DC/Marvel: This Guy is Insane

"I can't walk anymore."

Poison Ivy, Pamela Isley, squatted by the roadside, looking at Alan with a face full of despair. He had kidnapped her from Arkham Asylum in the middle of the night, and now they were walking toward the city on foot. Arkham was built in the suburbs, dozens of kilometers from downtown. Walking the entire way could literally kill a person. And, of course, it was impossible for any car to pass by at this hour.

"Pammy, my little petunia, you can't be so dramatic." Alan made a cheering gesture. "To achieve a truly legendary criminal career, one must first harden the mind against the injustices of the world, tire the muscles with the weight of ambition, starve the body of all but the most exquisite chaos, and then, only then, can one truly blossom into a magnificent supervillain! Oh yeah!"

"…"

Pamela was bewildered. She couldn't make any sense of his rambling. "I don't want to be a criminal," she said, her voice strained. "And I'm not mentally ill."

"Says the woman who talks to plants," Alan said disdainfully.

"Sure enough, a mentally ill person will never admit that he is ill," Pamela sighed.

Alan retorted seriously, "My mind may have problems. What does that have to do with my brain?"

"…"

Without a brain, where does the mind even come from? Forget it. She was exhausted and couldn't be bothered to argue with a mental patient. Pamela simply lay there, looking up at Gotham's usual cloudy night sky, which was as dark and deep as Batman's cape.

Alan lay on his side next to her, one hand supporting the back of his head, his other hand on his waist, one leg crossed over the other. He whispered softly, "Sparkles, stand up. You can do it, Sparkles."

"Who is Sparkles?" Pamela asked resentfully. "What are you trying to do?"

"Sparkles is a pony," Alan replied seriously.

"That's not what I asked." Pamela was so angry that she scratched at her hair, her long red locks becoming a messy bird's nest. She blew a strand out of her face, her mental state clearly on the verge of collapse.

"She says she's not sick, but her mood is so unstable. Dr. Alan has diagnosed her with a classic case of acute-onset sanity." Alan raised his hands and consulted his imaginary nurses. "Nurse Righty, you recommend soothing therapy. Nurse Lefty, you recommend a half-hour of physical therapy." He nodded in agreement. "A half-hour treatment may not have the desired effect. It needs to be at least an hour."

"What are you going to do?" Pamela was so frightened that she quickly stood up and hid several meters away. After being beaten for an hour, she wouldn't be human anymore.

"Forget it. I'll treat you another day. This time, I'm asking you to come out to help me create a potion to reverse the vampirism." Alan stroked his chin and said in a mean way, "I hope you can develop a drug that can transform me into a succubus, so I can save Gotham City."

"You're insane." Pamela was furious and refused. "I'm a botanist, not a biologist. How can I possibly develop a biological reversal agent?"

Click.

Alan took out a lighter and lit it, then said calmly, "I'm an easy person to talk to. I never force anyone. You shouldn't feel forced, right?"

For a moment, Pamela thought of the Joker, trapped in his solitary cell in Arkham Asylum. His head was covered with shocking burn scars. If that were her… her scalp tingled just thinking about it. She was very satisfied with and cherished her red hair; she couldn't imagine losing it.

"As a citizen of Gotham, how can I be reluctant to contribute?" Pamela's expression changed instantly, and she said with great positivity, "Let's go! I can't wait to help others!"

Alan cast an appreciative glance her way. "I knew I was right about you."

At this time, a car was coming from a distance.

"Prepare for a carjacking," Alan said, leaping into the ditch beside the road like a toad. He reminded her, "Pretend to be hitchhiking. When the car stops, I'll rob the driver."

"…"

This mental state was far too unstable. In the previous second, he was righteously wanting to save Gotham, and in the next, he was proposing to rob other people's vehicles. He was simply wandering between heaven and hell, a man who was both good and bad.

What could Pamela do? She was in his hands, and she might have to undergo that "physical therapy." She could only raise her hand helplessly and give a thumbs-up to signal for a ride.

The roar of the engine grew closer, and the glaring lights made it impossible to open her eyes.

Screech…

With a sudden brake, a completely black off-road armored vehicle stopped in the middle of the road.

Alan immediately jumped out of the ditch and shouted, "Robbery! Show me the soles of your feet! I'm checking for moles!"

The car door opened, and Damian cast a puzzled look at him.

"Oh, it's one of our own." Alan said with a disappointed look on his face. "You can go. I won't rob acquaintances."

"Get in the car. Things are dire, and I need your help." Because the vampires were so dangerous, Bruce had been worried about Damian and had arranged for him to provide support from the outside. As expected, Bruce and Eric had rushed to the eleventh floor of the Starlight Building, and it had turned out to be a trap. At present, the only outside help that could be called upon was Alan, so he had sent a message to Damian to pick him up.

"'Bats' really makes me worry," Alan said helplessly. "Who asked me to spoil him?"

As soon as he got in the car, Damian made a U-turn and headed straight for Gotham City.

"Arrange a laboratory. Pamela can help research the antidote." Alan would never forget Poison Ivy. She was a professional and had the ability to control plants, which was more than enough to take on some odd jobs.

"I'll take you to the location first, and then I'll take her to the secret lab," Damian responded. Bruce, always thoughtful, had more than one temporary base, which not only facilitated daily equipment supply but also reflected the strong capital of Gotham's richest man. Strongholds such as laboratories were naturally indispensable and were specially used to crack toxins and prepare antidotes.

Starlight Building.

Among the many skyscrapers in Gotham City, it was not a particularly eye-catching building. The registration information indicated that it was affiliated with a pharmaceutical company.

At this moment, Bruce looked at the enemy in front of him, panting. As soon as he and Eric had entered the building, they had been attacked by the vampires and the Talons. After a fight, the two had been separated.

"Batman, huh…" the burly vampire sneered. "I'm going to take off that mask with my own hands and see what you look like."

Not another word needed to be said. Bruce threw a Batarang first. When facing a high-level vampire, you had to do your homework beforehand. After all, you couldn't treat them like ordinary people. Underestimating your opponent often came at a heavy price. Both the Court of Owls and the vampires were not forces to be trifled with. They had deliberately pitted the Talons against Blade, while the vampires targeted Batman, giving them the advantage of information asymmetry.

The Batarang turned into a sharp, silver edge. The burly vampire tilted his head slightly and nimbly dodged the sneak attack.

"Is that all you've got?" the burly vampire sneered. "Remember the man who killed you: Kenster."

In an instant, Kenster moved, like a shadow passing by. Bruce's eyes narrowed. He felt something was wrong, and a silver-white blade popped out of his wrist armor. This vampire was obviously different from the ordinary ones. He had special abilities and was as fast as the wind, completely beyond the limits of normal physical fitness.

Thwip…

The sound of a sharp weapon piercing through skin.

***

(End of Chapter)

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