Chapter 97

Even Kara had to admit there were flaws in Joker's words, but she couldn't entirely dismiss what he was saying.

Take Batman, for instance. Batman emerged because Gotham City had decayed to the core, and extreme measures were needed to address it. Yet Batman's very existence is unlawful.

If Gotham had no gangsters, the police would likely hunt Batman down, and he would have little reason to wage his war on crime.

"Did evil breed justice, or did justice inspire evil? Did criminals make heroes, or did heroes make us criminals?" Joker taunted, grinning as he watched her reaction.

Kara sighed and stood up. "I'm not here to discuss philosophy with you, and I'm not about to lose my mind trying to understand your twisted logic." She had no intention of ending up like Harley Quinn. "I'm not playing your game, Joker."

With a determined look, Kara ended the conversation and cut off Joker's monologue. "I only have one reason for coming here: I want you to forget me and anything you know about Oracle."

It was a necessary move, as Joker held a dangerous secret about her, one she couldn't let go unaddressed. In truth, she had found a way to handle it on the day of the last riot but had still let Joker get the upper hand.

This time, though, she was determined to rid herself of this lingering threat.

"Then you'll have to open up my head and pull it out yourself," Joker sneered with a mocking laugh.

Kara shrugged, unfazed. "I won't need to do that. Just look into my eyes."

She removed the glasses she typically wore to mask her appearance, and her bright blue eyes seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light.

Activating her hypnotic ability, Kara planned to use it to place a deep psychological suggestion in Joker's mind, something to erase his memory of her identity and anything he knew about Oracle.

"Tell me," she prompted, "does anyone else know my identity? Do you have any hidden tricks or backups?"

Joker's face turned slack, his voice hollow, and he responded mechanically to her questions, "Only I know about you and Bruce's identities. The others are from the mob bosses—useless idiots, no loyalty at all."

She nodded, confirming her own suspicions. If the mob had known, they would have acted on it long ago.

"As for backup plans," Joker continued dully, "I never really plan things out. No meticulous plans… just spur-of-the-moment stuff."

Kara couldn't help but feel both startled and disturbed. That Joker's chaotic schemes were largely improvised yet still managed to wreak havoc was, to her, terrifying.

But Joker's unpredictability wasn't merely a lack of planning—it was an art. He often went with the flow, twisting each move to cause maximum damage, seemingly without any larger agenda. That's what made him so dangerous: nobody could ever be sure of what he'd do next.

For instance, Joker might plan to assassinate the police commissioner, but what would he do afterward? Was it to make a statement, to simply draw attention to himself? Whatever it was, Joker seemed to be driven by chaos alone, leaving people guessing his true motives.

Kara was starting to feel drained just from thinking about it. Tired of wasting her time, she made Joker forget everything related to Kara Kent, Oracle, and Batman's true identity. That was all she needed.

She wasn't interested in what had made Joker the way he was, whether it was some tragic childhood or other dark life experiences. Many people have suffered far worse than him, yet not all of them chose to become monsters.

Suffering, she thought, could never be an excuse for cruelty. And she certainly wasn't about to excuse Joker's actions on any level.

Kara wanted only one outcome: Joker would forget her and Bruce's identities. That was enough.

When Joker snapped back to awareness, he looked around in a daze, his expression puzzled and troubled. He could sense that something significant had slipped from his mind, leaving him with a strange emptiness—a bittersweet ache he couldn't explain. He wondered if there was someone he had once loved, but surely that was impossible. Who would someone like him ever fall in love with?

Meanwhile, Kara calmly left the cell, returning a chair to the guard at the exit before making her way out. She hadn't come as Oracle today, but Bruce had helped her secure this opportunity, keeping it under wraps.

She took the stairs to the upper level. The holding cells were located underground to prevent breakouts, and there was no one in the elevator, nor any cameras watching her.

As the elevator began its ascent, Kara covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking slightly. She tried to hold it back, but finally, a clear laugh burst from her lips—soft at first, then rising, until she was laughing uncontrollably.

No one was there to see her, and she didn't know herself what she was laughing at. If Joker had been around, he might have had a clue. The laughter carried a mix of irony, bitterness, and self-mockery, and it seemed she couldn't stop.

She laughed until her stomach hurt, until tears sprang to her eyes. She laughed at the absurdity of it all, at how close she'd come to being swayed by the ramblings of a madman—not once, but twice. And she laughed at the fact that she could almost believe the truth in some of his words.

Yet her laughter wasn't solely from amusement; there was a sadness to it as well. It was tragic, almost pathetic.

"What does it even mean to be a hero?" she muttered to herself, recalling Joker's question. Who had made whom? Did heroes create villains, or was it the other way around?

But in the end, Kara knew one thing: Joker's existence hadn't been caused by Batman. Joker had always been there, lurking in Gotham's shadows. It was Batman's arrival that had merely drawn his attention.

She knew that Gotham would never truly want Batman—not without villains like Joker around. Once Joker was gone, people might find little use for the Dark Knight.

Wiping the last of the tears from her face, Kara sighed. "It's all so… tragic," she murmured.