As he laid there in bed, the machines made a light sound that informed him that his heart was still beating. Regardless of the faint reminder, the old man was well aware that the end was near. The only opponent that no one could defeat was knocking at his door: time. Unless you had some special edge, death would eventually come for you and the old man was ready. He spent the better part of the last two weeks adjusting his last will and testament. While his co-workers and subordinates didn't like the terms, they had to respect his wishes. Some protested but eventually relented, aware that their efforts would all be futile. Bruce was dying and there was nothing anyone was going to be able to do about it. This was something that Bruce and even the League had been preparing for quite some time. No one had anticipated the Dark Knight passing away from a prolonged battle with cancer. They expected him to be killed in action, taking out by a lucky crook that would live in infamy for being the one person to put down the batman. It was a legacy that many criminals in Gotham had longed for but no one was able to step up and get the job done. When Bruce was diagnosed, it was clear to everyone that the time had finally come to step down. He was free to work out of the cave and the watchtower if he wanted, but he was no longer allowed to go out into the field, which is what genuinely bothered the billionaire the most. He always wanted to be out there, kicking down doors and dragging crooks to Gordon. All good things end, and Bruce knew when it was time to hang his cowl and pass the mantel onto Dick Grayson, who turned out to be a formidable Batman. But something changed when Dick took over. The one person Bruce assumed his young ward might need help fighting also seemed to drop off the radar, to the point where Bruce began to suspect that something might have happened. It had been years since Bruce retired, and there wasn't a peek from his arch nemesis since then as well. The silence was unnerving, as Bruce long thought that something big was being planned but nothing ever came. It was as if his rival knew he retired and hung his cleats up as well. Despite all the attempts to treat the cancer, it was no use. Bruce's time on with the living was slowly fading and the end was near.
When Bruce knew that he would have to be hospitalized, he used some of his massive family fortune to purchase a small island from the military. At first they were resistant to his request, but after speaking with the President through the Justice League, they relented and allowed to buy the island and build his own private hospice. Since Bruce was not long for this world, he offered to let the government buy the island back once he had passed, which seemed to swing the deal his way. He had his own staff, his own medical team, and anything he would need to ensure comfort in his final days on earth. Bruce moved into the custom hospice several months ago, but his time there was just about up. Whenever the pain became almost unbearable, he would medicate himself with morphine but used it very sparingly.
One morning, Bruce softly pressed a button by his bedside. Moments later a nurse arrived to come to his aid.
"Is there something wrong, Mr. Wayne?" the lady asked.
"I'm a little parched," Bruce replied, "I'd like to have a cup of tea please; Milk and three sugars please."
"Three sugars?" the nurse replied.
"Seriously?" Bruce said, as he raised an eyebrow. "Do honestly you think my blood sugar matters at this stage?"
The nurse sighed, "I suppose not, Mr. Wayne. I'll go get it."
Right after the nurse left, Bruce took a moment to scan the room. He should have known the moment he opened his eyes but had missed something. He was getting sloppy in his old age.
"I can't see you, but I know you're there." He called out.
"I don't know how you do it," a voice called out. "but you seem to always detect me in ways no one else can."
"It's a gift," Bruce replied, "But it took longer this time J'onn."
"I noticed that too," the voice called out before emerging from behind the walls. Martian Manhunter, also known as J'onn Jones, had been watching over Bruce for some time. Like many others he was apprehensive about the plan Bruce had put forward but lost out to the sound logic of the Dark Knight.
"You're not going to change my mind," Bruce informed him.
"I came to say goodbye." The Martian corrected, "I can sense that you're getting weak. Do you really think he'll show up?"
"He'll show." Bruce confirmed, "He wouldn't miss it for the world. So do me a favor and disappear before you scare him away."
"There has to be another way." J'onn insisted.
"There isn't." Bruce stubbornly replied, "Once I confirm he's here, it's over. I suggest you not be here when that happens."
"You deserve a more peaceful passing," J'onn continued.
"Not everyone gets the passing they deserve." Bruce retorted, "This is the ending I want, it's best for everyone. Please leave before my tea gets here."
"Farewell, my friend." J'onn said, as he began to fade from sight. "Your sacrifices well not be forgotten."
"Better not," Bruce said with a smile, "That watchtower didn't pay for itself."
"Farewell, my friend." J'onn said before he disappeared though the wall.
