Bad weather was a stable of Gotham City. Where storms would roll in and the rain could lasts weeks at a time. This night was no different. The rain hitting the pavement and soaking the city streets, making driving a hazard. The storm was raging outside. High winds. Where most people stayed indoors and the ones who left their homes were usually up to no good. Another usual night. At least that's what everyone thought. But, this night wasn't like the others. Where a young boy snuck out of the Manor to prove himself to his guardian. A guardian who took it upon himself to change Gotham for the better.

A city shrouded in corruption since the first settlers arrived to call it home. A place where a rich family could go out to see a movie, only to be gunned down in an alleyway where only the son remains. Years went by and that eight year old child had grown up to cause an upheaval towards crime. A bat in the night. A protector, who knew this city better than anyone. Or, at least the man thought so. Until tonight. When the night would end with blood staining a wet street. For Gotham wasn't like any city in America. It held a dark secret hidden away in the vast sewer system that ran through the roots of this city. A secret that would make itself known only every twenty seven years, only to then disappear and be forgotten. The cycle repeating on and on. Although, this night would change everything. And, it's all because a child lost his parents years before, and another child thought he was ready to fight against the cruelty of the world on his own only to be proven mistaken.

Jason Todd was the happiest he had ever been in his life. Although, he had many hardships growing up on the streets that held a kill or be killed mentality, and countless regrets that would weigh heavily on his heart, there was one decision he made that he would never change. A theft that went against what was considered morally right changed everything for the better. At least he would think that until this night ended. For how could he have known then that stealing the wheels off the Bat-mobile would be the catalyst moment to sign his death sentence on a seemingly normal rainy night.

Right now, he was feeling on the top of the world. Even if his Robin costume was uncomfortable due to the downpour, he never felt so alive. His split lip not even dampening his mood, and the feeling of shattering a weapons dealers arm was like an intoxicating drug. His mentor wouldn't have approved of him going out on his own. But, Jason disagreed. He had taken the mantle of Robin for a year now, and although he was only twelve years old, he was skilled enough to take down men twice his size. A shame really, all of Gotham would come to realize that an ageless monster had awoken from its long rest and would soon set his sights on the young vigilante. Setting off a train reaction that would strike terror in all involved and change the face of this city forever.

Each blow that his enemies had tried to take the boy down would be matched with brutality that even Batman would chastise him for using. A group of ten men were nothing in contrast to the yearlong grueling training this child had to partake in to wear the very outfit that would bring the criminals in a state of panic. They may have feared the Bat the most, but Robin wouldn't hesitate to prove that fear should be geared towards him. When the last man fell, Jason couldn't keep the grin off his face. His dyed black hair sticking to his forehead. His heart racing with adrenaline, he let out a laugh. Jason lived for nights like this. And, soon when Bruce realized his accomplishments of taking down the biggest weapons deal that Gotham has seen in years, then he would truly feel free.

Jason was at the peak of bliss. Ready to move onto the Penguin's location and end this once and for all, until the sound of laughter wormed its way into his ears. He stopped in his tracks. Grappling gun in hand as he turned his head to look around. Assuming one of the dealers had gotten up to continue the fight. Nothing was there, except floating near a storm drain was a green balloon. A red smiley face printed on it and seemingly to stare him down.

Gotham City was known for peculiar occurrences since Batman arrived on the scene several years back and any alarm that should have been warranted didn't process in the rebellious youths mind. It should have. If it did then young Jason Todd would have gone home this night. Awoken to a wonderfully delicious breakfast made by a loyal butler. Slept in a nice warm bed. Even the reprimand he would have received from taking on hardened criminals alone by Bruce would have been nothing, but an inconvenience. Regrettably, that was not what would happen. Instead, Jason had found himself drawn to the abnormality. Sealing his fate and along with it the future of all of Gotham.

The balloon floated there unmoving despite the harsh wind. Even its surface stayed dry. Leaving Jason curious on how that was even possible. Still, he couldn't think of it long enough for once he got close enough to reach out and try and grab the balloon, it made a sickening pop. Startling him in a childish fear sort of way. The drop in temperature caused Jason to shiver. Made him reconsider his rationality for going out tonight in the first place. However, he was stubborn. More so than Bruce would ever be. A dangerously quality to have that only became an advantage for the monster watching him where he stood. Feeling he wasted enough time with childish curiosity, Jason was ready to head off. Get as far away from here as possible. Take down the Penguin or hell, return home even. Whatever destination he choose was good enough for him right about now.

