Chapter 380: Why So Serious

After Scott's words, Christian Bale involuntarily tensed his muscles and cast a wary look at the peculiar pink kettle nearby, a mix of fear and anger swelling within him.

He pondered over the countless encounters of the past few days and how much he had been drinking. If he got worked up and followed Sophia...

It wasn't so much about the immediate consequences being severe; it was the underlying issues that could escalate.

Being the source of trouble was better than being manipulated into it by others! Christian Bale's chest heaved rapidly, as if he could erupt at any moment.

"Martin Davis!" He couldn't hide his disdain. "The guy you're associating with is no ordinary human!"

Scott, thinking of his daughters, vehemently stated, "He's a complete scoundrel, unwelcome even in hell!"

Christian Bale had a hunch that Scott was being honest and inquired, "Why are you telling me all this?"

Scott crossed his legs and paced back and forth. "Did you see me? That's the dire consequence of getting involved with Sophia! How do you think Sophia came to know me?"

Christian Bale responded naturally, "Martin Davis?"

Scott sighed deeply. "Martin Davis introduced me to Sophia, and that's how I ended up where I am today."

Sympathy welled up in Christian Bale's eyes as he considered that this man had been hurt more by Martin than himself.

Scott's visit today was solely to reveal the truth. "Martin has a close connection with Sophia. He specifically asked Sophia to meddle in your business. He wants you to turn out like me."

The sympathy in Christian Bale's eyes vanished, replaced by pure fury, like a burning fire.

At this moment, he wasn't resembling Batman; he looked more like an enraged Superman or homelander.

"Be cautious. I'm warning you because you are like me and Martin don't get along," Scott said, crossing his legs and walking away.

Christian Bale couldn't shake the eerie image of what he nearly became with every step of Scott's peculiar gait.

"Martin Davis!" Christian Bale had never despised anyone as much as he did now.

In this moment, there was only Martin in his thoughts, heart, and mind, and nothing else mattered. Martin had consumed his entire being!

Christian Bale marched towards the studio, determined to confront his one and only adversary.

That clown, the agent of chaos!

He was going to seek justice from the Joker and put an end to the chaos on the set, just like Batman did to the Joker.

The studio door was ajar, and Christian Bale stormed in. A quick glance revealed the clown in tattered attire with white face paint.

Christian Bale picked up his pace. The consecutive shocks of the day had released the beast within him.

A powerful force compelled him toward the clown.

In his mind, he heard Bruce's voice, a reminder about Martin.

Martin turned to face Christian Bale , his pale face contorted into a relentlessly malevolent, blood-curdling grin.

Insane, terrifying, evil, he was a living nightmare, an embodiment of chaos.

Christian Bale had been enduring mental torment for months, and the studio's atmosphere, combined with the presence of his target, made him feel like Batman.

On the other side was the Joker, Batman's arch-nemesis.

Bruce slipped a hand inside his coat and locked eyes with Christian Bale.

Silently, he pushed a plastic basket containing an iced Coke a bit closer along the path he had calculated in advance.

Behind the director's monitor, Christopher Nolan, busy working, suddenly glanced up and noticed Christian Bale advancing swiftly toward Martin from the door.

Emma Thomas, seated next to him, remarked, "Bale seems to be in a foul mood."

Nolan, with his heightened sense of perception on the set, sensed something was about to happen.

As a talented, contemporary director known for his calm yet audacious approach, Nolan stopped Emma Thomas from making any noise and swiftly moved behind a nearby director's camera. He started the camera and aimed it toward the area where Martin was.

Bale's part had nearly concluded, and the remaining action scenes were being handled by stunt doubles, so it wouldn't disrupt the normal shooting process.

A perceptive screenwriter approached Nolan like a phantom and inquired, "Director?"

Nolan was focused on the camera. "Just keep an eye on it."

The screenwriter nodded, and Nolan brought a loudspeaker, prepared to intervene if things escalated too far.

Emma Thomas rose from her seat and quickly summoned Mene and her other close associates. When her husband aimed to regain control of the situation, she moved swiftly to ensure it happened.

Christian Bale stormed over, his eyes blazing with anger, and he shouted in a commanding tone, "You, you scoundrel! I'm going to end you!"

Martin's response was a wanton, maniacal smile, as if he was still immersed in the role, unable to break free. He echoed the clown's line: "Why so serious?"

To those present, these words seemed like Martin was simply stuck in his character, and given recent events, it wasn't entirely surprising.

In fact, even the crew's break time had been dedicated to director Nolan, who had deliberately interrupted filming when Martin became overly engrossed in the scene.

But in Bale's eyes, it was mockery, taunting, and provocation.

Martin confronted Bale as if he were the real-life embodiment of the Joker, his blood-red lips parting to deliver lines he'd improvised often during recent shoots.

"Bang—"

This slight, simulated explosion sound triggered Bale's already tense nerves. Fueled by a growing sense of imminent eruption, he roared, "Go to hell, you scoundrel!"

