thirty years it had been thirty years since the last time anyone had seen hide or hair of the criminal mastermind known as "The Joker" Gotham, the world, everything was different. The old Rogues sat confined, were laid to rest or had rejoined society, and so the dark knight had hung up his cape, passing the torch to the next generation; and while he didn't dwell on it the aging detective occasionally let his mind stray to the one mystery still left unsolved.
Until one day as he was sifting through the minutia the CEO of a multi billion dollar company is expected to sift through a algorithm he'd programmed into every computer he'd owned for the last three decades sent him an alert. The aging businessman froze, he stared at the search program that had been opened. The algorithm had run a search every hour for thirty years for the joker's aliases, the clown had let his money sit untouched in secure and secret accounts, but now apparently he needed it.
A week later batman stood on the roof of a building under cover of darkness. The darkness like the suit was comforting, like he'd been walking through life naked for years and was only now protected from the elements. He didn't let himself linger on those thoughts though. Holding the electric viewfinder to his eye he peered down to the building across the street, through a window into a small but well appointed apartment. A family was sitting down to dinner
The girl was maybe seven, red haired like her mother that hung just below her shoulders, it clashed horribly with the canary sundress she wore. Across from her was her brother, who took more after his father, a dark eyed teenager with auburn hair that frayed wildly in all directions, the skull on his shirt simultaneously ironically and un-ironically proclaiming his apathy for the world around him. Their mother smiled as she chatted with her family, a slender woman in her mid fifties and wearing age well. Her own fiery hair shaved on one side, the fashion of her youth.
Then there was the father, a more unassuming man had never existed. He sat at the head of the table still wearing the white button down shirt he'd had on at work, black tie loosened, brown hair clipped short and sensibly. The man, one Arthur Smith, Mid level functionary for Gotham's third largest accounting firm, Married to Julia Smith, Father of Harvey and Quinn Smith, was without a doubt the most dangerous criminal in the city's history.
It had taken days of back tracking the alias through proxies, assembling lost data and good old fashioned leg work but he'd finally pieced it together. The Joker had used the money from his last heist to pay for surgeries, experimental treatments, a new identity complete with fingerprints and a gene cocktail so even DNA would be useless in tracking him down. What the Bat couldn't figure out was why, Why vanish? Why never resurface? Why become the most boring man in Gotham and Why slip up and use that alias now?
He had trailed Arthur Smith for days now, he never faltered from his routine, up at 6, make breakfast for his family, walk the twenty blocks to work, put in a full nine hours walk home, eat dinner, help his children with their homework, then off to bed at nine. It wasn't until the walk back on Friday night that anything changed. On his way home Arthur turned into an alleyway, and just stopped.
He stood there for a long moment, Batman concealed on a fire escape above watching as the man's shoulders began to rock. Then he heard it.
That laugh, the laugh that had punctuated the end of thousands of stories, that laugh that had made mothers weep in fear for their children and turned strong men to sniveling cowards. All doubt was gone and he lept from his hiding spot, baring the monster to the ground, but he just kept laughing. The Joker made no attempt to fight or run as batman hauled him to his feet, slamming him up against the cold stone wall of one of the buildings surrounding them.
"There's no statute of limitations on murder Joker, I know the procedures you've had and I have witness who'll testify who you are, the joke's over"
A swell of satisfaction rose in Batman's chest, it was over. Then the laughed subsided and the joker reached down into his pocket. A gauntleted fist to the clown's stomach made him drop what he'd been trying to produce. It was wallet, and as it fell pictures spilled out, it had been stuffed full of them. Arthur with his children, with his wife on their wedding.
"Do you get it?" The glee in the joker's voice was unmistakable as Batman released him and took a step back. The cape crusader nodded, head hung in defeat. Arthur Smith wiped the corners of his eyes and gave one last laugh as he scooped up his wallet and resumed his stroll home to his loving wife and children.