The mad cackling echoed over the rooftops and chilled Batman to the bone. "It's just a joke, Batsy. Don't you get it? Or are you that dull?" Joker shrieked, before unleashing another torrent of bullets in Bruce's direction.

The spattered against the brick wall, but the barrier was wearing thin against Joker's constant onslaught. Another confrontation, Batman thought to himself, another murder, another spree, another month spent without sleep while I stay a step behind him, until I finally catch up. How long has it been now? Years? A decade? How long can I keep doing this? In his mind he saw the hundreds dead at the hands of the clown. Women, children, families; how many would it take before he did what he dreamt of doing? Barbara could no longer walk, Jim spent weeks coping with what the Joker did to him, countless others were no longer alive to tell their horrific tale.

He dropped a smoke grenade and spun around the other side of the wall while Joker continued fire into the smoke, cackling and mumbling his deranged jokes to himself. This ends today.

Batman spotted Harley Quinn on the opposite roof providing cover fire, but it was now or never to bring Joker down. Joker spun, aiming at Batman, but the shot was too high. The masked vigilante tackled him to the ground with shocking force, his anger beginning to boil over as he pictured every victim the Joker had claimed. Joker howled in pain as Batman gripped him even harder before he hit the ground. His muscles tensed as his anger took hold of him. You deserve worse. A CRACK was heard by both of the combatants.

Joker's voice was ragged now, and he reached feebly for his gun, which Batman kicked away. "I didn't think you had it in you, bats. A broken spine? For me? You shouldn't have." He grunted, and edged away from his assailant, each move coming slowly, and a raspy giggle leaked out.

"You go back to Arkham, Joker. Where you stay." Batman, hand shaking, reached for a zip-tie to restrain him, and knelt down. Suddenly, Harley found her voice.

A shot rang out, and Batman heard it strike the wall behind him. "You lay one finger on him and you'll be in tomorrow's obituaries, Bat-Breath!" She moved towards the wire Joker had set and began to cross between the two buildings slowly, but surely, as the gymnast she was. The rifle was aimed directly at Batman, and he was forced to keep his eye on the barrel of the gun, lest a well-aimed shot put him out of business.

He took a moment to reflect the nature of this poor girl's infatuation with such a sick man. She had been by his side for years now, helping him scheme, driving the getaway car, completely at his service. Harley had been such a bright girl, a clinical psychologist with a taste for the criminal. Something about Joker's complete madness had completely swallowed her up in his world of chaos. She truly loved him.

"What have you done?" She shouted, and Batman noticed tears now in her eyes. No theatrics now, but true, honest tears had begun streaming down her face. "Oh, my sweet! What has he done to you?" She knelt down, stroking Joker's face softly. He coughed sharply, and winced. "Shh, quiet now. We'll get this fixed up. I'm sure someone can fix this, right? And then I'll get you a new suit, purple, your favorite."

Batman slowly leaned in to grab the rifle, but Harley spun, aiming it at his head. "You will not touch us!" She shouted, her finger on the trigger. She resembled Joker's unkempt look; her blonde hair was now tangled and matted, her juvenile cap having fallen off and her makeup smearing into a multicolored mess of red, black, and white. "You get away from him, Batman!" She lunged a bit too far, and Batman grabbed the rifle from her grasp. He bent the barrel up and tossed it aside.

"You both stop here, Harley." He stepped towards her, but she retreated quickly, grabbing Joker's wrists and pulling him towards the cable to the other building. Batman stepped forward slowly, "What are you going to do, Harley? Carry him to the other side? Even I couldn't do that."

She looked up at him and almost seemed to growl, "You step any closer, and the building goes up. I'll take all three of us. Not to mention the poor saps inside." She pulled out a detonator from her pocket and waved it above her head. She gripped it while holding Joker's wrists, tugging his disabled form.

Batman stopped, as did his heart. A backup plan. This is new. He studied the scene, and then readied his muscles for a leap. You aren't leaving, Joker.

Harley turned her head for just a moment to look back at where she was stepping, easing her foot to the ledge of the building, and Batman took his shot. He leapt towards her, yanking her free from her grip of the joker. Yet, it felt as though she was able to hold on for a just a little too long. As they both fell, he gripped the cable and reached for Harley. He grabbed her wrist, but she slashed at him with a razor, and he instinctively retracted his hand. She dropped three stories and rolled, crouching down to ease the impact on her knees. She looked up to the ledge and her face registered a look of utter horror.

