Gotham's citizens had simply assumed that victims of the gas had died because they hadn't received the antidote in time, without ever realizing that no real antidote existed.
But now, the truth couldn't stay hidden any longer. With the gas spreading so widely, the mayor would have to think seriously about how to handle the inevitable public outrage—and how to protect his own career.
Hearing this from their superiors, the younger officers beneath their masks looked stricken, guilt creeping in for not having prevented the traitor's actions.
"Who said there's no antidote?"
Just then, a voice of indeterminate gender rang out sharply atop the windswept building, startling everyone.
Gordon and the other officers immediately turned toward the sound, and saw a tall, slender figure dressed in a black coat, with a blank white mask concealing their face, walking toward them. In one hand, the figure held a vial of golden liquid.
"Who are you?" Batman's image flashed briefly in Gordon's mind, but he maintained his caution, raising his gun as he addressed the stranger.
To emphasize his harmless intent, Avery raised both hands calmly. "I'm Batman's assistant. He sent me to deliver the antidote."
With that, he shook the vial in his hand. The golden liquid glimmered under the sunlight, creating an almost mesmerizing effect.
"How do we know you're really Batman's assistant, and not someone sent by the Joker?"
One of the officers voiced the suspicion aloud, frowning as he spoke. At his words, the other officers looked wary as well; clearly, the earlier events had eroded their sense of trust, and they worried this might be yet another of Joker's schemes.
And besides…
An older officer eyed him sharply, "You're not wearing a gas mask—aren't you worried you'll get exposed to the laughing gas too? Don't tell me you're immune!"
So far, only the Joker himself, as the creator, was known to be completely immune to his own gas.
Avery shrugged, offering a small smile. "The Joker's been sent back to Arkham. If you don't believe me, you're free to confirm it soon enough. As for why I'm immune to the gas, let's just call it a personal ability—no need to explain further."
"Besides, rather than standing here questioning me, you still have time to deploy personnel for rescue."
With that, Avery tossed the vial of antidote to Gordon, who extended a steady hand to catch it. Under the watchful eyes of the officers, Avery then took several steps backward, moving to the edge of the rooftop.
The strong wind whipped his coat, causing it to billow and snap, making it seem as though he could be blown off the high ledge at any moment. Yet he stood steady, as if rooted in place.
"Remember, dilute it with water at a ratio of one to one hundred. Regular injection methods will work fine."
This reminder was all he gave before leaning backward into the wind, disappearing over the edge in a single, fluid motion, plummeting down from the rooftop and vanishing from sight.
Several officers rushed to the edge, leaning over to look down. As expected, there was no sign of him below.
"Well, it figures," one muttered. "Someone like that wouldn't just fall to their death."
"Captain, what should we do now? Can we trust him?" another officer asked Gordon hesitantly.
Recalling his occasional interactions with Batman and the subtle differences he'd recently noticed in the hero's manner, Gordon found himself inclined to trust this "assistant" story. He did feel a twinge of irritation that Batman hadn't informed him in advance, but he quickly gathered himself and issued orders.
"We'll head to the nearest hospital immediately—there's enough equipment there. Contact Arkham's director on the way to verify the Joker's current status. If everything checks out, we'll start administering the antidote to civilians right away. Move it—now!"
"Yes, sir!"
The officers mobilized instantly, racing against time.
Meanwhile, Batman, having disarmed the timed devices, piloted his plane above Gotham, looking down at the chaos on the streets below, his expression grim and lips pressed into a firm line.
At that moment, Avery materialized in the back seat as if from thin air.
"I've handed the antidote over to Gordon. They can handle the rest," Avery reported calmly.
Batman was completely unfazed by his butler's sudden appearance in the backseat. After all, he often did the same thing to Gordon, though his own method involved technology—a grapple line, wall-crawling, and balancing acts Gordon never saw. Batman paid his dues for that dramatic flair.
Avery's way, on the other hand, was… decidedly less scientific.
With Gotham's crisis seemingly under control, Batman silently steered the plane toward the Wayne Manor grounds, ready to wrap up this hectic day. As long as the antidote reached the affected citizens before they quite literally laughed themselves to death, the danger would pass.
But Avery wasn't about to let Batman off so easily.
Settling himself in the backseat with his legs crossed with casual poise, Avery grinned, "Master Bruce, what do you think about your today's adventure?"
What did he think?
Recalling how he'd set out to meet a potential ally only to be kidnapped, passed from one villain to the next, with the Joker ultimately hijacking the whole ordeal, Batman's already stony face hardened even further.
When Batman didn't reply, Avery sighed theatrically. "It's so funny, you're so talkative around the kids and cheerful even. So why does once you wore that uniform you suddenly turn into cold man? Or… could it be that Lucius is a hidden sorcerer who can enchanted the armor and turn people into different person?"
Meanwhile, Lucius, working late at Wayne Tower, sneezed.
"Oh, I'm just worry that you might end up with a split personality at this rate," Avery mused. "Although… if we're talking about split identities, could this count as a bit of NTR?"
Batman stiffened. Did he know what he was even talking?
As if that weren't enough, Alfred's voice suddenly crackled through his earpiece. "I share Avery's concern, though could someone enlighten me on this term, NTR? Forgive an old man's ignorance, but I'm always willing to learn."
Batman's silence deepened. Learn what? Learn the meaning of NTR? And how exactly am I supposed to explain this? Or even admit that your son and I are… actually had been together long time ago?
Sandwiched between two relentless butlers, Batman's expression grew even graver. Just then, Avery added, "Oh, by the way, Master Dick has discovered the Batcave. You may need to address that when you get home."
And as for Dick having mistaken him for Batman during the discovery… well, Avery deemed it unnecessary to waste words on that. Batman would figure it out soon enough.