Homelander leaned in close to Joker, his voice sounding hair-raisingly creepy.
"Forgotten?"
"No, you underestimate me too much."
"Did you know, Jack? I'm a movie buff, I even have my own production company."
"I'm going to make a movie, a movie about you. It'll be called 'Joker: A Greasy Life'."
Joker's eyes lit up. A movie? Why didn't I think of that!
"I'll find a third-rate actor to play you. You'll be... a middle-aged, obese, balding, greasy man with severe constipation and prostatitis."
"A pervert who peeks at old ladies bathing in the middle of the night, a lunatic who can only say 'donuts are so delicious' every day."
"You'll get caught for stealing a cup at the supermarket, then get stuffed with cream puffs by Mexican cellmates in prison, crying for your mother every night."
"I'll have this movie playing on a loop 24/7, a free public screening."
"You will become a complete joke, a clown in the literal sense."
"Five years, ten years, until everyone believes that this is the real you."
"In the future, when people mention the name 'Joker'..."
"...they won't feel fear, they won't feel a shiver."
"They will only feel disgusted, repulsed, and think you're... a total loser."
"Your fans will be ashamed of you, and those copycats will feel like idiots."
"Many more villains might appear in the future, maybe calling themselves Johnson or Freddy."
"But there will absolutely never be another Joker."
"Because you've become a total low-life."
Homelander's words were like a sharp saw, slowly cutting through Joker's psychological defenses.
"Mmph!!! Mmph mmph mmph!!!!"
Joker's defenses broke.
If he could still speak, he would surely have spat out the most vicious curses.
Even when facing Batman, he had never felt so powerless.
Joker lost control.
With his remaining left hand, he pulled a small knife shimmering with green light from his coat.
He lunged at Homelander like a madman, the knife in his hand stabbing fiercely toward Homelander's chest.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
He stabbed dozens of times in a row, putting all his strength into every blow.
But... there was no blood.
There were no screams of pain.
Not even a single thread was pulled from that blue bodysuit.
Joker's movements slowed down as he stared blankly at Homelander's mocking face.
"Finished stabbing?"
Homelander reached out two fingers, lightly pinched the knife's blade, and with a gentle tug, snatched it from Joker's hand.
He toyed with the exquisite green knife in his hand for a moment, tossing it up and down.
"Good craftsmanship, quite delicate."
"But..."
Homelander shook his head, looking at Joker with a face full of pity.
"Didn't you watch the live stream, Jack?"
"I already said in my speech that I'm an Earthling."
"This thing is a Kryptonian specialty; for a pure Earthling like me..."
Homelander casually tossed the dagger into his magic pocket.
"...it can only serve as a souvenir."
Joker's eyes widened in disbelief, a raspy 'he-he' sound coming from his throat.
A stormy sea of shock surged within him.
He was actually... telling the truth?!
In this World full of lies and deception, in this era where superheroes all wear masks.
This man, while putting on a show for the whole World, was actually telling the truth?!
This sincerity that didn't follow the usual rules made Joker, who had always considered himself the only one truly awake, doubt his own judgment.
"Alright, the trial is over."
Homelander stepped back and made a 'please' gesture to Harley, who had been waiting nearby.
"Your turn, Executioner."
"Remember, don't let him die too quickly."
"Of course, Mr. Milk Candy." Harley blew Homelander a kiss, then raised her baseball bat and walked toward the bewildered Joker.
Seeing Harley approach, Joker put on a pitiful expression and made a heart gesture with his hands.
Harley grinned.
She slammed the bat hard against Joker's knee.
The sound of bone shattering was exceptionally clear on the empty farm.
Next was a ten-minute one-sided beating.
No dialogue, only dull thuds and Joker's faint whimpers.
Until Harley was panting with exhaustion and the bat in her hand was bent.
The purple humanoid lump on the ground could no longer be recognized as its original self.
"Huff... huff..."
Harley threw away the bat and wiped the sweat from her face.
She felt a sense of relief like never before.
That nightmare was finally over.
"How does it feel?" Homelander walked over and handed her a corner of his stars and stripes cape.
"Great!" Harley grabbed the cape to wipe her face and hands. "It feels as great as taking a dump after being constipated for three years!!"
"...That's quite a unique metaphor."
Homelander smiled, no longer looking at the puddle of mud on the ground. He grabbed Superman's corpse with one hand and wrapped his other arm around Harley's waist.
"Let's go, I'll take you to get cleaned up."
Boom—!
The two people and the corpse soared into the sky, disappearing into the night... leaving only a mess on the ruins of Kent Farm.
The wind blew, kicking up a cloud of dust.
And that 'mud' that should have been dead suddenly twitched.
An arm tremblingly propped itself up on the ground.
On Joker's mangled face, the outline of a smile could still barely be seen.
"Heh... heh heh..."
A wheezing laugh came from his throat.
"Mmph... mmph mmph mmph!" (The game... isn't over yet!)
Joker stood up shakily, painfully lifting his head to look coldly at the sky.
Suddenly.
In the night sky, he saw two blood-red stars light up with a dazzling glow.
That was... Joker's brow furrowed.
The next second.
Sizzle——————!!!
Two massive beams of Heat Vision descended from the sky like swords of divine judgment, instantly covering the spot where Joker stood.
Hiss————!!!
No screams, no last words.
Under the extreme heat, whether it was flesh, bone, or that damned chaotic will...
...they were all evaporated into an atomic state.
Only a vitrified crater remained on the ground... After dealing with Joker, Homelander didn't immediately take Harley back to that chaotic Metropolis.
It was currently swarming with fanatical fans and busy reconstruction work; after all, he was here for a vacation, not to be a workhorse.
He needed a quiet place, a place to properly relax.
As it happened, deep in the snowy mountains of Northern Europe, he had found a perfectly preserved top-tier doomsday shelter.
This place was originally a Noah's Ark prepared by some billionaire for himself, fully equipped with a heated pool, luxury suites, and even a cellar stocked with expensive red wine.
Unfortunately, before that tycoon could move in, he was taken out by the first wave of Parademons.
"Wow! This place is amazing!"