Batman turned and saw Joker hanging over the edge, his upper body sliding off the building as his immobile legs were all that remained on the roof. Joker attempted a quick grab at the cable, but his finger slipped, and the momentum cancelled out any friction his legs could generate to keep him from falling. As he fell, he grinned at his adversary and closed his eyes.

The sound of metal piercing flesh hit Batman's ears and he looked down; Joker had fallen onto the wrought iron fence that bordered the building, his chest now pierced with three black metal spikes. Batman dropped to the ground and slowly stepped forward, his ears ringing. Joker coughed, crimson blood spilling from his lips, demonizing his already frightful smirk. He turned to Batman and let out a gurgling laugh, then stopped abruptly.

"It's about time you grew a pair, Bats." His body spasmed, the odd arch of his broken back made his legs quiver unnaturally.

Bruce studied the injuries slowly before staring blankly at Joker. He knew there was no way to salvage Joker from his fate. "Joker… This…" He stopped. What would he say? What could he possibly say to his dying nemesis? That he had it coming? That was not his way. Yet, death did not change what they were to each other. Joker's ending life did not change what he had done.

"Don't worry, Batsy. I know goodbyes aren't your strong suit." He drew in a wet, labored breath, and exhaled slowly. "Just promise me one thing."

Batman remained silent as the clown smiled and his eyes fluttered.

"Don't let my mom speak at the funeral. She never did approve of my career choice. AAHAHAHAHA!" His laugh bounced off of the walls around him, and caused blood to spurt from his gaping smile. The laughter dwindled before the Joker finally became limp, his head hanging backwards, blood dripping from his wounds.

The silence was deafening.

Batman reached to close his staring eyes, and let his breath out slowly. What have I done? He thought to himself. As he collected his wits, he grew vaguely aware of the sound of approaching sirens. He knew Gordon would be here, and, not knowing how to face him after this, he knew that he must depart. He looked up at the rooftop and reached for his grappling hook. Before he tossed it, he turned for a last glimpse at the Joker, his adversary, opposite of him in every way. Harley dropped, speechless, to her knees and simply stared at her deceased love.

I cannot be here. He realized, and shot the hook over the ledge.

Harley held the hand of Joker and kissed it slowly, whimpering. "Don't worry, my love," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair, "I'll make this right." Harley pressed her forehead against his, smiling that he was still warm. "I'll always love you," She said, kissing him gently on the cheek. She turned, blood now shining red upon her face, and leapt up the building, somehow managing the strength to flee from Gordon and his men.

Just like that, her world had shattered into a thousand little pieces, scattered across the floor of her mind, bouncing around and breaking into smaller and smaller pieces. The Bat had taken from her the one thing she had in this world. So carelessly had he disposed of her love, and so carelessly did he flee the scene. Harley knelt on the top of a building and allowed herself to weep over the injustice, and weep she did.

The fire in her chest burst and burned her alive, the pain of a lost love consumed her and ravaged her. Tears poured from her eyes as she shook, gasping for breath, wailing violently, and shouting at the world for her misfortune. The Bat had taken her reason for life away. What more could she live for?

Commissioner Gordon stepped out of his car and pulled his jacket in tight, attempting to keep the cold at bay. It was below freezing, and he was glad he had the heater fixed before the winter; he did not want Sarah and the children in a freezing home. It had been expensive, but it was worth it.

He closed the car door, squinting as he saw the faces of his men that crowded around the crime scene: It was a mix of shock and worry, something he was not used to seeing with the hardened members of Gotham's police. He stepped under the yellow tape and was greeted by a young officer, "Commissioner."

"Officer Hall," Gordon nodded sharply before continuing his slow walk to the crowd, "You mind telling me what all the fuss is about, son?" His bristled mustache shimmered in the wind, condensation billowing out in the cold night air, leaving a slight fog on his large glasses.

The young man swallowed hard, keeping pace with Gordon, "Well, sir, we have a homicide. Looks like the victim was tossed off of the building onto an iron fence below. It'll be a little while till we confirm cause of death; we still haven't lifted him off of the metal spikes." He slowed as they neared the group.

"All this fuss for that? I've seen worse from Zsasz." Gordon stepped forward, pushing several men away from the center of the gathering. "What's so big about some poor bastard-"

His words died in his throat, caught in a flash of shock and confusion. Surely this couldn't be right. I have got to be dreaming. Gordon's mind attempted to wrap itself around what he was seeing, through the blood, through the flashing lights, through all of the clouds of emotions in his mind.

He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes for a moment, attempting to speak again, but finding no words. He simply stared. His gray, wizened eyes stared deep into the bright green one of the smiling clown that lay dead, impaled on a black metal fence.

