Sirens wail as you struggle in your straitjacket, managing to pull enough at the bindings to loosen it as you run through the corridor. It's littered with bodies of prisoners and wardens alike, needles and handmade weapons scattered across the floor as blood smears across the walls, the smell of iron heavy in your lungs.

It's chaos - someone staged a riot to escape the facility, you don't know who, but it doesn't matter. You waited until everything seemed to get quiet - or as quiet as a riot in Arkham can get - and you made your move. All that matters is getting free from your chains and jumping from the island. You tug at the straitjacket, finally pulling it over your head as you race down the halls, searching desperately for an exit, but a familiar voice catches your attention.

It's.... Joker. The Joker. He's singing. A warbled, raspy, sing-song tone as always, and as you follow the sound curiously, you're met with him sat in his cell, suspiciously still and obedient. He's still chained up, sure, but he should at least be trying to escape, surely?

"Hey, kid." He grins, shooting you a wink before humming to himself again, looking up towards the ceiling with his eyes closed. "D'you come all this way for little old me? I'm flattered." He laughs, harsh and cold as always.