Laughter stopped him in his tracks. His blue eyes darting into the storm drain. His body instantly going on edge. Ready, for a fight. Making a deadly mistake he crouched down to get a better look. Water sinking into his armored green boots. At first he couldn't see anything in the darkness. A realization that only made him even more tense and uneasy. What caused him to startle out of his skin was the striking glowing yellow eyes that seem to appear out of thin air. He blinked, and the eyes were now an emerald green. Weren't they yellow? Must have been seeing things, he reasoned to himself. The form in the drain moved more into view and that's when Jason felt like the world had flipped on its head. Gone absolutely nuts.

A clown was in the storm drain. A wide grin plastered on that chalk white face. He could make out the detail in the clown's presumed make up. Blue eye-shadow on the eyes that made those pools of green striking in contrast. Two red lines went above his green brows, sliding down past his eyes and cheeks, meeting at the edges of the clown's ruby lips. The clown wore a purple suit, an orange under vest, green tie and undershirt. As well as withered flower pinned the purple suit jacket. Not the typical attire for a clown, but the green hair and every other aspect fit the bill well enough. Jason has experienced a lot of absurd things living in this city, but this took the cake.

"Heya, kiddo," The clown addresses him. His smile growing even wider that didn't seem normal in human standards. Impossibly wide. "I like your outfit. Costume party?" He asks and lets out a chuckle.

Jason narrowed his eyes at the clown. Feeling insulted by the comment. He may have been the second person to take the mantel as Robin, but he thought he at least made more of an impact than Dick ever did. At least towards criminals. Which he wasn't to sure if this clown was one or not. He should give him the benefit of the doubt. At least, that's what Alfred would tell him to do.

"Not exactly," he says. Not giving to much information away. A beat. Then adds. "What's a clown even doing in a storm drain anyway?" Sure, it might have come off as rude, but Jason was never fond of mincing words. A trait he must have adopted in the year of living with Bruce and Alfred's playful bickering and his responsibilities as one of the protectors of Gotham City.

The clown tilts his head. Giving the child a curious and amused look. His body jerking slightly in almost unnatural movements.

"The storm," he says and when Jason doesn't respond, the clown continues. "It washed me down here. Haven't been able to get out, you see." Odd, but given the reputation this city possessed, Jason could at least attempt to believe it. "Now, what's a brave boy like yourself doing out on a night like this, in this weather?"

"You really don't read the papers, do you?" Jason jokes and the clown lets out a chuckle that comes off more unhinged than anything cheerful.

"You could say, it's been awhile since I have," The clown replies. Ominous on the actual meaning behind those words. "Although, I do make it a habit to at least stay as informed as I can." He gives a jerky nod. Then goes silent. Staring intensely at Jason. It makes the child feel even more uneasy. He can't read what the clowns intentions are, but instinct is screaming at him to leave. Right now. That the clown couldn't be trusted. If only he honestly knew how correct he was before it was too late.

This one definitely belongs in Arkham. Jason thinks to himself.

He couldn't really stay and chat. And, if he was being honest, this situation was giving him the creeps. He'd rather be dealing with the Riddler's aggravating condescending monologues than deal with some freakish clown in a storm drain. Besides, he wasn't sure how long it would be before Batman realized he was gone. If the older man didn't already know and was out looking for him already. Needing to still prove himself and not waste anymore time, he glances at the clown -that didn't even blink for close to a minute now- and gives as much as a sorry filled look he could manage given the bizarre circumstances.

"I need to go," He states. But, before the child could even leave the clown stops him with paralyzing comments.

"Go? But, aren'tcha a hero? You wouldn't leave a defenseless person stuck; would you? What would Batman think?" The clown frowns in feign sadness. His words hit its mark. In a way that shocks Jason to his core.

"I thought, you didn't know who I am?" He replies, unease tainting his tone against his control.

"Like I said, I like to keep informed," he states as if that answer is all he needs. Even if it was a tell-tale sign to his true nature. That would only go oblivious to the child. For now. "So, will you help me get out? That's what you do right? Help people." He persuades. Sounding way to eager. Hopeful that Jason would take the bait.

Every fiber in him tells him not to. That he needs to just let this one go. Leave. Get home. Yet, Jason can't. Not when he was so desperate for Bruce's approval. And, he was trained to help anyone in need. A philosophy he didn't fully embrace as much as Batman did. As, Bruce would even save the lives of the worse men this city could produce. While, he himself would rather see them killed. Would be better for everyone if they were. Innocent people was different. Jason was just as determined in the task of helping people as his mentor was. The clown was still a strange grey-line for him. Though, the only real thing he could deduce about this clown was he might be insane, he couldn't say for certain if the stranger was a menace or not.

