Dilite clearly heard the conversation among those trash. If he could, he would have wiped out this pack of lunatics in his mind without hesitation. Unfortunately, even after all these years of effort, he still couldn't do it.
The only thing that gave Dilite a little comfort was that, within his mental world, he was still the strongest one. He could kill those bastards a million times over—he just couldn't stop them from coming back to life.
After getting beaten up by the guards, Dilite was covered in bruises. Still, Arkham adhered to the principle of avoiding deaths whenever possible. Lunatics like Dilite would at most be put in isolation rather than euthanized outright.
"Doctor Quinn, do you need us to help you to the infirmary?" a guard asked Harley Quinn.
Harley Quinn seemed to be in an odd state. She stared blankly at Dilite, seemingly lost in thought. It looked very much like the aftermath of extreme fright, which was truly worrying.
As a great beauty, quite a few patients and guards in Arkham were infatuated with her. With such a rare chance to curry favor with her, the guards naturally wouldn't let it pass.
"No, I don't need that." Harley Quinn did not even glance at the guard. Instead, she walked over to Dilite.
Dilite grimaced at the beautiful psychiatrist, figuring his mental evaluation would be bumped up to the most dangerous level.
"I'm really sorry. I told you, they're all a bunch of perverted bastards," Dilite said to Harley Quinn.
"You don't need to apologize. You're the most interesting patient I've ever met. If possible, I'd like to become your personal psychiatrist. If you need anything, you can tell me, and I'll do my best to arrange it for you. But on one condition—you have to let