Day 21 of customs clearance

Don't dwell on things you can't understand. Instead of wasting your energy in a dead end, focus your energy on priorities.

Adrian immediately added the mandatory support task to his to-do list.

The mission description clearly states "assist in tracking," but since I'm not a key player in this situation, there's no need for me to bother with such a troublesome side mission.

Once the clues lead to the infected, he can anonymously deliver the information to Batman as a messenger of justice. This would allow him to complete his mission, restrain Batman, and also curry favor with the Arkham Knight – a win-win situation.

Adrian almost applauded his own cleverness; what a perfect plan! Don't dwell on things you can't understand.

The most urgent task is to find the scarecrow.

Under Deathstroke's explicit orders, Adrian had no choice but to carry them out. With the boss absent, he had to fawn over the acting boss designated by Deathstroke to prevent the acting boss from giving him dirty looks. Adrian couldn't help but lament his miserable gaming experience.

Once he finishes the game, he'll definitely rant about how terrible the game company was and how badly they cheated him.

Adrian immediately added the mandatory support task to his to-do list.

The metal casing gleamed coldly in the dim light. Adrian picked up a modified pistol from the armory, confirmed that it was fully loaded with special ammunition, and then checked the weapon carrying status with his subordinates.

These munitions can temporarily paralyze nerves, making them an important weapon for catching scarecrows.

Since the person couldn't be killed instantly, and there was a risk that the scarecrow might resort to underhanded tactics if they got too close, ranged attacks were the only viable option.

"Assemble," he whispered into the communicator.

A small armed squad of elite mercenaries belonging to the Knights appeared silently at the end of the corridor, their bulletproof armor damp with the night air of Gotham.

"Target area: an abandoned chemical plant in the industrial zone." Adrian pushed open the door of the secure base, and the night wind carried the distinctive rust and decay of Gotham City.

"Remember, we need living scarecrows. Wear protective masks immediately upon entering the factory premises."

"receive."

"receive."

"receive……"

*

The convoy drove toward the industrial area in the rainy night, the sound of tires rolling over puddles causing all the sharp-sensemed petty thugs to hide.

Years of hard-won experience have taught them to stay away from power struggles with influential figures; otherwise, they'll become cannon fodder.

Adrian leaned back in his seat, his fingertips unconsciously tapping his knees.

The report indicates that Scarecrow recently released a suspicious gas into residents of several blocks on the Upper East Side. Residents reported experiencing collective hallucinations after smelling a sweet odor, seeing swarms of bats emerging from the walls. A classic example of a fear-inducing gas experiment.

However, after one to three days, the body would rot and the person would die in agony, which is inconsistent with the scarecrow's past creation of fear-inducing poison gas.

It's likely that he and the Joker collaborated to develop a new type of poison gas.

"Get ready, we'll be at the destination in five minutes."

The driver's voice came from ahead.

Adrian took a deep breath. This was his first time personally leading a team into a fierce battle. The next time he saw the Arkham Knights, he would definitely say that famous line, "I've shed blood and fought for you!"

After thinking it over, Adrian felt much more relaxed and focused his attention on what was ahead.

The outline of the chemical plant gradually became clear in the rain, like a crouching steel behemoth, with rusty pipes standing on the desolate land and the factory's visible chimneys silently piercing the dark night.

The team split into two groups to infiltrate. Adrian led three people in through the main entrance, their footsteps echoing softly on the concrete.

The factory interior was even larger than the exterior, with abandoned mixers casting menacing shadows and a faint chemical odor permeating the air—not the smell of stale residue, but of fresh, vibrant life.

That means someone has recently used it in an experiment.

Adrian surveyed the area and concluded that this was likely the Scarecrow's main base.

"Low concentration of abnormal neurotoxin detected." The mercenary in the middle of the team held a portable detector, his voice tense. "Database cannot match; it's a new type of poison gas."

Adrian gestured, and everyone simultaneously activated the filtration systems on their masks. They moved forward in the direction where the odor concentration gradually increased, through a rusty corridor, and finally stopped in front of a half-open blast door.

