I do not own Batman or any other DC characters.

Author's Note: Just so you guys know this story is based off another I wrote called, "Descending Delirium" that I decided to end and reboot it in the fashion of this because I like this version much better than the other one. It is also connected to the Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker movie.

The Origin of Jester: Timothy Drake's Collapse of Sanity

Prologue

"For me, insanity is super sanity. The normal is psychotic. Normal means lack of imagination, lack of creativity." –Jean Dubuffet

Gloved fingers tapped against the metal desk and feet tapped the ground at a rhythm while also pulling at the chain that connected to both hands on a metal bar so he wouldn't be able to run away. He sighed and looked around at the room, seeing nothing but one sided glass from his perspective but he knew on the other side they were viewing him and trying to crack him wide open. He stopped tapping altogether when he started thinking about how to plan his escape when he had the chance.

Sure, he could try to break the table at its weakest point and make a mad dash out of the place when they weren't paying attention as close as they do.

Then, without a second thought for another plan, the door started creaking open with three figures waltzing in.

The first a man in a suit covered in black with armor padding to protect himself from harm when battling others. He also held a cowl over his face to hide his identity from the world, yet he knew who he was. They had been partners once in a long innocent dream ago before it was shattered by a case of reality. He wore a harden expression on his face and keep his emotions from getting the better of him at the case of his instance seeing him.

The second was a young man, probably nearing the end of his twenties, with black hair reaching the back of his neck and ready to almost pass it. He wore a black outfit, like a trapeze uniform, but with a red sigma like a bird across his chest and down his arms but he knew weapons were concealed among his body. A small mask covered his eyes to hide his pain in them and two escrima sticks were seen from his back.

Finally, the third was a young man, younger the previous by three to five years, hiding his face and identity behind a red mask like bucket covering his head. Two eye slits could see out and stare at the monstrosity before him that no one could tell what emotion he was expressing. He wore a black leather jacket and a bullet proof-like armor covering his chest with a red bat sigma painted on it along with heavy combat boots that looked like they could crush a skull easily under his pressure.

He felt his grin almost split across his face and chuckled at the sight of them, catching all of their attention. He started tapping his fingers on the table again as if it were a habit and waited for them to settle in.

"Well, good afternoon, morning, and night to you all." He said to them all and started leaning towards the oldest out of them, "Now, when to begin? How about dropping these act of seriousness and let loose of all your begging questions? For where to beginning in this tale as old as time?"

Suddenly the helmet head grabbed him by his multi-colored outfit of a swirl colored vest of red and green and blue and orange checker board button up shirt. He pulled him up to his helmet and snarled, "What the fuck are you trying to do you idiot?! Are you fucking stupid for trying to pull this shit?!"

He narrowed his green colored contact eyes and moved closer to him, the chains around his wrists pulling hard against his skin.

"Are you fucking stupid?" he questioned him and the helmet head raised a fist to attack him but the young man with the escrima sticks grabbed hold of it.

"Calm down, Hood." He stated and he could tell that under his mask his eyes held concern, "He must be going for some type of attention gain or is trying show that he is pain and wants help."

This time he rolled his eyes at this and managed to flip them the bird.

"Now, are both you fucking stupid?" he said and crossed his legs under the table, "Clearly you haven't been examining me enough to realize that I am not who you think I am."

They both stopped to stare at him while the man narrowed his eyes form under his cowl and the helmet hood released him so he could be properly seated. He rolled his shoulders around and placed his hands down on the table, sorrow and anger biting into his eyes.

"I am not Red Robin." He stated and they all blinked at his response, unsure at what he meant.

"Do you mean-?" the buffer man began and he grinned large, almost his smile broke his face in half.

"I am a separate personality. It's not just Reddy in here", he said and gestured to himself, "there is not just little Reddy in here. There is me, the Jester, and Jackson."

"Jackson?" the buffer man questioned and Jester nodded at this, trying to point to his head.

"Oh?" He questioned them and tilted his head to the side, "You've never meet him before? I'm quite surprised at this. He should have been seen by at least one of you. Oh!" He pointed to the buffer man again and leaned forward to the desk.

"The Bat Brat! That's who has seen him. You know when he supposedly got hit in the head from a surprise attack? That must have been Jackson. He gets really violent. He's not a fan of people and hates that kid with a passion. He stole the Robin title and won't forgive the kid for that. He holds grudges and will not let go of them until he is satisfied. He probably gets it from Reddy's old man." He stated and then blinked a couple of times. He rubbed his eyes and swore before attempting to slam his head into the table but the two others grabbed him, pulling him back.

"No! You fucking idiots! I can't go to sleep just yet! I am not just going to let someone else come in and ruin my parade!" he screamed at them and stared at the two young man before his eyes fluttered to stay awake. Then suddenly he grew limp in their arms and his head hung low, as if he were asleep.

They all waited for him to get back up and say something to them but he didn't even move.

All of a sudden, after what seemed to be moments of silence, he gasped awake and looked down to the ground.

"What…" he began and then looked back up to the buffer man, "is the situation, Batman?"

The two younger men released their grip on him before he glanced at them with a raised black eyebrow.

