American Comics: The Force Awakens

Deep suburbs of Gotham City, night.

Arkham Asylum's full name is Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, a building that seems to have been cursed since its inception.During its construction, its architect went insane and hacked his workers to death.Since then, the building has been associated with mental illness.

And tonight, it will have its own new visitor.

Dr. Quinzel, who was wearing a white coat, handed the access permit to the guard, pushed up his flat-light glasses, and waited for the examination to be completed.She carried nothing but a small document bag.

"Ma'am, you still need to be inspected, and any risky metal objects are not allowed into Arkham," the guard said.He had a big belly and was obviously inactive.He stepped forward, a metal detector and a pistol hanging from his waist. There were still remnants of food in the corner of his mouth: dinner seemed to be pizza.

"You know, if someone came to search me, I would hope it was an Italian rather than an American, I heard they have to be more gentlemanly." She seemed to want to make small talk with the guard while she waited.

The guard paused for a moment, then continued to move forward to conduct the scan. The metal detector did not make any sound. "I think so too, ma'am, but it's a pity that our dean doesn't seem to think so."

"The inspection is complete. You can go in directly. Madam, I hope you have a good night." He put his hand down and secretly wiped the sweat on his trouser leg.

"Oh, I will. I have a hunch that tonight will make many people smile." The doctor showed a decent smile, and in front of her, the heavy explosion-proof door slowly opened.

.........

Harley's Psychological Clinic

"Do you know Hugo Strange? The current Dean of Arkham." Carl leisurely made circles with his hands. "He has a very bright bald head."

"He borrowed Sal Maloney's money, yes, a lot of money." He said in a regretful tone. "So I say it's too late for Mr. Falconi to take action on Arkham." a little."

Sitting opposite him was Falconi's youngest son, Alberto.

"The relationship between Maloney and my father is not bad. There were even rumors that my sister Sophia was close to Maloney before." He replied.But both parties speaking know that this is not true.

"And you know why I'm here. I want to know what happened last night, why you told me that, and who you really are.

"Don't worry, let's solve the last problem first." Karl stopped him from interrupting and continued, "Note that the word I just used was borrow, and Hugo still owes Maloney money. So Falconi It only takes a little money to bring Mr. Hugo to his side, so why wouldn't he do it."

"My father doesn't like them... you freaks," Alberto replied. "He thinks you're ruining his business, his city. The city has become weird, and he wants his men to be... Some normal people.”

"That's right." Karl snapped his fingers, "This is our focus. Last night, we all saw how much harm two lunatics in tight clothes can cause to your career."

"You graduated in business administration, so you must know how the mafia operates. This thing does not have the perfect risk control that ordinary large companies have. Each link of it is like an interconnected transmission mechanism."

"It only takes one of the links to go wrong," Carl concluded, his right hand gesturing like a pistol. "There was a snap and the chain collapsed."

"And now, since Batman debuted, there have been countless lunatics who, for whatever reason, are willing to put a bullet in your gears, whether it's Falcone or Maloney."

"So what does this have to do with the question I asked? Everyone knows that the father's youngest son has nothing to do with his business." Alberto pushed up his glasses, hiding the uneasiness in his eyes and asked. "

"Yes, you have nothing to do with the business, but anyone with a discerning eye can see that this is not what you want, so I want to help you." Karl stood up, straightened his clothes, and said, "And I, although I have always been anonymous I call myself a prophet, but here, I can play a little role as a prophet, or an oracle, if you believe in God."

"Falconi's business won't last long in Gotham, maybe a year, maybe less." He cleared his throat and announced, "The future of Gotham belongs to those who are crazier and more energetic. But you You can buy him enough time to clear his name or retire, for example, kill Maloney. I know you have the ability and are willing to do it."

"If you are willing to join us and become one of us." He took out the .22 Clipper pistol that he had received and placed it gently on the coffee table.

"Do you mean tights, a perverted murderer, or a paranoid patient?" Alberto glanced at the small pistol on the coffee table and asked sarcastically.

"Do you know Julian Day?" Karl still didn't answer and talked about something that seemed irrelevant. "People call him Calendar Man. He always commits crimes on holidays or special dates, killing people indiscriminately and stuff like that."

"He was imprisoned in Arkham, and if he was released." He paused and glanced at Alberto, who was thinking.

"A new festival killer starts murdering at festivals."

"Maloney's men were killed one after another."

"Police suspect Calendar Man has committed another crime."

"What do you think of the script?" Carl asked.

"If only one of Maloney's men died, whoever did it, he would think it was his father who did it," Alberto replied. "This makes no sense. It will only intensify conflicts and make the struggle more crazy."

"But what if the Roman men die first?" Karl's voice lowered, as if he was bewitching.

"Johnny, your cousin, I know you don't like him," he said. "He's as fat and disgusting as his mother, and he tried to betray the Romans."

"However, he is married now, your father paid for it, he went on honeymoon, and he will even do better under your father in the future. No one cares about his shameful betrayal in the past."

"And you, the youngest son of a Roman, can only come to this remote psychological clinic to discuss with an unknown person like me how to save your father's empire."

Alberto was silent for a while, then he lit a cigarette.

"No smoking in the clinic. Dr. Quinzel will be angry when he comes back."

Alberto slowly put away the igniting lighter, as if resisting something, but at the same time he also put the pistol into his arms.

Karl smiled, knowing that from this moment on, a new holiday killer was born.

"You know, using a baby pacifier as a silencer for this kind of pistol is a wonderful classic technique." He reminded him kindly. “And it’s legendary, isn’t it.”

Alberto left.

The imperial march sounded again.

"Hello, mentor." Karl answered the phone, "Is everything ready?"

"If it goes according to your plan, yes." Scarecrow's deep voice came from the receiver.

"Very good." He looked at the time, "Then we will meet up in 30 minutes."

"Go deal with Black Mask."