Batman had a plan, but this plan needed Lady Vico to wake up, so in the meantime, he could rescue Selena first.
There were no more obstacles in the colorful corridor ahead, apart from noise and light pollution. Fortunately, he was almost completely immune to Joker's tricks.
Soon, he followed the direction of a large finger painted on the wall and entered a remodeled room.
Originally, some famous paintings were displayed here, but Joker had splashed paint over them.
If it was a portrait, Joker added a huge smiling face; if it was a landscape, little dancing figures were drawn. The whole room was in chaos.
Broken furniture was everywhere, flood marks remained on the floor, and the salty stench filled the air like a devil's lair, but Batman's attention was drawn to a chair in the center of the room.
On the chair was a gift box with a big label that read 'Open'.
Batman pondered for a second. To prevent the gift from being a new type of Laughing Gas, he pulled out an oxygen tank and put it on before walking over to open the gift box.
Purple wrapping paper, green ribbons, a sloppy binding style, it was very Joker-like, and the paper even had traces of what seemed like saliva or tears....
Inside the gift box was something that looked like a remote control for a toy car, but it only had two buttons, one red and one green, blinking frantically like mad.
When Batman picked up the remote control, a sensor on the chair must have detected a pressure change, because a television that was thought to be broken by water damage suddenly lit up next to the chair, displaying a familiar image.
"Hahahahahaha, hoo hoo.... Oh, my dear Batman, how's your day going?"
Without speaking first, Joker burst into laughter, so much so that he almost suffocated. He seemed to be in a basement somewhere, the background entirely pitch-black except for a flashlight shining from below onto his ghastly face.
After some time, he struggled to breathe, covering his eyes as if seeing Batman always made him laugh.
"Joker." Batman's lips drew down at the corners.
"You're asking me? I'm quite well, just had a little disagreement with Lex~."
As he spoke, Joker seemed to remember something and took out a photo from his suit, showing Luthor unconscious, head drooping, suspended by a pile of chains in the Eternal Fortress conference room:
"Hehehe, look at him, doesn't he look like a bass?"
Batman squinted his eyes. It seemed Joker and Luthor had fallen out. With Luthor's pride, he would never pretend to be unconscious and bound.
And what was Joker implying by showing this photo?
Joker rarely took photos, and it was never a good sign when he did.
"I'm here for you, come out." Batman didn't ask what he meant, instead directly calling Joker to show himself.
Joker seemed to hear something amusing, putting on a child-entertaining expression, pulling his mouth wide, wagging a finger.
"No, no, no, no, Batman, don't be so hasty, the show has just begun, hahahaha..."
The Dark Knight's cape shrouded his silhouette, his shadow twisting continuously on the ground: "I'm right here."
Joker grabbed his hair, pressing down hard, his eyes wide open, as if they were about to pop out: "Yes, you're right, you're here, on the stage I prepared for you, so alright, let's play a game..."
As he spoke, the Joker on screen seemed to press a remote control, causing the image to shake and split in two, revealing two people strapped to electric chairs.
The electric chairs were extremely crude, Joker used barbed wire to bind the two to the chairs, and a lampshade-modified electric helmet sat on their heads.
Blood slowly seeped from their bodies. They were gagged, their faces full of fear.
Joker's voiceover came again.
"You might not recognize these two people, let me introduce you. On the left is, our low-life scum contestant! Yes, that's you, give the camera a smile. Mm, and on the right is our high-class scum contestant, let's give a round of applause! Clap clap clap!!!"
The sound of Joker clapping came from the television, a pair of white gloves slowly extending from the screen's edge, then quickly retracting.
Batman: "....."
He knew this was another one of Joker's tricks, but he'd have to wait until Joker explained the game rules.
Just as Batman was immune to Joker's madness, Joker was used to Batman's silence, showing no surprise, and continued speaking.
"This skin-and-bones scum, yes, your favorite kind of street thug, he goes out at nine every night, comes home at nine in the morning, and diligently robs for 12 hours a day, seven days a week, year-round, barely making a living in Gotham! Hehehe, do you remember him? You broke his arms last year and threw him into Black Gate Prison. Want to know what happened to him after that?"
"...."
Batman doesn't want to know at all, but he understands that Joker will surely tell, and refusing would be useless.
