Looking at the envelope in front of him, Joker couldn't wait to reach out his hand.
But just as he reached halfway, he seemed to remember something, so he quickly retracted his hand and took off the gentleman's gloves on both hands.
There were no stains on the pale skin, but he still wiped it twice on the suit.
Finally he took the envelope, the corners of his cracked mouth were trembling constantly, and he carefully and slowly raised the envelope to his eyes.
Looking at the elegant signature on the letter, I touched it gently with my fingers.
"Oh my God, it's really Bruce. This is the cursive calligraphy I personally taught him when he was a child."
When I opened the envelope, my trembling hands seemed to have no strength to hold the letter tightly. I tried two or three times in a row before pulling out the letter paper.
A photo attached to the back of the letter was taken out, jumped out of the seal, and was about to fall into the smelly ditch of Gotham.
"No!"
Joker hurriedly rushed forward, holding the envelope and letter high in one hand, and trying hard to catch the photo in mid-air with the other hand.
Seeing that the other party was about to fall into the sewage due to his unstable posture, Shane stepped forward, supported Joker with one hand, and held the photo with the other hand. After holding Joker steady, he handed the photo to the other party.
"Be careful, ma'am."
"Oh my gosh, thank you."
Joker muttered thanks, held the photo in his arms, posted it again and again, and then picked it up to look at it.
Shane also took a look at it.
He hadn't had time to peek at this letter yet.
That is a photo of Bruce Wayne's life.
The background is Wayne Manor, a young and handsome rich man, standing on the edge of the flower garden of the manor, wearing a well-ironed white shirt, holding a suit that seems to have just been taken off in one hand, and the other hand is resting on a brand new lawnmower in a somewhat unflattering manner.
Butler Alfred was striding towards Bruce. On the tray in his hand was a pot of hot tea and two empty cups. His face, which should have been bearing the weight, was inexplicably nervous.
Due to the angle of the capture, Bruce Wayne did not look at the camera, but most of the profile of his face was exposed, and it was obvious that at least the corners of his mouth were raised.
In Batcave in another world, Batman stopped struggling in a daze. He looked at the picture transmitted back through Shane goggles, staring closely at the familiar and unfamiliar pale face.
Everyone seemed to be frozen, staring blankly at the screen.
Shazam wowed quietly.
"Does he still have photos with such a sense of life?"
Nightwing got up from the ground and snorted coldly as half of his face swelled up rapidly.
"I took this photo several years ago. At that time, he wanted to take me to the grass to check my fighting skills on a rare day. As a result, he found a lawn mower in the yard that Alfred had secretly obtained from somewhere."
"The weeds in the manor have not been repaired for many years. He may have been in a good mood at that time, so he took off his clothes and planned to try it himself."
Nightwing covered his swollen face with resentment.
"If I hadn't had a sudden idea at the time, he wouldn't have even had a photo of his normal life that was suitable for putting in the envelope - most of the time Bruce was just having fun outside."
Nightwing didn't say the rest.
As a mother, of course, I can tell whether all the expressions on the faces of my children are genuine, or whether they are just disguises of indifference.
Bruce·Wayne is out there as the president of Wayne Enterprises, and there must be a lot of photos captured by some media.
There are always many photos of successful people shaking hands with their partners, or photos of playboys hugging young models.
But those photos cannot convey a good state to the people who know and care about you best.
Only in this picture captured by Nightwing, Bruce seemed to have shed all the constraints and pressure at that moment, showing the most natural and relaxed appearance.
Although there is still no obvious smile on his face.
But it won't make parents feel worried or heartbroken.
Joker covered his mouth, looked at the photo again and again, touched it again and again, carefully stuffed it into the lining of his clothes, and placed it as close as possible to his heart for safekeeping.
Then look at the letter.
This time Shane took a step back.
This thing, he was so disgusted by the letter from Thomas Wayne last time.
Not so curious anymore.
As he watched, Joker suddenly knelt down on the ground with a plop.
Tears burst out, and I couldn't stop sobbing. I kept mumbling.
"Oh, Bruce... oh, my child..."
Batman in Batcave's whole body began to tremble violently.
The next second, he rolled his eyes and fainted.
Skeletal Superman hugged Batman at a loss, stared wide-eyed, and shouted loudly.
"I told you he was bleeding from capillaries in his brain! Is there anyone who can help him?"
As soon as these words came out, everyone in Batcave seemed to have woken up from a dream, and they took Batman from Skeletal Superman's hands with all their hands, and then sent it to Cyborg who was already standing on the makeshift operating table.
Shane, who was standing at the scene, looked at Joker - No, that woman must not be called Joker now.
It should be called Mrs. Martha, or Mrs. Wayne or something.
"Madam, if you really miss your son so much."
Shane once again took out the locator that was supposed to be prepared for Flash but had already been used once by Skeletal Superman.
"Maybe you can go and see for yourself."
Mrs. Martha's eyes were red and swollen from crying. He looked up at the locator in Shane's hand, and his whole body seemed to be wrapped in infinite hope.
She struggled.
Because one hand was holding a treasure that she did not want to be stained by sewage or dust, she could only use her other hand to hold on to the floor, staggering as she tried to get up.
But just for a moment when her head lowered.
Gotham The pool of sewage that was supposed to be turbid, reflected her appearance so clearly this time.
Long green curly hair, pale face, and cracked scarlet mouth corners.
She paused.
After five seconds of silence, Mrs. Martha raised his head, and what remained in his eyes most probably was some kind of indescribable despair and pain.
Shane I don't know why.
But it seemed that just now, something must have happened to the other party that he couldn't understand.
Under those red and swollen eyelids, joy, pain, hope, despair... too many emotions were constantly mixed.
But there is still an extremely subtle madness that is growing slowly but surely.
"No."
Shane frowned.
The other party's rejection is beyond his judgment.
As if due to some kind of intuition, Shane suddenly raised his hand and took off the mask, grasped it with five fingers, and casually scratched the mask with the monitoring and transmission function into pieces.
"Why?"
"I... I was poisoned by Luthor. Regardless of whether I can complete the task of intercepting you, I won't be able to survive for long."
"I can't be so selfish. If I pass, once I die again, it will be too cruel to the Bruce of your world."
Shane looked at the other party seriously, trying to remember every change of Joker's micro-expression.
"This may not be what you mean, ma'am."
"We may not be able to solve it over there..."
Joker put a finger on his lips.
She shook her head at Shane.
"Aren't you going to save your world's Flash?"
"Don't waste your time with a mortal like me."
Joker stood up, his head lowered slightly, as if he was deliberately avoiding Shane's gaze.
"Let me give you a gift, and then ask you to leave this world as soon as possible."
She turned around and walked towards the iron door that had been opened before.
Shane fell into a brief hesitation.
"Hurry up, we don't have much time."