Bale advanced toward Martin with clenched fists.

Two imposing figures, both well over 1.8 meters tall, collided like the Titanic against an iceberg, engaged in a fierce struggle, much like Jack and Silk.

Martin yelped in pain, took a few steps backward, and let out a maniacal laugh. "Ah... ha..."

Hearing this crazed laughter, Bale yelled without hesitation, "I'm going to end you, you bastard!"

Once more, he lunged at Martin, fists poised, muscles bulging, iron fist aimed at that grotesquely white face.

Bale intended to shatter the nose of this chaos-wreaking murderer and gouge out his eyes, but his fists fell short!

Having struck first and announced his intent to end Martin, a kind man like Martin would not allow himself to be taken advantage of.

They had filmed numerous action sequences together, including scenes where Batman exerted all his might against the Joker.

Martin had gained an intimate understanding of Bale's punching style, power, and speed. He gracefully lowered his body to evade Bale's fist, delivering quick, standard boxing punches that landed with a solid thud on Bale's soft ribs.

Christian Bale suddenly found himself short of breath, but his backfist continued its path due to inertia.

Martin raised his shoulder, causing Bale's fist to connect with it, though with considerably less force.

"Ahh—," he screamed once more, seemingly consumed by fury, and launched a heavy, rearward punch.

Bale, momentarily distracted, instinctively attempted to parry, but Martin's punch was swift and forceful, landing directly on the side of his face.

In comparison to Bruce, who sparred with Martin daily, Bale was at a significant disadvantage.

It felt as if a car had collided with him, and something was expelled from his mouth, leaving him briefly dazed.

Martin's movements were lightning fast, delivering a swift kick to Bale's abdomen. Bale emitted a strange, pained scream, with tears and mucus running down his face, before collapsing to his knees and flat on the ground once more.

However, Bale wasn't ready to give up. The excruciating pain in his core drove him to madness. "You... you scum! I'm going to end you! I'm going to end you!"

Without pause, Martin continued his relentless assault, much like a predator pouncing on its prey.

He pinned Bale's neck with one hand, scrutinizing his crooked teeth, snatched a plastic bottle of Coke from the basket nearby, and erupted into maniacal laughter. "You want to end me? Batman, where's your 'no-kill' rule?"

Seeing Martin grab the Coke, Nolan recalled the nicknames, "Coke Master" and "Coke God of War," and urgently reached for the loudspeaker. "Stop! Stop it!" His voice reverberated, but the actor was already lost in madness, deaf to the pleas.

Martin swung the plastic Coke bottle, landing a forceful blow on Bale's head. The bottle burst, dousing Bale in a fizzy, sticky deluge.

Emma Thomas swiftly instructed someone to separate them. The nearby extras remained nonchalant, unfazed.

After grabbing a second Coke bottle, Martin sneered, "You want to end me? Can you?"

The Coke made impact on Bale's head, producing a deafening bang, covering his head and face with foam and liquid.

Martin reached for a third Coke bottle, his movements quick and merciless.

Bale struggled to breathe, unable to open his eyes or hear clearly. The nerves, long subjected to torment, surged with rage as he neared the point of collapse. But when the anger subsided, all that remained was an overwhelming emptiness, fatigue, and weakness.

"No..." Bale cried out, "No!"

The Coke bottle struck the ground near Bale's vulnerable area, and the turbulent liquid drenched his legs.

Bale's core turned icy as another jolt of pain coursed through him. The body's trauma response took over, causing him to curl up like a cooked prawn.

Martin reached for yet another bottle, this time descending more slowly.

Only those who had experienced such agony could comprehend its horror. Bale trembled in dread. "No! No! Please..."

The Coke bottle fell and burst once more, sending Bale into a panic. "Please, please. Please!"

The crew's security rushed in, with Bruce leading the way. He sprinted to Martin, seized his arm, and pulled him closer.

"Enough!" He embraced Martin, comforting him. "No one can harm you!"

Martin, wearing a maniacal smile, recited lines from the Joker: "I just want to witness chaos and destruction. The things that can't kill me only make me more peculiar."

Breaking free from Bruce's grasp, he spread his arms wide and declared, "See? I'm not the murderer; he is!"

The man accused of being the murderer appeared like a cooked prawn, huddled on the floor, guarding his vulnerable area with clenched fists. Nervous words escaped between his teeth: "Don't hurt me! Please! Don't hurt me!" Several security personnel moved to assist him.

Bale struggled to his feet, but his frenzied kicks and shouts continued. "No! Don't hurt me, please!"

Emma Thomas hurriedly intervened, "Bale, it's me, Emma. No one here will hurt you."

But Bale pointed at the crowd and accused, "You, and you, all murderers, all murderers!"

The onlookers remained indifferent, continuing to enjoy their snacks. It seemed today's melons were exceptionally sweet and satisfying. A troublemaker, an unpopular protagonist among the crew, and a man who had declared his intention to end Martin, everything was far from ordinary.