A flickering light shone through the crack in the door, along with the bubbling sound of some liquid boiling.

He gestured for the squad to spread out and form an encirclement, then peered through the crack in the door to the side—

The laboratory was more complete than he had imagined. Distillers and a bunch of chemical instruments he didn't recognize hummed on a makeshift workbench, and the walls were covered with unfamiliar molecular structure diagrams.

The slender figure standing in the center was intently pouring some amber-colored liquid into a pressure vessel.

The scarecrow wore his signature tattered burlap hood, and the hem of his stained white coat swayed by his legs.

He hummed an off-key tune, everything before him posed no challenge, except for the question of what the clown wanted, as his new poison gas had already reached the 102nd generation.

That trashy clown dares to mock his poison gas? Who gave him that confidence?

“Dr. Klein.” Adrian pushed open the door and entered, raising his gun and aiming. “I hope you’ll be sensible and watch out, bullets don’t have eyes.”

The scarecrow slowly turned around, its eyes barely visible in the shadows beneath its goggles.

Surprisingly, he showed no panic, but instead let out a dry, straw-like laugh.

“Ah… new test subjects.” His voice distorted through the mask. “You’ve come at just the right time.”

Before Adrian could react, the Scarecrow had already pressed the remote control in his hand. Thick yellow gas suddenly spewed from the surrounding ventilation ducts, quickly filling the entire space. The mask filter emitted a piercing alarm—the toxic content had exceeded the filtration limit.

"Hold your breath!" Adrian shouted as he pulled the trigger.

The specially made ammunition struck the pressure canister in the scarecrow's hand, and the device exploded. But it was too late; Adrian had already inhaled a small amount of gas.

The world began to twist.

The cement floor sank violently, and the pipes on the walls turned into intestines that began to wriggle.

Black, viscous liquid began to seep from the bulletproof vests of the armed squad members, and their shouts sounded distant and distorted to Adrian's ears.

A chilling fear crept up his spine; something beyond rational comprehension was tearing at his senses.

In his increasingly distorted vision, an even more unfamiliar scene emerged—flowing silver data streams cascaded down from the ceiling like a waterfall, a semi-transparent interface appeared in the air, the outline of a scarecrow was outlined by a bright red marker, and familiar buffs scrolled around it.

[Consciousness Interference +1]

[Mental pollution +1]

Fear +1

Adrian's conscious mind jumped out of his body and chose to let the system experience the story from the perspective of the plot. Is this how it is?

Adrian puts his consciousness back into his body, immersing himself in the battle against the scarecrow.

Gotham is a place of outstanding people and abundant resources, truly worthy of its name!

The scarecrow's bewildered voice pierced through the distorted senses: "Why didn't you scream? You should have seen the most terrifying thing..."

Adrian shook his head, forcing himself to focus. The silvery data streams overlapping with the distorted reality gave him a strange anchor. He saw the red marker representing the scarecrow moving rapidly, trying to escape through the side door.

"Move three meters to the left and stop him!" Adrian shouted into the communicator. If he gets away, he'll be impossible to catch.

One of the team members instinctively carried out the order and managed to intercept the scarecrow that was hidden in the poisonous fog.

Adrian seized the opportunity to rush forward, precisely dodging the scattered equipment guided by the data markers.

After a brief exchange of a few seconds, Adrian pressed a pistol against the scarecrow's nape and deftly injected him with a sedative with his other hand.

"What...what are you?" the scarecrow murmured before losing consciousness.

As the gas dissipated, the silver data streams faded away as well. The team members staggered to their feet, looking at the calm Adrian with lingering fear—he was the only one who had remained mobile amidst the terrifying gas.

Adrian ignored the scarecrow and pulled the restraints to tie him up tightly.

They don't seem too hard to catch.

Just as he was marveling at this, the Gotham night sky was suddenly illuminated by searchlights—a huge bat symbol was projected onto the clouds, so clear it could not be ignored.

Batman.

Adrian's heart sank.

*

When Batman arrived, he found the air filled with a pungent smell of chemicals mixed with the stench of decaying metal, interspersed with a faint, cloyingly sweet and strange fragrance—the Scarecrow's latest creation of fear gas.

