"I did not authorize this!" shouted Bruce Wayne, slamming his fist down on the table as he glared around the boardroom at the committee in charge of Wayne Industries. "It's massively unethical, and it should never have got to the production stage, let alone been tested on human beings! I didn't authorize it, so who did?!"
There was a general murmuring around the room. "I think we unanimously agreed, sir, as a group, that you would be in full support of anything that would help the Arkham inmates…" began one of the members.
"This does not help the Arkham inmates!" interrupted Bruce.
"Forgive me, sir, but surely any kind of cure is beneficial to..." he began again.
Bruce pressed the buzzer on the table. "Will you please send in Mr. Dent?" he snapped.
A second later, Two-Face appeared in the room, wearing a mask over half of his face, and with the same blank, vacant expression in his eyes that Harley and Ivy had had. Bruce gestured to the group. "Harvey, please tell them who you are," he muttered.
"Harvey Dent, former DA of Gotham City, now serving the law as a private counselor…"
"Thank you. And who am I?" interrupted Bruce.
"You're Bruce Wayne. Billionaire philanthropist and my friend…"
"How long have we been friends, Harvey?" asked Bruce.
His face clouded in confusion. "Many…years," he replied.
"Can you name one event from our friendship? One memory we shared together? Maybe one party we went to, one story either of us told at a dinner? Anything at all?"
His eyes stared blankly back at him. "No. But we are friends…"
"You only think that because someone has told you that," retorted Bruce. "But you don't remember anything about our friendship, do you, Harvey?"
"No," he murmured.
"Thank you, you may go," said Bruce. Two-Face obeyed, shutting the door behind him. "That was not Two-Face," muttered Bruce. "But nor was that Harvey Dent, cured and returned to a productive life as a normal citizen. That is some sleep-walking drone that this drug has created, a false, emotionless, robotic personality injected into the body of Harvey Dent. And I want to know who's responsible for it, and why."
There was another low muttering. "Give me names!" snapped Bruce.
"With all due respect, sir, isn't Mr. Dent, even without all of his memories, preferable to the terrorist Two-Face?" said the man who had spoken before. "I don't really see the issue. While Mr. Dent is a regrettable loss, he was lost a long time ago. Surely him even in this state is an improvement on him going around taking the lives of innocent people?"
"Are you saying the ends justify the means?" demanded Bruce. "That the inmates of Arkham, even as unethically-created, walking zombies, are better than the inmates as violent, homicidal lunatics?"
"Well…yes," stammered the man. "Wouldn't you agree with that, sir?"
Bruce looked at him. "It's Mr. Cutter, isn't it?" he asked.
"Yes…yes, sir," replied the man.
"Mr. Cutter, would you mind telling me who's responsible for this Panacea Project?" demanded Bruce.
"It was a…unanimous decision, sir," he stammered.
Bruce leaned forward. "Ideas aren't unanimous," he muttered. "Someone creates them. Whose idea was it?"
Mr. Cutter swallowed. "It was…submitted to us as a solution that would make Gotham safe from the criminals and the lunatics, without hurting them. It would help both them and us. It would be universally beneficial, a panacea to…"
"A name!" growled Bruce, seizing his collar.
"His name is…Dr. Victor Absonus," stammered Mr. Cutter. "He presented us with stellar references, and his past work is very impressive…"
"Yes. I'm aware of his past work," retorted Bruce, releasing Mr. Cutter. "I want Wayne Industries withdrawing all funding and support for this project immediately. And all our scientists to turn their research to finding an antidote. I am holding each and every one of you responsible for this fiasco, and I will be meeting with you all individually to discuss your future with this company. That is all."
He stormed from the room, still shaking in fury. He was even more angry about the committee keeping him in ignorance now – he would have put a stop to it immediately if they had given him that name earlier. Because what the committee didn't know, and what Batman did, was that Dr. Victor Absonus was an alias of Professor Hugo Strange.
He pulled out his cell phone. "Alfred, I need the car at Wayne Tower now."
"Very good, sir," replied Alfred. "It will be there in fifteen minutes."
"Thanks," said Bruce, hanging up the phone. He waited impatiently, glancing at his watch every few seconds, and finally went outside to see his car parked in front of the building. He opened the back door and climbed inside. "I swear, this Panacea Project…"
"Is gonna be the death of you?" laughed a familiar voice. "You got that right, Brucie!"
Bruce looked up to see the smiling face of the Joker in the driver's seat. Joker stepped on the gas pedal before Bruce could react, dashing off into the streets of Gotham.
"Sorry to finish the punchline for you, Brucie, but I couldn't resist!" chuckled Joker as he drove. "You just gave me a great set-up! I was waiting outside to have a little chat with you, and when I saw your butler drive up, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity for a little one-on-one time, just you and me! So I hit Jeeves on the head, and dragged him outta the car, and he's gonna have quite the headache when he wakes up in that dumpster, let me tell you! But it's worth it to see the look on your face when you saw who your chauffeur really was! Quite the joke on you, ain't it?" he giggled.
Bruce's mind was racing for some way of getting himself out of this situation alive and with his secret identity still in tact. Fortunately Joker was off on one of his usual rambling monologues, which gave Bruce plenty of time to think.
