The dying screams of the guards echoed through the intercom, attracting even more guards.
Although not everyone returned to work at Arkham after the flood, the defense here was undoubtedly far better than that of Gotham Police Station.
The Laughing Bat shrugged, licking the corners of his mouth as he swung the thick chains made of N Metal. This special scythe could link with iron to become a Ninja weapon, a locking scythe, which only those with rigorous training could master.
This, of course, was no problem for 'Batman'.
So in the brief moment when the sound of the locking scythe and the mad laughter echoed, no one else was left standing in the corridor.
"La la la..."
Visiting an old haunt put the Laughing Bat in a good mood. He remembered the joy of running through Arkham and killing every criminal back then.
Although the Cruel Knight didn't even manage to buy time, at least he distracted Deathstroke.
There are over forty other Earths in the Dark Multiverse, with even more underdeveloped worlds. As long as there's X Metal and the Anvil of Apocalypse, one could have as many Batmen as needed.
But he was the only one who could laugh, that's what made him unique.
Perhaps his joyful singing and the crackling footsteps drew others' attention as someone soon peeked out from the bars of a ward door.
He happened to see the Laughing Bat using chains to pull a guard's corpse and dance samba.
"Batman? No, that's not you, although we're enemies, the doctor told me to use imagination to compensate for my urge to kill...."
The patient in the ward was dazed for a second or two, only reacting when the Laughing Bat spun the corpse like a top with the chain, shouting in disbelief.
The Laughing Bat stylishly pinched his chin, looking up at the ceiling pretending to think. After a moment, he punched his palm, "Oh? Let me see.... Oh dear, isn't that my old friend, Firefly Man? How did you get in the cage?"
"It's you.... No, you're not Batman! Who are you?"
"Hehehe... you're wrong, I'm the real Batman. Laughing at the miserable life is what adults should do, right? Not just a child living in the past."
The Laughing Bat drew closer to the bars as if to have a heartfelt conversation, but his wide grin reaching his ears made Firefly back away, continuously shaking his head.
"You're my imagination, no, I can't imagine such a Batman. I must take my medicine, where's my medicine?"
The Laughing Bat pretentiously lifted his arm as if checking the time, his mouth curving downwards, mimicking Batman's classic serious expression, but he still wanted to laugh.
"Yes, it's time to take your medicine. Your little pill is with me, here you go."
The Laughing Bat took out a pretty transparent little ball from his belt, inside was a brownish-yellow liquid, looking just like fish oil.
He pinched this tiny ball, let out a strange laugh, and then threw it past the cell door, onto Firefly's chest.
The moment the small ball touched Firefly, it exploded like fireworks. Intense flames immediately erupted, wrapping around Firefly, turning him into a human torch.
Firefly was a pyromaniac who loved using a jetpack and flamethrower. His greatest pleasure was roasting, having an abnormal attachment to flames due to childhood experiences, enjoying watching others burn to death.
Arkham's therapy for him was to make him imagine burning others in his mind, but not in reality.
As long as he could restrain himself, he was considered rehabilitated.
But the Laughing Bat had no need for others to correct themselves. Those who play with fire are destined to get burned — that's a myth. People just need a little push.
"Ah!!!! Ah!!!! Help!!! It's so hot!!!"
"Hahahahaha... right, right, maybe if you roll around a few more times the fire will go out?" The Laughing Bat clapped and laughed as if watching a circus lion fail at jumping through a flaming hoop.
He hadn't heard of anyone extinguishing an incendiary bomb by rolling, but if Firefly could, then the trip here wasn't wasted.
The Laughing Bat held the bars with both hands, his head swaying rhythmically from side to side, watching as the flames gradually stopped flickering, the scent of roast meat wafting over.
He shrugged helplessly, turned, and left. He had seen enough charred bodies reflected in his eyes.
Perhaps Firefly's screams had awakened more people, as there were more peeking from the cells along the corridor, though no one dared approach him thanks to the madness the Laughing Bat displayed.
He, of course, couldn't be bothered with them.
He was here for the Joker.
When Deathstroke's team appeared at the police station, it meant the Joker had been captured. He had previously caught glimpses of people gathering around Batman and the Joker, then watched as Batman was carried off.
He didn't see where the Speedster took the Joker, but Gotham only had two options—Arkham or Black Gate. The obvious choice was Arkham.
As for why he was looking for the Joker, it was naturally for revenge and to ensure the plan proceeded smoothly.