In the deepest, most empty workshop of the factory, a scarecrow stands atop an abandoned reaction vessel, observing a drug experiment.

A slender figure appeared and disappeared in the pervasive brown poisonous fog, and the eyes beneath the burlap sack covering his head gleamed with a calm and cruel light.

He was not alone. In the open space in front of the scarecrow, a dozen figures were contorting and twitching in various ergonomically unnatural poses.

They are infected with the clown virus, their pupils dilated to almost fill the entire white of their eyes, their mouths stretched to their ears, revealing scarlet gums, and they make meaningless "clucking" noises.

Their skin was an unhealthy grayish-white, and their movements were contorted, like marionettes.

The scarecrow was very satisfied with everything before him.

"Go, clown, let me see if you're really a success!"

The scarecrow waved its hand and said, "Go and instill some fear in our 'guests'."

A powerful, enhanced version of the fear gas, mixed with the Joker virus neurotoxin, erupted from the device in the open space, like a ghost, and burrowed into the bodies of the infected.

The infected person's laughter grew even sharper, and the rationality in their eyes was completely extinguished, leaving only pure, frenzied madness that wanted to tear everything apart.

Batman's figure pierced the night like a bolt of lightning, landing on the roof of an abandoned chemical plant.

Below, his destination was wandering aimlessly.

They were once citizens of Gotham, but now they are living containers for the Joker virus.

Most disturbing of all are their eyes, a chaotic green that flickers with an unnatural light.

They feel no pain, possess immense strength, and know only to rush towards humans to assimilate or destroy them. At this moment, they are charging towards Batman.

Batman moved.

His movements were pure violent aesthetics, every punch landing with a visceral impact, each strike accompanied by the dull thud of bones shattering, exceptionally clear in the factory.

An infected person lunged at him, but he dodged to the side, his elbow slamming into the infected person's spine. If it were a normal person, they would have been knocked unconscious by the blow.

But the infected man, with his broken back and distorted body, simply dragged himself up from the ground and charged toward Batman.

Another infected person attacked from the side while Batman was dealing with other infected. Without even turning his head, Batman casually threw a batarang that delivered an electric shock, causing the infected person to convulse violently and collapse to the ground, losing the ability to move.

However, the electric shock only slowed it down for a minute or two before it and its companions charged at Batman and overwhelmed him.

Batman fired his grappling hook at the iron beam, and the rapidly contracting iron rope propelled him into the air, leaving behind a horde of infected screaming.

Batman looked down at the twisted infected below. His cold mask concealed his expression, but his tightly pursed lips betrayed his unease.

What did the Scarecrow transform the Dionysus factor given to him by the Joker into? Calling it a clone of the Joker is an understatement; it's more like a real-life Resident Evil.

However, the real terror wasn't the infected's ignorant and fearless charge. The moment Batman charged back into the horde and severed the arm of a real Joker virus-infected individual, that thing, disregarding the severed arm, grabbed Batman's cape and sneered in a hoarse, Joker-like voice:

"Batman! Do you remember that little bird? The most grumpy red bird, HHH—"

Batman clenched his fist even tighter.

On the other side.

"HHH——"

A piercing laugh echoed in the wind. Adrian looked up and his vision was filled with a blood-red creature called 'human,' or perhaps that's what it should be called.

As he grabbed the scarecrow, the unremarkable wall flipped up, revealing a creature standing with its head drooping.

Perhaps it was a 'person' with its skin peeled off; the small spotlight thrown by Adrian clearly showed its muscle texture, and a constant dripping sound could be heard.

Adrian didn't want to know what that sound was; he suddenly drifted off into thought, perhaps adding an age classification to the current situation would be better.

To Adrian's horrified gaze, it moved, and the liquid and solid that had been fixed to it fell off as it lunged forward.

Why am I still losing weight!

Adrian retreated repeatedly. When faced with some terrifying and twisted unknown creature, the first reaction that arises in a human being is fear.

Even he's afraid, he's not human!

