"Very good. Now, what about the antidote?"
Hardy was very satisfied with the effect of the fear toxin.
"Antidote?"
Scarecrow was taken aback.
What do you need that for?
Hardy silently turned to look at the black henchman, who was still trapped in endless terror and spiraling out of control.
Maybe, compared to these traditional Gotham villains, he himself wasn't crazy or ruthless enough—maybe he was just too kind.
"You think everyone's like you, already immune to this stuff?"
Hardy couldn't help but increase the voltage on his high-voltage electric sword, sending a jolt of electricity through it.
Scarecrow shuddered again.
"Fine, let me think."
Fear toxin affects Scarecrow too, but after years of exposure, he's developed antibodies, so the effects are greatly reduced. Plus, as a master psychologist, he has excellent emotional control. He's probably the strongest normal human in the world at resisting fear toxin.
Number one is Batman, of course. That guy's willpower is practically a superpower—just saying "I am Batman" is more effective than any meditation technique in a martial arts novel.
"Chlorpromazine combined with benzodiazepines, plus 5-hydroxytryptamine and GABA receptor agonists—these substances can reduce hallucinations, enhance emotional regulation, and block the toxin's effect on receptor proteins in the body. There are also some specific chemical elements needed…"
Scarecrow pondered for a moment, then used his chemical and medical expertise to design an antidote formula on the spot.
He couldn't demonstrate it, but to earn Hardy's trust, he used the available equipment and limited materials to make an inhibitor.
"There aren't enough materials—this is just an inhibitor. It'll lessen his symptoms and shorten the duration of the toxin's effects. As for a perfect antidote, I've already told you the formula."
Scarecrow wasn't bothered; after all, this was the previous version of the fear toxin—Batman had already developed an antidote for it.
The black henchman gradually calmed down, and after a while, finally returned to normal.
"Good. Next time you do something like this, make sure you know whose turf you're on, what you can do, and what you can't."
Hardy sheathed his electric sword, left those words behind, and soared away.
"Boss, didn't you say you wanted to work with Floyd Lawton? Why did you just…"
Another henchman stepped forward and asked Scarecrow.
"There's no need anymore."
Scarecrow shook his head.
The power gap is too big. In any alliance, the weakest party always profits the least and risks being swallowed up.
After spending some time with Hardy, Scarecrow had already developed a psychological profile: ruthless enough, clearly no stranger to bloodshed, but with a certain bottom line and an extremely strong sense of purpose.
If Hardy were a bit weaker, Scarecrow would be happy to work with him, since he could maintain some initiative in the partnership. But given the current situation, it's better not to.
The power imbalance is obvious. If they really worked together, Scarecrow would be at Hardy's mercy.
Air currents swirled as the White Samurai retracted its glider wings and landed gently on the rooftop balcony of Hogge's Garage.
With a whir of gears, the White Samurai, controlled by chakra threads, instantly detached from Hardy and quickly reassembled itself.
"Boss, it's Two-Face on the phone!"
The accountant hurried over, holding out a phone to Hardy.
Hardy raised an eyebrow.
Harvey Dent actually dared to call him? Wasn't he worried Hardy would trace the call right back to him?
Looks like the Arkham City incident had rattled him, too.
"Well, well, if it isn't a call from Gotham's own mob boss, Two-Face! I've been looking for you for a long time!"
Hardy took the phone, his face full of mockery.
On the other end, Harvey Dent's face darkened as he looked at the coin on his desk—tails up.
Before making the call, he'd hesitated, so he flipped the coin…
Make your own choices: heads, don't attack; tails, attack.
"Hardy, this is no time for jokes. I wouldn't have called you unless it was absolutely necessary. If you're still dissatisfied, you can go to the grain warehouse at No. 3 Sutter Street—I've left a hundred million dollars there as an apology to you."
Harvey Dent truly wanted to resolve the conflict between himself and Hardy.
This guy was someone even Batman couldn't do anything about. He didn't follow the superhero's no-killing rule, nor was he like Deathstroke, who worked for money. If the Puppeteer really found him, he could crush Harvey's skull just like he did to Falcone.
"First, tell me what happened that made you risk calling me."
Hardy sat down on a chair brought over by a subordinate, spoke into his phone, and at the same time signaled the accountant to immediately send someone to look for that hundred million dollars.
"Just now, I caught Catwoman trying to steal my gold. I was about to deal with her when Batman showed up and rescued her."
Batman?
Hardy glanced at the accountant's watch.
8:47.
It had been less than an hour since Bruce Wayne was captured by Tiger Security Group, and he'd already escaped and started acting as Batman.
"So Batman must have given you a good beating."
Harvey Dent choked for a moment, then continued:
"That's not the point. Batman was about to arrest me, but then a sniper suddenly appeared and saved me."
"Deadshot?"
"I don't know. But their target wasn't me—it should have been Batman. Batman and Catwoman escaped the assassination, but I feel like the real goal was to lure Batman somewhere else.
But that's not the important part. The important thing is, while I was dealing with Batman, Mr. Victor's wife was kidnapped, and Mr. Victor, who went to rescue her, was also captured."
Hardy stroked his chin.
Mr. Freeze had already been moved when Harvey escaped last time. Who knows what price Harvey paid to get Mr. Freeze to go with him. In any case, when Hardy led the Hog United people to the previous cold storage, they didn't find Mr. Freeze, and even the experimental equipment had been taken away.
Quite a pity. Recently, as his control over chakra improved, his main body had already mastered healing techniques, and was close to mastering the more difficult fine extraction technique—only his sensory abilities weren't quite up to par.
If he could use modern medical tools like MRI or X-rays to see inside the human body, he might be able to pull it off. Even if he couldn't cure Mr. Freeze's wife, he could at least prolong her life.
"Do you know who did it?"
Hardy continued to ask.