"Good bye, J'onn." Bruce whispered before laying back on his bed and taking a long, deep breath. He laid their waiting to see who would arrive first; death or his special visitor. He wouldn't have to wait long before someone strolled into the room. At first he thought it was the nurse, especially since the person put the tea down beside his bed, but he was mistaken. It was the man he was waiting for. The one man he expected to show up to pay his respects and say good bye. It was the Joker. He looked down at Bruce with that evil smirk on his face.
"Do you want one lump or two?" the madman asked.
"That depends," Bruce answered, "are you offered to put sugar in my tea?"
"Not exactly," the joker replied with a chuckle. He then subtly revealed that he was carrying a fairly large hammer with him. He didn't seem impressed that Bruce had ruined that punch line to his latest attempt at humor.
"That's the way it's always been with you Batsy," the Joker said as he put the hammer down on one of the chairs, "Always ruining my fun!"
Bruce lay quietly in his bed, not letting the sudden revelation rattle him. "How long have you known my true identity?"
"Please show me a little respect," Joker said, as he pulled up and chair and sat down. "I may be insane, but I'm not stupid. I've known for quite some time. Who else could afford all those wonderful toys? I'm guessing that gargantuan watchtower didn't pay for itself either..."
"Fair enough," Bruce said, not caring at that point. "Then why didn't you kill me when you had the chance? You knew who I was and where I lived."
"Kill you?" the Joker repeated, "I'm afraid you got this all wrong, Batsy. I don't want to kill you."
"You don't?" Bruce asked, as he could hardly believe it.
"Or course not!" The Joker confirmed, "What would I do without you? Go back to ripping off mobsters and banks? I'm sure your friends in tights would have amused me for a little while but none of them, not even your boy wonder will ever be as fun to dance with as you were. No, no, no, no... you complete me."
"Is this why no one has seen you in years?" Bruce asked, "Because I retired?"
"Yeah, pretty much." The Joker confessed.
"If I had been aware you'd do that," Bruce coldly replied, "then I would have retired a long time ago."
"I took a break because I knew your retirement was legit," Joker continued, "I knew you didn't want to give it up but you had to. The dance was over, it was time to leave the hall and remember the good times rather than what darkness lies ahead."
"So this is it then," Bruce said, "This will be our final dance. You'll finish me off before the cancer does?"
"If you want me to." The Joker said, "After all we've been through, all the good times we've shared... I'd be willing to give you a quick, painless death if you want one."
"That considerate," Bruce replied, "But I'm capable of doing that myself. All those fancy toys, remember?"
"Like you're in any condition to stop me..." The joker said, as that cruel grin returned to his face.
"Do what you want, Joker." Bruce told him, "But at the end of the day, you're coming with me."
Now it was the Joker's turn to be surprised. He hopped out of his chair and pulled out a small device from his pocket. It was a crude little thing, but the Joker looked it for a moment, turned it off and then put it back into his pocket.
"Nice try," he said, even giggling a little bit. "But I scanned this entire building for any kind of booby trap. There are no bombs, no tricks that you can use to take me with you."
"So you scanned the whole building," Bruce repeated, "But did you scan the entire island?"
There was dead silence between the two. They stood there like statues staring at one another, like that had so many times before, trying to determine what was going through their mind.
The Joker finally said, "You don't have the balls!"
"Are you sure about that?" Bruce asked.
"There are hundreds of people on this island," the Joker said, somewhat shocked that he was being the man of reason this time. "I know you own this nice piece of land but are you willing to eradicate them all to make sure I go too?"
"What makes you think they don't know that?" Bruce retorted, "Do you know what this island used to be before I bought it?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact I do." The joker replied, "It used to be a test site; where the military would test all their boom toys."
"Yes, and is still is." Bruce said, now smiling at the mad man. "Today we're going to test a new boom toy."
"And what about the staff, the people here?" The Joker said, as he could hardly believe the Batman could he so cruel.
"They're all terminally ill as well." Bruce answered, "They are ready to die and their families are going to be well compensated for their sacrifice."
"What if I escape?" Joker asked, "All this could be for nothing."
"We're at ground zero." Bruce informed him, "You'd have to cover four miles in less than ten seconds to escape instant death. If I'm not mistaken, the blast is going to be somewhere around fifteen kilotons."
"That's psychotic!" The Joker spat at Bruce, "Even by my standards!"
"It's my dying wish," Bruce said as he held up a small trigger in his right hand. "To leave this world knowing you won't be in it anymore either."
"Is that you only dying wish?" the Joker asked.
"No, it's not." Bruce said, pausing for a moment. "What's your name?"
"You mean my real name?" the Joker inquired.
"Yes," Bruce asked, "What were you called before you became the Joker?"
