Seeing the envelope right in front of her, Joker reached out eagerly at first.
But halfway through, she seemed to remember something and quickly pulled her hand back, taking off the white gloves on both hands.
Even though her pale white skin had no visible stains on it, she still wiped her hands repeatedly against her suit jacket.
Then, she finally took the envelope.
The ripped corners of her mouth trembled continuously as she raised them slowly and carefully before her eyes.
Looking at the elegant handwriting of the signature on the seal, she gently traced her fingers over it.
"Oh my God. It really is Bruce. I personally taught him this cursive handwriting when he was little."
She opened the envelope, and her shaking hands seemed to barely have enough strength to hold a single letter.
After trying two or three times, Joker finally managed to pull the letter out.
A photograph tucked behind the letter came out with it, slipping lightly from the envelope and almost falling into a filthy puddle.
"No!"
The Joker lunged forward, holding the envelope and letter high in one hand while reaching desperately for the photo with the other.
Just as she was about to lose her balance and fall into the filthy puddle, Viktor moved forward in a flash.
He helped her with one hand while catching the photograph with the other.
"Careful now, ma'am."
"Oh god, thank you."
Joker murmured her thanks, clutched the photograph against her chest, and pressed it there again and again before finally holding it up to look.
Viktor took a glance as well.
He hadn't gotten to sneak a peek at this letter yet.
It was a casual life photo of Bruce Wayne.
The background was Wayne Manor.
A young, handsome, well-dressed young man was standing beside a flower bed in the garden, wearing a neatly pressed white shirt, with one hand carrying a freshly removed suit jacket and the other resting somewhat inelegantly on a brand new lawnmower.
Alfred was walking toward Bruce with a tray in his hands, with a pot of hot tea and two empty cups.
Alfred's usually dignified and composed face had an oddly nervous expression for some reason.
Because of the angle of the candid shot, Bruce Wayne wasn't looking at the camera, but from the large portion of his profile that was visible, the corner of his mouth was at least slightly curled upward.
In the Batcave of the other world, Batman suddenly stopped struggling.
He stared at the image being transmitted back through Viktor's lenses with his eyes fixed tightly on that familiar yet unfamiliar pale face.
They stood completely frozen, staring at the screen like they had been turned to stone.
Shazam let out a quiet gasp.
"He actually has a photo that looks this... normal?"
Nightwing climbed up from the ground, half his face already swelling rapidly, and let out a cold snort.
"I took that a few years ago. He'd had a rare moment where he wanted to take me out to the grounds during the day to check on my combat training. But then he found a lawnmower that Alfred quietly acquired from somewhere, sitting in the courtyard."
"The bush around the manor hadn't been trimmed in years. He must have been in an unusually good mood that day, took his jacket off, and decided to try it himself."
Nightwing pushes his hand against his swollen face with barely concealed resentment.
"If I hadn't had that random idea to take the shot, he wouldn't have had a single normal photo suitable to put in an envelope—most of the time, the Bruce Wayne the world sees outside is just an act."
Nightwing didn't say what came next.
As a mother, Joker would of course be able to tell whether every expression on her child's face came from somewhere real or was simply a cold, emotionless act.
Bruce Wayne, as the president of Wayne Enterprises, must have had plenty of photos taken by the media.
There were surely many pictures of him shaking hands with successful business partners or acting like a playboy with young models in his arms.
However, those photos could never show the people who knew and cared about him most that he was truly doing well.
Only this photo showed Bruce as if, for that one moment, he had cast off all his burdens and pressure.
What it showed was his most natural and relaxed self.
Even though there was still no obvious smile on his face, it was enough that his parents would not feel worried or heartbroken.
The Joker covered her mouth.
She looked at the photograph again and again, touched it again and again, then carefully slipped it inside her jacket lining, tucking it as close to her heart as it could go.
Then she turned to the letter, and Viktor stepped back. He'd already been thoroughly overwhelmed by Thomas Wayne's letter last time.
He wasn't quite as curious this time.
As she read, Joker suddenly sank to her knees on the ground with a thud, and tears came flooding out.
She broke down completely, her whole body shaking with sobs, murmuring over and over:
"Oh, Bruce... oh, my child..."
In the Batcave, Batman's whole body began to shake violently. The next instant, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed completely unconscious.
Flashpoint Superman held Batman in his arms, totally at a loss, with eyes wide open, shouting loudly.
"I told you he has bleeding in the tiny blood vessels in his brain! Is no one going to do something?!"
As soon as he said those words, everyone in the Batcave seemed to snap out of a daze all at once.
Suddenly, they took Batman from Superman's arms and carried him to Cyborg, who was already standing at an operating table.
Viktor stood at the scene and looked at the Joker—no, that wasn't the right name for this woman anymore.
She should be called Mrs. Martha or Mrs. Wayne, perhaps.
"Ma'am, if you truly miss your son that much—"
Viktor pulled out the locator device again.
"Perhaps you could go and see him yourself."
Martha's eyes were swollen red from crying.
She looked up at the locator in Viktor's hand as if she were suddenly wrapped in endless hope.
She struggled to get up because her hand held the treasure; she refused to let it touch water or dirt and could only push against the floor with the other as she tried to stand.
But in the brief moment when she lowered her head, the puddle of water on the ground, which should have been murky and foul, reflected her face with perfect clarity.
The long green curls, deathly pale face, and cracked, bright-red lips.
She froze.
After five full seconds of complete silence, Martha raised her head.
What remained most in her eyes was probably a kind of despair and pain that could not be put into words.
Viktor didn't understand why, but something had clearly just happened within her that he couldn't comprehend.
Those red eyelids, joy, anguish, hope, and despair—so many emotions all tangled together at once.
And yet there was still one extremely faint thread of madness, slowly but steadily growing stronger.
"No."
Viktor's brow furrowed.
Martha's refusal was something he hadn't expected at all.
Following some kind of instinct, Viktor suddenly raised a hand, took off his mask, clenched his fingers, and crushed the mask that had been transmitting surveillance footage.
"Why?"
"I... Luthor poisoned me. Whether or not I complete the task of stopping you, I don't have much longer to live. I can't be that selfish. If I went over and then died again, it would be too cruel to the Bruce in your world."
Viktor studied her carefully, trying to memorize every tiny change in Joker's expression.
"That should not be your true reason, ma'am. We might be able to find a way to cure the poison on our side..."
The Joker raised one finger and pressed it to her lips.
She shook her head at him.
"Don't you need to go and save the Flash from your world? Don't waste your time here on someone who is bound to die."
The Joker stood up, her head lowering slightly as if she was deliberately avoiding Viktor's eyes.
"Let me give you a gift, and then please leave this world as quickly as possible."
She turned and walked toward the iron door she had opened earlier.
Viktor hesitated for a moment.
"Hurry. There isn't much time left."
...
600 POWER STONES = 1 BONUS CHAPTER
[email protected]/Sothisq
You can find up to 15 advanced chapters on my Patreon.