The Phantom of the Opera (Part One)

Gordon placed his coffee cup on the table, the bottom of the cup making a crisp sound as it hit the surface. He sighed, pulled out his chair, and the moment his bottom touched the cushion, he heard a sudden, loud noise from the old television beside him, which startled him so much that he jumped up from his chair.

Originally, a regular TV drama was playing on the television when suddenly the screen turned into a static-like display, accompanied by a loud noise. The screen then flashed, and a pale-faced person with green hair and a terrifying Joker- like face appeared on the screen.

The Joker's smiling face made him appear to be constantly laughing, but he was actually making muffled sobbing noises. He was wiping his eyes with his arm as he cried, and in a hoarse voice said, "A missing person announcement, from Sad Jack, my good friend Batman is missing..."

His voice was like firewood that had been burned, sounding dry and astringent. Suddenly, he stopped performing and stared straight out of the screen. The corners of his mouth turned down sharply, but his makeup maintained that strange smile, making him look extremely distorted.

"... I need to find him, even if he just humiliated me." He said with a grim face, and when he wasn't smiling, a terrifying atmosphere permeated the air.

Schiller was in his ward at Arkham Asylum, looking at the television on the wall.

The Joker suddenly put on a sad expression and said, "I'm a homeless wretched man. After the road cracked, truck drivers lost their jobs, and I still have bank loans to pay off, boohoo..."

He suddenly covered his face and started crying, then the sobbing became increasingly shrill, and then turned into a maniacal laugh. He threw his head back and grinned, the shrill laughter echoing throughout every corner of Gotham.

"You think I'd say that?!" he yelled frantically. "That doesn't matter!! What matters is the bats! You bunch of idiots!!!"

He hugged the camera, his pale face magnified infinitely in front of it, as if he was trying to find something through the lens, constantly bringing his eyes closer.

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

"Oh!" the Joker suddenly yelled, leaning back and then straightening up. His hair was tossed across his forehead, obscuring his eyes. He roughly brushed his hair aside, and his downturned lips slowly lifted, his expression becoming gentle, but even more bizarre.

"I smashed a thug to death with a hammer. His head exploded like a watermelon, just like that—bang!"

"Then his companions shouted, 'The bats are coming! The bats are coming!'" The Joker pouted, mimicking a cry for Calling for Help.

"A bat? Hahahaha, a bat... a bat that doesn't kill..."

"How can there be such people? I think these gangsters actually believe Gotham has a savior! Hahahaha..."

"I deliberately blow up buildings, smash people's heads, or make them run out to Calling for Help ... but the bat just won't come! He won't come to see me! My savior won't come..."

The Joker covered his face with his hands and slowly slid them down, his fingers pulling his pale skin downwards, easily revealing the blood-red muscles below his eyelids.

"And I only found out why today..."

He suddenly grabbed the camera like a madman and shouted, "Because he thinks I'm Assassin trained by those idiots!! He thinks I'm no different from any crazy person on the street! He... Waaaaah... He thinks I'm just an ordinary madman... Waaaaah..."

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

The Joker, wiping away tears with his arm as he cried, said sadly, "When I went to save him... he actually thought I was Assassin from the Court of Owls..."

Suddenly, he puffed out his chest, took a deep breath, filled his lungs with air, grabbed the camera, and roared, "He thinks I'm mediocre!!! He thinks I'm no different from anyone else!!! It's all your fault!!!"

"You've created so many lunatics!!! You've made Batman think I'm just a regular psychopath!!!! He can't see me! He can't see me! He won't participate in my game..."

He was almost screaming, as if he were in agony, and everyone watching on television could feel his anger and sorrow.

Suddenly, he calmed down, looked directly at the camera, and said, "You guys have a plan, and so do I. I'm going to prove to you that I'm Batman's friend, that I am, that I'm different..."

"I call this plan..."

"The owl is really in trouble! Haha ..."

As maniacal laughter echoed through the air, a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, and it rained again in Gotham.

The television screen went back to static. Schiller up, took out the remote, turned off the television on the wall of the ward, then tossed the remote aside and turned to Batman was lying in the hospital bed, saying, "How are you feeling? Feeling better?"

Batman pursed his lips tightly, remaining silent. Schiller, arms Schiller, said gloatingly, "This is what happens when you don't listen to advice. I told you long ago not to have that unlucky name. Now look what happened, you're split in two, aren't you?"

