Arkham Asylum, half a month ago.

The Winged Knight captures the Joker and personally escorts him to the Gotham Police Station, where Chief Gordon immediately arranges for the Joker to be transferred to Arkham Asylum with the strictest guards.

If anyone had paid attention at the time, they would have noticed that all the staff of the asylum who greeted the arrival of the clown watched with awe and fear as the demon lay on the bed board and was tied up and sent in. The clown's hands trembled as the doctor at the door drew blood for the clown, and the clown suddenly raised his voice and laughed wildly, so frightened the poor doctor that he sat on the ground, and his legs were too weak to sit up.

Everyone in the asylum knew that the facility had completely fallen into the hands of this madman. Even though he was tied up and kept in a cage, everyone had the illusion that the person in the cage was themselves, and the madman was outside the cage, watching everyone struggle in pain, and he laughed himself.

No psychiatrist wanted to see him, but he asked to see a doctor.

"Why not? Without the psychological communication therapy that you insist on every time, it doesn't feel like you don't feel at home, hahaha, that's it, the feeling of home. The clown himself said.

In his opinion, Arkham Asylum is a place like home.

A poor psychiatrist sat down in front of the Joker, and she felt that she couldn't have been as nervous as she was when she first took on a crazy patient. Her fingers twitched uneasily, her lips quivered, and her eyes did not dare to look directly at the other side, but her mind kept coming to mind the image of her bright red lips grinning a terrible grin in the darkness ahead.

"Why don't you speak? My dear doctor? He asked.

"Well, what do you think you say?"

"Oops! You're an expert, so why do you ask me? The clown shouted, and then said, "I can't help it." Well, I've got a habit of keeping a diary, and I think you'd like to study the psychology of patients through words, right? ”

He turned his head, which was still free, and pointed to his hospital gown with his mouth.

"Look, here it is. Don't be afraid, come and get it. ”

The doctor hesitated, but got up and found a notebook from his hospital gown. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the clown's gaze at her, his black bead-like eyes as if admiring his toy with playfulness.

It was a black-skinned diary with a beautiful bow tied with a purple ribbon.

The doctor opened the diary with trembling hands and studied it for a moment.

The book is full of characters with various colored paint pens, and it is messy and unorganized, like a child's graffiti.

"I don't understand." The doctor whispered.

"Let me explain. See that little purple man? Her name is Erica, yes, Erica? Jones, what a lovely name, isn't it? Alas, it's a pity that the final fate is really tragic, and the world is unpredictable."

The doctor cried out in despair, "That's my daughter!" Please, she's only ten years old."

"Well, let's move on to the next chapter. Oh, you must be wondering what that red one is. Let me explain, it was a man, a very man, whose name was Nash? Jones, who works in a shoe shop. Poor Jones, who couldn't get rid of his drunken habit, ended up dying on the streets, and it was pitiful."

"Don't," the poor doctor seemed to be finally beginning to read the strange scribbles in the Joker's diary, pleading in a voice as light as a mosquito.

"I don't want to do that, but that's how cruel things are." The clown said, "Sometimes good people get good rewards, and sometimes they don't, all I write is a diary, not a second-rate soap opera script." These are all records of real events, so that everyone can know that the world is really so cruel well, that's it. ”

The doctor sat down on the floor, sobbing silently. The door at the back was slowly opened, and the guard standing at the door lowered his head and said nothing.

"Gee, looks like that's the end of our meeting for today." The clown exclaimed, "It was a warm and pleasant conversation, and it helped me very well in my recovery." I'm really looking forward to the next conversation, and I'll continue to keep a diary as instructed by the doctor to try to get a speedy recovery. Thanks! Hahaha"

The whole madhouse seemed to be echoing with the laughter of this ghostly animal.

Half a month later, now.

Batman looks out of a food-delivery window left behind by the heavy iron door and sees a neat array of televisions in the hallway all turned on.

The words "Arkham" flashed from the TV, and the Joker's avatar appeared on the TV. By this time, he had changed into a hospital gown and put on his purple suit, his green hair combed back and forth.

After coughing twice, he exclaimed, "Listen, everybody! I'll be in charge of this madhouse from now on! I'd love to be like the irresponsible dean of my predecessor and tell everyone that it's safe and that no one is going to hurt you, but I can't say that in good conscience! The truth is, you're not safe! No one is safe! ”

He made a loud gesture and excitedly shouted, "We have a security breach!" A lunatic is now running around inside Arkham Asylum! He dressed himself as a big bat, and his methods were very dangerous. You can imagine how crazy a person must be to dress himself like that, hahaha."

He patted his leg and laughed until he felt like he was out of breath.

A hot woman approached him and said in a sweet voice, "My little pudding, be relaxed." I know you'll have a lot to do when you become the dean, but you have to watch your body and don't worry about that bat maniac! ”

The woman had a white face full of oil paint, a long golden ponytail, and lips that were also painted with bright red lipstick, but not as exaggerated and hideous as the clown.

Her name is Hallie? Quinn, who used to be the attending physician for the Joker in Arkham Asylum. Later, she was somehow moved by her own patient and became the most loyal follower by his side, codenamed Harley Quinn, a typical case of clown-related psychosis.

"Hallie! You're so sweet! But I can't sit idly by, everyone who sees that bat doesn't have to report it to me, just kill him on the spot! Oh, it's better to be half dead, no matter how crazy he is, we can't just give up on any patient, can we? Hahaha"

The TV screen hanging from the ceiling flickered twice and then lost its signal.

At this time, Batman had already corroded a small piece of the alloy wall with strong acid, pulled out the wire from it, took out the batrang and cut the wire, and the flashing electric snake on the door immediately subsided.

Batman kicked open the iron door and strode out.

But the moment he walked out of the prison door, all the iron doors on both sides of a corridor in front of him popped open with a few clicks.

The lunatics who were locked inside all walked up the hallways, and there seemed to be quite a large number of them, blocking the way in front of and behind Batman.

Batman realized a problem.

These are the madmen who were instigated by the clown to riot in the streets not long ago, and then put in an insane asylum.

Now, they're all the best thugs the clowns to bring to the madhouse.