On top of the verbal assault, the Batman Who Laughs was puppeteering Damian's corpse to spew taunts, multitasking furiously.
It was wasted effort. A sudden encounter with this horror might have sent Batman into a rage, but his experience on Earth-3 combined with extensive mental preparation meant he was ready. Even if a hundred Martha Waynes leapt out of the shadows, he wouldn't flinch.
The three Clone Robins had no tactics to speak of—just feral instinct driving wild attacks, relying on small frames and quick reflexes, using fangs and claws to harry Batman.
A few exchanges was all it took to map their patterns. Aside from being revolting, they posed minimal threat.
He ducked under two lunging clones, surged forward two steps, and caught the remaining one by the left arm. He swung the creature into the cavern wall with a thunderous impact that made the entire chamber hum. The Clone Robin crumpled, unconscious.
Three enemies became two. He moved with greater ease now—two more exchanges and a flying kick launched another one across the cavern.
The last clone was still frenzied, but against human intelligence it was hopelessly outmatched. Batman hurled it at the Batman Who Laughs, who slit its throat without hesitation.
Back to two-on-one. The Batman Who Laughs was burning through his stamina and couldn't keep up. He flung the blades in his hands and ran.
The Damian puppet lurched forward to block the pursuit.
"Father, save me..."
"Help me, Father..." That voice—so close to Damian's real one—froze Batman for half a heartbeat. His stride faltered, and the Batman Who Laughs bolted down the tunnel behind the puppet.
Batman looked at the corpse. Bloodshot eyes. Rigid body. Skin mottled blue and purple. Fury surged from somewhere deep inside him. He circled the puppet and gave chase.
The Joker, meanwhile, let out a wild laugh and took off in the opposite direction without a backward glance. Batman pretended not to notice. The Batman Who Laughs was the real threat. The Joker could be dealt with later.
Besides, after multiple cross-dimensional missions, Batman understood perfectly well: without supernatural power to open a way back, there was no leaving this place. The Joker, brilliant as he was, wouldn't be inventing teleportation anytime soon. If he wanted to stay in this insane world, so be it.
Years of rigorous training gave Batman far greater endurance. He caught up before they even reached the surface.
"Stop!" A flying tackle brought the Batman Who Laughs crashing down.
Two more punches. Then Batman seized the spiked metal visor with both hands and ripped it off, helmet and all.
The face underneath was barely recognizable as human. Where the eyes should have been, the sockets and eyeballs had simply vanished. The eyelids were stitched shut with fine thread, as though he'd been born without eyes.
Batman's stomach turned. He landed two more punches on that face.
The laughter didn't stop. It grew louder. "Hehe—you won't kill me. It's hard, clinging to that line, but it's still there. And if you let me go, I'll murder your son. Your family. Your friends. Every single person you care about! Hehe—we both know that. So... what are you going to do? Do you dare kill me?"
In that moment, the Batman Who Laughs' silhouette merged with the Joker he'd captured countless times before. But the Joker played games—everything was a game to him. The Batman Who Laughs was different. He was venomous, consumed by hatred for everything Batman stood for. He wanted to destroy Batman. Turn him into another version of himself.
Batman's fist hung in the air, as if weighing something.
The Batman Who Laughs stopped resisting entirely. To force the decision, he even tossed his two remaining Batarangs away. Completely defenseless, he tilted his blank, featureless face upward, his grin stretching wider.
"Think about your loved ones. They'll die because of your weakness! Come on—kill me!"
"Your own son, lying in a pool of blood. It could have been prevented. All because you let me go..."
"Can you hear the screams of Gotham's people? Come on! Kill me!"
At the last moment, the Bruce Wayne part of him reasserted control. The manic grin faded, replaced by words designed to cut even deeper.
Just as he was savoring Batman's internal torment, a massive fist slammed into his face. Lights out.
Batman confirmed he was fully unconscious, then stood.
"...Pathetic. Maybe one day I'll fail to hold the line. But not today."
He took several deep breaths, then spoke to the empty air. "You're still here, right?"
Daniel's translucent form shimmered into view. "I am. Death isn't—she can't enter this place."
Batman didn't bother untangling the logic. He pointed at the unconscious Batman Who Laughs. "Can you people handle him?"
Daniel appeared to exchange a few words with Thea in another realm, then turned back. "He's yours to deal with. He's the nightmare from your deepest self. Let's go—bring him, and come back with me."
Daniel took hold of Batman and, with the Batman Who Laughs in tow, returned to the original world.
Meanwhile, Thea was hosting a three-way summit in the Underworld.
New Genesis and Apokolips, negotiating their future. The Underworld served as mediator.
The primary agenda: Orion inheriting the throne of Apokolips.
New Genesis had lost four godhoods overnight when Highfather departed, and the Godhood of Justice was severely damaged. If Orion also left, that meant losing yet another—five and a half godhoods gone in total.
Apokolips had suffered even more. Darkseid hadn't remained on Apokolips; he'd fled the Sphere of the Gods entirely, taking the Godhood of Evil with him. Thea knew where he'd gone but had given her word not to pursue. The remaining godhoods—Darkness, Power, Slaughter, and Tyranny—had all been claimed by what Steppenwolf scathingly called "a motley bunch of randoms." Combined with Kalibak's death, Apokolips had lost six godhoods. If Steppenwolf welcomed Orion back as king, Tyranny would automatically return to Apokolips, and the Godhood of Violence would come with Orion as well. Gain two, lose six—a net loss of four.
On paper, Apokolips still looked stronger. But real warfare didn't work on arithmetic alone.
Darkseid's absence hurt Apokolips far more than Highfather's departure hurt New Genesis. New Genesis had Diana holding the front line, wielding five godhoods of her own. Compared to peers at her level she might not be the most polished, but crushing Steppenwolf and his ilk wouldn't break a sweat. And the real issue wasn't how formidable Diana was in a fight—it was who stood behind her.
Steppenwolf had been happily preparing to claim the throne himself. Then Thea fixed him with a look that was ostensibly cordial but unmistakably threatening, her tone utterly flat as she "asked for his personal opinion." He deflated on the spot, choked down his fury, and thumped his chest in solemn pledge: he would faithfully serve as a veteran of three regimes.