Dante was stunned. That was it?
He thought the mission wouldn't officially wrap up until he reported back to Fury.
But the system prompt kept going.
["Mission-related characters: Ada Wong, Harley Quinn, Batman, Joker."]
["Random reward selection in progress…"]
[Acquired Ability: Ada Wong's Undercover Disguise Technique
Acquired Ability: Harley Quinn's Flexibility
Acquired Ability: Batman's Willpower
Acquired Ability: Dionysus Factor]
---
Dante blinked at the results.
Characters with too many skills tended to mess up the prize pool. The first three were solid enough, though Batman's Willpower stood out—it was strong enough to wield a Green Lantern ring, after all.
But even that felt plain next to the Dionysus Factor.
Vandal Savage, Ra's al Ghul, and even the Court of Owls all had knock-off versions of it. Only the Joker had the real deal—pure, uncut madness in biological form. The pure Dionysus Factor made you functionally immortal, defying the laws of nature themselves.
Granted, it didn't buff your strength or speed. It just gave you the really important stuff: absurd regeneration, agelessness, and the occasional resurrection.
Dante couldn't help but let out a smug little grin.
His first mission netted him a cheat-code-level passive ability. For a guy whose biggest prize before this was winning two bags of soy sauce in a supermarket raffle, this was practically hitting the multiverse lottery.
That said, grinning with Harley's lipstick still freshly smeared on his face made him look more than a little sleazy.
Cough cough. "Ada, that look in your eyes is kinda intense."
"In this situation, I'm barely resisting the urge to call the cops," she deadpanned.
"Don't be silly. You call the cops in front of me, I answer the phone in front of you. What are you gonna do about it?" Dante chuckled, then turned toward the door. "Anyway, we've still got problems to deal with. This is the Joker. If he showed up at Arkham Asylum, you can bet his loyal clowns are here in force too."
"Joker Gang," Batman finally spoke, breaking his long silence. He glanced at Harley with a complicated look. "If I had to guess, Joker's rescue of Harley was just a diversion. His real plan was to take over the entire Arkham Asylum, wasn't it?"
Harley's face darkened. She turned and shot Joker's corpse one more time.
Click. The final bullet fired.
Then came a rapid click-click-click that broke the tension.
"Out of bullets," Harley muttered, extending her hand toward Dante. "Reload me."
Without hesitation, Dante handed her all three spare magazines.
But instead of reloading, she gripped the Magnum by the barrel and smashed the butt of the gun into Joker's already-shredded head.
The hole got even bigger.
"Used and used again. Joker, I worshipped you once. Harleen Quinzel kept warning me, but I ignored her every time." Harley stared coldly at the mess of Joker's skull. "They say you can come back to life, yeah? Then I'll make a hole like this in your head again and again, forever."
"Alright, can we table the therapy session and focus on the Joker Gang first?" Dante put on a worried expression, but deep down, he was calm. "You were his sidekick. You know better than anyone how big the Joker Gang is. One slip-up, and we're toast."
Batman said nothing, but the tension in his jaw said he agreed.
Everyone knew the pattern—he always won planned fights, always lost surprise ones.
If Batman couldn't rely on his billions and his endless prep time, he was just the gold-medal winner of "Peak Human." He could maybe take on a few dozen guys.
But hundreds? Armed? Yeah, even Gotham's favorite brooding billionaire would be in trouble.
This universe didn't have a Justice League yet. Batman was still early-career—no Bat-Family, no Robins, no Alfred driving in a tank. Otherwise, the old man would've called backup three pages ago.
Still riding that edgy lone-wolf phase, apparently.
"But if the Joker Gang's going all-in here, that means the fat guy's kid might actually be safe," Dante muttered, looking over at the vice warden who was cowering on the sofa like a damp noodle. "You. Carry Joker's body. You're coming with us."
"Me?!"
"Who else? You wanna square up with the Joker Gang yourself? Be my guest—I'll carry the body."
"N-no! I'll carry him! I'll carry him!!"
Just imagining the Joker Gang sent the guy into full compliance mode.
Dead Joker > Dead Warden. Easy math.
"Perfect. Let's move."
Dante and Batman led the way out. Ada followed, cool and collected. Harley practically skipped behind them like it was a birthday party.
Last came the vice warden, face pale as paper, carrying the Joker's corpse like it was radioactive.
Dante rolled his wrists, loosened his tie, unbuttoned his cuffs, and gave Batman a lopsided smile.
"So, what do you think, Bats? Think we can punch through?"
"You seem unusually relaxed. Not worried at all?"
"Not really. I'm decent in a fight—holy crap, there's a lot of them."
They'd reached the activity hall.
Empty just minutes ago, it was now packed—shoulder-to-shoulder—with people in Joker makeup and Joker-themed outfits.
Beyond this hall was the severe containment zone. The place where Gotham's worst of the worst were locked up.
Arkham's entire defense system had been obliterated. The key to the high-risk ward was now in the hand of the woman leading the pack.
She had a high ponytail with streaks of dye, sharp brows, blunt bangs, and Joker-style makeup with a palette of black and blush.
Her purple three-quarter sleeve jacket and ripped jumpsuit were unmistakably Joker-core.
Punchline. Real name: Alexis Kaye.
Joker's new right hand. Harley's replacement.
Where Harley was chaotic and loud, Punchline was cold, calculating, and deadly.
Especially with the twin daggers gleaming in her hands.
"That fat guy… leave J here."
"Nope." Dante checked the terminal on his wrist, stepped forward, and shut that idea down fast. "The Joker is Gotham's—and maybe even America's—most dangerous criminal. Dead or alive, his body goes straight to the Bureau."
"How about this—leave the body, and I'll let you walk out in one piece," Punchline offered with a too-sweet smile. "It's just a corpse…"
"And letting a corpse that can come back to life go? Hard pass."
"…You know?" Punchline's smile froze, then turned brittle. She twirled her dagger. "Tear them apart. Including that Batman."
"What's with these lunatics always trying to kill public servants?" Dante sighed and shook his head. "Listen, last chance: surrender now and the FBI might let you live. Keep pushing, and I shoot."
Batman gave the crowd a hard look.
"Do you really think the few of us can take on the entire Joker Gang? There may be only dozens here, but outside? There could be hundreds."
"As Gotham's Dark Knight, I don't believe you don't have a contingency plan," Dante said casually. "But keep your Plan B for someone else. This time… let me handle it."
"You're going to take on all of them by yourself?"
Ada stepped up, reaching for his arm, but Dante was already walking forward.
He stood at the front of the hall, arms spread wide, staring down the grinning mob.
Then he turned slightly to Ada.
"Ada, don't forget—we're FBI agents. We're government employees."
He tapped his terminal again.
"We've got people above us."
He raised the comm.
"Hello? Hello! You said you arrived already—where are you?!"
The words had barely left his mouth when boom—Arkham Asylum's dome disintegrated into a cloud of dust.
Not rubble. Not chunks. Just dust.
Descending through it, wreathed in light like a Marvel movie entrance, came a red and gold mech.
"Good afternoon, my friends," the metallic voice rang out. "I heard someone got tangled up with some crazy clowns from the circus?"
(To be continued.)