"One vial of Titan formula per person. Harley, you lead these people to find Batman. As soon as you see him, inject it right away. You'll beat the Bat for sure."
After personally placing a bomb into the safe, the Joker gave his orders coldly and turned to leave.
He had other business to attend to.
Like a certain Gotham Police Commissioner.
If Gordon were injected with an overdose of Titan formula, mutating, going mad, and rampaging through the city, and Batman had no antidote—what would he do to his friend?
The Joker was looking forward to this test of humanity, especially Batman's.
Hardy followed a group of criminals, guided by Harley's voice over the radio, to hunt for Batman. But when they encountered him, these Titan-mutated criminals only managed to make Batman look a bit disheveled before he used his grappling gun's rope to tie them all up in a row.
Before injecting the Titan formula, Bane was a top martial artist among humans, able to overpower Batman in hand-to-hand combat one-on-one. These guys were not.
What's more, after injecting the Titan formula, their mental state was greatly affected—their rationality dropped, and they became extremely violent.
Of course, Hardy didn't go after Batman.
Before the fight even began, he used a clone technique he'd learned at ninja school to replace himself.
When the fight broke out and chaos ensued, no one noticed the clone's disappearance.
As for Hardy himself—
"This body still doesn't have enough chakra."
In the corridors of Arkham's prison, Hardy stood among the bodies of fallen guards and inmates, tightened his pants, and tucked the vial of Titan formula into the chest plate of his bulletproof vest.
Next, he dragged a stripped guard into the innermost stall of the restroom and splashed a basin of cold water on his face.
The guard woke up groggily, only to find his eyes blindfolded and his body restrained, unable to move.
"Name."
A strange voice sounded.
"Who are you? What are you doing?" the guard retorted instead of answering.
Crack!
"Ah—!"
"Now you have nine fingers left."
"Edward Sweet!"
Crack!
"Wrong answer. Now it's eight. Don't try to play any tricks."
Hardy glanced at the ID card in his left hand and said coldly.
"Milovan Tore."
"Good."
Hardy continued to ask several more questions.
Thanks to his top marks in interrogation back at ninja school, he quickly got the information he wanted.
"Very good."
Hardy knocked the man out with a punch, then formed hand seals with both hands.
Ram—Rat—Boar.
Transformation Jutsu!
With a puff of white smoke, Hardy instantly became identical to the guard at his feet.
He examined himself for a moment, then confidently walked out.
As for the guard, he would remain safely unconscious in the locked restroom stall for the next twenty-four hours.
Next stop: Arkham Asylum's control room!
The entire Arkham had long since been sealed off under Joker's orders to Harley Quinn. To unlock it, you'd naturally have to go to the control room.
Just now, Hardy had gotten a rough idea of Arkham's layout and all the key locations from that guard.
At this moment, the whole asylum was in utter chaos.
On his way to the control room, Hardy was attacked several times by criminals—after all, his current identity was an Arkham guard, and he was alone.
"This is getting troublesome."
Hardy frowned as he looked at the path ahead.
The corridor outside the control room was currently in the midst of a fierce firefight.
The guards were trying to retake the control room, while Harley Quinn had naturally stationed a large number of criminals to defend it.
As a result, bullets were flying everywhere along the corridor, and the floor was slick with blood.
Getting hit by a bullet at this range was almost certainly fatal.
Even a small-caliber handgun could be deadly at close range—if Hardy took a shot, he'd be finished.
"Hey, you over there! What are you standing around for? Get over here and help!"
Behind a makeshift barricade of sandbags, someone who seemed to be a squad leader for the guards spotted Hardy and waved him over.
"Milo! What are you doing here?"
A guard who recognized the original owner of Hardy's current identity also called out.
Hardy said nothing, just crouched behind the sandbags, raised his gun, and fired a few shots at random.
The less he said, the less likely he was to give himself away—better to keep quiet.
The others didn't question it and returned to the fight.
The battle was fierce, much to Hardy's disappointment.
If the guards won, they'd surely charge in and take control of the control—
Here is the English translation:
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...the control room, just as he wished.
If those criminals had won, Hardy could have reverted to his original identity and blended in, still managing to get into the control room.
But the current situation was the one Hardy least wanted to see.
And he couldn't just fight his way through here.
If it were his main body, maybe he could try, but this avatar had only just started refining chakra—not much in terms of quality or quantity. It wasn't even up to the standard of a genin, probably just about the level of a senior student at the ninja academy.
This was only because Hardy's own mental quality was higher, and this body was that of a healthy adult.
But that was all.
Limited by the body, his taijutsu was also capped, and he didn't have any puppets or ninja tools he was familiar with. As for the gun, he'd only just figured out how to use it on his way here. At best, because he'd practiced throwing ninja tools before, his aim was a little better.
So, what should he do next?
With the meager amount of chakra in this body, he couldn't maintain the Transformation Jutsu for twenty-four hours—he'd be found out sooner or later.
Just as Hardy was at a loss, two batarangs flew in from a distance, curved in midair, and finally embedded themselves in the wall behind the group of criminals.
"Boom!"
Flames and thick smoke erupted, followed by several round balls rolling onto the ground.
"Bang!"
Dense smoke exploded out, and a young man in a black battle suit, wearing a mask and holding two short batons, leaped out from the ventilation duct and charged into the smoke.
"Let's follow him!"
Seeing Nightwing coming to their aid, the guards' morale was instantly boosted.
As a superhero, top-tier martial artist, and Batman's successor, Nightwing—armed with various Bat-tech—was far more powerful than these guards.
In less than ten minutes, all the criminals were lying on the ground, handcuffed.
Good, step two of the plan was successfully completed.
Inside Arkham's control room, looking at Harley Quinn—personally tied to a chair by Nightwing and gagged with a rag—Hardy excused himself to go patrol and scout, temporarily leaving the control room.
Next, it was time for step three of the plan.