A new life(Marvel&DC)

[3rd Person POV]

In a building with cracked walls and long-crumbling plaster, where a slight dampness lingered in the air, a man sat reading a book with an ecstatic look. On the cover of this manuscript was an image of a crazed clown holding a red balloon.

As soon as this novel hit the shelves, the delighted reader eagerly grabbed a copy, driven by curiosity to explore it. What drew him most was the creative design. The man immediately recognized the clown on the cover—the psychotic terror of Gotham City, the nightmare of its inhabitants.

The cover alone was chilling, but what horrors did the pages hold? After finishing the novel, he had half a mind to throw his shoe at whoever dared call It a mere horror story.

Oh, no. No! Yes, there were horrors, and they played a significant role, but this wasn't a "scare for the thrill of it" kind of tale. This was a coming-of-age novel—a poignant narrative about the power of childhood memories. And about childhood itself.

It was an infinitely painful exploration of the psychological traumas many carry from youth. A terrifyingly authentic story of how such scars shape the lives of grown children.

The past, after all, is a mysterious thing. One can never predict whether it will give rise to a hero or a monster. Immersed in thought, the captivated reader found himself momentarily reflecting on his own memories—or rather, yearning to reflect on them.

So much had happened in his life, ranging from trivial events to profound ones, that he often found himself confused, unable to remember who he had been before. If asked about his past, he could recount his story with a smile—or several. But whether those smiles held any truth was another matter entirely.

Remembering is a dangerous act. The past is rarely a pleasant place to revisit. Memory, with its insidious nature, first entices you with a bouquet of pleasures: the familiar scents of childhood, the magical glow of youth, and all its dazzling tinsel. Then it leads you down dark, cold corridors where shadows you've long wished to forget reside.

But can we live without memory? After all, memory forms the foundation of reason. And by rejecting memory, do we not also reject reason?

On the other hand, why not? After all, no one is truly bound by an obligation to remain sane. Why insist on sound mind and sober memory at all times? If unpleasant and terrifying memories threaten to consume you, madness is always a nearby escape route.

Madness is an emergency exit. You can step over its threshold, leave the nightmare behind, and lock the door forever. Fence yourself off from it.

Suddenly, the quiet idyll was broken by the creak of a door. A cheerful girl with bright ponytails, pinned with two hairpins, entered the room.

"Mister J, are you okay?"

"Harley, I told you not to disturb me while I'm reading!" Joker scolded her in a melodramatic voice. Grabbing a handkerchief, he blew his nose and pretended to wipe away a tear. "Oh, I'm so touched. It's a masterpiece!"

"So, you liked the book?" asked Harley, plopping down onto a chair and casually putting her legs up.

"What kind of stupid question is that? Of course, I liked it! The author even dedicated it to me! Look, I'm right on the cover! Isn't that wonderful? I've always wanted to look the devil in the face without a mirror. The book cover works just fine as a substitute."

"You look very handsome on it," she teased. "Do you think the author based Pennywise on you, or was it pure improvisation?"

"We'll ask him when we meet him. But you know, Harley," Joker's manic laughter abruptly stopped, and a thoughtful expression crossed his white-painted face, "this is a very instructive work. The idea of the novel is simple: some doors only open one way. There are no roads that turn adults back into children." Resting his chin on his hand, he added with a shrug, "But what I loved most was Pennywise's joke to Bill. Ha-ha!"

His eerie laughter echoed through the room.

"I can't help it. It's so funny! It's the moment I finally lost it! Ha-ha-ha!"

"Maybe you can tell it to me, Mister J?" Harley asked, her curiosity piqued.

"You wouldn't understand…" Joker muttered in a low voice, his gaze momentarily distant. Then, suddenly regaining his exuberance, he exclaimed, "But I'll tell you anyway! Once upon a time, two people in a madhouse decided they didn't like it there anymore. They wanted to escape. So, they climbed onto the roof and saw that only a small gap separated them from the neighboring building. Beyond that, a string of rooftops stretched under the moonlight—their road to freedom.

"The first guy jumps over to the neighboring roof without hesitation. But his friend… well, he can't bring himself to jump. He's too scared of falling. Then the first guy comes up with a brilliant idea. He says, 'Hey, I've got a flashlight with me! I'll shine it across, and you can walk along the beam of light to me!' But the second guy just shakes his head and says, 'What do I look like? Crazy? You'll turn it off when I'm halfway there!' Ha-ha-ha!"

"Hmm, it reminds me of you and Batman," Harley mused, frowning adorably. "But the joke is funny! Hee-hee…"

"Yes, my dear, you've caught the hidden meaning! I'm so proud of you! Ha-ha-ha! It really is like me and Batman. I'd love to meet this Alex Reath. I'm his crazy fan now!"

"Me too, me too!" Harley chimed in, her face lighting up with admiration. "I like his detective books, his piano music, and even that addictive game! So, when will we meet him?"

"Not now," Joker sighed, dabbing his eyes with his handkerchief. "I need to calm down after that heartbreaking story. And stop laughing at this damned joke. Ha-ha-HA!"

The half-ruined building trembled with the maniacal laughter of someone whose actions defied all logic.

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[Alex's POV]

All ten compositions had been successfully recorded. The album was finally complete, and the recording studio was alive with celebration.

"Alritex Records" had successfully finished its first album. I had kept the process moving efficiently, preparing for its release without delay.

Though I hadn't planned to put much effort into advertising or promotion, the album was already a hot topic online. Many classical music enthusiasts eagerly awaited its release. Still, I couldn't entirely ignore the need for promotion. In today's world, no performer could achieve true popularity without it.

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