Batman had little time to compose himself before another wave of orange-clad goons were all over him. They didn't pose much issue, though. He saw Two-Face and Riddler goons amidst the growing pile of groaning, unconscious thugs.

"They must be working together again. If past trends mean anything, it'll only take me showing up for Riddler to scurry away somewhere." So the Caped Crusader set off to do just that, and as he figured would happen, the TV feeds ahead of him lit up green with the Riddler's mark.

"Greetings again, Clueless Crusader! As i hope you've figured out by now, Two-Face and I have struck a gentleman's agreement: We beat you senseless, take you to the Joker, and he gets us out of this hole of a prison. But first, a test of your withering intellect, Batman. Find my trophies. Solve my riddles. When you've shown me enough, I'll let you come find me. Until then, Batman." And the televisions went back to normal. Batman sighed, and turned to beat down the next wave of Two-Face goons that were barreling down the hallway at him. A couple of scuff marks and concussions later, and he could leave the main reception area, and head into the rest of the island, much more hostile than he remembered. The doors creaked weakly open to greet him with one of many he sought: Harvey Dent, known by those who feared him as Two-Face. Psychotic, sadistic, and obsessed with his warped duality of justice in the world. He cackled maniacally as the elevator went down, leaving the Batman alone with a horde of his similarly attired, masked, screaming lunatics. He cracked his knuckles, scowled, then set to work. It was going well, most going down in one or two strikes. Until one particularly nimble goon managed to catch him with a wildly thrown kick in the groin as he'd roundhoused the other into a coma. He crashed down to the ground, the few remaining grunts a bit surprised the supposedly "invincible Batman" had just fallen hard, like their comrades. He barely had time to recover before they were on him again, and he finished off the few hooting freaks with little issue. He saved the one who'd struck him for last, putting him down in a similar fashion, grimacing at the sensation on his foot as the man went down shrieking, curled into the fetal position and coughing up blood between his shrill, indecipherable curses. The Bat grimaced again, limping over to the elevator shaft, calling it up from wherever Two-Face had taken it. He entered, and was once again interrupted by a TV. This time though, it was Dr. Harleen Quinzel, Harley Quinn. She cackled into the camera:

"Aww, did little Batsys Caped Crusaders get cracked? Poor widdle Batsy. Suck it up Bats, Mr. J is waitin'. But not for yoooouuuu!" She giggled as only someone insane could, then the transmission ended.

"When will she learn?" He said to himself, as he got off at his stop: Inpatient Processing. And before him stood a whole hallway of eerie silence.