The last time Barbatos invaded, the Laughing Bat was double-crossed by the Joker and Deathstroke, his head played as a toy by the Joker for a long time, then offered as a gift to Luthor. It was by his eloquence that he convinced the bald head to escape.
This time was the same, Batman still chose the Joker over him between the two of them—isn't that belittling him?
Now it's fine, the woman is dead, and he's insane. Actually, Mad Laugh thinks if Batman completely ignores Joker, then nothing would happen.
Even if the hostages are taken by Joker, it's to form a play; without the audience present, Joker can't start the show.
In other words, it's Batman who gave Joker the chance to perform; he's the one who made Joker succeed.
But it ends today. Mad Laugh is here to kill Joker. Others don't dare to kill him, but he has no problem with it; the scent of Joker Poison, he's an expert on that.
Moreover, Joker and Harley can often guess his thoughts, this kind of hidden danger is better eliminated early.
At the end of the corridor, in the darkest corner, there is the most heavily guarded cell. Given Joker's repeated escapes, this is different from other wards; it looks more like a bank vault with a dining hatch.
All sorts of verification measures at the door, only Batman can open this door, otherwise not only will it trigger the alarms, but might also be knocked down by the defense facilities.
Seeing these, Mad Laugh gently touched his own face.
"Thankfully, I can open this door." His gloves have a palm print duplication program, but there's no need for that. He just needs to press his own hand: "Because.... I am Batman! Hehehe...."
Click.
The door opened before him, and he saw Joker sitting on a single bed deep within the cell.
"Hello, my old friend." Mad Laugh dragged the chains step by step into the cell, the smile on his face seemingly glowing in the darkness.
"You....!" Joker clutched his hair, making a covering eyes gesture: "Are you here to kill me?"
"Yes, hehe." Laughing Bat showed him the scythe in his left hand, the chain in his right.
"Wait, we could actually have a chat, like how about cooperation? I can help you win." Joker waved his hand, displaying a friendly smile.
"You are so good to me, so good." Laughing Bat moved closer to Joker, scrutinizing his face, while Joker looked at him obediently, revealing a shy smile.
Suddenly, Laughing Bat swung the scythe, the entire blade smashed in from the top of Joker's head, piercing out from his chin. Joker hissed, his entire body started to twitch, then motionless.
Mad Laugh stepped on Joker's body, extracted the scythe, wiped it on his leather jacket, and took a deep whiff underneath his nose.
"Great, then my answer is.... huh."
This is an imposter.
How to distinguish if Joker is the real one, it's actually very simple, just find a Joker, kill him, and then close your eyes to feel.
In a piece of darkness, do you see colorful lights? Do you feel genuine joy from the heart? Is it uncontrollable... to want to laugh?
Being Batman who killed a Joker, that's how he did it, and the one he just killed could only elicit a small 'huh', barely, that's a fake.
This laugh isn't from the heart, it's forced out by Mad Laugh, trying to find the feeling.
But there wasn't, his heart felt hollow, lacking the fullness filled with madness.
"Oh, naughty, where could you have run to?" Mad Laugh seemed to rub his forehead like he had a headache, the scythe in hand continuously spanking his own backside.
However, no matter what, if he doesn't want to be blocked by Deathstroke in this dead end, he must leave.
Although the mission wasn't accomplished, it's not a loss. At least he watched a Torch Festival performance, isn't it?
As for where Joker went, he can probably guess, but it's inconvenient for him to go there now; wait for the opportunity.
Without nostalgia, he hummed a tune, turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps in the darkness grew further until completely swallowed by the dark.
Everything was quiet as if the patients in the cells on both sides were all silenced; no madman is scarier than a crazy Batman, not only killed Joker but could also leave humming and dancing to Jingle Bells.
However, suddenly a smile appeared in the darkness, the red lips grinning wide; the seemingly floating head turned left and right, then submerged back into the darkness.
"So he's really not here, what a great escapeer...."
Mad Laugh, who was thought to have left, suddenly made a return.
But no effect, the corpse in the cell was a fake, it didn't crawl back up laughing.
Now Mad Laugh has to check on how his teammates are doing. Joker truly doesn't let people relax. Forget it, wait until the opportunity arises to catch and kill him.
But he has to let Joker know he missed an easily dying opportunity, next time when truly caught, it won't be as easy....
It wasn't until several minutes later that the other guards realized something was wrong here. When they arrived, they only saw dead guards everywhere.
"Quick, doctor! See if there are any survivors! Contact Director Gordon!"
"Captain! Old Bob is still alive! His usual intake of massive high-calorie food saved his life!"
"Ambulance! Quick!"