"Each of you gets one vial of Titan serum. Harley, take the rest and guide them to find the Bat. Once you spot him, inject yourselves immediately. You'll beat him for sure."
After placing a bomb into the safe himself, the Joker gave his orders coldly, then turned and left.
He had other business to attend to.
For example—a certain commissioner of the Gotham Police Department.
If Gordon were injected with an overdose of Titan, mutated and driven mad, rampaging uncontrollably—and Batman had no antidote—what would the Bat do to his old friend?
The Joker lived for this kind of twisted test of humanity—especially Batman's.
Shimizu followed a group of criminals under Harley's voice guidance in search of Batman. But once they engaged, despite transforming under the Titan serum, they only managed to slightly ruffle Batman before getting tied up in a neat row by his grappling gun's cord.
Bane, even without the Titan drug, was a top-tier martial artist who could pressure Batman one-on-one. These thugs were not.
Worse, injecting Titan affected their mental state—lowering intelligence and triggering uncontrollable rage.
Naturally, Shimizu never actually fought Batman.
Before the fight even started, he used a simple Clone Technique learned from ninja school to substitute himself.
Once the chaos erupted, no one noticed the clone had disappeared.
As for the real Shimizu—
"This body… still doesn't have enough chakra."
Inside a corridor of Arkham Asylum, Shimizu stood amid the bodies of unconscious guards and inmates. He tightened his belt and tucked a vial of Titan serum into his bulletproof vest.
Then he dragged a stripped guard into the farthest stall of the bathroom and splashed cold water on the man's face.
The dazed guard slowly regained consciousness, only to find his eyes blindfolded, and his body restrained.
"Name."
Came a cold, unfamiliar voice.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
The guard didn't answer but responded with a question.
Crack!
"Aaaah—!!"
"You've got nine fingers left."
"Edward Sweet!"
Crack!
"Wrong answer. That's eight. Don't try anything clever."
Shimizu stared coldly at the ID badge in his left hand.
"Milovan Tore."
"Good."
Shimizu continued questioning him.
Thanks to his perfect score in interrogation class back at Ninja School, he quickly extracted all the information he needed.
"Perfect."
He knocked the man out with a punch, then quickly formed a hand seal.
Ram → Rat → Boar.
Transformation Jutsu!
Poof! A puff of white smoke exploded, and Shimizu's appearance changed to look exactly like the guard beneath him.
He checked himself over, then confidently walked out.
As for the rear guard, he'd spend the next 24 hours unconscious, locked inside the farthest stall of that bathroom.
Next stop: Arkham Control Room.
The entire asylum had been sealed off under Joker's orders to Harley. To lift the lockdown, one had to get to the control room.
From that interrogation, Shimizu had already gained a rough idea of Arkham's layout and the positions of key locations.
Right now, Arkham was in complete chaos.
On his way to the control room, Shimizu was attacked several times by criminals.
After all, in his current disguise as an Arkham guard, and traveling alone, he was an easy target.
"Bit of a problem…"
Shimizu frowned as he looked down the hallway ahead.
The corridor outside the control room was in the midst of an intense firefight.
The guards were trying to reclaim the control room, while Harley had left a large number of criminals to defend it.
Bullets flew, and blood stained the floor.
Getting hit by a bullet—especially at close range—was almost always fatal.
Even a small-caliber handgun could be deadly up close. One shot and Shimizu would be finished.
"Hey, you there! Don't just stand around—get over here and help!"
From behind a makeshift barricade of sandbags, someone—probably a security captain—spotted Shimizu and waved at him.
"Milovan! What are you doing here?!"
A guard who knew the man he was impersonating also shouted.
Shimizu didn't say a word. He crouched low, rushed to the sandbag wall, picked up a gun, and fired a few rounds randomly.
The more you talk, the more chances you have to slip up. Better to keep quiet.
The others didn't question it and returned to the fight.
The stalemate was disappointing to Shimizu.
If the guards won, they'd storm the control room—just as he wanted.
If the criminals won, he could revert to his original identity and infiltrate from their side—also a win.
But this deadlock? This was the worst-case scenario.
And he couldn't just fight his way through either.
If this were his real body, he might try. But this clone had only recently begun to refine chakra. Both its quality and quantity were low—not even up to Genin level, perhaps equivalent to a senior student at ninja school.
His higher mental strength and physically fit adult body gave him a slight edge, but that was it.
The body's limitations capped his taijutsu potential. He also had no puppets or ninja tools—nothing he was familiar with. The gun he was carrying? He'd only just figured out how to use it on the way here. At best, his ninja training in throwing weapons gave him a slightly better aim.
So what now?
This body's chakra couldn't maintain the transformation jutsu for 24 hours. Eventually, he'd be exposed.
Just as he hit a dead end, two bearings came flying through the air, curving mid-flight and embedding themselves in the wall behind the criminals.
BOOM!
Flames and smoke exploded outward. Several smoke bombs rolled onto the floor.
BANG!
A thick smoke erupted—and from the ventilation shaft, a young man in black armor and mask leaped down, holding two short batons.
He charged into the smoke.
"Let's go!"
The guards, seeing Nightwing had arrived, cheered and surged forward with renewed morale.
As Batman's successor, a top-tier hand-to-hand combatant, and armed with advanced tech, Nightwing's combat power far outmatched that of ordinary guards.
In less than ten minutes, the criminals were all subdued and handcuffed.
Perfect. Step Two of the plan—complete.
Inside Arkham's control room, Harley Quinn was now tied to a chair by Nightwing, her mouth stuffed with a rag.
Shimizu, under the pretense of patrolling, excused himself from the control room.
Next up: Step Three of the plan.
(End of Chapter)