Joker held the photograph high and waddled up to Thomas Wayne, his toes pointed comically outward.
The latter knocked his outstretched hand away, his face full of disgust.
"I'll consider your request, but not now."
"Consider my request? That wasn't what you said when we negotiated our terms." Joker picked up the photograph, a trace of resentment in his eyes, but soon his mouth split into a grin again.
"Mr. Thomas, if you regard a condition of our cooperation as a request, may I take that as a sign of your betrayal?"
"Think whatever you like. The fact is, you've already gotten on my nerves."
Thomas Wayne narrowed his eyes and sneered.
Accompanying his laughter, a tall, heavily muscled man squeezed through the doorway.
The fellow was so powerfully built that he hardly looked human. His upper body was bare, his swollen physique like an unfinished stone sculpture in a sculptor's hands, his sharply defined muscles seemingly still dusted with stone chips.
More striking than the skull-like mask on his face was the large transparent tank on his back, which resembled a rocket pack. Two metal tubes extending from its top fed into a valve-like device at the back of his head, delivering the churning emerald-green solution inside.
Judging by appearances alone, most people would have taken him for a berserker whose body had been enhanced through technology.
Aside from brute strength, his greatest weapons were his extensive knowledge, keen mind, and formidable willpower, which rivaled Batman's.
He had briefly served the League of Assassins, but when he was captured twenty years ago and witnessed the power of the Court of Owls, he had betrayed the League without hesitation.
But would a man like that truly be content to serve the Court?
The answer, naturally, was no.
Otherwise, he would