He shook his head and turned away, still processing what he had seen. "How soon?"

Hall jogged over to him, "We are guessing about an hour now, Commissioner."

"Do we have any theories?" Gordon leaned against the wall and fought every urge in him to reach into his pocket for his last cigar.

A sigh, then, "Well, we've found Harley Quinn's hat at the scene."

Gordon frowned, "Harley? That doesn't make sense. Why would she-"

"She didn't." An all too familiar voice sounded from the alleyway, and Gordon's voice cut out.

"Dent?"

A man in jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt stepped from the shadows. He was stunningly attractive; the pinnacle of male beauty, with short, wavy brown hair, a chiseled chin, and dark brown eyes. His skin was fair and smooth, as though he had never aged past his young adulthood, and he had a strong, but slender build. The only visible imperfection was a faint scar that ran from under his hairline, down the middle of his face, and down his neck to his chest. "Harley didn't kill the Joker, Jim."

Hall stood for a moment, but as Dent stared him down with the fierce look he was known for, the young man took the hint and returned to his post. Gordon stood taller now, uneasy with Dent's presence at the scene of a crime. Gordon had always believed it was only a matter of time before Harvey's rehabilitation fell through, and they were chasing him and his secondary persona through the streets again.

"How do you know, Dent?"

"Because I was here." Harvey took out a pack of cigarettes, and drew one of them, lighting it and inhaling deeply. "Seems you trade one addiction for another, eh?"

Gordon snapped, "What are you doing here, Harvey?"

Breathing out, Dent took a moment to crack his neck, loosening it up. "I have a light, if you'd like to break out that cigar you have in your pocket. We all know you aren't going to quit."

"God damnit, Harvey!" Gordon took a step forward.

"Alright, alright." Harvey pocketed his lighter. "Me and Bats have been working together lately. He has taken a particular interest in my rehabilitation."

"I'm aware of Batman's involvement in your case, and-"

"I don't particularly care how you feel about it, Jim. Save it." Harvey took another long drag and exhaled through his nostrils, "While running through information loops for our fellow vigilante, I learned that Joker had recently obtained the petition list to keep Gotham Park from being built over into a shopping center. He decided that he would exterminate everyone on that list."

Gordon began catching his breath, his heart slowing down, "Why?"

Harvey shrugged, "Why does he do anything, Gordon? Because that's what he does. He jumps in and fucks everything up. That's who he is. Well, I guess 'was' is the proper term now." He flicked ash from the end of his cigarette and looked up at the edge, then down to the body on the fence. "Anyway, Bats confronted Joker on the roof earlier this evening, and was going to take him in, yet again. Harley had set up a sniping spot to cover, but it didn't keep Bats from getting in close." Another cigarette drag, then exhale, "Something in him snapped, Jim. At first he broke J's back; grabbed him, squeezed, and slammed him on the ground. Harley loses it, comes after Bats, he disarms her, then she goes to grab Joker and run, doubling back over the cable there," He took in another breath and flicked away the cigarette as he outlined the cable. He dropped his arm and sighed, "He lost it tonight. It was hard to see behind the heating unit I was camping behind, but Bats seemed to jump at Harley, nearly knocking her to her death. She managed to tumble and land it, but he took Joker over, and threw him down onto the fence. The clown died laughing."

Gordon leaned back against the wall and dropped his head. "I can't believe this…" His voice trailed off.

"I don't get it: they were right at the edge of a building, why jump at them?" Harvey wondered aloud, staring at the ground. His eye caught something for a moment, and he bent down to pick it up. Gordon saw him pocket something, and Harvey caught his eye, "Dropped my lighter." He looked back at the body and whistled, "He finally lost it, Jim. All his talk of having a code, and he finally snapped." Harvey kicked the ground under him and began to walk away, "He ran off pretty quick when your guys started showing up." Harvey made it to the end of the alley and turned back over his shoulder, "Once you cross that line, it gets easier to justify crossing it again. I should know; I've crossed it plenty of times."

When Harvey turned the corner, Gordon thought he heard the sound of a metal PING!, but he could not see any source of the noise. He turned back to the body: the men were cutting the metal bars around it to preserve the scene. Why now? Gordon thought, trying to find an explanation for this death. No matter how heinous his crimes, how evil he was, we made a pact. We made a deal to never cross that line. Gordon turned away from the scene. That line is what makes us different from them. He opened the door to his car and took one last look at the body. That blood-caked grin stared back at him, almost into him. That line is what keeps us from being monsters.