Jason should have went with the former.

He doesn't.

"Yeah," He doesn't sound sure. "Just take my hand and I'll pull you out." He offers after at least two minutes of silent contemplation. Oddly, the clown didn't seem put off by the silence. Just staring Jason down. It was unnerving and almost makes him change his mind. The clown seems to sense this and speaks up. Voice gentle and soft.

"Such a good little birdy, you are," The clown says. Bouncing on his feet. "Batman would be proud. Yes, he would!" His green eyes gleam. His words sounding like a promise.

It's all the motivator Jason needs. Reaching past his unease with the clown and pulling out a level of pride he desperately needed to feel. Approval is the one thing he strives for when it came to his mentor. And, just the thought that he's doing the right thing despite his fears is the push he needs. Jason lowers himself down onto his knees to be able to reach for the clown. Getting the momentum he'll need for the task. Rain water sinks to the fabric of his attire. He leans forward, holding his hand out in the storm drain. A purple gloved hand latched on to his wrist. And, Jason only has a split second to realize how fatal his decision was when green eyes instantly flash yellow. By then, it was too late for him to yank free. That grin stretches even wider, rows upon rows of needle like teeth sprout out of the clowns mouth.

"I think, you and your arm need a divorce," is the only warning the clown gives. Even then his voice was distorted as if it wasn't being spoken from his lips. Just like that, the clown leans forward in his attack. Sinking those sharp teeth in the boy's arm. Right through the muscle and right through bones. A broken scream fills the street as Jason pulls away. Missing an arm. It had been ripped clean off.

The pain was like nothing he experienced in his life. He's had broken bones before, been stabbed by a knife, even gotten a bullet graze once, but none compared to the agony he was currently in. Jason hears the clowns laughter. However, he's too busy trying to crawl away. Desperate to get away. Survive. Fighting till the bitter end. Pulling out his communicator in a naive thought that Batman could save him.

"Batman, help," is all the he can get out. One last desperate plea for a savior that would come too late. Where his body won't be found until the morning.

The clown places his hands on the entrance of the storm drain. Looking out at the attempting to flee vigilante. His laughter subsiding just long enough to get his words out.

"Need a hand kiddo? You seem to be lacking," the taunting as cruel as its owner who says the words. His arms stretches out -inhumanely long- grabs the boy by the ankle and adds; "Oh, no, no, no. Can't have you calling Daddy Bat right now. He'd be so mad at the mess you made, here let me help you."

One last pain-filled gasp leaves the area as the bleeding child would take his last breath. Laughter carrying over the rain that hits the pavement and mixing with the crimson left on the street.

The morning sun brought a sense of dread within the Bat of Gotham. Sending him out during the day, when his persona was more of a creature of the night. When Bruce had arrived home around six that morning his life was changed forever. He had spent the night away from the manor working on a new project to help better his city at Wayne Enterprises. A project that later would become meaningless. Forgotten to the wayside for the discovery he would make within the hour. Taking the night off as Batman was hard for him to be convinced of doing, but Alfred made it a point that he could take it easy for just one night. Despite, good intentions, Alfred was mistaken. And, the guilt stricken look Bruce came home to, told the story well enough of what exactly transpired. A distress call had come from his ward and partner Jason Todd. One that in the long nights to follow Bruce would replay again and again, in a self-loathing driven insanity.

All he could think on now was finding Jason. Sunlight that wouldn't cloak him in shadows and the risks of venturing out during the day, be damned. He would get his wish. Just not in the way he expected. The tracker led him soaring through the cloudy skies. Civilians who would happen to look up on that day would just catch a single glimpse of this cities protector.

A sewer grate led him into the filth of this city. The smell horrendous and still he pressed forward. Fear for what he might find almost crippling him. Thinking the worst, but hoping for the best. Even when he stumbled across Killer Croc, the man made monster was no match for the Bat on a burning desperate crusade. Being left behind in a crumpled heap, and later would be more susceptible to the Bat's growing rage in a misinformed assumption. The truth would be more horrifying than Bruce could ever fathom.

The tracker didn't move locations and soon the metallic scent overpowered the sewage that clung to the sewers walls. Bruce could only hope then that the tracker had fallen off of Robin's costume. One single turn down the narrow pathways quenched that hope and brought the Bat to his knees. Breaking him on the spot.

