Consciousness gradually pulled back from the tide of memories, Batman finally heard the call of the Windbreaker Warrior beside him.
"I'm fine."
He answered in a hoarse voice, even though the voice changer altered his tone, there was nothing in his demeanor that suggested he was truly fine.
The Windbreaker Warrior quickly patted his chest, took a dramatic gasp, and then pulled the needle from Batman's waist.
"I gave you Demerol, although in this situation military morphine would be more suitable, but I couldn't get it... the dose I used was high, but I think addiction shouldn't be an issue for you."
Batman nodded, moved away from the wall, despite still being affected by hallucinations, the auditory hallucinations had vanished, and he regained normal mobility.
At the same time, the large dose of Demerol suppressed the pain, the Windbreaker Warrior's choice of drug and timing was spot-on.
"Well done."
He coolly complimented, and that was Batman's way of expressing gratitude.
The Windbreaker Warrior shrank his neck, as if feeling undeserving, changed the subject: "Are you sure you want to go in? You're really not in the best condition right now, why insist on dealing with the Joker now?"
"He's too dangerous, I cannot let him out of my sight." Batman's mouth turned downward again.
"But the world is facing so many threats right now, is he really that high a priority?" The Windbreaker Warrior took out a few more doses of Demerol from his pocket, wanting to give them to Batman.
Batman pushed his hand back, he had better medication himself, it was just that he suddenly lost his ability to move earlier, preventing him from retrieving anything from his belt.
To the Windbreaker Man's question, he simply replied calmly, "At least that's what I think."
The Windbreaker Warrior said no more, he just nodded, supported Batman's arm on his shoulder, and the two walked through the small door of the maintenance room together.
The entrance illuminated by lights was the brightest place in the darkness, because the noise and bustle beyond the door represented chaos at its essence, it was the Joker's domain.
Batman withdrew his arm, perhaps due to the effect of the medication, he no longer needed support, and when facing the enemy, there was no room for playing a three-legged race.
The Windbreaker Warrior naturally didn't object, he retreated behind Batman, his hands gripping the cold handle of the gun, emitting a gulp-like sound.
Inside the door, transformed by the Joker into a gallery, what should have been a modest maintenance room had a tunnel forcefully dug out of it, the Joker not only dug it through, but even decorated it according to his own aesthetic.
Everywhere were dizzying colored lights and graffiti, the moment they stepped inside, the various lights began spinning wildly, and the Joker's crow-like voice echoed again.
"Hahahahahahaha... you've finally come, Batman, shall we guess a riddle? What likes to hide in a rabbit hole?"
If following usual thought patterns, many would imagine the Joker was likening this place to a rabbit hole, and so naturally what hides in the rabbit hole is the Joker.
But the Joker is never shallow, his mind is alarmingly active, and he particularly emphasized 'thing', so the answer would be an object or thing, not a person.
And the most famous reference regarding rabbit holes comes from "Alice in Wonderland," where the young lady Alice follows a rabbit into a burrow, encountering many bizarre events.
For children, that is merely a fairy tale, the heroine learning much in the rabbit hole, quickly growing brave, achieving success and then returning to her family, everything prior just a dream.
For madmen, however, beyond the rich imagination there's a seductive darkness and madness hidden underneath.
Like the Cheshire Cat, always grinning and constantly urging Alice to kill; the Mr. Rabbit, who successfully abducts the little girl, discarding her when done; or the Red Queen, fond of beheading people and collecting trophies.
Many characters inside seem all too familiar from an adult perspective.
Not the straight monsters of Grimm's Fairy Tales, where encountering werewolves or witches in daily life is unlikely.
The personalities behind the masks of Wonderland, many meet such individuals in work or life, this sense of déjà vu is what makes one's skin crawl.
Most crucially, the story ends in tragedy.
Alice helped the Dream Kingdom overthrow the Red Queen, she should have enjoyed the happiness and joy brought by victory.
But she didn't, she was sent back out of the rabbit hole, returned to reality, 19th century United Kingdom, resuming her life as an ordinary person.
In the end, the author wrote: "She would become a woman, and she would retain the pure, cherished heart of her childhood."
Yes, just like that, the Alice who sailed smoothly in dreams becomes ordinary upon returning to reality, merging with the crowd without any further ado.
This story encourages contentment with mediocrity, and nothing could be better.