"Ahhhhhh..."

The mercenary who followed Adrian in finally couldn't help but scream loudly; he had never seen anything like it in all his years.

"Ugh ugh ugh ugh..."

Adrian had no desire to see his useless subordinates!

[Support quests are now available. Players are requested to complete the quests.]

Adrian refused.

Adrian didn't want to get close to this thing.

However, the system's display of "Infected 1/5" seemed to both respond to him and shatter his prayers.

To make matters worse, Adrian couldn't stop them in time, and the infected who had lost sanity rushed out and randomly bit a nearby mercenary, trying to spread the infection to form a large army of infected.

Things were going too smoothly; they were talking about infected people, and they were biting them every time. Adrian's teammates were dwindling in number.

The infected leader charged purposefully toward Adrian, who was retreating to the doorway; it had only one thought in mind: to tear the intruder apart!

The infected followed the earlier infected, no longer following objective laws, but instead running wildly with their hands and feet, their movements twisted yet incredibly fast, surging towards Adrian's location from all directions like a tide.

Adrian moved. Without hesitation, he caught the wall and leaped up to the highest point. Then, he threw out the hidden rope under his trench coat, precisely hooked it onto the crossbeam on the other side, and with a clean swing, not only avoided the first wave of attacks but also kicked the two infected charging at the front away.

But the two infected individuals only rolled a few times on the ground before getting up in an even more bizarre posture, laughing wildly as they charged forward again, seemingly oblivious to the pain.

“Such tenacious vitality,” Adrian thought to himself, a slight unease settling in his heart.

No matter what methods he used, they had little effect on these enemies who were completely driven by madness and unafraid of pain.

The battle instantly intensified. Adrian weaved through the infected, his hidden blade tracing a cold arc in the dim light.

Each strike precisely targets joints and tendons, attempting to deprive the opponent of their mobility.

The clown virus simply endows these infected individuals with superhuman vitality and resistance to attack.

Even with his shoulder severed by the hidden blade, one infected person was still able to grab Adrian's arm tightly with his other hand, trying to bite him; the other twisted as if he had no bones, attempting to kill Adrian.

The scarecrow, standing on high, seemed to be watching an interesting experiment; he even took out a small notebook to record his observations.

"Infected individuals generally exhibit extremely high obedience; apart from the first generation of infected individuals who possessed intelligence, the others are unconscious; they possess immense strength but lack agility..."

Adrian is under increasing pressure.

The sheer number of infected individuals was severely draining his physical and mental strength.

Even more dangerously, the poisonous gas in the air began to take effect. Adrian's vision began to blur, and he seemed to hear chaotic murmurs and maniacal laughter.

"His will must have been on the verge of collapse, it's quite impressive that he's held on for so long," the scarecrow assessed, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

Just as an infected person was about to pounce on his back and bite his neck, a fierce glint flashed in Adrian's eyes.

He suddenly executed a low spinning kick, clearing away the infected behind him, while simultaneously pulling out a gun with his left hand.

"Bang!"

The strong smell of gunpowder exploded instantly, and the infected man's head was blown off, finally bringing him to a halt.

Adrian stopped pursuing and used the time he was out of the infected's attack range to quickly shoot upwards. His figure flashed like a ghost, his target the scarecrow standing on the high ground!

The scarecrow collapsed to the ground, clutching his shoulder and groaning. He had never expected Adrian to break free from the effects of the gas and the entanglement of the infected so quickly and launch an attack on him.

The scarecrow struggled to pull out a remote control, preparing to release a higher concentration of poison gas to defeat Adrian.

But Adrian was faster! The instant he saw the scarecrow's movements, he pushed off the wall for leverage, his body spinning in mid-air, and unleashed a swift and fierce whip kick, accompanied by a whistling sound as it tore through the air, slamming it hard into the scarecrow's arm!

He kicked away the remote control that was filled with the terrifying poison gas.

A dull thud resounded. The scarecrow was thrown to the side by the force of the blow, the burlap sack on its head tilted to one side, revealing half of its pale face, contorted with pain from excessive blood loss.