The Joker realized that any attempt to escape would be futile, so he sat back down on the chair and sighed. "I could tell you, but you'd never believe me."
"Try me," Bruce insisted, eager to know the truth.
"Alright," the Joker said as he paused for a moment. "Thomas Wayne, but I prefer to be called Tommy."
Bruce's face flushed for a moment, then he became red with intense anger. "You're lying!"
"You see," the Joker said as he raised his hands, "I told you that you'd never believe me."
"You're not my father!" Bruce roared, unwilling to believe it.
In response to the comment, the Joker began to roar with laughter. The kind of laugh that was so intense that he began to cry, and almost wet himself.
"Oh, that's a good one," the Joker said, slapping his knee. "Honestly, do I look old enough to be your father?"
"Then who are you?" Bruce asked again.
"I told you!" The Joker called back, "I'm Thomas Wayne... Junior."
"Junior?" Bruce repeated.
"Yes, Junior," The Joker said, "I'm a product of Thomas Wayne Senior's first failed marriage."
"This can't be true!" Bruce said, trying to think back of all the time he read the Wayne records. He never came across anything that would have mentions a prior spouse, or a son for that matter.
"You never knew me because Pops left mother and I out of his will," Joker said as he stood up, "We were cast out by the Wayne family, left to fend for ourselves. You'll never find records to prove this, your father made sure of that. Divorce was looked down on quite a bit back then, so he pulled a lot of strings and greased a lot of palms to make sure the first marriage vanished from the books, erased as if we had never existed."
"This can't be true," Bruce said, unwilling to believe it.
"Why not," the Joker said, as he began to step closer to Bruce, "Wouldn't this answer all your questions and solve the mystery hanging in the air?"
"What mystery?" Bruce asked, having trouble remembering what they had said earlier as he was still trying to process this revelation that was just dropped on him.
"About why I never killed you," The Joker said, as he towered over his brother's bedside. "It's because you're my brother. I would never kill my father's son."
Bruce stood there and it all made sense. Everything fit together like it never did before and he had all the answers he ever wanted.
"Thank you," Bruce told the Joker.
"For what?" the Joker asked.
"For telling me what I needed to know." Bruce replied.
"Is that it?" The Joker asked, somewhat disappointed. "Is that all you're going to say to your only brother?"
"No," Bruce answered, "There's one thing I'd like to say."
"And what is that?" The Joker asked.
Bruce held up the trigger, which had a flashing red light that meant the weapon was armed and ready to go.
"Good bye Thomas." Bruce calmly said to his brother before pressing the button.
Once the button was pressed, the last thing Bruce could see before the flash that ended him was the look on Joker's face. The look of absolute shock and disbelief as the Joker honestly thought Bruce didn't have the minerals to actually do it. He also thought that Bruce might change his mind if he knew the truth about their relation. He was wrong on both counts. Regardless of who the Joker really was, in the end he was a psychotic madman that needed to be taken out. Bruce watched his brother's face as it then turned into a look of horror as the lunatic realized that his own death was also imminent.
The nuclear weapon, which was indeed fifteen kilotons as Bruce has earlier implied, was across the street from their building, which meant both Bruce and the Joker were in the middle of ground zero. Everything within two miles became enveloped into a fireball in a hundredth of a second. In the time it would take to turn on a flash light, the temperature in their room went to eighteen million degrees Fahrenheit, which was comparable to what it would be like inside the sun. Everything within two to three miles was instantly vaporized. This was the one way Bruce could be absolutely sure that the Joker would never be able to escape. Since this was a very small island, the blast wiped out all life on it, not even bacteria survived.
Several miles away, on another island, there were several people watching the blast from a very safe distance. Many of them were military general and advisors to the President. The others were the remaining members of the Justice League. Superman stood there and watched the mushroom cloud form, while holding Wonder Woman in his arm as she cried. He had never seen her cry before, but he knew that Diana and Bruce had been close for sometime even though they pretended it was a secret.
"I can't believe he's gone." Flash said, standing there in shock.
"No one could have survived that blast," Green Lantern said as he also watched the cloud form into the sky. "The reign of the Joker is finally over..."
"What if someone else takes his place?" Flash asked.
"There will always be copycats," Superman answered, "The men who died in there were the originals, we will never see anyone like them ever again. No offense..."
Everyone in the room turned to face the Batman that was standing in the middle of the room. Dick never took his eyes off the mushroom cloud but he held his composure and never showed any emotion, despite how he felt inside.
"None taken," Batman replied, "Let's get back to work."