"Baby spider, doo doo doo, Baby spider, doo doo doo, Baby bat, doo doo doo, Baby bat, doo doo doo~"
Wanted across America and the Bat Family's number one target, Joker wasn't worried in the slightest.
Would a Joker who panicked even deserve to be called Joker?
He lay sprawled out with one leg crossed over the other, his right ankle bobbing to the beat as he hummed lyrics he made up on the spot.
Of course, Joker hadn't forgotten the business at hand. Joker was always dependable.
Messages were still popping up in the arms-dealing channel.
Someone asked if they could see the nuclear bomb's detonator first, someone wanted to pay in installments, and someone else sent Joker a purchase contract a full seventeen pages long.
Joker patiently flipped back and forth through those documents full of nothing but nonsense.
Party A shall guarantee that the goods conform to their description.
Party A shall provide necessary maintenance support.
Party A shall assume all risks incurred during transport.
He deleted both the contract and the buyer.
Anyone who expected after-sales service when buying a nuclear bomb deserved to spend their whole life playing with little fireworks.
Boring. So boring!
If all he wanted was money, why didn't he suspend the nuclear bomb over Gotham and threaten Bruce Wayne into paying him?
Hmm, that sounded like a decent idea, but it still wasn't interesting enough.
Compared with worldly gold, silver, and dollar bills, Joker preferred to pursue something interesting. He was willing to trade this great big birthday firework for an interesting answer, then use that interesting story as a welcome gift for Spider-Man, who should be back soon.
Only one was left, with coordinates in the Safar Republic.
The other party hadn't asked the price.
"What do you want to