The scarecrow struggled to get up, but couldn't manage it and could only groan in pain.

Adrian landed steadily beside the scarecrow, coldly looking down at the incapacitated scarecrow.

Below, the infected, deprived of the continuous stimulation of poison gas and clear instructions, began to engage in illogical infighting, greatly reducing their threat.

“Your new gas isn’t very good either,” Adrian said calmly. “It can’t even control the infected very well.”

The scarecrow's distorted eyes were fierce and resentful, and it emitted a series of whimpering sounds.

Adrian showed no remorse. "Sorry, I shouldn't be the one talking to you. Let's talk when we see the boss."

After saying that, he stuffed the scarecrow into a bag and carried it out of the chemical plant.

Reality is always full of drama.

Another heavy rain fell, soaking those wandering the streets of Gotham City.

At the exit of the abandoned steel plant, two dark figures faced each other as if by fate.

Ironically, they each control the same person: Jonathan Klein, the Scarecrow.

Batman gripped Scarecrow's right arm tightly. The man trembled like a broken puppet under Batman's control. His signature burlap sack hood was soaked with rain, making him look even more dilapidated.

A few steps away, Adrian was dressed up as a scarecrow, with only his head showing.

"It seems we need to distinguish who the real scarecrow is, and who has the fake and the real thing."

Adrian's voice was surprisingly calm. In fact, he was at his wit's end. How could the scarecrow still be pretending to be itself?

"State your purpose, and hand over the scarecrow!"

Adrian insisted on reciting Batman's lines first.

Batman's jawline tightened, his voice sharp as sand: "Put him down, Adrian. Don't help the Arkham Knight anymore."

"You're saying I'm aiding and abetting evil, right?" Adrian chuckled, tightening his fingers slightly, and the scarecrow let out a suppressed whimper.

"The Arkham Knights will not let your Batman get away with this!"

Before he finished speaking, Adrian shoved the scarecrow forward and leaped backward, throwing out the fear gas he had confiscated from the scarecrow's laboratory.

If you can't beat Batman, of course you have to call for backup. Are you going to be a stubborn coward? Adrian is afraid of meeting his boss at Blackgate Prison and being abandoned by him.

Batman's reaction was faster than human limits. He instantly jumped out of the range of the terrifying gas. To Batman's surprise, the moment the gas started to evaporate, a phantom appeared before his eyes.

At the same time, my body felt a bone-chilling cold, not a physical low temperature, but a shiver originating from the depths of my consciousness. The surrounding scenery began to distort and decay.

It's an enhanced version of fear toxin! It not only affects the senses, but also directly erodes the will.

“Enjoy yourself, Batman!” Adrian’s voice came through the poisonous fog. “Want a scarecrow? You shouldn’t mind some of his little experiments.”

In the instant Batman's consciousness wavered, Adrian moved. His speed was incredible, his movements unpredictable and erratic, not like those of someone who had undergone rigorous training, but rather like an innate, predatory instinct. The hidden blade in his hand sliced ​​through the rain, aiming straight for Batman's breastplate.

[Load Arkham Knights battle mode]

"Clang!"

Batman parried the attack with his arm armor, sparks flying.

After joining the faction and gaining the leader's trust and reliance, you will receive the leader's combat card, which is a powerful weapon for Batman. This led Adrian to rush in front of Batman and fight him when he discovered Batman's weakness.

The visions of fear continued to haunt Batman, but his strong willpower was like a rock, forcefully suppressing his surging emotions.

Batman retaliated, delivering a heavy, precise right hook that whistled through the air as it struck Adrian's face.

Adrian slid and twisted away in an almost bizarre manner, switching his hidden blade to Batman's throat.

Batman leaned back, the blade grazing his neck guard with a piercing hum. Batman leaped up and delivered a side kick, his boot slamming into Adrian's ribs.

"Ugh!" Adrian grunted, staggering back a few steps, a flash of surprise crossing his eyes. He had clearly underestimated Batman's fighting ability even under the influence of the Fear Toxin.

We have to run!

"Is that all your tricks?" Batman growled, his voice hoarse with suppressed fear. He abandoned his passive defense and launched a storm of attacks.

