"Do you really think I'd tell you where it is?"
The Joker's lips trembled, caught between agony and the instinct to laugh. The toxin suppressing his mania made the expression almost tragic.
Lex regarded him calmly.
"I know what you want," the Joker continued softly. "You want to push me. Break me. Force me into a mistake so I beg you to kill me."
His eyes gleamed faintly.
"Don't worry. I won't give you the satisfaction."
Lex straightened.
"I'm not here for theatrics," he said flatly. "And I'm not interested in killing you."
He turned toward the exit.
Behind him—
"Hey!"
The Joker's voice rang out, sharper now. A sliver of genuine smile tugged at his painted mouth.
"Whoever you are… I like you."
Lex paused but didn't turn.
"You're not obsessed like Batman," the Joker went on. "You don't carry that weight. That tragic little crusade stitched into your bones."
A quiet chuckle.
"I think we could be friends."
Silence.
"Are we friends?"
The cell door sealed shut between them.
Lex didn't answer.
He crossed the cave floor toward the central console.
The Batcomputer's monitors glowed against the cavern walls, casting shifting light across stalactites and armored vehicles.
He hesitated only a moment before speaking.
"Do you know who I am?"
There was a brief pause, then the synthesized voice responded.
"Lex Williams. Former civilian actor. Currently exhibiting advanced combat capabilities. Designated successor candidate to Batman."
Lex's eyebrows lifted slightly.
So it acknowledged him.
"Will you help me with something?"
"That depends on the nature of your request and whether it violates Batman's foundational directive to protect Gotham City."
"So as long as I don't cross that line, you'll cooperate?"
"Theoretically, yes. As the designated successor, you are entitled to operational support."
Lex exhaled quietly.
"I'm not trying to be Batman."
"Intent does not negate designation," the computer replied evenly.
He decided not to argue philosophy with a machine.
"I need everything you have on the Dionysian Compound."
A flicker across the screens.
"Data package transmitted."
Inside his helmet, the embedded processor chimed softly. A secure file transfer completed.
Lex opened it.
The dossier wasn't shallow research. It was extensive—chemical models, archaeological surveys, cave system schematics beneath Gotham, incident reports tied to anomalous regeneration.
Bruce Wayne had been investigating this long before the outbreak.
The Joker's name appeared repeatedly.
The compound was described as a naturally occurring regenerative catalyst—metallic-green, semi-fluid in raw concentration, capable of accelerating cellular repair beyond conventional biological limits.
There were theories about its interaction with extreme psychological states.
About long-term exposure altering cognition.
But the data was frustratingly incomplete.
Like reading the ingredient list of a miracle drug without understanding how to synthesize it.
Bruce had gotten close.
Not close enough.
Lex scrolled to the final pages.
No confirmed extraction site.
He looked back at the main display.
"I need the exact location."
"The compound's primary source remains under the Joker's control," the Batcomputer replied. "Only he possesses confirmed coordinates."
"That's convenient."
"However, based on geological analysis and historical activity patterns, the compound may exist in the following sectors."
A 3D map of Gotham rotated into view.
Several underground zones lit up in red.
Old subway tunnels. Abandoned industrial shafts. Cavern systems beneath the Narrows. A sealed reservoir beneath Wayne Tower's eastern foundation.
Lex studied each marker carefully.
"Did Bruce confirm any of these before the outbreak?"
"No. The zombie crisis interrupted verification procedures."
Lex memorized the coordinates.
"Understood. Thank you."
He was about to step away when the monitors flickered violently.
Warning indicators flashed.
"External intrusion attempt detected," the Batcomputer announced. "Firewall integrity compromised at 12%."
Lex froze.
"Source?"
"Encrypted. Highly sophisticated. This is not the first attempt."
That was unexpected.
Most of Gotham's tech infrastructure had collapsed weeks ago.
Who was still capable of breaching Wayne-level encryption?
"Requesting authorization to initiate advanced firewall upgrade," the system continued. "Failure to upgrade may result in system failure."
Lex understood immediately.
Alfred had access—but he wasn't the system's master authority.
Bruce Wayne had been.
Bruce was gone.
Which meant the computer now recognized Lex as the highest-ranking authorized individual.
"Upgrade the firewall," Lex ordered.
"Upgrade sequence initiated. System restart in five minutes."
The screens went dark.
The cave fell into near silence, broken only by the low hum of generators.
Five long minutes passed.
Then—
The monitors flared back to life.
"Reboot complete. Firewall upgraded. Intrusion vectors neutralized."
A pause.
"Thank you, Lex."
He smirked faintly.
"You're welcome. I'll need you operational."
"As long as directives align with Gotham's protection, I remain at your service."
Lex didn't respond.
He made one final stop at the detention wing.
The Joker lay silent, eyes open, staring at nothing.
In a separate containment chamber, Bruce Wayne—now fully infected—remained secured under sedation and reinforced restraints.
No anomalies detected.
For now.
Lex exited the cave and ascended to Wayne Manor.
Morning light filtered weakly through ash-clouded skies.
Commissioner Gordon had already departed with a convoy toward Wayne Tower, transporting recovered equipment for redistribution.
Barbara had been ordered to rest.
Selina was nowhere in sight.
Lex didn't look for her.
He returned to his room and finally allowed himself a few hours of sleep.
The next morning, after a quick breakfast, he loaded weapons into a reinforced SUV.
First stop: one of the marked underground sectors tied to the Dionysian Compound.
Second stop: sewer perimeter check. He wanted visual confirmation on Bane's condition.
The vines had transmitted stable data overnight.
No mutation spikes.
Encouraging.
Lex reached for the radio to power it on—
The manor doors burst open.
"Lex! Wait!"
Barbara Gordon sprinted across the courtyard and yanked the passenger door open before he could react.
She slid into the seat, breath unsteady.
"Barbara," Lex said evenly, starting the engine. "If you're coming, I need confirmation from your father. I'm not dragging you into—"
"Shut up."
Her voice cracked.
"He was attacked."
Lex's hand paused on the steering wheel.
"By who?"
"Scarecrow."
The name settled heavily between them.
"You didn't hear the transmission?" she demanded.
"My radio wasn't on."
Barbara's knuckles whitened against the dashboard.
"They were ambushed en route to Wayne Tower. Fear toxin dispersal. Dad's unit scattered."
Her breathing grew sharper.
"They lost contact ten minutes ago."
Lex shifted into gear.
"Location?"
She handed him the coordinates from her phone.
"Drive."
The SUV roared down the gravel drive and onto the ruined roadway.
Ash swirled in their wake.
Barbara stared ahead, jaw tight, trying to hold herself together.
Scarecrow.
Dr. Jonathan Crane.
If he was active, it meant someone was coordinating chaos again.
And whoever had tried breaching the Batcomputer's firewall might not be acting alone.
Lex pressed the accelerator harder.
The city rushed toward them.
And for the first time that morning, his trip to search for the Dionysian Compound took a back seat.
This was something else.
Something immediate.
Something dangerous.
....
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