The Devil’s Gratitude

Alfred turned his head to him. "Perhaps it's connected to Master Wayne's public announcement that he was funding Batman…"

Avery glanced over at the nearby screen playing a live broadcast and immediately understood. He couldn't help but sigh, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Avery was truly speechless about Joker—Batman's obsessive anti-fan.

The chain of events leading up to this wasn't all that complicated.

The first gang of kidnappers targeting Bruce Wayne wasn't particularly skilled. The moment they got wind of an opportunity, they rushed to gather their crew. But they weren't exactly discreet; being homeless, they had no real privacy or secrecy in their plans. Who could expect their street-corner plotting to stay confidential? In reality, they succeeded mainly because they moved fast—spontaneously deciding to nab a van, rough up the driver, and dump him by the roadside before going after Bruce.

And so it happened that Joker, out for an evening stroll, overheard the plan by chance. Meanwhile, Jeffrey's crew had their eyes on Harvey and were just about to strike when they noticed someone had beaten them to it. Confused, they nonetheless decided to follow the first group, leading to the chaotic series of events that unfolded.

Each successive wave of kidnappers unwittingly wiped out the group before them. Compared to the others, the first gang was almost quaint—they had no intention of harming anyone. Knowing that Gotham might not enforce the death penalty didn't comfort them; they feared they'd mysteriously die in prison if they killed a wealthy man. They simply wanted a quick payout.

Jeffrey's original plan was to eliminate Harvey to silence him or, failing that, to recruit him into the scheme. His last-minute idea of extorting Bruce was risky, but he thought he could either kill or convert one of them. If no one had come to the rescue, he might have succeeded at one of his goals. Yet he hadn't foreseen what would come first: his success or the sheer chaos that intervened.

In the end, Jeffrey became collateral damage in Joker's twisted fireworks display.

No one could say if anything of him would be left besides ashes.

"Pleasantly surprised!"

Unlike his masked henchmen, Joker wore no disguise. He looked exactly as his moniker suggested.

His slightly long hair was dyed a garish green, his face painted an unsettling white like fresh plaster, and his mouth was smeared with blood-red lipstick that stretched all the way to his ears. He looked like he was grinning wildly—too wildly, in a way that sent chills down the spine.

Saying "pleasantly surprised," he strolled over to Bruce, wholly ignoring Harvey, making it clear Harvey held zero interest for him.

"I've heard about you," Joker sneered, his eyes gleaming with a twisted glee as he locked his gaze onto Bruce. "You're the one funding our little Bat, letting him keep opposing me…"

Joker's eyes bore into Bruce like those of a demon. In a way, this wasn't their first encounter, but it was certainly their first time meeting like this. Not as Batman beating Joker senseless and dragging him back to Arkham, but as Bruce Wayne, unmasked and exposed.

Joker exaggerated his movements, swinging his limbs like a true circus clown. With every pause in his words, everyone in the room except Bruce held their breath. They assumed Joker would unleash his wrath on Bruce Wayne for bankrolling his nemesis and tear this wealthy man to pieces. After all, no one would be merciful to the ally of their enemy—the enemy's friend was the enemy too.

But Joker, of course, was no ordinary man.

"What is this?! Why is my dear Brucie all locked up? Who's responsible for this? For heaven's sake, unlock him this instant! Damn it!"

Astonishingly, Joker seemed to be defending his captive, outraged by the indignity of Bruce being restrained.

One of his henchmen, trembling, stepped forward, silently cursing his luck for having the handcuff keys. But there was no choice; he had to obey. As instructed, he unlocked the cuffs.

Clang!

The handcuffs fell to the ground—a clumsy mistake from his shaking hands.

Bruce watched all of this with a quiet intensity, observing every detail. And then he saw it: the moment the henchman turned away, Joker pulled a pistol from his coat, and fired it at him.

Bang!

The bullet struck squarely in the man's heart. Blood sprayed out as he crumpled to the ground without a word.

Harvey's eyes widened. Unfamiliar with Joker's methods, he couldn't grasp the random cruelty of this madman and wondered how anyone could serve someone so volatile.

But the others around them remained indifferent, barely flinching. Even Bruce feigned surprise while inwardly unfazed—he'd seen Joker's ruthlessness too many times before.

As for why people would still follow Joker…

Bruce's sharp gaze swept over the room full of desensitized faces.

—They were all Joker's believers.

"Alright, now no one else can interrupt us," Joker cackled, lowering his gun. His henchmen moved automatically to drag the corpse away, leaving only a fresh bloodstain to silently mark the spot, a stark reminder of the life that ended there.

Turning back to Bruce, Joker sneered, "Did you think I'd kill you? That your little financial support for Batboy would send me into a rage? You all think that, don't you?"

He seemed to see straight into people's minds—yet he sounded as if he were spouting mad ramblings.

"Wrong! Utterly wrong!" Joker leaned close, forcing Bruce to meet his eyes as he stressed each word. "Without you, how could our little Bat even exist, right? I should be thanking you—for sparing me from such unbearable boredom."

For a fleeting second, Bruce felt Joker might have somehow realized his true identity.

Joker raised his index fingers, pressing them against the corners of Bruce's mouth, trying to pull them into a smile. "Come on, smile! Why so serious? Don't worry, I won't do anything to you. Without you, what would be the point of my existence?"

Bruce: "..."

No one dared comment on Joker's unsettlingly affectionate words, not even Bruce himself, who had grown almost numb from hearing such twisted declarations.