Chapter 85 The First One Killed (Ch 831412036)

He turned on the faucet and splashed the makeup remover mixed with clean water on his face. After rubbing, the colors mixed together and became a turbid gray, which flowed into the sewer.
His eyes were closed, his face was wet, and the incandescent light shone on his brow bone, casting a shadow around his eyes.
There was a knock on the glass window, but Lucien didn’t even bother to open his eyes or turn his head: “Come in, and be careful not to get water on my floor.”
“Sorry, it’s already happened.” Bruce, dressed as Batman, came in, water stains dripping down, and the edge of his cloak gathered on the ground.
“Then please mop it. The mop is on your left hand.” Lucian rubbed it for a while, rinsed it with water again, and finally pulled off the towel to wipe the water off his face. Then he continued:
“I have long guessed that you would knock on this window on a rainy day. It is specially prepared for you.”
“I shouldn’t say guessed.” Batman closed the window, drew the curtains, and then mopped the water on the floor: “You sealed the other windows with cement.”
“Oh, sorry, I forgot about it.” Lucien looked at him. “But I can’t let you into my bathroom, my bedroom… or my kitchen. I’m really worried that you’ll step on my food. And, wouldn’t you secretly pee in there while I’m not home?”
Batman wiped the water stains on his body with the towel beside him: “Oh? I almost thought you could cook.”
“Well, actually I’m worried that it will explode the next second you enter my kitchen… Are you satisfied with this?” Lucian still remembered the character of Batman’s kitchen killer.
No reply.
Lucian combed his hair in front of the mirror. “To be honest, I don’t like slicked-back hair. It makes my hair look greasy… I washed my hair this morning.”
“I didn’t notice that. I thought you went out without drying your hair after washing it.” Batman leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, looking at him.
“Come on, it’s raining, how could you possibly tell? Seriously, leaving aside the character setting, why can’t the Joker have a set of armor that belongs to the Joker?” Lucian looked in the mirror at the curly hair that could hide the outline of his face by slightly lowering his head, and felt satisfied.
“What I like most about the clown is his outfit. The chances of seeing him in the street being the same as others are zero.”
“Oh, of course, it’s not zero and it’s over.”
…
Eventually they sat on the couch in the living room, and Lucien saw Bruce unpacking his chips and eating them.
“…So you really like junk food?”
“You don’t like it?”
“No.” Lucian said disdainfully, “It’s just a toy for kids.”
Batman shrugged and handed him the rest.
“I don’t want to eat.”
“But these are high in calories, I can’t eat too much.”
“…Okay.” So Lucien took it, took out a piece and put it in his mouth, chewing it bit by bit: “It’s really not delicious.”
Batman pulled out a book from the bookshelf next to him: “Selected Poems of Rabindranath Tagore? I thought you wouldn’t read popular books.”
Lucian: “…”
Then Batman found a bookmark with a message written on it in blue pen. He read: “You said you were a mad dog chasing a car, and you didn’t know what to do after you caught it… But you are wrong. In fact, dogs are not as tired as you.”
There seems to be no logic or philosophy.
“I know the latter sentence, it’s from Lu Xun,” said Batman.
Lucian lit a cigarette for himself and explained, “What I said before is what the clown said… I was just recording it. If we meet again in the future, how should I refute him?”
“So this is why you read literature and philosophy?”
“Isn’t this reason sufficient?”
…
Too full.
“So that’s how you talk?”
“Influenced by him… I have no intention of changing.” Lucian leaned back lazily and exhaled a puff of smoke:
“So you’re here tonight just to inquire about my private life? Although I don’t mind telling you… but maybe for such a romantic moment we should go to a love hotel… even though you didn’t bring me ninety-nine roses tonight.”
His thoughts jump quickly, perhaps because of his identity as a clown.
Batman automatically cuts out unnecessary words: “…I killed someone.”
“Oh, you’ve done this a lot. You’ve killed me and Claw so many times recently…” Lucian paused, and finally asked, “So, who did you kill?”
“Zasz, Victor Zasz.”
An exhibitionist, nudist and sadist, a pure serial killer and psychopath, any normal person would have no psychological barriers in killing him.
Lucien laughed, “I’m actually glad, Bruce, that the first person you killed wasn’t Falcone, the Penguin, or even any of the White Masks.”
“You killed a person in your life who was of no help to this city at all. He really deserved to die.”
At least Falcone and the Penguin have stabilized the gang, and at least the White Mask looks bright and beautiful on the surface.
“Holmes once said: When the law cannot bring justice to the parties involved, private revenge is justified and even noble from that moment on…” Lucian looked at him: “Our little Sherlock Holmes of Gotham, please don’t feel psychologically stressed.”
“He tried to kill you… so you are a party to this.”
“You sent him to prison, but he chose to escape, so the law cannot punish him.”
“It’s not that not killing people is just, killing people is also just.”
“No.” Batman shook his head slightly: “That’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t mean to talk about who to kill, or the choice of the first person to kill. I don’t want to come here to tell you my views on killing.”
“So what do you want to say?”
Batman turned his head to look at the window, as if he wanted to see the rain, but unfortunately it was blocked tightly by the curtains he had drawn with his own hands, so he had to turn back and fall on the irregular powder on the ashtray.
“I killed him not out of a role-playing character, not out of a measure of his crime in terms of lynching, and not because of anyone’s inducement, deception or coercion.”
“I killed him simply because I wanted to kill him.”
Batman said: “Because I really want to kill him.”
Lucien looked at him, as if he saw a wet kitten in a rainy night, or as if he saw an indescribable monster that was like darkness itself.
He said: “I regret it a little, Batman, maybe you shouldn’t kill people.”
The black figure was just silent, like a stone sculpture, or like the egg sheath in which a butterfly was struggling.
What will he hatch into?
“I’m starting to miss The Flash,” Lucien said.