The guards' dying screams echoed through the walkie-talkie, drawing even more guards over.
Although not everyone had been able to return to work at Arkham after the flood, its defenses were undoubtedly far stronger than those of the Gotham Police Department.
The Batman Who Laughs shrugged. He licked the corner of his mouth and swung a thick chain made of Nth Metal. This specially made sickle could be connected to an iron chain, turning it into a ninja-style chain sickle. Only someone who had undergone harsh training could master such a weapon.
For "Batwoman," of course, that was no problem.
So, in the brief moments filled with the whistle of the chain sickle and wild laughter, no one else in the corridor remained standing.
"La la la."
Returning to this old haunt put The Batman Who Laughs in a good mood. He remembered the joy of running through Arkham back then, killing every criminal he encountered.
Although Brutal Knight had failed to even buy time, he had at least distracted Deathstroke.
The Dark Multiverse still had more than forty Earths, and even more unfinished worlds. With Tenth Metal and the Doom Forge, they could have as many Batwomen as they wanted.
But only he could laugh. He was just that unique.
Perhaps his cheerful singing and crackling dance steps had caught someone's attention. Before long, a head poked out from the barred door of a ward.
He happened to see The Batman Who Laughs dragging a guard's corpse by an iron chain as he danced the samba.
"Batwoman? No, this isn't you. Even though we're enemies, the doctor told me to imagine more things to make up for my killing intent."
The patient in the ward froze for a second or two. Only when The Batman Who Laughs whipped the