This will be a short story of the events that take place during the flashback sequences from the animated movie Batman Beyond Return of the Joker. I do not own Batman or any of the characters portrayed here in. They are all the property of DC Comics and Warner Brothers by extension. I am not making any money off of this story. Please Enjoy.

Tonight has been a real bust. This is the fourth night in a row that Batsy hasn't shown up to play. I had everything planned out so nicely as well. I threatened to blow up a hospital if I wasn't paid a ransom of twenty million dollars. I never really cared for the money, but a man of my comedic genius could never make his brilliance known to the people unless he had a little start up cash to finance his projects.

But that was irrelevant. What mattered for me though was that I was sure, sure, that something like that would attract Batman's attention. After all, it was the type of thing that had always gotten his attention in the past. Thousands of innocent people's lives in the balance, explosives, and of course, yours truly presiding over what was sure to be a showstopper.

But he didn't show up. I couldn't even get the first boy blunder to attend my little show. Instead I was confronted with Batgirl and the second bird brain. My heart just wasn't in it after that. I put up a little fight just to save face, but the gag had been clearly spoiled. It was meant for Batman, but he couldn't be bothered to show up. It turns out he was stuck in South America with his buddies in the Justice League. Something about an Aztec curse or something, who cares?

The point is that it seems Batman has moved on. Back in the day when there were fewer superpowered guys in spandex and when the universe wasn't being threatened by alien warlords every other week Batman and I had a friendship that was simple and easy to follow. I'd bust out of Arkham, come up with a new plan to send Gotham down in flames, kill a few pedestrians, and maybe stop for some Ice Cream on the way there.

And then Batman and I would get into a fight. It was a wonderful game of cat and mouse, much like two best friends playing a game of tag. There were a few rules of course. Batman refused to kill anyone and I tried to kill him and as many people as I could while trying to get him to break his rule. He always seemed to win though, and I'd get carted off to jail. Lather, rinse, repeat.

It was loads of fun though, a grand struggle between the ideologies of order and chaos. It would have been nice to win once in a while, but the thrill of the chase was at times reward enough. Batman was a challenge. I've always had a great ability to inspire laughter in my fellow man, but Batman always resisted. I threw every joke in my arsenal at him. I used every form of comedy I knew, from standup to more slapstick routines. I even tried observational humor a few times, and yet I never heard a single chuckle out of him.

I could never put a smile on his face, not even a smirk. It seems that I am the only one who truly appreciated our friendship. It was easier when we were both starting out. When I first decided to bring a smile to the faces of the people of Gotham I was the first of a new brand. They called me a super-criminal, a new breed of creature come to plague our fair city. Those were the early days, before the men with gimmicks and masks came along in full force. In those days the mobsters ran Gotham City. Rupert Thorne, Sal Valestra, Carmine Falcone, those were the big name fella's who ran the rackets. Such small, pitiful men, wearing their suits and fedoras and plotting in smoke filled back rooms to carve up the city a little finer between them. They had no sense of theatricality, no sense of art or joy when it came to their work. They were talentless hacks the lot of them. They had no style, no pizazz. I knew even then that Gotham deserved a higher caliber of criminal.

The talking heads on TV claim that the rise of the "masked criminal" as they so blandly labeled folks like me was a psychological form of escalation. The "good guys" and the "bad guys" in Gotham had, up until the mid-80's been locked in stalemate between the cops and the robbers, with the legal system caught somewhere in between.

And then HE came along. On to the stage walked our friendly neighborhood rodent. With practiced ease (or so it seemed at the time) Batman systematically dismantled the stranglehold that the mob had held on Gotham for well over a century.

But nature it seems abhors a vacuum. As more and more "regular" crooks were put behind bars Gotham saw the freaks come out to play. Some argued that Batman's vigilantism had caused our emergence, but the fact of the matter is that we would have likely showed up to plague Gotham one way or another. We probably wouldn't have been running around in colored undies and codenames, but we would have shown up eventually, just as crazy and just as willing to leave our mark.

Gotham became center stage to the show of a lifetime, the never-ending struggle between the Batman, his allies, and the group of misfits that went on to become known as the Rogues Gallery.

Of all of the so called villains in the world none were quite as prestigious or revered as the Gotham Rogues. We were the royalty of the criminal world, respected and feared by all across the underworld. We've never had much competition. After all, what other super-criminal group could stand against us?

Stupid-Man's enemies had no sense of grandeur. Lex Luthor? Braniac? Darkseid? Please. A bunch of melodramatic drama queesns so obsessed with such trivial things like power that they oftentimes forgot to enjoy themselves.

The Flash's enemies have no appreciation for the art of terror.

Green Lantern's enemies have no considerations for the more important things in life.

Villains the world over are so obsessed with obtaining such worthless things. Take over the world? What would they do with it? Steal all of the world's wealth? Again, what would they do with it?

That is what set the Gotham Rogues above all the rest. We never looked for something as petty as money or power. We put on our costumes and did what we did because crime amused us. Any money we came across in the process was merely a means to fuel our little hobbies of murder and mayhem. We didn't commit crimes because we desired something greater. We murdered and stole because we could.

But the dawn of the 21st Century paved the way for a different world. The stakes grew higher and suddenly, one clown threatening to destroy half of Gotham didn't seem as big a deal anymore. I mean how could it when the entire world was being invaded by aliens every other year?

Batman seemed to move on to greener pastures. He had new friends to play with now. He spent more and more time in that little club house in space with his buddies in the Justice League, having a grand time being a hero, leaving his old Gotham pals behind in the dust. Oh sure, he always came back, and we still had our little romps, but never again would we have the Bat's undivided attention. The world had gotten stranger and tougher, and in contrast to the new foes he fought we costumed crooks didn't seem quite as impressive as we used to be.

The gag got old. People got used to us. We started losing our appeal. The crowds got tougher.

The act got stale. The last few years I've been using the same old jokes, the same puns.

I've fallen into a rut.

We've had our share of laughs, but none of us are getting any younger. I tried to avoid giving it much thought, but sooner or later it will come to an end. It's getting harder and harder these days, the superheroes and the cops are to organized now for guys like me to have their fun. It's getting even harder to break out of jail these days as well. A few of us have already fallen into permanent retirement. Wesker is reformed, the Penguin is behind bars, this time for good, and it seems that old Harvey Dent's split personality has only gotten worse. I remember the last time I broke out. He was just sitting in his cell, muttering to himself. To think he was one of the best of us once. I had a good laugh at his expense at the time, but my laughter seemed to fall on deaf ears.

I don't think he even knew who I was by that point.

What is the point of a joke if the person being made fun of can't even understand that he is being laughed at?

Is that how we'll all end up eventually? Each of us locked in a padded cell for the rest of our days, resigned to wither away without one last hurrah?

NO.

That may be Two Face's punchline, but I'm not going out that way. The Clown Prince of Crime leaves on his own terms! How dare Batman leave us for his new buddies? Has he forgotten where he comes from? He's gotten too big for his cowl, that is it!

It's about time I shook things up a bit. The game has to change. A change in pace will make things very interesting. But this time there is going to be a very definitive end. One of us has to go, that is how the game is played. The show has been fun, but even the longest of operas must come to an end inevitably.

But the climax has to be huge. It has to be emotional. It has to be…personal.

Yes, I see it all falling into place. The end of Batman has to be wracked with misery and defeat. If I'm going to kill the Bat permanently, I'll have to break him spiritually first. And the best way to break a man's heart is to go after his children. He's always had a few nipping at his heels. It should be easy enough to get my hands on one. And then the grand finale will finally be able to take place.

I'm sure that it is going to be an absolute killer.