"How is he?"
"He won't die, but something seems to have gone wrong with his mind. He's trapped in his own fantasy and can't get out."
"Have Harley take a look?"
"Better not. Unlike you, I don't trust her."
Su Ming walked over to Damian. They kept their voices low, all four eyes fixed on Batwoman's pale, blank expression.
Compared to Catwoman, she looked more like a dead person.
But this was exactly the effect Su Ming wanted. For now, he only needed Batwoman to regain consciousness, then wait for the script to play out.
Joker wanted to die by Batwoman's hand, but Batwoman refused to kill him. Yet The Batman Who Laughs was pressing him step by step. If he did not want to lose, he could only take a step back.
Yes, every great show had someone calling for an encore. Su Ming still needed Joker to play his part.
But with so many people here, it would not work. When Joker made his return, he needed to hold back The Batman Who Laughs and the Legion of Doom, reducing the uncontrollable factors to a minimum.
"I think we should let Alfred try. I've heard stories about family members waking vegetative patients—holding their hands by the bed and talking to them day after day for decades."
Damian regarded Deathstroke's suggestion skeptically. There was no scientific basis for it. It relied on luck and mysticism.
More often than not, it was simply hope doctors gave patients' families, a psychological support to help them keep going.
Damian was not fragile enough to pin his hopes on a possibility. Rather than that, he would be better off figuring out how to deal with Earth's current crisis.
He shook his head. "I tried. I held her hand and talked to her for