"Of course, if anyone wants to act like a diva and run away instead of playing their part, that's fine too. But right now, the whole Arkham is sealed off. Whether you can escape depends on your own abilities. If you can't, then tonight there are only two possible outcomes."
"One, we pick a new leading actor. The other is that our magnificent Bat-hero defeats all the villains and locks you all back up."
"Of course, I doubt anyone would turn down the chance to play a game with the Bat, right?"
The released inmates gathered together and cheered.
Settling scores with Batman was considered politically correct in Arkham.
And, honestly, everyone loved doing it.
"Where's that Bat? I can't wait to snap his spine again."
Bane cracked a thick iron door with one hand, itching for action.
"No rush, buddy. I've prepared a little gift for everyone—a present that'll let anyone break the Bat's back."
The Joker danced with excitement.
"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get started!" Black Mask spat into his palms and rubbed his hands together.
"All right, but I'll need a few tough guys to stay behind and help me hold off Batman for a bit. Of course, if you can take care of the Bat for good, even better."
The Joker giggled.
Many criminals were already impatient, especially those confident in their own strength.
Like Bane, Killer Croc, and the like.
Black Mask also followed, carrying a gun he'd snatched from a guard.
Clearly, he'd already forgotten what Hardy had said earlier.
Soon, the next step in the Joker's plan was revealed to everyone.
Titan Serum.
Or rather, an improved version of Titan Serum, created by Bane's attending physician, Penelope Young.
This doctor had originally been working to reverse-engineer the Titan formula to cure Bane's addiction, but accidentally created this even stronger Titan II serum.
No need to lug around a huge tank like Bane, or worry about reverting if the tubes were pulled out. Just one injection, and you'd gain Titan-like strength.
The drawback was that it had an even greater effect on the mind, and after transformation, the body would look even more monstrous than Bane's.
"Dear Dr. Young, please tell me—where did you hide that stuff?"
In the office of the chief psychiatrist, the Joker grinned at a woman in a white lab coat, snapping his fingers like a magician and producing a rose from his sleeve.
"I already threw it all away. Don't even think about it."
Penelope Young, tied to a chair with hemp rope, spat at the Joker.
"Oh, really? Would you really throw away all your hard work? Let me think… You probably didn't have a chance to get rid of it far, so you must have hidden it in some out-of-the-way spot, right?"
The Joker glanced around the office but didn't spot anything unusual.
"Um, Mr. Joker, maybe I can take a look? Before I came to Arkham, I was a forensic scientist—I know a thing or two about crime scene investigation. Maybe I'll spot something."
A burly man raised his hand.
The Joker made a gesture of invitation.
The big man stepped forward and asked Dr. Young a few questions.
He got no response, but didn't mind. He simply observed her expression, then led a team in a meticulous search of the office.
The whole process was orderly and systematic—they even found a pink, wand-shaped vibrator hidden in Dr. Young's cabinet.
And, in the end, they did find something unusual.
It was a painting. Behind it was a safe.
"I flushed the key down the sewer ages ago."
Dr. Young smiled as she watched.
"Um… I can pick locks. All I need is a paperclip from his desk."
One of the henchmen said sheepishly.
Standing at the door like a lackey, Hardy couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
No wonder Arkham is full of talent.
The guy straightened the paperclip, stuck it in the keyhole, wiggled it up and down a few times, examined it, then twisted the top a bit and reinserted it.
With a gentle turn, the safe popped open easily.
A cold blast wafted out.
It was actually a freezer, neatly lined with test tubes filled with green liquid.
Titan II serum.
"Aha, I knew you were hiding something good in here. But why is there only this much? You know what I really want."
The Joker lifted Dr. Young's chin, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.
"I told you, I threw it away—flushed it down the toilet. Maybe it's in the sewers now? And the formula was just a piece of paper. It should be completely destroyed by now."
Fear flickered in Dr. Young's eyes, but she didn't hesitate to talk back to the Joker.
"Oh… You really do make me unhappy, sweetheart. But I do love a feisty gal like you."
The Joker pulled a small knife from his pocket and waved it at Dr. Young.
"Dear Mr. J, what did you just say? I heard that, you know~"
A lively female voice came from the walkie-talkie hanging on the Joker's chest—Harley Quinn, sounding jealous.
"Oh, it's nothing, Harley. I just wanted to tell Dr. Young my story. For example… Do you know how my mouth got this way? When I was a kid, my father would come home drunk and abuse me. He cut my mouth open with the broken neck of a bottle, just because my mother wouldn't give him my tuition money to gamble with…"
Standing at the door, Hardy couldn't help but curl his lip.
No one knows how many stories there are about the origin of the Joker's scarred mouth—no one knows which, if any, are true.
"Poor Mr. J, you've had such a—"
The past experiences are truly heartbreaking."
The Joker ignored Harley's words coming through the walkie-talkie and instead pressed a small knife to Dr. Yang's mouth.
"Why so serious, Dr. Yang? How about I make you just like me—forever happy? Of course, if you're willing to give me the formula, we could both be very happy."
"You're dreaming," Dr. Yang mumbled.
"Dear Mr. J, you guys need to hurry up. That useless Bane has been thrown back in his cage by the Bat again. Batman will catch up to you soon,"
In the control room of Arkham Asylum, Harley Quinn propped her legs up on the table, watching the surveillance screens as she spoke.
"Looks like we'll have to change the plan,"
The Joker coldly withdrew his knife.
"Doctor, are you sure you're the only one who knows the formula?"
"Of course. So as long as I don't tell you, you'll never know the formula."
Bang!
The Joker drew his pistol and pulled the trigger, shooting Dr. Yang in the head.
"Perfect. Now Batman can't get the formula either, and there's no way to make the antidote in the short term."