Evans, in the next bed, shouted, "It has nothing to do with that!"

His voice was still a little hoarse, but full of energy. The Dionysus Factor in his body had healed all his injuries, and even the scars left from before had disappeared.

However, Batman next to him was not in good condition. He was still on an IV drip and was clearly seriously injured, unable to get up smoothly.

"Who exactly is that madman?" Batman asked, puzzled. "I was blown away by the explosion, and when I woke up, I saw him right in front of me, laughing at me nonstop."

"I thought he was a claw sent by the Court of Owls, so I used the anesthetic spray on my arm to spray him, but he didn't react at all."

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

"He punched me, and I spat out two mouthfuls of blood. He apologized frantically and then ran out, saying he was going to find Doctor for me."

"I managed to rescue you while he was out," Schiller said with a shrug.

"Did he just say that he committed a lot of crimes before?" Batman frowned and said in a deep voice, "I always thought he was the same as those people who went crazy because of the rain."

"But now that I think back, about a few weeks ago, I went out on patrol and encountered three explosions in one night, which is an abnormally high frequency even in Gotham."

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

"There are too many lunatics in Gotham," Batman said, his lips curling downwards, looking cold and serious. "Why should I bother to distinguish them? I have no interest in getting inside a lunatic's mind."

Schiller walked between the two hospital beds, pulled up a chair and sat down, then turned to the other side to look at Evans and asked him, "I've explained everything to you before, that's how it is."

Evans's sadness was evident; he said, "I knew nothing, I was kept in the dark the whole time, I..."

He covered his eyes in anguish and said, "I clearly remember that I had a good relationship with my brother. I can even remember his smile, but when I try to think about it carefully, I can't remember anything."

"Human memory has a protective mechanism. When your personality is revived, too many missing memories and inconsistencies may lead to another personality collapse."

"At this point, the mind's self-repair function will kick in, and it will embellish many important things to fill the gaps in your memory and the trauma in your mind."

"I don't think he's like that, he's not..."

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

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

He remained silent, and although he looked exactly like Evans, his facial muscles seemed completely different when Alberto appeared.

"You should have heard what I told Evans before: you are actually the personality created by the Court of Owls, the Assassin trained by their brainwashing program."

Alberto scoffed and said, "Do you really think I'm loyal to them? If I didn't act fanatical, how would they have used me to complete that plan? And how would I have gotten my chance at immortality?"

"Is immortality all you're after?"

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

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

"They shouldn't have molded me into another godfather, shouldn't have made me so much like my father, shouldn't have made me a real Falcone. There is no Falcone in the world who would willingly be manipulated."

Schiller leaned to one side, resting on the armrest of his chair, and said with interest, "Actually, I also found it strange at the time. The behavioral patterns they set for you and the ideas they set for you were in conflict."

"They want you to be loyal to the Court of Owls, and they also want you to be the perfect successor to the Godfather, to be exactly like the Old Godfather."

"But the Old Godfather could never be a fanatical believer who submitted to some mysterious organization. He only believed in himself and the power in his own hands."

"So you were faking it from the beginning?"

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

"I couldn't find the reason before, but when you told Evans the Truth, I understood."

"Now I understand why I can't feel any family affection or trust from him."

"He never treated me like his son."

Alberto's voice grew lower and lower. "Perhaps in order to make me play the role of Falcone's heir well, the Court of Owls didn't give me any the Truth, so I thought I really was Falcone's son."

"But he wasn't a good father. Every look he gave me, every action he took, was filled with malice..."

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

"Can you imagine?" Alberto's voice began to tremble with madness. "Your father sees you as a monster every single moment, and he struggles every day with whether or not to kill you..."

"I have no idea why," Alberto said painfully. "I thought I was his son. I don't know why he distrusts me so much, even hates me. I'm being driven mad by that lurking malice! I have to kill him! I have to take revenge on him!"

As Alberto recounted the story, Schiller seemed to see a scene unfold: on a stormy night at the Falcone Estate, young Alberto faced Alberto tall Falcone, Falcone was holding him close, seemingly worried that he might be frightened by the thunder.

But the eyes of the young Alberto, Facing Away from his father, were filled with deep-seated hatred and madness. The young Alberto was held in his father's arms, looking out at the rainy night. His eyes were filled with fear and helplessness, but not because of the thunder that had been roaring all night.