In the darkness, a faint, almost nonexistent sound of breathing rang out only after long intervals. Yet from time to time, a few soft chuckles were mixed in.
The laughter sounded like mist floating among the clouds, carrying an unstable quality, as though it might turn into tears and fall from the sky the next second.
"Be quiet for a while. I need to think."
The shadow in the darkness said this to himself, but the next moment, he began laughing to himself again, as though pinching his throat and answering himself in a sharp, thin voice.
"Hee hee, what does it matter? Why not let me help you think? Shall we play an interesting game first?"
"...Your plan is only to keep the two of us alive," the low, hoarse voice said.
The flippant, cheerful voice retorted, "Isn't that enough? As long as there's a butler, there'll be bread and milk. With Batwoman, putting together an idol band would be effortless too."
Batwoman remained expressionless. She held Jar-ro against her chest, and the little alien starfish looked as though it were asleep.
"If everyone else dies, then there'll be no need for Batwoman to exist either. I'll become Bruce Wayne, an utterly ordinary human survivor after the disaster."
The Joker's phantom leaped out of the darkness and sat on the armrest of the chair beside Batwoman. He stretched out a finger and poked the black emblem on her chest. "Oh, dear Bat, you're scaring me again. I'm so afraid. So how about we play Old Maid? Whoever draws the Joker goes out and kills people."
"If you intend to use my body to kill people, Jar-ro will execute the Final Protocol and completely erase my consciousness through Psionic Abilities, thereby killing me." Batwoman remained calm. She even answered with