely certain you could guarantee Evans' safety. I hope you weren't lying to me."

"Of course not, Godfather. Don't worry, it all started when Evans came to me."

"When he came to me for help, he seemed to be very distressed about his relationship with his father. I think Alberto was about to be resurrected at that time, so I gave him a suggestion: to find a way to hide in a mental hospital."

"Although I told him it was to make him show a willingness to back down and ease the tension between father and son, the real reason was that I wanted to observe him over the long term and I needed some more concrete evidence."

"You sensed something was wrong back then?"

Schiller shook his head and said, "I had a feeling, but I had no evidence. Evans didn't seem to be acting strangely at the time, but my intuition told me that something was wrong."

"So I sent him to Arkham Asylum, where I worked, and put him in the same room as a smart guy."

"His performance should have been quite obvious after those heavy rains, right?"

"Yes..." Schiller's voice gradually drifted into memories, and the three of them looked toward the stage.

In the pitch-black hospital room, moonlight streamed through the window and spilled onto the floor, casting a faint luster on the metal armrests of the hospital bed. Schiller stood before Evans's bedside, gazing at him as if trying to sense his emotions.

Falcone asked Schiller, "So, after you confirmed that, what did you do?"

"In fact, I did nothing, because I knew he would definitely slip up, and sure enough, he did."

The old curtain of the theater stage closed and then opened again, a cloud of dust rose, and the scene on the stage transformed into Sheldon's office.

Schiller was squatting in front of Sheldon's desk, and he forcefully pried open the last drawer of Sheldon's desk, which was full of cassette tapes.

"What is that?" Father Daniel asked curiously.

"He was the one who eavesdropped on the phone recordings I left behind. He's already dead, so those recordings are useless now. I'd better take them back."

Sitting in the chair closest to the stage, the light from Sheldon's office shone on Schiller's glasses again. Then, he stood up from Sheldon's desk, took a tape recorder from the cabinet, found a blank cassette tape, and recorded his voice onto it.

"The goods from Plantation Number Nine go through Old Wilkin's route, the route that goes through three main streets in the East End. Their volume is so large that the delivery point is set up in the basement of a nightclub. If you need, I can put in a word with him..."

"You're worried about that? There's no need. As far as I know, that underground chemical plant in the West End is also Falcone..."

Then Schiller squatted down again and placed the cassette tape into the side of the upper drawer.

Upon hearing his name, Falcone chuckled and said, "Don't tell me you're trying to scare those policemen away with this trick?"

"On the contrary, the police might be scared off by the Godfather's name, but there is one person who won't be, and I'm going to great lengths to provide him with clues."

Then, Schiller stared at the scene on the stage and said, "I waited a long time before Alberto finally showed his weakness. Perhaps he was dissatisfied with Sheldon's indecisiveness, or perhaps he felt he had the victory in his grasp and wanted to silence him."

"Alberto must have found an excuse to speak with Sheldon alone, and then pushed him down the stairs during the conversation."

"But he still didn't do enough. If I hadn't cleaned things up for him, not only Batman, but the police would have found something out."

On the stage, Victor opened the corridor window, looked down and saw Sheldon's body, then hurriedly ran down.

But if he looked up, he could see Schiller's busy figure.

"Actually, he did one thing well: he had Sheldon call Victor in advance to come over, and then timed it perfectly so that Victor would become a witness and become a suspect, thus misleading the police."

"I didn't know Victor would come. If I had known that Victor would call me over again, I wouldn't have gone back to the mental hospital. I could have just waited next to the administration building."

"The mental hospital is far from Gotham University. How did you manage to run back and forth in just a few minutes?"

"That's not important."

Seeing that Schiller didn't want to answer, Falcone didn't ask any further questions.

"Later, during the police summons, I had to suggest another possibility to mislead the police and prevent them from causing trouble, since it should be Batman's turn to shine next."

"When a patient goes mad, do you guess that it's the effect of Fine Wine?"

"No," Schiller denied, saying, "In fact, I did not draw any conclusions before I had personal contact with this substance."

"But Alberto gave me an Easter egg, which confirmed that the substance in it was the same as the one in the patient's blood, and then I knew what it was."

"So what did you do?"

Schiller shrugged and said casually, "I gave him an Easter present."

Moonlight streamed through the theater windows, casting shadows on the old curtains. As the curtains slowly closed and then opened again, the stage gradually expanded, and a rich aroma of alcohol wafted from Gotham Cathedral.

Batman looked around and heard frantic howls coming from the dark alleys nearby, like a hymn to a newborn.

After the burst of maniacal laughter, Batman saw a figure crawling out of the green pool of water, his crazed smile resembling that of a demon just born from Hell.

Batman's muscles tensed. He knew that the force of the explosion was enough to kill Alberto, and the fact that he had climbed out of the pool meant that there must be something wrong with the green water; perhaps a monster had been born from it.

Alberto crawled out, his blond hair sticking wetly to his forehead. His face was deathly pale, his mouth agape, and his green eyes were completely consumed by madness.

Batman drew his Batarang again, cocked his pistol, and was clearly prepared for a fierce battle, but things still took an unexpected turn.

After the rich aroma of wine wafted out, countless wild laughs echoed in the streets and alleys around the church, and then one after another, crazed figures gathered around it.

Batman looked around and saw at least a hundred people, each of them with a crazed smile like Alberto, approaching him like zombies.

"I did," Alberto's voice became incredibly hoarse, like sawing wood with a blade. "I have been resurrected, and I will live forever..."

Just as Batman was silently staring at him, another familiar voice sounded behind him.

"Do you have any particular feelings, Batman?"

Batman turned around and, as he expected, stood behind him Schiller Rodriguez, the Psychology Professor who insisted on calling himself an ordinary person.

Batman took a deep breath and said, "Don't tell me it's you again..."

"You have to answer my question first: what do you think of him?"

Batman turned around, looked at Alberto, and said, "What do you mean, 'how about it'?"

"Hmm... do you remember his laughter?"

"No, what does that mean?"

"It seems he's not the person you're looking for," Schiller said with considerable regret.

"What?" Batman turned to look at Schiller, who had walked up to him. Schiller said, "If you don't feel anything when you're facing him, then he's not the one destined for you."

"Batman." Schiller's tone began to lower. "If one day, a maniacal laugh echoes in your heart, then you've found the right person."

"And this..." Schiller looked Alberto up and down and said:

"He ruined my Easter present, now, let's beat him up."