Fists, elbows, knees, legs—every part of the body becomes a weapon, and every strike contains the power to shatter bones.

Batman's movements are devoid of any unnecessary frills; they are solely for the purpose of subduing the enemy.

Adrian was forced to adopt a defensive stance. Although his hidden blade was wielded with masterful skill and was extremely dangerous, it was difficult for him to unleash its full power under Batman's impenetrable close-quarters pressure.

Batman's fist broke through his defenses, once, twice, and then the iron fist landed heavily on his body. A sharp pain shot through him, and Adrian could feel his ribs howling and his internal organs trembling.

Adrian was panting, a trickle of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth, but the expression on his face, a mixture of madness and composure, remained unchanged.

He'd made a mistake. Adrian silently observed his surroundings, trying to find a way to break free from Batman's protection.

He suddenly threw out his hidden blade, replaced it with the gun that had hit the scarecrow earlier, and fired a bullet that temporarily forced Batman back. At the same time, Adrian pulled out a device that looked like a remote control and pressed a button.

In an instant, roars and crashes echoed from below the steel mill. Several figures climbed up the rusty steel frame—they were infected with the Joker virus. With their signature clown laughs, they pounced on Batman like hyenas smelling blood.

The situation reversed instantly. Batman was forced to distract himself from these painless and incredibly strong monsters.

He punched one of the infected charging at the front, then used his grappling hook to wrap around another's neck and slam him against a concrete pillar. But more infected swarmed around him, frantically tearing at his cloak and armor.

Adrian used this precious respite to quickly leave. He didn't look at the infected who had bought him time; instead, his gaze fell on the scarecrow trying to climb towards the stairwell in the chaos.

"Where do you think you're going, Doctor?" Adrian's voice was laced with sarcasm. He raised his hand and fired, the last bullet shattering the scarecrow's kneecap.

The scarecrow was left rolling on the ground clutching its legs. Enraged by this scene, it quickly dealt with the infected and rushed straight to Adrian.

Adrian, not wanting to continue the direct confrontation with Batman, threw a flashbang (max version) at him. The intense flash and sound wave momentarily stunned the infected around Batman.

You have nowhere to run!

Adrian watched the black nightmare charging towards him, a hint of helplessness on his face. He knew he had no chance of winning in a direct confrontation with Batman's power. Batman's strength far exceeded his expectations, not only in terms of weapons and equipment, but also in his indomitable will.

Just as Batman's fist was about to touch him, Adrian made a decision. He suddenly flipped over, slid to his knees, and threw the still-functioning energy device in his hand at the scarecrow, while simultaneously rolling backwards off the edge of the roof.

"boom!"

The energy device detonated in mid-air, releasing a massive explosion. Batman was thrown back by the shockwave, slowing his movements by half a beat, while the Scarecrow was literally reduced to fragments.

Batman rushed to the edge of the rooftop and saw Adrian's figure plummeting into the darkness below. It wasn't freefall; a simple gliding suit, shimmering with unstable energy, unfolded behind him, tumbling and twisting among the dense rain and the intricate factory buildings before disappearing without a trace.

On the roof, only the trapped, unconscious Scarecrow No. 1 (captured by Batman) and a few remaining infected individuals still staggering closer, emitting clown-like laughs.

Batman stood rooted to the spot, rain washing away the blood and dust that clung to his armor. His clenched fists slowly loosened, his chest heaving slightly from the intense battle, and in the distance lay the fragments of Scarecrow II.

As Batman watched the direction Adrian had disappeared, his anxiety and heaviness grew. Adrian was not only dangerous and crazy, but also like a stubborn leech that wouldn't let go once it stuck to him, and his tendency to stab him in the back every now and then was giving Batman a headache.

Gotham has gained another troublesome entity.

Batman knew that Adrian was working for the Arkham Knights, a troublesome man and a troublesome person.

Batman didn't have to deal with the infected anymore. It's unclear what kind of bomb Adrian threw or what methods he left behind, but in the end, only one leader infected who couldn't move was left.

