A Bunch of Jokers Gather in Gotham

The bullets ran out.

Harley Quinn slumped to the floor, her hands hanging limply as the guns fell into the blood and dust.

After the ultimate outpouring of madness came an even more bottomless emptiness and chill. The agony of hope being kindled and then snuffed out in an instant was far more devastating to the mind than simple loss.

Her gaze gradually shifted from hollow rage to a twisted hatred that sought someone to blame. It was a uniquely human psychological defense mechanism.

Almost everyone had it. One could look at most runaways as a reference; they were classic examples. Humans would subconsciously shift fault and hatred onto others to make themselves feel a little better.

Right now, Joker's girl was in exactly that state.

"It was Batman—it had to be him!" she muttered, her eyes turning venomous. "Damn Batman! Killing my Puddin' once wasn't enough—he must have known—he used some dirty trick—from so far away—with that damned black tech of his—"

Everyone knew Batman had black tech.

Of course, Joker's girl knew nothing about that black tech.

After all, anyone who understood Joker's girl knew she was a doctor of psychology. She had graduated from Gotham University, then entered Arkham Asylum as a criminal psychologist and psychiatrist, specializing in the mental states of supervillains. She was a liberal arts person, so naturally she did not understand much about the sciences.

Of course.

Joker's girl's feelings for Joker truly existed, as if he were her first love. Her original research subject had been Joker, and she had hoped to write an authoritative work by analyzing his madness.

However, through long-term contact, she was drawn in by Joker's extremely bewitching charisma and gradually developed transference, mistakenly believing she could "cure" or "save" him. In the end, she gave up her