Chapter 182 Arkham Daily Life (Part 2)_1

As Gotham City was just stepping into summer, the few green plants began to flourish, and the scene within Arkham Mental Hospital remained peaceful.

"Jack, I'm warning you! If you dare to sneak into my office in the middle of the night again, messily painting all over the walls, I will cancel your weekly recess time, do you hear me?!"

Jack crouched in the corner, ignoring Shiller's threat, pretending to be deaf. Shiller, hands akimbo, said to Jack: "I know Batman has started school, that he's busy doing homework now and that he doesn't go out to fight crime much. I know you're idle, but this is no excuse for you to continuously create nuisances in this hospital!"

Jack muttered under his breath, "A Batman doing homework? What kind of joke is this? Am I supposed to compliment him for being a good boy who goes to sleep on time in his cave?"

Shiller crouched down and looked at Jack, saying, "Alright, Mr. Jack, I admit you're a genius, born with many talents, but it doesn't mean that everyone else is. Batman needs to attend classes, do homework, take exams, and obtain a university degree while also managing a company and participating in Gotham City's development..."

"Boring! Boring! Boring!" Jack yelled, "You'll kill him! You'll kill Batman! I am trying to save him!"

Shiller tried to reason with him, but Jack fiercely covered his ears, shaking his head continuously and began to sing a jumbled song. Overall, he was not planning on listening to Shiller.

Truth be told, both of them were like two old foxes that couldn't outsmart each other. Shiller knew that he wouldn't be able to cure Joker. Still, he dutifully acted as a doctor, while Joker knew full well that Shiller wasn't a real doctor and hence didn't bother trying to convince him.

In essence, they were like two reflections in a mirror, with no need to convince one another. Their deadlock seemed more like an amusing game to pass their tedious time.

However, everything ended one night when a phone call from Brand brought Shiller out of his comfortable sleep at home.

"Get over here quickly. That nutjob with the painted smiley on his face has orchestrated a kidnapping. He wants to negotiate with Officer Shiller..."

Lying on the soft and warm bed in his mansion, Shiller took a deep breath and said into the receiver, "No need, it's a lost cause. Tear up the ticket."

Upon hanging up the phone viciously, he pulled his arm back into the warm covers, continuing his slumber.

Less than two minutes later, the phone rang again. Shiller turned over, picking up the receiver and without waiting for the other party to speak, said, "Listen, Brand, anytime, if anyone says the following phrases to you, I hope you turn around and walk away without giving them a second glance."

"For instance, 'I want to play a game with you', 'Do you want to solve a riddle?', 'Do you want to really live?' etc… As soon as you hear such questions, don't ask anything, don't say anything, punch them in the face, then walk away..."

Shiller had started to speak nonsense due to fatigue, as Brand, on the other end helplessly said, "Just let me finish, do you know who he kidnapped?"

"Not you, that's for sure, otherwise you would already be screaming your head off…"

"He kidnapped the most expensive and advanced brainwave device that was delivered just last week! The one worth nearly 200,000 dollars! Right now, the hammer in his hand is less than 10 centimeters away from that device..."

"Damn, I'm coming over right now!"

Two minutes later, a drowsy Shiller stood at the entrance of the equipment room. After closing his eyes briefly, he took a deep breath.

Inside the room, Jack was sitting and trying to put on the brainwave-detecting helmet. Since he didn't know how to properly use it, a patch kept getting caught in his hair causing him to grimace as he pulled at his hair.

Upon seeing Shiller, he picked up a hammer from the nearby area, shouting, "Listen here, officer! I have a hostage..."

Shiller magically produced a case file and began to scribble on it. As he was writing, he said, "You're done for, Jack, you're done for..."

Jack sat on the table, mumbling to himself, "There is nothing more boring than playing the most boring game in the world with the most boring people..."

With a rip, Shiller tore a sheet from the case file and said to Brand, "He has recovered. We can discharge him tomorrow morning!"

Brand took a look at the paper and gasped.

Early the next morning, Jack ran to Cobblepot's and Evans' room to bid them farewell. After he mocked Cobblepot's Iceberg Restaurant idea, he sang opera into Evans' ear for two hours. Just as they were about to beat him up, he smugly showed them his discharge papers.

Then, under their murderous gaze, he swaggered out the main door of Arkham Hospital, waving and whistling at them through the window under the sun.

Unfortunately, he hadn't even left the street fronting the entrance when more than a dozen luxury cars surrounded him. A group of mob bosses in suits enthusiastically welcomed Jack back.

Jack quickly realized his predicament and thought about making a run for it but was caught and hauled into a car.

