Someone behind him? The thought barely formed before Batman lunged from the shadows and hammered a fist into the back of his skull. In the dizzying aftermath, the real killing blow arrived—the Joker whipped out a knife and drove it straight into the Batman Who Laughs' abdomen.
The leather coat was tough, but it couldn't stop a close-range thrust. The blade sank into his gut, and the Joker twisted it twice for good measure. Without waiting for a counterattack, he scrambled two paces away and hauled himself upright against the cavern wall.
He looked like hell—face beaten crooked, wounds covering every inch of his body, limping noticeably. But none of it slowed him down. He'd survived worse. The cuts on his face and body didn't even register.
On the other side of the cavern, Batman and the Batman Who Laughs were locked in a furious exchange.
Batman threw everything he had into this fight—every ounce of strength, every technique in his arsenal. He needed to prove it to himself: reason was stronger than madness.
Drained from the prolonged beating, ambushed, stabbed—even after all that, the Batman Who Laughs was no easy opponent.
He was Batman. Same life trajectory, same training. And he had no lines he wouldn't cross.
Mid-fight, the Batman Who Laughs suddenly broke away and aimed the revolver at the Joker. Batman had no choice but to throw himself into the line of fire. Predictably, his opponent had anticipated that exact decision—the barrel was already waiting. Batman tried to twist away but couldn't dodge in time. He threw his body sideways as the bullet left the chamber.
The bullet struck his right ribs and lodged in his body.
The three combatants separated. The Batman Who Laughs tossed aside the commemorative revolver, now spent of its single round, and drew two Batarangs, settling into a defensive stance. "Hah... hah... hehe—hard to believe. Batman fighting side by side with the Joker. Hehe—I'll bury you together!"
"Killing both of you at once—now that's entertainment! Hehe—hehe—" The twin Batarangs spun between his fingers like knives, his excitement practically vibrating through his bones. He looked ready to rip them apart with his bare hands.
The Joker studied him, then studied Batman, as if weighing which one he found less offensive. "Haha—what a lovely three-way showdown! Teaming up, Batsy?"
Batman paused for a beat, eyes cold. "I'll take his legs."
The Joker's battered face split into a grin of pure mania. He raised his knife. "I want his face!"
They flanked him, left and right. First time fighting together—possibly the last—but their coordination was uncanny.
The Joker was the more aggressive of the two. He might look like a raving lunatic, but the fact that he'd beaten Batman in one-on-one combat on occasion proved his close-quarters skills were nothing to scoff at. He simply preferred not to use them.
As he liked to put it: You didn't beat me. I just got bored.
Now, fighting alongside Batman, he was having the time of his life. He bounced on his feet like they were spring-loaded, his knife darting high and low, keeping the Batman Who Laughs scrambling.
Batman spotted an opening and drove a fist into the enemy's chest. He seized the Batman Who Laughs' elbow, cranking a joint lock to snap the arm—but his opponent knew the same technique. A boot lashed out and connected with Batman's bullet wound.
The kick reopened Batman's injury, but the cost was steep: the Joker carved a deep gash up through the Batman Who Laughs' chin from below.
The slash intersected with his already ear-to-ear grin, forming a raw crimson cross. Through the torn flesh, exposed gums and a tongue were visible—not a human tongue, but something reptilian. It snaked out through the wound and licked the air.
"The taste of blood. Hehe—looks like the kids should come play with you!" He bolted to the left.
Batman hurled three Batarangs. The Batman Who Laughs ignored every one, not slowing for an instant. Three fingers on his left hand were sheared clean off before his body slammed into the cavern wall.
A gate rumbled open. Rapid footsteps thundered from beyond it, accompanied by the clinking of chains.
"Sounds like there are puppies in here! Haha, hilarious! This Batcave is way more fun than yours!" the Joker said, utterly unbothered.
Batman called out to him. "Joker."
"What? Hm—?"
"For the record: you are never allowed to mention today. Ever."
"Hahaha—!" Amid the Joker's roaring laughter, several uninvited guests rounded the corner and came into view.
Grunting and snarling, three figures bounded forward on all fours—more beast than human. They wore Robin's signature outfit: red vest, green gloves, yellow cape, the R-insignia pinned to their chests. But they moved like rabid dogs, charging straight at Batman and the Joker—especially Batman.
"Go on, catch up with your lovely boys. I cloned them from Damian's DNA. Hehe—you must be thrilled. Look at that excitement on your face. Right up your alley, isn't it?" The Batman Who Laughs and his three Clone Robins moved in tandem, pinching the two between them.
"You take the front, I'll take the rear!" Batman made the call in an instant. The Joker had never liked Robin—never—so Batman assigned him to continue engaging the Batman Who Laughs.
He himself spun to face the three mindless clones—creatures devoid of reason, showing no trace of intelligence. "Where's Damian? What did you do to Damian?"
Even as he fended off the Clone Robins' savage attacks, he demanded answers.
"Father? Hehe, are you calling me?" A familiar figure emerged from a nearby alcove. It was ten-year-old Damian—with bullet holes in his forehead and chest. What moved now was only his corpse, animated mechanically. The voice came from a synthetic speaker embedded in his throat.
"Father, I'm the best Robin, aren't I?"
"I'm so jealous of Nightwing. He gets Father's love, and I don't. Hehe—"
"Father's looking at me strangely. Hehe—doesn't he love his own son? Does he prefer outsiders?"
The Damian puppet jerked through exaggerated motions—disappointment, anger—all replicated with grotesque mechanical precision. The movements were broad, theatrical.
Combined with the slightly distorted computer-generated voice, the sounds of "hehe" and "haha" echoing through the cavern were enough to send a chill crawling up anyone's spine.
"Well? Batman? I killed Nightwing, Batgirl, Red Hood—all those loved ones of yours. Hehe. Happy? Finally free from their burden. It's what you always wanted to do but never did, right?" The Batman Who Laughs hammered at his psyche without pause.