59-60

*Chapter 59: Dialogue*

Thanks to the pervasive coverage of modern media, the "Clown Shooting" incident became the lead story on major news outlets within half an hour.

"Arthur Fleck."

Driving through the streets toward the scene of the shooting, Agent Zhou shared the information he had obtained from the FBI intelligence system with Amanda, seated in the passenger seat.

"Based on the bar owner's description, I investigated his medical records and found that he has a severe history of mental illness. He has been on various medications for a long time. Financially, he hasn’t updated his reports in a while. From the latest credit card records, he’s deeply in debt…"

"A struggling outcast on the fringes of society."

Listening to Agent Zhou’s report, Amanda quickly pieced together the image of a destitute man in her mind.

"But that doesn’t explain what he did at the bar."

There are countless people like Arthur across America—desperate and impoverished.

Yet none have proven to be as "dangerous" as him.

"More than a hundred people have fallen into a 'manic laughter' state because of the clown. We must do something to stop this situation from worsening."

Recalling the deaths of Harvey Cruz and the white stand-up comedian at the bar, Amanda couldn’t suppress a growing sense of urgency.

Both agents understood that the scenes of manic laughter were far from the "joy" they appeared to be on the surface.

On the contrary, this "happiness" was lethal.

If a laughing victim were to die, it would undoubtedly be the deadliest incident in America since 9/11.

---

"Mom, I did it…"

Standing atop a car in the heart of New York City, Arthur surveyed everything around him.

The corners of his mouth, hidden beneath a clown mask, curved upward uncontrollably, his heart brimming with glee.

"I finally brought joy to everyone, just like you said!"

His laughter turned hoarse and piercing, yet Arthur seemed oblivious as he continued his jubilant dance, waving his arms to orchestrate the manic laughter of the crowd around him.

Looking up at the helicopter camera, he bent slightly in a comical bow.

In the next moment, he raised his head, the red clown mask prominently displayed in the camera’s frame.

“Ha, haha, hahahaha…”

In the helicopter, the cameraman, staring through the lens at Arthur’s red clown mask, felt the corners of his own mouth curl upward uncontrollably. A fit of uncontrollable laughter burst from his lips, shaking the camera in his hands.

And all of this was broadcast live to viewers at home.

"Cut the feed!"

Noticing the anomaly in the broadcast, the television network acted swiftly.

They cut the helicopter’s live feed to prevent the situation from escalating further.

"Doctor, how would you explain this? How is the laughing gas affecting the cameraman in the helicopter?"

"As the name suggests, laughing gas is an extremely dangerous substance. The scene of the incident clearly contains a high concentration of the gas, which drifted into the helicopter. The cameraman inadvertently inhaled it, leading to this situation. This only highlights the danger of laughing gas…"

Simultaneously, news about the cameraman appeared on other television networks.

The pervasive coverage by the media extended not only to the incident but also to their competitors.

---

"Gas masks."

Driving toward the site of the shooting in downtown New York, Agent Zhou glanced at Amanda as she got out of the car and reminded her, "You don’t seriously believe the media’s claim that this madness-inducing substance is just laughing gas, do you?"

Amanda raised an eyebrow and replied, "I don’t."

Hearing this, Agent Zhou silently donned his gas mask and muttered, "But the federal government needs everyone else to believe that."

Hesitating briefly, Amanda caught the gas mask Zhou tossed to her and reluctantly put it on.

Passing through the NYPD barricade to the epicenter of the chaos, Amanda spotted the source of it all—the clown, or rather, Arthur.

"Arthur, we need to talk."

Gripping her gun tightly, Amanda glanced at the laughing crowd. Many showed signs of agony, with tears and saliva streaming down their faces, yet their laughter persisted. She knew she couldn’t wait any longer.

Taking a deep breath, she fixed her gaze on the clown standing atop a car and called out.

Hearing Amanda’s voice, Arthur momentarily paused his manic performance. He turned toward her, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin beneath the mask.

"Do you want to hear a joke?"

Beneath the gas mask, Amanda’s blurred vision met Arthur’s clown mask for a fleeting moment. A powerful urge to laugh welled up within her.

"Don’t look at the mask!"

Clenching her teeth to suppress the laughter, Amanda realized something in an instant and quickly lowered her gaze to avoid the clown mask.

"The manic laughter is spreading through the mask."

Hearing Amanda’s words, Zhou also averted his gaze.

With her sight lowered, focusing only on Arthur’s feet on the car, Amanda regained control over the laughter swelling within her.

"Arthur, what’s your purpose for doing all of this?"

"My purpose? I’m just bringing joy to the world, nothing more."

"You call this joy? Look at the people around you—the pain on their faces."

"All you’ve brought is more suffering, nothing else."

"Suffering? I don’t see it. Can’t you hear their laughter?"

Beneath her mask, Amanda furrowed her brow.

It was clear that Arthur was beyond the reach of reason. Her brief exchange with him revealed a mind detached from reality.

