"Of course, if any of you prima donnas want to bail on the performance and try running away, feel free. But Arkham is completely sealed off now. Whether or not you escape depends entirely on your own skills.
If you fail, then tonight only ends in one of two ways:
One—someone new gets cast as the star of the show.
Two—our beloved lead actor, Batman, defeats all the villains and locks you all backup."
"Naturally, I don't think anyone here would turn down a chance to play games with the Bat, right?"
The freed inmates gathered, letting out a thunderous cheer.
Settling the score with Batman—that was Arkham's version of politically correct.
And everyone loved doing it.
"Where's that Bat? I can't wait to snap his spine again,"
growled Bane, casually tearing a thick iron door from its hinges.
"No rush, buddy. I've got a gift for all of you—a little something that'll help everyone snap the Bat's spine,"
the Joker replied gleefully.
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's move!"
Black Mask spat into his hands and began warming up with excitement.
"Alright, but I'll need a few heavy hitters to stay behind and stall Batman.
Of course, if you manage to finish him off—well, even better."
The Joker giggled.
Many of the inmates were itching for action—especially the stronger ones like Bane and Killer Croc.
Black Mask, now armed with a gun taken from a guard, joined the group too—completely forgetting the warning Shimizu had given him earlier.
Soon, the Joker revealed the next phase of his plan:
The Titan Serum.
Or more precisely, an improved version—Titan II, created by Bane's attending physician, Dr. Penelope Young.
Originally, Dr. Young had attempted to reverse-engineer Titan in order to break Bane's addiction to it. But instead, she accidentally developed a stronger variant.
Unlike the original formula, users didn't need to carry a massive tank or fear the hose being yanked out. One injection granted incredible Titan-like power.
The trade-off? Even greater damage to mental stability—and a transformation that made the user look more monstrous than Bane himself.
"Now, my dear Dr. Young… why don't you tell me where you've hidden the good stuff?"
Inside the neurologist's office, the Joker smiled at a woman in a white lab coat tied to a chair with coarse rope. He theatrically snapped his fingers and pulled a rose from his sleeve.
"I already destroyed all of it. Don't even think about it."
Dr. Penelope Young spat at him.
"Oh really? Would you really throw away all that hard work?
Hmm… You wouldn't have had time to get far. That means you hid it somewhere nearby… somewhere not obvious, am I right?"
The Joker glanced around the office—nothing stood out.
"Uh, Joker sir? Maybe let me take a look? I was a forensic specialist before coming to Arkham—a bit of a crime scene expert. Maybe I'll notice something."
A bulky inmate raised his hand sheepishly.
The Joker gestured with a flourish for him to proceed.
The man asked Dr. Young a few questions, but she stayed silent. Unbothered, he simply studied her expression and then led a team in a thorough, methodical search of the office.
The process was meticulous—so much so they even found a pink vibrator hidden in a drawer.
Eventually, they struck gold.
Behind a painting was a hidden safe.
"The key? Flushed it down the toilet."
Dr. Young smirked.
"I can pick it up—just need that paperclip from the desk."
One of Joker's goons raised a hand apologetically.
Leaning by the door like a lackey, Shimizu couldn't help but sigh internally.
Arkham really is full of talented people.
The guy straightened the paperclip, slipped it into the lock, wiggled it up and down, checked the shape, twisted it a bit more, and…
Click—the safe swung open with ease.
A chill flowed from within.
It was a freezer, neatly filled with vials of green liquid.
Titan II serum.
"Aha! I knew you were hiding goodies here. But… why only these?
You know what I really want."
The Joker lifted Dr. Young's chin, a dangerous gleam in his eye.
"I told you—I flushed it. Gone down the sewer.
The formula was on a single sheet of paper. It's probably destroyed by now."
Dr. Young spoke through her fear without flinching.
"Oh… You're really no fun, sweetheart.
But I do like girls with a little fire."
The Joker pulled a small knife from his pocket, waving it dangerously close to her.
"Mr. J~ What was that I just heard?"
A chirpy female voice buzzed from the walkie-talkie clipped to Joker's chest—it was Harley Quinn, clearly jealous.
"Don't worry, Harley. I was just telling a story to our dear doctor here…
For instance—do you know how I got this smile?
When I was a kid, my father came home drunk and cut my face open with a shattered bottle… just because Mom wouldn't give him my school money to gamble—"
At the door, Shimizu couldn't help but roll his eyes.
That smile story again. Joker's told a dozen versions—no one knows which is true.
"Poor Mr. J… what a tragic past."
Harley's voice cooed through the walkie-talkie.
But the Joker ignored her, sliding the knife into Dr. Young's mouth.
"Why so serious, Dr. Young?
Want me to make you smile like me—forever?
Of course, if you just give me the formula, we could both be very happy."
"In your dreams."
Dr. Young mumbled defiantly.
"Mr. J~ You better hurry up. Bane's back in his cage again—Batman's headed your way!"
In the Arkham control room, Harley had her legs propped on the desk, watching surveillance monitors.
"Looks like it's time for a change of plans."
The Joker coldly withdrew his knife.
"Doctor, are you sure you're the only one who knows the formula?"
"Absolutely. So unless I tell you, you'll never know it."
BANG!
The Joker pulled a pistol and shot her in the head.
"Perfect. Now the Bat can't get the formula either.
And without it, there's no antidote—at least not any time soon."
(End of Chapter)