Chapter 14: Drama (Revised)

Gotham Theatre.

The theater was packed today, the crystal chandeliers above emitting a soft, transparent glow that cast a shadow on the audience.

Bruce Wayne sat in the third row of the auditorium.

The lights gradually dimmed, and the curtain slowly rose. The

stage setting depicted the former Scottish Highlands. War drums gradually grew louder, the army approached, and the spears in the hands of the soldiers reflected a pale, sharp, cold light.

Macbeth, clad in armor, his weary face stained with the blood of his enemies, walked heavily to the stage.

He was a battle-hardened general who had emerged from blood and fire. He was a mighty star, bringing unstoppable thunder, lightning, and storms.

However, the gears of fate had already begun to turn.

Three witches with mysterious powers proclaimed his destined king's decree, their voices so sharp and twisted that they could almost penetrate the gloomy sky.

Hail, Macbeth, and congratulations to you, Sir Glamis!

Hail, Macbeth, and congratulations to you, Sir Cawdor!

Hail, Macbeth, and congratulations to you, the future king!

The three witches vanished like smoke, leaving Macbeth standing there in despair. Ambition and fear overwhelmed him, leaving him dizzy and confused. He bewilderedly turned to his comrades for help.

"The witches are demons," Banquo said.

But everything the devil said came true.

He truly became Sir Cawdor, bestowed with supreme honor by the king.

...

The scene shifted again, and the outline of the ancient castle appeared beneath the dark sky.

The blonde, blue-eyed Lady Macbeth sat in her room, reading a letter from her husband, the fire flickering in her eyes. She had learned the prophecy that her husband would soon become king.

She sneered.

"My lord, your face is like a book written in clear ink. You appear courteous, but within you are a venomous snake hidden beneath flowers. Let me prepare a feast and complete the task of destroying the old king! From now on, with the crown in hand, we shall live forever free from worries!"

At that moment, her ambition transformed into a climbing rose, absorbing the nutrients of betrayal and madness, and waving unbridled at the devil.

She prayed to the devil:

"Remove my womanly frailty and infuse me with the most ferocious cruelty from head to toe. Come, you spirits with murderous intent! Enter my woman's breast and take my milk for bile!"

When her hesitant husband returned, Lady Macbeth sternly rebuked him.

"You have the power to kill the king, yet you are such a coward!"

"He is a benevolent king. He granted me my position and my power. This is a sin that Heaven cannot forgive..."

"Destiny has revealed everything to you! I fear for your nature, which is filled with too much sentimentality and childishness. You are not without ambition, but you lack the wickedness to match it. Your desires are great, but you prefer to use only legitimate means, afraid to take the shortest possible path... Sweep away all obstacles that stand in your way of the crown!"

"What if... what if we fail?"

The balance between reason and ambition in his heart was already unbalanced.

Lady Macbeth clung to his back, tempting him like the serpent in the Garden of Eden: "We will not fail! We have courage and strength, and we are the ultimate owners of the crown."

That night, Macbeth sneaked into Duncan's bedroom and walked towards the bed. The theater was silent, only the sound of his boots hitting the ground.

A beam of light shone above his head.

Macbeth stood at the head of Duncan's bed, breathing rapidly. He raised the dagger with trembling hands.

The next moment, blood gushed out, staining his hands red and splattering his face. He struck

again and again.

Only when he heard the footsteps of servants outside the door did he stop, as if suddenly awakened. He gasped, cold sweat streaming down his forehead.

Macbeth looked down at his trembling hands, panic-stricken. Only then did he truly realize that he was in the devil's clutches.

"This blood on my hands will turn the sea red!"

They smeared the blood on the drunken, sleeping guards.

Then, Macbeth murdered two innocent guards on charges of treason and destroyed all evidence.

He succeeded to the throne.

...

A shift in power, a new king ascended the throne, the queen at his side. Beneath the shadow of power lay a bloody secret.

Bruce relished the play, watching Macbeth's transformation from a valiant warrior to a cruel and gloomy king, his increasing ambition and superstition of fate.

Just as the plot was about to reach its climax—

"Bang!"

A sudden noise erupted from the theater's speakers, followed by a continuous buzzing sound.

"Buzz... buzz..."

The actors on stage paused for a moment, and the audience erupted in a commotion.

Bruce blinked slowly, his eyes sweeping across the theater's sound system before returning to the actors on stage.

—What's going on? Was there a stage accident?

As the audience chattered—

a spotlight suddenly shone down from the left side of the stage.

A man in a reddish-brown coat and a black and white checkered scarf appeared. His red hair was a mess, his skin was painted pale, and he wore a black hat and held a golden scepter.

His attire instantly captured the audience's attention.

The man bent down and bowed comically to the audience.

Then, leaning on his scepter, he marched toward the center of the stage, singing:

"King, King, it is time to cast off your rusty crown, for you occupy a throne that is not yours!"

The tune was raspy and unpleasant.

Macbeth stood up, his face gloomy, and demanded:

"Who are you to speak such treasonous words before me?"

"Macbeth," the man shouted, striking the floor with his scepter. "You must leave the stage. This dream has no place for you!"

Sporadic discussions arose in the audience, and Bruce frowned.

-- Was this an avant-garde adaptation?

A flash of inspiration struck his mind, and he instinctively looked at Jack. Macbeth's face was blank. He sat on the throne, his expression blurred by the interplay of light and shadow.

"Alice, Alice!" Seeing no response, the man looked at the queen sitting beside him and called out affectionately, "Come back to my arms!"

A magical scene unfolded.

As he called out, the stage setting suddenly changed. The originally magnificent palace was removed, and instead, a round arch decorated with candies and bows appeared.

Lady Macbeth slowly loosened Macbeth's hand and walked towards the man.

Her eyes were blank, and she couldn't help but ask:

"Who are you?"

The man laughed loudly. He suddenly grabbed her hand and put it on his cheek. Then, he rubbed the other's soft palm and said loudly:

"I am your lover, Alice. I will take you back from the king's hands! I am an insider of the secret, I am a witness to betrayal, and I am the executioner of the new king!"

As he said, he pressed a button on the top of the scepter with force.

A burst of thick smoke spewed out from the front of the stage.

With the sound of gears turning, several iron chains as thick as pythons suddenly rushed out from both sides of the throne -

the next second.

Macbeth's body was pulled back by the iron chains and locked firmly on the seat.

In an instant, Bruce's expression changed drastically. He sat up suddenly, his muscles tensed.

He finally realized who this mysterious man who was incompatible with the stage play was.

The Mad Hatter - Jervis Tetch.