In the pitch-black little room, a sinister voice was slowly expounding on certain principles. For some reason, the owner of the voice sounded somewhat obsessive.
"Biologists say that tigers have no natural enemies. They are nature's apex predators, born with bodies made for killing and the minds of hunters."
The voice spoke as though teaching, stating some self-evident truth.
The second voice sounded both helpless and perfunctory. "Mm. Yeah. Okay."
The owner of the first voice did not care. In the darkness, another passage rose like the muttering of midnight:
"Madmen are the tigers of human society. They possess the same instinct for killing, unconcerned by guilt or sympathy, devoting all their thoughts to perfecting their hunting skills. That is why serial killers eventually give up in despair when their inspiration runs dry—because they can no longer surpass themselves."
"But what does that have to do with you?" The owner of the second voice lacked confidence. Perhaps they were disabled or a dwarf; they spoke in short, gasping breaths that sounded rather comical.
The first voice fell silent for a moment. Then came a grinding "kekekeke" from the darkness, as though someone were suppressing laughter or grinding their teeth. "Because I know of one kind of prey that a tiger can never catch—the only winged mammal, the one and only bat! Every madman wants Batman!"
"So? You want to kill Batwoman too?" the breathless voice asked again.
"Are you saying we're psychopathic serial killers too? No, I'm no longer interested in Batman. I just want some fun, some lively excitement." A third voice, slightly more crazed, spoke up with a snickering laugh. "Heehee, Batwoman is the Justice League's big boss. If she gives the Justice League a vacation, everyone can come to my birthday party!"
This was what Su Ming