When Chaoying meets Little Siren

At three o'clock in the morning, the warehouse in the suburbs.

Jason parked the motorcycle aside, he knew that the "game" hadn't started yet.

He is also able to control his breathing rate to a limit that does not cause hyperventilation.

Clowns, always clowns.

Always a damn clown.

He remembered returning to the safe house and seeing the old radio by the door.

The radio was painted green in a large area, and a smiling face was painted red on the front, playing rhythmic knocking on the door in a leisurely manner.

With just one glance, he knew whose belongings it was, and he no longer remembered what his emotions were like at that time.

He broke into the door, and the room was empty. A dirty brown bear doll with a crying face was placed on the sofa, and a sticky note was pasted on his chest with an address on it.

The address was so eerily familiar that he didn't need to take a second look.

He tore off the note and came to this address.

When the clown asks you to go to the meeting alone, if you want to know the rules of his game, you'd better get his ticket first.

But only the dead know whether that ticket leads to victory or to hell.

It was surprisingly cold tonight, the moon was covered by heavy clouds, there were no other buildings around, and the entrance to the warehouse was as black as an animal's mouth.

This warehouse should have been bombed to nothing but bricks and tiles a year ago.

Behind him, lights dotted the distant horizon.

Jason took a deep breath, and when his hands stopped shaking, he took off his headgear.

This is a shame.

—he was just angry.

"Welcome to Uncle Dragon's castle."

There is a stage in the middle of the warehouse.

The red lights swirled and landed.

The clown smiled strangely, danced and entered the arena from behind the curtain.

"Look, our Prince His Majesty has arrived."

He even bowed.

Jason raised his gun at the Joker blankly.

"where is she?"

"Hmm, don't be so impatient." The clown clicked his tongue, made a look of shrinking, and picked up a button in his hand.

He pressed it down.

The floor in the middle of the warehouse caved in.

A strange and pungent smell began to permeate the warehouse.

Acid pool.

The bright lights are on.

Jason squinted and looked up.

There are two people hanging in the sky.

His little ones... and Red Robin.

He knew the Robin who replaced him. They even fought once. The red Robin's physical skills were more than a little worse than his. It could be seen that he hadn't trained for too long. He was young, immature...weak.

Probably he had a not-so-good look on his face.

The clown laughed fiercely.

"Just an easy choice, my mockingbird."

"—Only one, a prince can only be matched with a princess."

"You can only choose one."

"Oh, of course, if you want to choose me." The clown held his face exaggeratedly, "I'm honored, but I really don't want you to waste this opportunity."

The brightness of the bright lights dimmed.

"You recognize him, right? Red Robin, Batboy can't wait to replace you with him after you die?"

"How long did he replace you? A year? Half a year? Oh no, is there a month?"

"It only took him a month to replace you, my God, I feel sorry for you."

"How disposable are you?"

Hearing this sentence, Red Robin, who only had a guess in his heart, widened his eyes.

"The second-generation Robin?" He murmured in disbelief.

The sling was lowered gradually, and the pool of clear acid, half a foot below his feet, rippled quietly and harmlessly.

The clown randomly dropped a red plastic ball into it.

The plastic ball made a sizzling sound, and within three seconds it scorched and melted.

A little wave splashed hit Red Robin's shoe, and a notch was corroded immediately on the edge of the shoe.

No one questioned the authenticity of the acid pool.

"And this beauty, I guess she gave you a little solace in the dark, right? You two huddled in the waste paper to keep warm like puppies in a rainstorm, and you were all abandoned,"

"—it's nice to find your kind, isn't it?"

"Who do you think I'll choose?" Jason said in a deep voice, almost unable to suppress his anger.

The length and width of the acid pool was 5x10m by visual inspection. The hands and feet of the two people were tied up. The sling was an iron chain, and the bullets kept hitting.

Hope that kid is smart enough.

Facing the clown, he regarded the red robin facing him with a sombre gaze, and lingered for a brief moment barely perceptible on the rope at his feet.

The red Robin kept looking at him, seeing that his right hand holding the gun seemed to shake unsteadily, so he blinked his right eye lightly at him knowingly.

... barely qualified.

Jason's ruthless and cold expression seemed to please the clown.

The clown laughed almost indulgently.

"Yes, yes, that's it. To make up for it, Uncle Clown will help you get rid of this fake, little red bird, you know, I don't hate you that much, we also have an obsession with bats, right?"

"No." Red Robin said, his voice trembling uncontrollably, after all, he was just a teenager, not yet an adult.

He faces death with legitimate fear and awe.

"You are the golden boy, you have other ways, right? You can save me." His breathing became short of breath.

This kid is really good at provoking people.

This Red Robin believed him so much?

They even only met once, and it ended in a fistfight, when Red Robin didn't even know who he was.

Jason thought.

His eyes calmed down, as if he had finally made a decision, with a slightly sarcastic expression.

"No, the golden boy is a generation of Robin." Jason even pulled the corner of his mouth into a smile.

"—and I'm just Red Hood."

He turned to the silent little girl who was tied upside down, dazed and bloodshot.

"Val." Jason's voice softened.

"—I choose Val."

"Bingo!" The clown jumped up happily, almost dancing and pressing a button.

The sling moved.

It was the chain on Weier's head that moved.

"No." Jason murmured, something shattered in his eyes.

"Huh?" That kind of thing can really, really please the clown. The joy of owning a warehouse of banknotes and burning that warehouse of banknotes cannot be less than one hundredth, one ten thousandth of the happiness at this time!

The corner of the clown's mouth was almost grinning to the back of his head, he resisted the urge to laugh wildly, and tried his best to pretend to be innocent.

"—Did I say that the chosen one is the one who survived?"

The clown didn't hold back after all, and laughed wildly sharply.

--It's now.

Jason shot sideways at the rope on Red Robin's ankle, and the rope snapped and fell into the pool of acid to melt.

The bullet had scratched the skin of his bare ankle—god damn who cares about that.

Red Robin exerted strength on his waist, and wrapped his feet forward and up on the iron rope, exposing the rope on his wrist.

The second shot was connected in less than two seconds.

The rope in his hand broke, and Red Robin quickly climbed up the iron chain like a monkey.

The iron crossbeam had the function of blocking the line of sight and allowed him to move on it. He quickly walked towards the direction of the other hostage.

Wish the clown didn't have a gun.

And Val, who should have fallen into the acid pool, was still hanging in the air dizzily.

The chains above her head barely moved an inch.

Jason took the third shot.

The clown tried his best to keep the bullet from hitting his chest.

Still, the bullet made a red flower just to the left of his chest.

Then came the fourth shot.

The batarang jammed into the muzzle of his gun, and the bullet exploded inside the chamber.

Jason's right hand was blown bloody.

"Enough, Jason."

Batman, who had cut the circuit with Nightwing, broke through the window and stood before him, his voice hoarse and his cape trailing.