After killing the guard he had bribed earlier, Joker picked up his keys and wandered around the third basement level as casually as if he were out shopping.
He remembered that Bane's room used to be in the farthest corner, where furious roars always rang out.
But he had no intention of freeing Bane. He disliked that big idiot, especially after he renamed Gotham Bane's City? Pfft!
This was the city of the Crime Prince and Batwoman. What the hell was Bane supposed to be? What right did he have to rule this place? It was a joke that was not funny in the slightest, something truly pathetic from the bottom of one's heart.
Joker was in no hurry. He was leisurely enough to peer through the viewing slot of every iron door to see what was inside, like checking his stocking for presents on the morning after Christmas.
And at random, he released people he found interesting, or went into their cells himself and killed them. There was no reason for it. He simply did it because he was happy—or unhappy.
Just like that, relying on his former reputation, he quickly gathered an army of prisoners. With a few little tricks, he fooled them into going upstairs to assault the guards' defensive line.
He himself remained underground, searching for his old room.
"Mr. Spoon, do you think the tunnel we dug back then is still there?" He cackled as he spoke to the spoon in his hand. It was his little treasure.
In his crazed vision, he saw the spoon open its mouth to answer him and point in a direction.
"Oh? You say this place smells like The Batman Who Laughs has been here? Then I have to go take a look at his failed creation. Hehehe, hahaha."