The geometry of this place crawls across your vision like something alive. You catalogue what you can: walls that fold into themselves, surfaces that reflect futures instead of pasts, cells suspended in configurations that violate Euclidean principles. Your utility belt remains at your waist - he hasn't disarmed you. Interesting. Either arrogance or a deliberate choice.
The Joker pirouettes in mid-air, his purple coat tails spreading like wings. "Take your time, Batsy! Really drink it all in. I worked SO hard on my little gallery here."
"How did you steal Mxyzptlk's powers?" you ask, hands moving with practiced subtlety to check your equipment. Everything's there. Batarangs, smoke pellets, the magnetic grapple.
"Oh, the imp?" The Joker's eyes light up with genuine delight. "He was showing off for some blonde reporter - you know how it is. I simply... borrowed them while he was distracted. He won't even notice they're gone for another few days!" He gestures grandly, and reality ripples. There's a pause - just half a second - before a throne of crystallized screams materializes beneath him. He settles into it with a satisfied sigh.
That delay. You file it away.
Your attention catches on movement three cells to your left. Another Batman. But wrong. She's wearing a maid's uniform - black satin that clings obscenely to curves that shouldn't exist on any version of you, cut low enough to expose generous cleavage. White lace trim adorns the abbreviated hem that barely covers her thighs. Sheer black stockings. A white frilled headpiece perches on dark hair styled in soft waves.
She's cleaning the bars of her own prison with methodical precision, using a feather duster with focused attention. Her movements are fluid, practiced. Content.
"Earth-19's Dark Knight," the Joker announces proudly. "I call her Bonnie now. Isn't she precious? She tried to fight me on her first day here. So stubborn! So defiant!" He laughs, the sound echoing from impossible angles. "Now she understands her purpose. Don't you, Bonnie darling?"
The transformed Batman looks up. Her face - features that mirror your own but softened, feminized - wears an expression of vacant cheerfulness. "Yes, Mr. J," she says in a voice honeyed with manufactured pleasure. "Keeping your gallery beautiful is what makes me happy."
She returns to her dusting, humming tunelessly.
"The consciousness remains intact," the Joker continues, leaning forward with theatrical intimacy. "Every memory. Every moral conviction. That famous willpower." He taps his temple. "All still there. They simply don't want to resist anymore. Isn't that delicious?"
Your objective for this adventure is: Strip the Joker of his reality-warping powers and free all the transformed Batmen from across the multiverse.