"Please, Agent Dante. No need to be nervous."
"I'm not nervous," Dante said flatly, adjusting his aim slightly. "I just didn't expect the Batman to show up in person."
He pouted and shifted the Magnum in his grip. Batman was, after all, still Batman—arguably trustworthy. And besides, a handgun wouldn't do squat to the guy anyway.
"I don't agree with the WFBI removing Harley Quinn from Arkham Asylum," Batman said as he stepped forward. Though he addressed Dante, his eyes remained locked on Harley. "She's not just the Joker's accomplice—she's the only lead we have on his current whereabouts."
He paused.
"The only lead."
Dante scratched his temple with the barrel of his gun, sighing. Yeah… that was the problem.
In moments like this, it was hard to tell if Batman was obsessed with justice—or obsessed with the Joker.
"Don't drag other people into your twisted relationship," Dante replied, standing firm in front of him. The height difference meant he was basically talking to Batman's chin. He had to crane his neck just to make eye contact. "People setting things on fire wearing Joker makeup, and vigilantes running around in masks and tights… you're all lunatics, just from different sides of the circus."
"Are you the type who sees vigilantes and 'superheroes' as criminals?" Batman asked, taking a step to the side of the door, putting a little more space between them. "Makes me question the judgment of WFBI agents."
"Don't question us just yet," Dante said, slumping onto the sofa, arms spread. "I get it—you're heroes. Real ones, maybe. But that doesn't mean you're not crazy. Those two things are not mutually exclusive."
"Alright, gentlemen," Harley Quinn interrupted, perched cross-legged on her bed with a steaming mug of coffee. "Can we table the philosophical showdown between Mister Brooding Justice and Agent Grit for another time?"
She sipped her coffee with far too much poise for someone currently locked in Arkham, and at that moment, it was clearly Harleen Quinzel speaking—not her other half.
"I mean, shouldn't we be discussing whether or not I'm getting out of here?"
"In any case, we're taking Harley," Dante said, sounding firm but… slightly unsure. Because yes, even he wasn't entirely comfortable going toe-to-toe with Batman. "And as for the Joker? You're welcome to cooperate with the WFBI."
There are two smart ways to deal with someone like the Joker.
One: stay the hell away and hope he keeps playing tag exclusively with Gotham and Batman.
Two: throw every resource you've got into helping Batman bring him down.
Dante preferred option one. Not because he was lazy—because he was realistic. Outwitting the Joker wasn't in his skillset.
And even if option two worked, that's assuming you weren't dealing with three Jokers, like the Mobius Chair claimed during "Rebirth."
Even if you did catch him, the guy had the dionysus factor—basically the ability to walk out of death like it was a revolving door.
Not a great ROI.
For now, Dante just wanted to complete his WFBI mission, collect a few more random abilities, and stop walking around as a "peak human" in a universe where that's considered "Tier 1 cannon fodder."
Even Batman outclassed him. Badly.
"And Harley's not just a random case," Dante added. "She's Nick Fury's personal favorite. And I'm sure, given your… multiple identities, you know who he is."
That was his strategy: flex some authority and poke a little at Batman's not-so-secret alter ego. Just enough to make a point.
"…Fine. I'll speak to Fury about this."
Batman nodded.
Even though his face was mostly hidden behind the cowl, Dante could feel the smoldering energy of a CEO who was going to file a very strongly worded letter later.
Poor Fury.
"Vice Warden Jack Lawson," Batman snapped, eyes turning to the visibly pale official. "Where's today's security force? This is barely one-tenth of your usual staff. And Arkham's defense systems are running at minimum capacity."
"Ah, well… that's… um…"
The sweaty mess of a Vice Warden immediately froze under Batman's death glare, his hand trembling as he tried to mop the sheen off his forehead with a too-small handkerchief.
Dante exchanged a look with Ada.
Yep. Something was definitely off.
From the moment they entered Arkham, Dante had felt it.
No security presence.
No contingency measures.
Not even backup guards in observation rooms.
You're telling him this place—the official dump zone for Gotham's most psychotic, genius-level criminals—was just running on vibes today?
And the man who'd escorted them in was this guy?
Dante was starting to miss the predictability of fighting zombies.
BZZZT.
His terminal buzzed.
Dante immediately stepped over to Ada and opened the secure feed on his device.
"Agent Dante, Agent Ada Wong," a calm voice came through. "This is Ingrid Hunnigan from Field Support."
"Agent Hunnigan," Dante said. "What do you have?"