"Frankly, I'm pretty nuts, but even I don't know what was going through your head when you came up with this Panacea crap," Joker continued. "Why couldn't you just keep your rich nose outta our business? I guess you figure that when you got that much money, you gotta make yourself look good to people, otherwise they just think you're a rich jerk, so you start thinking about charity, and helping others, and then suddenly, bam! Your life ain't your own anymore! You're so concerned with appearances that you forget about the most important thing in life, and the easiest thing to do when you're rich: having fun! See, you gotta learn not to care what other people think about you, Brucie. I know I never do! It just ends up getting you into trouble."
Joker liked to talk. Bruce knew it would be impossible to fight him without giving away his identity, but to talk with him…Batman never tried that. It would buy him more time anyway.
"See, I have this friend with the exact same problem as you," continued Joker. "I mean, he's a lot weirder than you – he likes to dress up in a bat costume and beat the crap outta people, but, y'know, everyone has their quirks. You may have heard of him, he's pretty famous. Guy called Batman? Yeah, you probably know him. People tend to. That's what he wants. The guy craves fame and validation for do-gooding. Pretty pathetic attempt at attention seeking, if you ask me, but if it makes him happy, what the hell, am I right?"
"Yeah, I guess," agreed Bruce. "Tell me more about Batman. Is it true what they say? That he won't kill anyone?"
Joker snorted. "Yeah, that's true. He's got a massive prejudice against killing people. Never does it. I don't think he ever has done it. And I always say to him, 'How do you know you don't like it if you've never tried it?' It's like Catholic priests going around saying sex is bad – how do they know if they've never had any? Now I know you and I don't have that problem, Brucie, being men of the world, but the Bat don't seem to understand that the same goes for killing. You can't criticize it until you've tried it. You ever killed a guy, Brucie?"
"No," replied Bruce. "What's it like?"
"What's it like?" repeated Joker. "Well, I can't really describe it to you, Brucie – you just gotta try it for yourself! It's sad that you won't be able to before I kill you, really. But then again, I guess there's always a chance that Batsy will show up and stop me. He has a tendency to do that. I'd really be hoping that's gonna happen if I were you, Brucie."
"And just why exactly do you wanna kill me?" asked Bruce. "I mean, I guess it's not surprising – you're pretty infamous as being completely insane. But I don't know what I've done to be a special target to you."
"Aw, yes, you do, Brucie!" chuckled Joker. "This Panacea crap! I ain't the kinda guy who appreciates people trying to cure me, y'know."
"It wasn't my idea," retorted Bruce.
Joker snorted. "Yeah, right. You would say that, wouldn't you?"
"I'm being serious," he replied. "It wasn't my idea. Batman only told me about it this morning and I've spent all of the afternoon trying to stop it. I've just discovered the guy responsible for it, and I told Batman. He's on his way to confront the guy right now."
"And what guy is it exactly, Brucie?" asked Joker.
"Guy called Hugo…something?" said Bruce, frowning. "Hugo Odd? Hugo Weird? Hugo…"
"Hugo Strange?" suggested Joker.
"Yeah, that might have been it," said Bruce, nodding.
Joker bit his lip. "If Batsy finds Strange first, he ain't gonna kill him," he muttered. "He'll just arrest him and probably won't even be able to get an antidote outta him. While if I find Strange first, I'm gonna torture him until he tells me how to fix Harley, and then rip out his entrails and feed them to my hyenas."
"You have hyenas?" asked Bruce.
"Yeah, two. Bud and Lou, named after Abbott and Costello," said Joker. "Good boys, except they're pretty peckish all the time. Which is why I'm taking you to feed them, Brucie!" he chuckled. "They're really affectionate animals, so they'll probably like you - I'm sure they'll just wanna eat you up!" he laughed.
"Is it far?" asked Bruce.
"About twenty minutes west of here," replied Joker. "So enjoy 'em, Brucie! They're gonna be your last!"
"That's a shame," said Bruce. "Because Batman said Strange was hiding out in the old hospital about twenty minutes east of here. You're never gonna be able to get to your hideout and back before Batman finds Strange. So I guess you'll just have to let the law deal with him. I guess it's best that he faces the justice of the courts, rather than the vengeance of one of the homicidal maniacs he was trying to cure. But if it were me, I would have thought it would be just your style, kinda ironic, like a cruel joke to play on Strange before he dies horribly. But I can understand if you'd rather let Batman handle him."
He was thrown forward suddenly as the car abruptly screeched into reverse. Joker chuckled. "Y'know, I like you, Brucie," he said, beaming at him. "You really understand the mind of a deranged psychopath! Ever thought of becoming one yourself?"
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm not there already," sighed Bruce, smiling to himself.
They pulled up at the hospital and Joker pulled out his gun. "Now you wait in the car, Brucie, like a good boy," he said, chuckling. "I'll be back soon!"
The moment Joker had disappeared inside, Bruce kicked out the sunroof and climbed out of the car. He went around to the side of the building and scaled the wall, then opened one of the windows and crept inside. Below him, he saw Joker carefully creeping down the abandoned corridor. Without further ado, Bruce jumped down on him, knocking him to the ground, and knocking him unconscious with a swift blow to the skull. He dragged him back to the car and locked him in the trunk. After driving back to Wayne Tower to pick up Alfred, who had regained consciousness, they returned to the Batcave, where Bruce changed into his costume and managed to locate Strange's last known whereabouts. After making sure Joker was still unconscious, Batman transferred him to the trunk of the Batmobile, dropped him off at his hideout, and then drove off in pursuit of Professor Hugo Strange.