"What are you guys staring at and where are we?" he asked and the red helmet moved back to face him along with the other young man.

"…Red Robin?" Batman asked him and he stared at him in confusion.

"Who else would I be?" He said and they all stared at him in confusion before Batman pulled out something, holding it in front of his face. His baby blue eyes greeted him like normal but everything else was like he was looking into an evil mirror.

His normally covered black hair was in his face, as if it were oily that clung in large separate pieces, and white face paint coated his entire face with black highlighted on his eyelids and under it a little. His lips though gave him a fright from the long pull of a blade that his lips turned into a large smile like the Batman's archenemy but there was also ugly stitching, as if someone with no experience of sewing tried to help keep it together. He also wore an outfit of irregularity that the others posed to question early on and he started to tremble at the sight of himself.

"Who the hell is that?" he whispered before he bent his head down, clutching it in pain from a headache that was beginning to form.

"I'm Red Robin. Not him." He began to whisper and a smile split up on his face again, "I'm Red Robin. Not him. I'm Red Robin. Not him. I'm Red Robin. Not him. I'm Red Robin. Not him. I'm Red Robin! Not him! I'M RED ROBIN! NOT HIM!"

Then he started laughing, something in his mind broke, as if he couldn't process it.

"I'M HIM! NOT RED ROBIN! I'M HIM! NOT RED ROBIN!" he called out and then stopped all of a sudden, his shoulder slouching down. The red helmet moved to see if he was awake but he snapped back up, glancing around at them.

"What's the situation Batman?" he repeated again and they all stared at him in confusion.

"…Red Robin?" Batman asked and he raised an eyebrow at this.

"Yes, Batman? I am curious on what is going on." He stated and then Batman brought the mirror back up to him. He stared at it before grabbing it from him then shrugged.

"Yes, why am I staring at myself?" he questioned and they all held large eyes at his statement.

"But look at what you're wearing!" the helmet head hissed and he stared at him in confusion.

"I'm wearing my uniform like normal when on patrol." He said and then Batman put a hand on the helmet head's shoulder, shaking his head to drop the subject. He narrowed his eyes at this and glanced around at his surroundings.

"Is this an undercover mission?" he whispered and the others stared at him in complete loss before *Batman stood up, flicking his wrist for the other two to follow him out.

"Hey! Batman! What's going on?!" he called out and slammed the door shut in his face, confusion and worry written across his face.

The younger man crossed his arms and dug out a package of cigarettes, staring down at the contents n his hand.

"So what do you think his diagnosis is?" the younger man asked then took off his helmet to reveal shaggy black hair with a strike of white but a small red mask covered his eyes. He placed it down to his feet and placed the cancer stick between his lips, waiting for a response from the big man.

"Dissociative Identity Disorder."

The cigarette fell from his lips and both vigilantes stared at Batman in horror and shock.

"W-what?" the younger one questioned and Batman sighed, moving back to the door to stare through the window at him.

"He went through major trauma a kid his age shouldn't have gone through. That incident resulted in him becoming what he is today." Batman replied back and in the investigation room, he continued to think about what Batman was planning. He turned back to the other two and clenched his fists tight.

"What happened to him should have never happened at all. An eleven year old kid shouldn't be tortured to what became of him." He murmured and the others stared at him with confusion.

"What type of trauma are we talking about Batman?" the older one asked and under the mask, Batman could feel tears come close to the surface.

"Immense psychology torture through physical and emotion abuse, drug testing, and stress." Batman replied and clenched his hands even tighter, "From being captured by the Joker when he was just beginning as Robin."

"Yes, the poor little birdie flew to far from the nest and ended up being caged by the Joker. Then becoming a puppet for both him and Harley Quin, following orders being whispered in his ear were he couldn't fight it. Until, he couldn't handle the pressure anymore and created an alternate personality, or identity, that could handle everything that he had gone through. Thus, I, the Jester, was born."

They all snapped around to face him with the handcuffs broken and standing still like a statue. His smile almost splitting across his face and pulled out a couple of balls that looked slightly like grenades. He started to juggle them around and waited for them to make a move.

"Now, who's ready to start this party?" He asked and then tossed the three balls/grenades at them, immediately blinding them and caused them to try and take cover. He dashed to make his escape and began to laugh until a headache raked across his body. His eyes grew large and pain continued its way down his body, falling to his knees and heaving for breath. He trembled and then voices started to echo around him.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! I'm Red Robin but who the hell are you?!"

"What you don't remember me?"

"Who could remember the pesky little hero that Batman once cared greatly about? You're nothing but a puppet to him. You disguise yourself as the second but you can never be Robin."

"You are just a replacement."

"No, I'm not!" he exclaimed to the voices and could feel himself become greatly tired just in a matter of seconds, sweat cascading down his back. Suddenly hands clamped on his shoulders and he turned to face the three of them stare down at him as if he were child. He scowled and looked away.

"Damn, I thought I could make a getaway," he said and chuckled at this before smirking at them, "Now, I'm guessing I'm going to have to explain how Red Robin, the Jester, and Jackson were born as an separate identities within the body of Tim Drake."