Moreover, there's a sequel, "Alice Through the Looking Glass," describing her in the mirror being used as a pawn by the Red and White Queens, ultimately just another dream.
From the story, it's known that she lives in the countryside where chopping firewood is necessary, with her grandmother, sister Dina, and a black cat named Mimi. In reality, what she wants to eat is a piece of meat bone.
This is vastly different from everything in the Dream Realm.
You only see the cruelty after comparison.
The Joker's question is meant to make Batman recall this story and think about the issues it brings.
Why return to reality? Why can't one live in a dream? Is going mad really that bad?
Batman's face darkened even more. The Joker was probing the barriers of his thoughts, and his mind was too quick, truly grasping the meanings behind those stories...
Yet he suppressed his emotions, calmly providing the answer, "An exit."
Indeed, what was hidden in the rabbit hole was the exit.
It is both an entrance and an exit to that world called the Dream Realm but is real madness.
No wonder the Joker chose the subway tunnel because rabbit holes are often dry, and the sewer is unsuitable.
The Joker's voice came from a speaker somewhere unknown. He smacked his lips on the other end, "Not entirely, but it's interesting enough. Come on, I've prepared a dinner for you, and your Alice is waiting too, hahaha...."
Gotham already has a Mad Hatter, a lunatic who likes to dress his victims as Alice, affixing them to a chair with wire and forcing their corpses to attend a tea party.
So Batman was sure the Joker wouldn't do this; he was quoting stories, not enacting them.
The door of the passage opened again, revealing the hall behind. It was a banquet hall dug from underground, with a long table covered in a snow-white tablecloth and filled with a variety of gourmet dishes.
At the end of the long table was Catwoman. Although not bound, the flashing red-light collar around her neck made her sit stiffly on a high-backed chair covered in red velvet.
When she saw Batman enter, her eyes showed complex emotions—it might be hoping he'd come, yet feeling they shouldn't meet now.
And these emotions could only turn into a half-crying, half-smiling expression.
Batman didn't impulsively rush over; he wouldn't make this mistake. The Joker must be watching from nearby.
Sure enough, from behind the high-backed chair, that familiar figure in a purple suit appeared. He pushed a small cart with a few dishes on it, all covered with beautiful silver lids.
"Ah, just in time. I have prepared dessert. Please, sit."
There was a chair in front of Batman but none prepared for the Windbreaker Warrior, though neither intended to sit.
The Joker waited for a while, his smile gradually fading, then suddenly pulled out a handgun from his coat, unlocked it, and aimed it at Catwoman's head.
"I said sit down. You won't disappoint the host, right?"
Batman took a deep breath, pulled the chair to ensure nothing was tampered with, and slowly sat down.
The effects of the drug in his body were uncertain in duration. It's best to solve the current problem quickly, but it seemed the Joker planned to eat first?
The main course was already on the long dining table, a well-roasted piglet with a red apple in its mouth. The appetizer sweet soup was placed in front of Batman, with black soup in a silver plate, emitting a strange fragrance.
The Joker had no intention of sitting. With one hand holding the gun, he supported the back of Catwoman's chair.
"Care to try? I spent quite some time. I heard you like to call your sugar 'justice' when drinking coffee, so you'd surely like my 'Justice Soup,' hehehe... By the way, it's boiled with Gotham's rainwater, naturally spicy, take it slow..."
Batman looked down at the black soup on the table. Under candlelight, it appeared utterly dark, concealing whatever lay beneath the soup's surface.
Yet this was also a metaphor, signifying the peace hidden beneath darkness, without a ripple, stagnant waters.
The Joker blinked, on tiptoe peeking from the other end of the long table, as if anticipating Batman's reaction to the taste.
The Windbreaker Warrior beside also watched Batman's face, saying softly, "My spear technique is quite good… You don't know if this soup is poisoned."
Batman shook his head. The Joker couldn't be killed, and the soup must be poisoned, almost without a doubt.
But he had to drink it.
Yet just as his fingers touched the edge of the plate, the Windbreaker Warrior reached out, took up the plate, and drank it in one gulp. After drinking, he threw the plate away. It was just a bowl of black water with no garnishes, and swallowing the liquid only made the Windbreaker Man's mask lips moist.
He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, stood straight, and looked across.
However, amidst the Joker's laughter, he soon clutched his stomach and collapsed, as if experiencing unbearable pain, rolling on the dark room's floor.