The Second Generation Joker was tightly bound to the wall with iron nails and chains. His expression was utterly numb, as if nothing in the world could interest him.
Suddenly, a dark figure leaped down from above and landed steadily on the ground.
It was Batman, Bruce Wayne.
His inbox had received an anonymous message claiming to know the Second Generation Joker's whereabouts.
To guard against a trap, he had made every possible preparation. Even so, he had come.
When Batman Bruce saw the Second Generation Joker on the wall, his green pupils contracted sharply.
He looked at the figure in the room, feeling both disbelief and a lingering sense of dread.
The man's head was topped with sticky, wet green hair. His face was still pale, and his lips were bright red.
It was the Second Generation Joker.
His frame had grown terribly thin, little more than skin and bones. Even parts of his body had been pierced by metal rings.
Countless flies buzzed around him, and a foul stench filled the room.
Various instruments lay scattered on the ground: durian fruit, a stun gun. They all seemed intended to interrogate and torture him...
"So it really is the Second Generation Joker... What did that Super Batman do to you?!"
After seeing the Second Generation Joker's condition, Batman Bruce's voice trembled faintly.
His emotions were in turmoil. After all, in Gotham, the most he had ever seen were corpses and pieces of corpses.
He had rarely encountered a scene like this.
Hearing someone speak, the Second Generation Joker lifted his drooping head.
Through his blurred vision, he could make out a dark figure standing in front of him.
He narrowed his eyes slightly. Once they focused, he finally recognized who the figure was.
Unlike Super Batman, this Batman Bruce