Alfred having overheard Dick's earlier comments, found the mix-up charming and couldn't resist smiling at the thought.
"Penny-One? What's going on over there? What happened with Dick?" Batman's voice crackled over the comm system, sounding concerned as he piloted his way to the site.
Alfred, however, decided to say nothing further. He figured it would be far more entertaining for Bruce to experience this "misunderstanding" with Dick firsthand once he returned to the manor. Besides, it might even deepen the bond between them—and perhaps spark a glimmer of humor in Bruce's often stoic demeanor.
So Avery replied over the comm to Batman, "Nothing much, sir—you'll find out when you get back."
Batman, unaware of the chaotic misunderstanding at home, was momentarily puzzled. A surge of wild guesses filled his mind, but he quickly shelved them to focus on the situation Joker had engineered. Hearing it was nothing urgent, he dismissed the exchange and concentrated on landing his plane swiftly on the rooftop of a towering building.
With precision, Batman grabbed a toolkit from the co-pilot seat and swiftly leaped from the plane, jogging to the center of the rooftop. Before him sat a large, sealed iron container of Joker's laughing gas. The digital timer near the seal read two minutes—the countdown to when the gas would begin leaking from within.
Cold wind snapped Batman's cape like a banner as he surveyed the scene. This high-rise rooftop overlooked nearly all of Gotham, providing a panoramic view. But this height also meant that, if released, the laughing gas would quickly mix with the wind, dispersing across the city and reaching even the farthest corners within minutes. Combined with the second canister elsewhere, it could plunge Gotham into utter mayhem.
But was Joker's plan really this straightforward?
Batman squinted, slipping on his gas mask, and retrieved his bomb-dismantling tools from the kit, preparing to disable the timer.
Meanwhile, Gordon and his team had arrived at the second location.
As they prepared to disarm the device, a member of the police force positioned at the back of the group subtly pulled out a remote with a single red button. Unaware at first, Gordon's gaze passed over the scene. But in an instant, recognition flashed, and he wheeled back, shouting a warning, "Grab him! He's one of Joker's men!"
The other officers whipped around to see the man's panicked expression. They lunged, but it was too late.
A single second was all it took to press the switch.
A sharp hiss filled the air as the gas began leaking from the canister, the iron lid splintering and clattering to the ground in fragmented pieces.
A faintly sweet scent wafted through the air, spreading outward and mingling with the wind to drift across Gotham.
The laughing gas had escaped.
On the streets, men, women, the elderly, and children alike doubled over in fits of uncontrollable laughter.
Avery, who was about to follow Batman's instructions, making his way through the street on his way to assist the police, sighed as he witnessed the scene unfolding.
Let's not dwell on how exactly the Joker managed to evade the effects of the truth spell. This lunatic always finds a way to defy expectations; though it's not a given, there's always a chance for something like this to slip through.
Batman, having clashed with the Joker multiple times in the past, was already wary of this possibility, which is why Avery was sent in as backup.
And now, the antidote he brought along would finally be put to use.
Avery flared his nostrils, catching the faintly sweet trace of the gas lingering in the air. Being directly involved in the entire antidote preparation—and even accelerating the process—he quickly identified the specific strain of Joker's laughing gas. Thankfully, it wasn't a new formula, which would save him a good deal of time.
Seemingly from thin air, he produced a small transparent glass vial.
Standing in the middle of a road that had ground to a standstill due to the chaos, Avery shook the vial gently, watching the golden liquid ripple inside, creating one delicate ring after another. Around him, the sound of manic laughter and honking car horns filled the air.
In theory, Joker's laughing gas was supposed to be incurable. On this point, the Joker himself was indeed a singular chemical genius. Even the world's most respected chemists had been unable to break down the formula of his twisted creation.
Batman shouldn't have been an exception to this rule. But then, Batman had Avery—a mage—by his side. Although Avery wasn't deeply versed in human chemistry, he was a master alchemist, which was how he'd managed to produce this one-of-a-kind antidote.
And truly, it was one-of-a-kind. Some of the rare herbs it required couldn't be easily obtained by ordinary people.
In the next instant, Avery's figure vanished from where he'd been standing.
Meanwhile, back at the police department, Gordon and his team apprehended the traitor. Gripping the man's collar tightly, Gordon demanded furiously, "Do you have any idea how many people you've endangered?"
He didn't ask why the man did it—at this point, the reason didn't matter. The gas had already been released.
The traitor, clad in his police uniform, wore a bruised and battered face from the scuffle. During the capture, his gas mask had accidentally slipped off, exposing him to the tainted air. His face twitched uncontrollably, and instead of answering, he let out a burst of manic laughter.
"Hahaha…"
Everyone around him felt an overwhelming urge to silence him for good.
"Captain, let's hurry and prepare the antidote!"
A young officer spoke anxiously, his face etched with worry.
Gordon and several veteran officers, however, shook their heads in resignation. "There isn't really any antidote. Those official announcements were just lies from above to keep people calm."
It wasn't the Joker's first time using his laughing gas, but previously he'd only deployed it on a small scale. When multiple top chemists failed to produce a counteragent, the authorities decided to suppress the truth to avoid unnecessary panic.