Her hand tightened around her gun as she slowly raised it, though she kept talking.

"And what about your mother? Have you thought about your ailing mother?"

"My… mother?"

For the first time, Arthur’s laughter faltered at the mention of his mother.

Noticing this, Amanda froze mid-action, lowering her weapon slightly.

---

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 60: The New Mask *

"My mother always told me to smile at others," Arthur muttered, his voice barely audible under the clown mask.

"She said it was meaningful—that it could bring joy to the world."

In the heart of New York City, atop a car roof in the bustling streets, Arthur's words lingered in the air.

Behind him, Agent Zhou raised his firearm, but Amanda quickly stopped him with a raised hand. She carefully avoided looking directly at the clown mask on Arthur's face, ensuring her gaze remained controlled.

"You know," Amanda began cautiously, "it sounds like your mother was a good person."

Maintaining her composed stance, she held her breath, knowing that even the slightest unintentional movement could provoke the maniacal clown before her.

"Of course. She was the kindest person I've ever known," Arthur replied.

"Could you tell me more about your mother?" Amanda pressed gently, recalling the intel Agent Zhou had shared earlier in the car.

"My mother always taught me never to forget to smile. She told me to wear a happy face and said it was my life's mission to bring joy to everyone. At first, I thought it was just her way of comforting me—like all mothers hope for their children. I thought my life could never be as happy as she wanted it to be. That was, until I met the vagabond. He gave me joy..."

"The vagabond?" Amanda's eyes shifted slightly behind her gas mask at the mention, sensing she was onto something.

"Can you tell me more about this vagabond, Arthur?" she asked, lowering her gun to appear non-threatening.

Arthur lowered his head, adopting a thoughtful expression as he heard Amanda’s question.

"Do you want to hear a joke?" he asked abruptly.

"Ha ha, ha ha ha, HAHAHAHAHA..."

The next moment, Arthur's head shot up as a piercing burst of laughter erupted from his lips. His arms flailed wildly, the pistol in his hand waving dangerously.

*BANG!*

A bullet whizzed through the air and struck Arthur's body, sending him staggering.

"Damn it!" Amanda exclaimed as she saw Arthur collapse from the shot. Turning sharply, she glared at Agent Zhou.

"It wasn't me!" Zhou exclaimed, equally shocked beneath his gas mask.

Another bullet tore through the air, hitting Arthur again and spraying blood everywhere. The impact hurled him off the car roof, and his body crashed heavily onto the ground.

This time, the bullet's trajectory was clear—it came from a distant sniper.

"A sniper rifle. It’s the FBI," Zhou realized immediately.

"Sniper! Everyone, take cover!" shouted one of the officers in the surrounding police cordon. Chaos ensued as people scrambled for safety.

Amanda, her face set with determination beneath her mask, bolted toward Arthur's fallen figure, ignoring the danger.

"Wait, Amanda!" Zhou called out, his usually stoic face now showing clear alarm.

---

High above in a nearby building, the sniper, having stopped shooting upon spotting Amanda in the line of fire, reported through his earpiece.

"Sir, there's a civilian interfering."

"Is the target neutralized?"

"Two confirmed shots, one to the chest and another to the abdomen."

"Mission accomplished. The rest is not our concern."

"Understood."

With that, the sniper ceased his aim, scanned the situation through his scope one last time, then began packing up his equipment to retreat.

---

"Tell me—who is the vagabond?" Amanda demanded as she knelt beside Arthur’s bleeding form. Removing her gas mask, her voice was resolute but tinged with urgency.

Arthur coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips as searing pain wracked his body. His clown mask, cracked from the impact, fell away to reveal his gaunt, pale face. Amanda's voice echoed faintly in his ears as his life ebbed away. Blood poured from the wounds in his chest and abdomen, soaking his green vest in crimson.

Through the agony, Arthur’s lips curved into a joyful smile. Lying on the cold pavement, he began to hum a familiar tune, his voice barely audible:

*"Mama, just killed a man,

Put a gun against his head,

Pulled my trigger, now he's dead...

Mama, life had just begun,

But now I've gone and thrown it all away..."*

His voice faltered as his strength faded, but the haunting melody lingered.

---

In the heart of New York City, Arthur's song grew faint, his laughter fading into silence. Around him, the previously hysterical crowd began to regain their senses, gasping for air as if waking from a trance.

Standing beside Arthur's lifeless body, Amanda slowly rose to her feet. Her gaze fell on the smiling corpse and the cracked clown mask lying nearby. Her expression turned solemn.

---

Unseen by all, in a shadowed corner of the city, a vagabond in a tattered cloak paused in his steps. In his hands, he held a red clown mask, its grinning visage painted with an undercurrent of sorrow.

A faint smile crossed his wrinkled face as he gently ran his rough fingers over the mask.

The mask’s bright red smile seemed to mock the sadness reflected in its hollow eyes.

---

(End of Chapter)