Chapter 57: Invitation

The doll was squashed and twisted in Jack's hands, forced into an expression that was very un-Batman-like.

After a while, perhaps feeling bored, he stood up and casually tossed the doll to the bedside. He turned and walked to the closet, opened the door, and leaned over to search.

Bruce saw a thin body with its back to him, a crisscross of scars on its back. The white skin, like paint, was particularly eye-catching against the deep black background.

When it bent over, its shoulder blades bulged and stretched outward, like a strangely shaped butterfly.

He hummed a song as he rummaged through the closet and pulled out several pieces of clothing—a purple suit, a green shirt, and an extremely exaggerated green spotted tie.

The Joker had worn a suit like this to countless crime scenes—

Bruce put down his food and stared at him, wary of his every move.

In the scene, Jack dressed, adjusting his attire in front of the mirror with a ritualistic touch. As he fastened the last button, he flashed a smile—a pair of shark teeth—at his reflection, both comical and creepy.

"Classic suit—" he said with a grin. "Do you like it, Batsy?"

For a moment, Bruce thought he was addressing him, but then he realized Jack was talking to his beloved Batman doll.

Jack stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, muttering,

"Long time no see."

Then, he reached for his bedside table, where a lipstick lay. Jack picked up the lipstick and stared at it, seemingly distracted. His fingers loosened the cap, the magnetic clasp clicking, but he ultimately didn't open it.

The corners of his mouth seemed to droop slightly.

Jack put the lipstick back, lowered his head to unbutton his jacket, and slipped his suit jacket off into the closet.

"This is so cliché, so boring," he yelled. "Maybe I should try something new—"

Jack rummaged through the closet. Bruce couldn't see what he was holding, but he could see him tossing out clothes one by one, dumping them onto the bed, and folding them into a pile.

After a few minutes, he suddenly stopped, and his expression suddenly lit up, like a child who had found a new toy—he looked excited.

"Great… This is perfect—"

Jack turned around, holding a

black cloth. He draped it over himself, then wrapped it around the upper half of his face—now completely covered, with only his pale chin visible.

Bruce was just wondering why he was dressed like this when he heard Jack's hushed voice:

"I am the night, I am the fear, I am Batman—"

He grasped the cloth and raised his hands, as if trying to imitate a bat in flight.

"…"

Bruce covered his forehead, closed his eyes, and silently said to himself:

—No, you are not.

He didn't think Jack's outfit bore any resemblance to his own... rather, it looked a bit like a Dementor cosplay.

In the scene, Jack, draped in a black cloth, spun around, deliberately striking all sorts of classic Batman-themed poses. Soon, he was crouching on the ground, laughing so hard he couldn't straighten his back.

"That's funny, Batsy—do you really never trip over your cape?"

No, he didn't,

Bruce thought to himself.

The man in the scene had finally had enough fun. He stripped off his black coat, tossing it over the back of a chair, and bent over to rummage through his closet again.

"We need something new... let me find it."

This time, he yanked out a piece of clothing, lifted it up, examined it, and then exclaimed in surprise.

"Found it!"

Bruce raised an eyebrow and sat up straight.

It was a purple slip dress with lots of sequins.

…

Jack lifted the skirt in front of him, tested it in front of the mirror, then pulled it over his head, past his shoulders, and past his waistline—it fit him surprisingly well, the slip dress accentuating his slender frame. From behind, he looked almost like a tall, blonde model.

…

Bruce couldn't help but lean forward.

Jack had dug out a pair of purple, frosted, stiletto-heeled high heels from nowhere. He sat on the edge of the bed, crossed his legs, and slowly laced them.

Then he stood up, walked over to the mirror, and turned around.

The figure in the picture had deliberately lowered her neckline, revealing her flat chest. The two thin strings dangled above her collarbone, leaving a faint red mark.

"Batsy," he whispered, his lips curled up. "Do you like this outfit? I made it just for you..."

Hearing this, the person sitting at the computer froze, unconsciously gripping the mouse.

Jack seemed to be enjoying himself, striking all sorts of whimsical poses in front of the mirror. As he moved, the hem of his skirt billowed over his thighs, the sequins undulating in a brilliant ripple—a sight that made Bruce's eyes sting.

A moment passed.

Finally, as if he'd grown tired of this dress-up game, he turned, snatched up the Batman doll from the bed, and flung it aside.

Then, he stalked toward the camera,

his high heels clacking against the floor.

Bruce watched in disbelief as Jack's form grew clearer, closer and closer—until he could practically see the hairs on his skin.

Jack tilted his head and smiled at the camera.

Bruce's heart raced as

he saw Jack grasp the camera with his hands, raising it until his entire upper body was captured.

A crimson tongue licked his lips, leaving a sensual trail of moisture that shimmered in the light.

"Do you like it?" Jack hooked the suspenders with his fingertips, and raised his bright red lips: "There is also a black one that is nice...you wear it, or me? Hmm? Which style do you like?"

At the end of the scene, Bruce heard a sentence.

It was like blowing into his ear.

"Batsy, this is an invitation-"

"..."

He lowered his head and found that he was terribly stiff.