So swiftly the sun sets in the sky,
You rise up and say goodbye to no one.
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread,
Both of their futures, so full of dread, you don't show one.
Shedding off one more layer of skin,
Keeping one step ahead of the persecutor within.

-"Jokerman", Bob Dylan

The batmobile moved faster then Robin had ever remembered, all the lights of the city blurring into one long, timeless stream. The Batman, driving with a fierce determination, had said nothing since the communicater had rung. He didn't say anything.

Robin decided to break the silence, "Bat--"

"I'm going to stop the car," Batman said, his voice low, almost a growl, "you will stay here. You do not move. You'll wait until I come back. Do not come out. For anything."

Robin looked at him cross eyed, "What? Why?"

Batman, so stiff in his seat he looked like a plank of wood in a bat suit, grinded his teeth together in unprovoked frustration, "Because I said so."

Before Robin could object, the car screeched to a halt, and the Batman was gone, dissapearing into the night so quickly Robin hardly saw him leave.

It became silent, save for the distant blairing of alarms.

Batman was not particularly impatient, gruff, perhaps. Never impatient.

He never left Robin alone, either.

And, naturally, the nine year old grew irritated.

It had been an hour, maybe, when he felt it. The jostle and bump of a body landing on the top of the vehicle. Robin gripped the dashboard, his breath catching in his throat.

He heard more bumps, feet landing on the pavement, running off. A scream could be heard, in the building beside him. He looked at the door, considering.

You'll get in trouble, he thought to himself, you'll never get to go anywhere...

He popped it open, stepping out into the cold air.

He squated, wary of every tap and howl. He walked to the side of the building, to his dismay, seeing the outline of his partner discussing with the police force, Commisoner Gordon in particular.

He let his eyes twitch, feeling them freeze on a lump, barely an outline in the dark corner of the alley. He saw red, moving forward into the light. He caught the face, still, eyes wide open, and a heinous, artificial smile, crooked and torn and bloody.

"Well," said a voice, "your smaller then I expected."

Robin spun on his heels, every alarm in his body going off until he thought he could have jumped at the slightest sound.

A man, hidden by a shadow, laughed. Laughed at what, Robin didn't know. It was a mocking laugh, a condesending laugh. The laugh of someone who had long ago lost whatever spark of sanity they possessed. It sent chills down Robin's spine.

"Who're you?" he asked, his voice unbearably small to his own ears.

The man stepped foreward, just enough so that a hint of bright green hair reached the light, the tip of a blood red smile popping against the pale white skin, "Really? I would've thought the ol' Bats woulda told you about me by now..."

Wait...he was here...Batman was...

What was his name? He'd heard Bruce talk about him, a mad man with green hair and chemical red lips, who killed for the sake of killing, carried Joker cards around with him...

Joker. The Joker.

"Your the Joker..." he said dumbly. He backed up.

"Ah! So he does talk about me!" The man seemed almost giddy at the conclusion. Something glinted in his hands. He inched closer, and the horror of his face came into full view. Robin wanted to be sick.

"Your gonna go to jail," he whispered, more to confirm it for himself, "you broke the law...you killed those people..."

The man let out a loud, cackling breath of a laugh, "Oh, am I! And, what did I do now, Boy Wonder?"

Robin swallowed, reaching behind him, trying to find a bird-a-rang, or his bo staff, something.

He lifted a hand, waving a jagged, bloodstained knife around as he spoke, "Yeah, I've heard alot about you, Robby. Hey, don't be scared. I ain't gonna hurt you. Just wanna talk."

Robin couldn't speak, his eyes glued to the terrible, crusted scars.

He should have stayed in the batmobile, he concluded to himself. That would have been wise.

The Joker, he knew this. He also knew why Robin stared. He came closer.

"You like it? I think it bring out my eyes."

Call for help...call for Batman...

Robin was now pressed up against the brick wall of the alley, as far as he could move, and the knife was inches from his cheek. Every morcel of common sense told him to move, be a fucking superhero, but he couldn't. He was paralyzed. His feet might as well have been welded to the concrete. The knife rested on his cheek, and a surprisingly strong hand pinned his shoulder to the wall, cutting off his breath. He barely wiggled, feeling a trickle of blood run down his cheek.

"Want one?" he asked, as though it were the simplist question in the world. The knife went deeper, and Robin couldn't find a breath in him.

And, so quickly, a rough hand grabbed him by the shoulder, and the Joker was knocked to the side with such force he seemed to fly through the air. A rush of uniformed bodies flew past, and the man started laughing as though it were the funniest thing in the world.

Robin found himself pointing, his voice still nonexistent, at the body at the end of the alley, "...over there...there..."

He looked up, saw Batman almost glaring at him, then the shadow, and the Joker, then back at him. Robin felt himself go stiff, and he pulled away from the grip and walked towards it.

The scene at only become more gruesome, and Robin couldn't look away.

"Robin!" he growled, and, once more, he was jerked away. He heard Batman hiss beside him, and he was lead away.

Robin heard nothing but shouts and orders and laughing and laughing and more laughing, and he was pushed away, towards the Batmobile, and he was practically shoved into the seat. More talking, growling, laughing and laughing and laughing, and they were moving.

He finally looked over, if only for the fear of being pounded into the dashboard. Batman looked strait forward. "I told you not to move."

Robin felt like crying, and he spoke through a bubble, "Why was he laughing?"

Pause. "Don't change the subject. When I tell you something--"

Robin didn't want to be screamed at, he didn't want to hear anything. He thumped his head against the back of his seat, "Why was he laughing?"

Batman didn't say anything.

Tears welled at his eyes, "That...person...his face...it wasn't funny!"

Batman seemed to slack in his grip on the wheel, "Robin..."

Robin shook his head, his mind a blur of bloody smiles and manic laughter, "How could he laugh at that? How can anyone laugh at that?"

Batman sighed, "Robin...listen to me. If you see him again, don't try anything. Don't try to be brave, and don't try to be a hero. You just scream. Call me if you can, but don't try to fight. Just scream."

Robin couldn't imagine that being hard.

"How could someone do something like that?" he whispered.

The man looked forward again, even through the mask, his eyes were gaunt.

"I don't know." he said, simply, as though it explained it all.

The rest of the drive was silent, and Robin couldn't help but think of him laughing, of those frozen faces with the smiles carved into their cheeks. Laughing, but nothing was funny.

Author's Note: Danielle is bored. Danielle needs a life. Danielle has homework. Danielle hates homework. Danielle wants her phone back.