At the window of the chief doctor's office in Arkham Mental Hospital, Brand watched this scene unfold and said: "You actually gave him a note fully exempting his medical expenses. All the gangster bosses in Gotham are bound to hound him 24/7 for their share now."

Brand looked Schiller up and down and said, "Everyone knows that the chief physician of the Arkham Mental Hospital is a blood-sucking vampire who plucks feathers from geese, but you deliberately spare him. They must think he's a relative of yours or something. He will be treated like a VIP by those mob bosses..."

Three days later, Gordon knocked on the door of Schiller's office. When he walked in, he found Schiller writing at his desk. Gordon approached Schiller, knocking on his desk. "Professor, could you please get rid of that lunatic as soon as possible?" he asked.

"He has hijacked the TV station five times in three days. He..."

As soon as Schiller finished speaking, the news presenter on the television let out another shrill scream and hurried away. The Joker's face appeared on the screen looking even crazier and haggard than before. He exclaimed, "Someone come and save me! Save me, this poor mental patient!"

"The kind-hearted psychiatrist, are you there? Look at me, I'm a lunatic, I should be hospitalized..."

Then he rummaged in his clothing, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and showing it to the camera. "You see? This is my health insurance bill! I pay so much every year!"

"But now, but now...I have a severe mental illness, but the only mental hospital in our city won't admit me," he started fake crying in front of the camera again.

Suddenly, he became agitated. "Schiller Rodriguez! You're the most annoying person in the world! You let those mobsters buzz around me like flies! You know full well that I find those people the most boring in the world..."

"There's no hope in life like this!" Joker spread his arms wide and exclaimed, "The world has turned black...Despair! Despair! Nothing but despair!"

He hugged the television camera, "Can you imagine? They come to me every day asking for ways to make money! This is torture!"

Joker gritted his teeth viciously, "They use their phenomenally boring minds and those stereotypical thoughts to torment and abuse me!"

"I burned their money and safes, but they laugh and applaud me. This is not a joke at all!"

"They…" Joker's voice suddenly displayed deep weariness, "they're so ordinary it scares me..."

The sentiment in his voice began to sound tearful, "Luxury cars, wine, women, and money! And that damn money! I'm surrounded by lunatics!"

"I ran away, but they can always find me..." Joker genuinely began to cry, "Everyone's talking about it, they say Gotham has improved, they can make more money..."

His crying became more and more distressed, "Everyone's talking about it, I can't believe it, the world must be mad..."

"Come and take me away! Take me back to the mental hospital! I'd rather quarrel with that stupid penguin or the tasteless opera singer than hear those disgusting topics again!!"

Joker began retching into the camera. He seemed truly nauseated, but before he could finish vomiting, a mob bodyguard rushed on the screen and handed him a cup of water.

Joker displayed an expression that said "you all see this," then abruptly jumped up, pointing at the cup of water and screaming frantically, "You see that! This is how they torment me! Every day it's the same…they prepare gourmet food, wine, and money to bury me with these things..."

He grit his teeth, screaming into the television, "Schiller Rodriguez! You damn quack! A mental patient is right in front of you, can't you see?!"

"Just let me leave! Anywhere from here will do! Send me to the mental hospital, hear me?!!"

Schiller didn't even lift his head. Gordon had a disgusted look on his face, "Like I said before, even though everyone in Gotham is a bit mad, he's too mad. Who begs to go to a mental hospital..."

As soon as he finished, he slapped his forehead, "Oh, I forgot, now all the mob bosses in Gotham want to get in here."

"Alright, Professor Schiller, listen, I don't care too much if you turn this place into a private jail for the mob, especially when this behavior somewhat benefits public security. But that doesn't mean you let such a maniac run wild in the city."

He pleaded earnestly with Schiller, "This is a mental hospital after all, we should admit one or two real mental patients, shouldn't we?"

Schiller continued to write, his head bowed. After a while, he lifted his head, stretching his neck and said, "Alright, I can reluctantly spare a bed for him."

"However, I don't participate in the insurance system." Schiller stood up from his seat, handing Gordon the paper he had just written. "This is the repair bill for everything he has damaged. Once he signs this, I will admit him."

Gordon took the paper, looking at the final price, he gasped, but still said, "Well…I'll pass it on to him, but I don't think a truck driver will dare to sign such a large bill."

"Tell him, if he doesn't sign, I'll send this bill to Batman. Let him know that his friend, Joker Jack, owes me a lot of money and refuses to pay. He's a rotten, deadbeat person, rotten to the core."

Gordon sighed, "Although I don't understand why you engage in these role-playing games, it doesn't matter, aren't things like this normal in Gotham?"

"You'd better not say that in front of that lunatic. If he realizes that you think his games are normal in Gotham, he'll surely prepare a huge surprise for you."