"It's not really a big deal; to me, it has a comedic effect." Joker's voice flattened, as if uninterested: "When he was imprisoned, his sick wife died because there wasn't money to buy medicine, and both his kids weren't even ten when they became street wanderers, used as drug mules. First time being a mule, something went wrong, and their bodies ended up as sausages, heroin-flavored ones, hahahahahaha...."
"...."
"He thinks this is all your fault; it's your responsibility. He wants to kill you to avenge his wife and kids..." Joker suppressed his laughter, his voice turning icy: "Unfortunately, Gotham is not a utopia where everyone's wishes come true. Such a pity, I found him first, and given my warm hospitality, he was quite happy to join our game, hehe..."
Batman squinted at the emaciated man tied to the electric chair.
The man was skin and bones, clearly malnourished, fear causing his eyes to bulge, his face pale and sweaty like a river, and you could feel him shaking violently even through the screen.
Looking at his battered face, mouth gagged with a ball gag, he hardly appeared willing to join the game happily.
Joker didn't wait for Batman to speak, immediately introducing: "Next up is the piglet on the right, our social elite contestant. So glamorous, even if the luxurious suit is wet from urine, it doesn't wrinkle, hehe.... Ready to hear his story?"
"I'm not interested, come out Joker, face me."
"Then I'll kill them all! They'll die because of your non-compliance! You will have killed them with your own hands!"
Joker suddenly switched personality, like a mad dog barking at the camera, almost lunging out of the TV to tear Batman apart.
"...."
"Well, are you ready to hear the story? Pleeease~~~~ listen to it~~~~"
Joker suddenly changed again, like a child pleading with Batman, except his raspy voice sounded like nails scratching on a chalkboard.
Batman has never been able to figure out what Joker is thinking, especially when his split personality worsens.
"...."
"Hehehe.... I knew Batman would make the wise choice. This fatty, we've seen him on TV, but I can't recall his name. He's one of Gotham City's councilors. But that's just his public identity; guess what he actually does?"
Joker quickly shared information, his tone becoming persuasive at the end, as if Batman could see Joker winking at him.
"He runs both a drug factory and a human meat factory." Batman replied without almost any hesitation.
"Clap clap clap...."
Joker's hands extended from the edge of the screen again, but this time at the bottom of the lens: "As expected of Batman, brilliant deduction. The emaciated man's children died because they were smuggling drugs for his men and were also made into sausages by his workers. Furthermore, the one who embezzled Wayne Enterprises' medical subsidies meant for Gotham's citizens is also him."
Batman's gaze fell upon the fatty; Bruce actually knew this person, frequently encountering him at various parties. He's a textbook politician.
Fat, eloquent, almost no administrative ability, his best skill is playing Texas Hold'em, but still playing worse than Bruce.
Batman didn't know about his drug and human meat trades; presumably, the so-called underground factories were too small-scale to be noticed.
Black Mask's drug factories are well-known, labeled as a fertilizer factory, affiliated with the Gotham Research Institute, covering over ten thousand square meters, producing drugs by the ten-ton batch.
This is easy to handle—every time Black Mask accumulates enough goods to dispatch, Batman just needs to go and burn it down.
While this fat man's drug dens are likely hidden in residential building basements, using a few school dropouts, casually brewing drugs in pots, there are countless such dens in Gotham, and Batman can't possibly eliminate them all.
50% of the United States' drugs are supplied by Gotham; it's an extremely profitable industry, with virtually no entry barriers. Maybe your kind neighbor grandma is actually a Breaking Bad-style mastermind at night.
While Batman was contemplating, Joker wasn't idle either, his tone suddenly becoming curious:
"I'm curious because to me, it seems the fat man caused the emaciated man's family to die, he is the real culprit. So why does he want to kill you too? Did you have an unpleasant encounter last time? I thought you two smoked cigars together and were friends already."
Mid-sentence, the TV emitted the sound of Joker slapping his forehead, laughing at himself again.
"Oh, is it because you handed over evidence of his embezzlement of medical funds to the police? Because he knows his future is doomed? Women and fine food will leave him? Everything is gone, the feeling of loss is so unbearable...."
"What do you actually want?" Batman coldly asked.
Joker panted into the microphone, laughing only after a long pause: "Alright, the story is over. What I want to know now is, will you save the bad guys who want to kill you? A hint: if you save them, something very bad will happen next, hehe..."
"Tell me the rules."