Batman turned and picked up the surviving Scarecrow No. 1, calling out to the Batcave: "Red Robin, keep an eye out for Arkham Knight..."

It's not over yet.

Raindrops pounded on the metal sheeting of an abandoned safe house somewhere in Gotham, creating a cold and chaotic symphony.

Inside the security perimeter, the only light source came from the pale glow of a portable medical unit in the corner, illuminating two distinctly different figures.

Adrian lay on the operating table, his face ashen. His once-stylish trench coat was tattered, and multiple wounds were still bleeding. The most serious was on his left rib, where a dark bruise was spreading under the skin. Every breath brought sharp, stabbing pain, and at least two ribs were broken.

Adrian was injecting himself with a trembling hand into a vial of a new type of repair agent that shimmered with a faint blue light.

The safe house door slid open silently, and a tall, lean figure walked in. He was dressed in a black and orange reinforced combat suit, and his steps were steady.

Adrian sat up abruptly, but quickly lay back down after seeing who it was, acting as the boss.

Deathstroke walked up to Adrian, his single eye beneath the mask sweeping over his disheveled appearance before settling on his face, which was slightly distorted by pain yet still retained a strange calmness.

The air seemed to freeze for a few seconds, with only the constant hum of the medical equipment continuing to operate.

“I received your emergency signal,” Deathstroke’s voice came through the voice changer, deep and flat, like cold metal rubbing against each other, “but I didn’t expect to see you like this.”

Adrian didn't even look up, focusing on pushing the repair agent into his vein until the medicine was fully injected. Only then did he exhale a long, trembling breath, lean back against the pillow, and close his eyes slightly.

"The mission encountered a slight mishap." His voice was hoarse, clearly showing his fatigue.

“An accident?” Deathstroke repeated, the word uttered with a hint of sarcasm. He stepped forward, looking down at Adrian. “According to the fragmented information I received, you and your team encountered Batman head-on at Scarecrow, but why are you the only one left alive?”

Adrian finally opened his eyes, meeting the soul-piercing gaze of Deathstroke's single eye.

Deathstroke tilted his head slightly, a subtle gesture that revealed his rare, genuine bewilderment. He was truly baffled; based on Adrian's demonstrated abilities, there was no way he could have escaped Batman's clutches.

Is he hiding his true abilities?

"Stop, stop, stop. Don't overthink it. I'll report anything amiss to the boss. Only the boss has the right to question me. Mr. Wilson, please don't speculate too much."

“I have my reasons, Mr. Wilson.” Adrian tried to calm himself, but the sharp pain in his ribs made him gasp.

He must have broken at least two ribs; he's in excruciating pain! Adrian gasped softly.

“Reason?” Deathstroke scoffed, his voice icy and chilling. “Your ‘reason’ almost turned this rescue mission into a corpse-collecting mission. I know plenty of fools who have sought their own deaths, but you’ve always acted far smarter than them. I’ll inform the knights of what happened today.”

He paused, his one eye sweeping over the damaged gun beside Adrian before returning to his face, his tone tinged with inquiry: "You're not the kind of person who gets blinded by passion. This operation wasn't even the highest priority part of our mission, so why are you pushing yourself to this extent?"

Adrian paused for a moment, then reached into the tattered inner pocket and pulled out a miniature data storage device, still stained with traces of blood. He gently placed the device on the nearby cabinet, making a soft "click" sound.

“For this,” he said softly, a smile playing on his lips, “not just Scarecrow, but Deathstroke. It contains all the data on the Scarecrow’s research into the Dionysian Factor.”

"With this, the Knights' plan to take over Gotham will be one step closer. I should have also blown up the Scarecrow, if I had blown up the real one."

Ignoring Deathstroke's questions, Adrian muttered to himself, "There were three scarecrows inside. One was devoured by the infected, one I killed, and the last one was taken away by Batman..."

Deathstroke dialed the Arkham Knights' communications channel. "Knight, I think you need to have a serious talk with your men. He did something big yesterday, concerning Batman, whom you care about most."

Arkham Knight on the other end of the channel: ? ?