"Per your request, I've reviewed all recent activity tied to Arkham leadership. Vice Warden Jack Lawson's wife recently received a one-time offshore deposit—three million USD. Also, his ten-year-old son has been missing for a week. No police report filed."
"…Perfect. That's the thread we needed."
Dante narrowed his eyes, shooting a glance at the trembling Jack Lawson.
"Excellent work, Agent Hunnigan. That confirms it—Lawson was bribed. His kid's being used as leverage to ensure the plan goes smoothly. Mobilize the WFBI's Gotham City field team and coordinate with local police to find his son immediately. He's still somewhere in Gotham. You'll need to trace the next clue."
"Understood, Officer." Hunnigan ended the call—no drama, all business.
Dante was lucky he'd bothered to request the deep-dive investigation. Turns out, paranoia pays off.
He turned to the Vice Warden, who looked like he was about to pass out.
"Hey, fatso. It's not you who'll pay for this—it's your son. But we'll find him. That's a promise."
Then, faster than Jack could flinch, Dante grabbed him by the chin—steel grip clamped on his double chin like a vice.
"What you need to worry about now… is you."
He glared into the man's trembling eyes.
"Who bribed you? What did they make you do?"
"I—"
"You can keep quiet if you want," Dante cut in, casually tilting his head. "But if I turn my back and just happen to not notice the two grenades someone lobs into this room… well. Not my problem."
He tilted his head toward Batman.
"Care to place a bet on whether he'll respect your due process rights?"
"N-no! I'll talk! I'll say everything! Just—don't hand me over to him!"
Jack Lawson was practically on his knees.
No surprise—half of Arkham's inmates had been put there by Batman. The other half wished they'd gotten caught by the cops instead.
Dante let go with a sneer and wiped his hand on the nearest cushion.
"Gross."
"Hey! That's my sofa!" Harley said indignantly.
"Don't worry. Once we get back to the Bureau, they'll sanitize all your furniture and ship it to you."
Dante turned back to Lawson. "Spill it."
"It was… the Joker."
"…Wow. Shocked. Just shocked."
"What did he want you to do?"
"H-he had me disable Arkham's internal security systems. The Joker Gang is going to attack… their only objective is to break out Harley Quinn."
"Break her out?"
Dante massaged his temples and gave a tired smile.
"Please tell me that's not happening today."
"It's… today…"
"Goddamn it."
He kicked the weasel of a man to the floor and looked up.
Sure enough, just as he turned—Harley Quinn and Batman's faces had already changed.
Harley especially.
Whatever was left of "Dr. Quinzel" evaporated. She yanked off her ponytail, letting her half-dyed blonde hair tumble down, red and blue tips catching the light.
The madness returned with a vengeance.
"My Pudding… you finally came! Hahahahahaha!"
Her shrill laughter echoed off the walls, manic and raw.
And then—
Footsteps.
Faint at first. Distant.
Then they got closer. Louder.
Dante's eyes darted toward the hallway.
A leg appeared first.
Purple suit pants. Shined black shoes.
Then the face.
White skin. Smudged red lips. Sickly green hair.
A living caricature of chaos.
Joker.
Batman tensed immediately, his gaze locked on his eternal nemesis.
"Heeheeheehee… is that my favorite playmate? Batsy! What a surprise!"
"What do you want, Joker?"
"Oh, come on. You know me. Just a generous soul come to visit a friend at the hospital…"
He grinned wide.
"And maybe blow this place sky-high on my way out."
As he strolled casually into the room, he came face to face with Batman.
Two Kings. One battleground.
"My Pudding!" Harley squealed.
Ada didn't hesitate—she locked Harley down and covered her mouth.
"Try anything, and I'll start dislocating limbs," she whispered.
"Mmhhmhmhm…" Harley giggled through Ada's grip, trembling with joy.
"Ada," Dante said, eyes never leaving Joker. "Keep her in check."
He lowered his head, tapped something on his terminal, confirmed it, and pocketed the device.
Then raised his eyes.
"You're Joker?"
"Who wants to know?"
"Oh, right! You must be the big, scary WFBI agent. Ooh, I'm shaking!"
Joker's grin widened, completely unbothered. Everything was a joke to him. The only person he took seriously stood beside him now—and that man wore a cape.
"Bang."
The Magnum fired.
A single shot.
Clean. Precise.
It hit Joker square between the eyebrows.
His smile froze mid-sneer.
"Don't look at me with those crazy eyes," Dante muttered. "You're really scaring me."
(To be continued.)