Summoner of Marvel World

Adam turned the diary to the back.

I sat back on the bed, and there was a dirty mirror next to the toilet at the foot of the bed, not very bright. I looked at myself in the mirror, it was still my albino skin and hair, the blue-red blood vessels were shallowly buried under the skin, my eyes were shining brightly in the dark, I really looked like a lunatic looking so blurry.

So I simply let go of my mind and lay down on the hard bed to sleep.

Both my confinement and Yvonne's ended at night, of course because I threatened the caretakers again.

In the cafeteria we went together, the little girl had calmed down and turned into that quiet, thin little girl again.

I ruffled her haggard, matted curls, and she gritted her teeth at me.

It is good to be feared, for example, there is a unique candy given by the cafeteria aunt on my dinner plate.

It is said to be unique, but it is actually the cheapest low-quality fruit hard candy sold outside.

But in Arkham, this is a high-class dessert.

So those lunatics were no longer afraid of me, and a lot of them had been taken away before I noticed.

Yvonne and Dom's mouths were bulging, and they were chewing my candy. My heart ached and I hurried to protect my plate.

Nibbling dry bread, I asked Yvonne, "Why is your doll so important?"

"Huh?" There was confusion in the little girl's eyes. Dom also followed suit silly.

Yvonne thought for a long time before continuing intermittently: "That...that woman...she always stabs me secretly, and then gives my blood...give me money? Then she injects... needles herself ... hallucinating. So I... I took advantage of her... when she was hallucinating... chopping... chopping her up. I stuffed her hair in, stuffed in the dolls...”

Saying this, she reacted and yelled at me again: "Doll! Doll! Grace! They took my doll!!"

The bread crumbs in her mouth sprayed out, and there were tears in her eyes: "Baby, baby!!!"

I suddenly felt very sad, I guess she still longed for the company of that woman, and what she really wanted to call was not the doll, but the mother.

She used the doll as a substitute for her mother, and withered with her in this white cage!

I really couldn't bear to see the little girl crying pitifully there, so I grabbed the remaining candy and stuffed it for her, "Yvonne, don't cry. I promise you can see your doll tonight! Come on, eat candy!" "

"That's fine." The little girl stopped crying immediately after taking the candy, or her tears were taken back before she shed them.

It took me a long time to realize that the guy was trying to trick me into eating candy. I felt angry and funny, but also very distressed. Who said that lunatics are stupid as long as they come? They thought they could be smarter than anyone else.

Seeing my expression, the little girl thought that I was distressed by candy, so she also threw a candy on my plate with a distressed expression.

I really laughed this time.

He also imitated her and threw the candy into his mouth, chewing it.

So she felt even more distressed, protecting the last few candies,

Never want to eat again.

Adam closed the diary and finally found what he was looking for, the doll.

The clown's headless body was lying on the floor. Adam, whose chest was bulging, took it out and saw that there was a doll stuffed in the clown's chest.

This doll exudes an inexplicable aura, weird and terrifying.

Adam closed his eyes and felt the doll carefully. There were countless horrible auras of wronged souls on this doll. Maybe something happened in the Arkham Asylum?

Adam turned the diary to the last page, and it could be seen that the diary was written by a different person.

I was born in the messiest neighborhood in Gotham.

Who is my father, whether he is alive or dead even my mother doesn't know.

Maybe I'm just a product of my mother's drug-related mistakes.

She is a lion trainer in the circus troupe and a street girl.

My mom was crazy, or, as Grace put it, she was a walking dead.

Her soul has already flown away, leaving only an empty shell to live and dream in this dirty world.

I think, my life, my existence may be the least important thing in her life.

My value to her is no different from a piece of waste paper or a small bottle cap, except that I can protect her from being harassed by the class leader.

She was drunk most of the time, sober only a few times.

When she is sober, she is relatively normal, and she will curse me to fry eggs, or bring back a few roast chickens and beer from someone. She was crazy when she was drunk, sometimes she regarded me as her guests, and sometimes she regarded me as her addicted friends.

But no matter what she is, I love her. Because she is my mother.

Don't underestimate the word mother, okay?

Whether it's a lunatic like me or some superhero, moms are special.

Especially in the eyes of children, mother is God.

So when she went crazy again, I ended her life, she walked peacefully, very happy, and she called my son for the first time.

I also helped her kill that disgusting class leader, and gave her the first marijuana gang... I started wearing fancy clothes, dyed my hair, and decided to be a clown.

Because the clown is the only one sober among those fifty-three playing cards.

I began to think who built this city?

Who stipulated that there should be rich areas and slums?

Who maintains balance and order?

People who live in this city turn a blind eye to these problems. They go to and from work, get drunk in bars, and continue the next day.

Day by day, year by year, again and again.

I started asking my group of friends, and their responses were the same, "Hey, aren't you crazy?"

"Who cares about this, it's definitely out of our control anyway."

"Brother, are you out of alcohol?"

"Hey, he's crazy."

So I know, I'm probably the only one who thinks about these issues, the only one who's awake.

And since I can't wake them up, it's better to break these balances.

After the order collapses, the protagonist behind the scenes will appear, and then everything will be revealed. Just like if the rabbit crawled out of the hat by itself, then the magician will definitely appear, put it back in the hat, and then prepare for the following performance...

Then I came to Arkham Asylum. I had rarely heard of it before.

It's in a remote suburb, away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

It's holding a bunch of lunatics.

But when I actually arrived in Arkham, I realized that this place completely subverted my worldview.

I became an Arkham, I got used to Arkham.

What doesn't kill you makes you weird, but get used to, it's also a horrible thing, it makes you a willing fool.

I have been assimilated by Arkham, and I have become one with the people here.

I also met a woman I will never forget—Grace Ackerman.

The first time I saw her, she was standing in the crowd, but she was out of place.

Not only because of her charming charm, but also because of the color of her skin.

She may have had albinism before, and everything from hair to skin is not white.

So I approached her and saw her face clearly.

She is not good-looking, at best she can be considered pretty, but her temperament has a magical power that makes people ignore her appearance and look directly at her soul.

So if she had to be classified, she would definitely be classified as a beauty, no, it would be a higher class.

Because those women with empty appearances will only look like straw bags next to her.

There are many good-looking ones, but too few soulful ones.

But then I really realized what a femme fatale is.

Grace Ackerman is such a bad person to the core.

But she has always adhered to the tradition of the older generation.

Finally, me and her...

The diary ended here, and the contents of the diary were not complete, but it also told Adam who its owner was.