("Oh my god!!! Rhino, tiger, rabbit, turtle, hedgehog, cat, gorilla, lion, elephant, monkey, beetle, dinosaur, watermelon, banana, apple, blueberry, gray clothes, robot, cowboy, police, construction worker, nurse, doctor—sir!")
("Stop fighting!!!")
Arnold's jaw snapped open and shut at blinding speed, a horrific, discordant chorus of voices exploding from his throat.
("Stop, stop!Stop fighting! Shut up! No, you shut up! Look out for the cowboy! Listen to the doctor—sir!")
Batman casually squatted nearby, watching the absolute ruins of the Ventriloquist's psyche. Arnold now wore a cheap stuffed toy on each of his ten fingers—and even his ten toes. Dozens of extra plush toys from the tactical bag lay piled around him, and his broken mind was desperately trying to personify every single one of them at the exact same time.
Bruce could practically see black smoke puffing out of the man's bald head. Arnold had turned into a living speaker, a mess of screeching voices echoing from every part of his compact body.
"Aaaahhh!!!"
The ventriloquist screamed.
What had started as a harmless puppet fight was now spilling into reality. A bird puppet on his index finger seemed to have convinced the others of something, and suddenly his left hand formed a fist—then punched him in the eye.
"Help! Save me!"
Bruce stared at him with quiet contempt.
He's a complete maniac, Bruce thought. If not for the Batman code—and his potential usefulness—I wouldn't mind killing him. He's utterly hopeless.
In the original Knightfall timeline, Arnold Wesker was able to keep himself stable during the Evidence Bureau siege by subconsciously creating a "Police Officer" puppet to maintain order. But that was only possible because Mr. Socks was there to act as the dominant tyrant to keep the peace.
But now, Bruce had destroyed Mr. Socks.
With Mr. Socks destroyed, every single one of these new personas was born equally weak. None could take control. The result? Total chaos. Dozens of identities clashed like viruses in a computer trying to run all at once.
"Aaaahhh..."
Almost done, Bruce thought. I need to start the next phase of treatment—before his brain's CPU actually fries.
He stepped into the pile of hand puppets and pulled out a plush Batman toy.
It was cartoonish: a tiny, babyish Batman with a pacifier, wearing a diaper and a black suit. The belt was sewn on, soft, almost cute—something a little girl might adore. But Bruce had embedded a radio module inside it, allowing him to remotely control the doll's voice.
"You'll do."
Bruce strode up to the ventriloquist and, in a flurry of rough movements, tore all the toys from his hands.
"Noooo!"
Arnold clung to Bruce's leg, rubbing his tear- and snot-covered face on the suit:
"Oh my god, what are you doing to Rhino, Tiger, Rabbit, Turtle, Hedgehog, Cat, Gorilla, Lion..."
"Get lost!"
Bruce unceremoniously stripped the bald old man completely naked—not even sparing him a pair of underwear—and then piled all the plush toys into a heap on the floor.
He pulled out a lighter.
"No! NO—!"
The ventriloquist flailed wildly, but Bruce clamped him firmly beneath his ribs and lit the toys.
Boom!
Flames roared to life. The plush toys—highly flammable—went up instantly, turning the remnants of Arnold's mind into ash.
Bruce turned and torched the rest of the supply from the nearby bag, ensuring nothing remained.
"Nooo..."
Arnold collapsed, sobbing hysterically. Naked and shivering on the cold tile, he couldn't even tear off a piece of underwear to fabric a new puppet. He was entirely, utterly helpless.
"Arnold? Arnold?"
No response.
Arnold wept like an oversized bald baby, slapping his own face over and over again.
"Take me away! Take me away!"
If Bruce hadn't kept his iron grip on him, the old man would have jumped directly into the fire.
Bruce nodded, completely satisfied.
He took out a small vial and sprayed a thick, chemically sweet mist directly into Arnold's face.
"Ack! Cough—cough—COUGH!!!"
The weeping stopped. Arnold began to twitch and convulse on the floor like an epileptic.
It was the Scarecrow's fear toxin. In a mind already fractured by severe schizophrenia, it amplified terror into an inescapable, blinding mental storm. Through Arnold's drug-addled vision, the world was on fire, and the massive, demonic figure of Batman loomed over him like an apocalyptic executioner.
"See?" Bruce whispered, grabbing Arnold roughly by the neck and forcing eye contact. "No matter how many new friends you make, I'll kill them all. Heh heh heh."
Arnold howled, a sound so raw Bruce wondered if he'd cough up his own throat next. A complete psychological collapse.
"Only this one." Bruce shoved the mini Batman plush directly into Arnold's hands. "Only he is allowed to be your friend now."
He tapped the transmitter switch inside his gauntlet. Without moving his lips, he spoke into his throat-mic, routing his voice directly through the speaker sewn inside the doll.
("Arnold,") the small plush toy spoke, its voice carrying a low, controlled, perfectly reassuring weight. ("Don't be afraid. As long as you listen to Batman, you won't be hurt. He carries my will. He watches you. You will obey him.")
("Don't throw him away. Don't disobey,") Bruce added, his own voice roaring directly into Arnold's face, loud enough to shake his skull.
( "He'll stop you from killing like Scarface did. He'll make you listen to me. This is all for your own good!")
Arnold cradled the mini Batman like a holy relic, staring blankly ahead. A tear rolled down his cheek. Then... absolute silence.
Broken? Bruce thought, his eyes narrowing. He slapped the man twice, left and right. "Speak. Come on—smile."
Still nothing.
Then a deep voice—low, controlled, eerily familiar—rose from Arnold's stomach:
("Arnold, don't be afraid. As long as you listen to Batman, you won't be hurt.")
Bruce smiled. Success. The psychological vacuum was filled. A new, engineered protector persona had successfully taken root.
"Remember... from now on, you're Batman's dog."
"Woof!"
...Huh? Something's not right.
Ah, whatever. A broken tool is still a tool.
His thoughts were interrupted by a burst of 'silver-white text flashing in his mind.'
---
[Warning! Warning! Anchored item detected!]
[Obtained: Ventriloquist's Tears of Personality Destruction]
[Description: The tears shed after total collapse of the ventriloquist's secondary personalities. Can only be obtained through extreme, immoral methods. May be used to summon a Batman from a parallel universe.]
[But... can something born from immorality summon a hero?]
["Yes. You have acquired him—but lost your morality."]
["Was it really worth it?"]
---
Bruce glanced at the slowly drying tear in his hand.
[Crisis Energy Units Converted: 10]
[Batman's Memory Synchronization Possible]
His heart jumped. 'The plug-in... it's working!'
---
[Agreement has been activated. Initialization complete...]
[A new Batman has been located...]
[Your number is: 52]
[Alfred Protocol Initialized]
---
[The mortal body is not inferior to a demon king.]
[With fear as power, you rival Satan himself.]
[In the world of shadows, you are the body of judgment.]
[The Shadow Knight still stands supreme.]
[All evil cowers before your divine presence.]
[Ghosts and monsters—unmoving before your light.]
[The lamp of shadow burns eternal.]
---
[Warning: Anchor Item "Ventriloquist's Tears of Personality Destruction" linked...]
[Target Batman found: Earth-99 Batman – The Broken Batman]
[Danger Level: E]
[Synchronization Complete.]
[Current Crisis Energy: 0]
[Warning! This Batman hails from the Dark Multiverse. Caution: His thoughts may corrupt your reason and morality.]
---