Against the wall, the corpse of his partner was hardly recognizable. Limbs severed and missing. Blue eyes glassy, but the look of true terror still palpable before the life was snuff out like a candle. A grotesque smile was carved into the boy's countenance. The body was mangled. Like an animal had eaten parts of him and walked away. Head hanging limply at his side and Bruce could swear he could feel the blame radiating off his still form. Telling him what he already knew. That this was his fault. That he shouldn't have listened to Alfred. That he should have kept a better eye on the child he had under his protection. Self-disgust caused him to vomit out into the grey water. Falling to his arms. His body trembling. And, for the first time since his parents had died in-front of him as a child, Bruce cried.

It was only after an unknowable amount of time passed, where Bruce could even find the will to move and carry Jason's body home, that he would take notice of the writing on the wall. In blood the multiple written HA HA's would haunt his nightmares. Waking him up in a cold sweat where he swore he could hear laughter ringing in his ears in the long nights to come. Perhaps, for the rest of his life.

The week that followed in preparation for the funeral of his fallen partner went by in a blink for Bruce. He felt nothing, but numb to the world around him. Distant to the comfort of his friends and allies. At night the Bat was more brutal -unhinged- and crime had lowered in account of it. All, could see that he had changed. That nothing would ever be the same again.

"You need to eat, sir," Alfred would try and persuade him in a heartfelt attempt for Bruce to take better care of himself.

"Not now." Bruce would always respond, go back to his work and the old man would leave his ward. Wiping away tears that Bruce would never see.

"I can take care of Gotham, Bruce. You need to rest." Dick who had come in from Blüdhaven at Alfred's request would try to reason.

"I'm fine, Dick, you're needed elsewhere." Was the typical line of response Bruce would give.

No amount of arguing would change Bruce's mind. It went on like that for days until a broken piece of equipment from Bruce losing his temper put a stop to that. The added guilt for that event just pushed him deeper into despair.

"Where's that sidekick of yours, Bats? Did you finally realize having a kid around ruins your image?" The thug who uttered those words ended up in a body cast.

"Something's happened. You changed. You nearly killed those men. What's wrong with you?" Gordon had told him. It was the truth, but Bruce would never reply. Simply, leaving the scene the second Gordon turned his back or glanced away.

"My father's been worried about you. Hell, we all are. Talk to us, Bruce." Barbara had caught up with him on a rooftop that night.

"Don't worry about it. What we should be focusing on is finding out who killed Robin." Bruce's voice was devoid of any emotion. Inside he was breaking and everyone knew it.

"Bullshit. You're going to end up getting yourself killed with the way you're pushing yourself. Or worst." Barbara wasn't like the others and wouldn't let Bruce off easy. He could admire that quality about her, usually did, but not right now.

"If you want to help. Then help. If not, stay out of my way." He growled and took off into the night.

That wouldn't be their last encounter of that nature. It would continue to go on each time they both were around each other.

Now Bruce stood at his family's private cemetery. In a expensive suit that he felt was suffocating him. Watching the casket lowered into the ground. The sun shining in the sky mocking everyone's pain with its indifference. During the memorial ceremony; Bruce wasn't even able to find the words to say that he should have. An added fact to the growing list of his failures. He didn't even remember shaking hands with his friends. The few that were permitted there anyway. As the service was a private one. He stood there in silence, even after the others went inside to talk amongst themselves. Most likely about how to handle Bruce's deteriorating mental state.

Only then did the numb side of his mind finally come back to reality. For out in the distance behind the trees, he spotted something or more accurately someone that shouldn't be there. The purple clad suit attire a dead giveaway to the intruders location. Bruce saw red. And, all the rage that had been building up since he found Jason's body sent his legs moving against his accord.

The oddity of this unknown man's presence made itself even more peculiar. For there on one of his long dead ancestors tombstone, sat a clown. The man was pulling out rose pedals one by one and only looked up at Bruce's approach. A huge smile appearing on his face. Like the clown was greeting an old friend, despite being a stranger. Green orbs shinning mischievously. He glanced towards where Jason's final resting place was. Not once stopping in destroying the flower in his hand. One blink passed and Bruce could swear that the flower had once been a blooming red, only to now be withered and dead. He didn't question it at the moment. Too caught up in his rage that someone would arrive unwanted at a time like this. Bruce could also just reason that it was his sleep deprived mind playing tricks on him.

"Who are you?" All pretense of politeness not even making an appearance. "What are you doing here? How'd you get in?"

The clown didn't answer his questions. Simply, letting out a small snicker as he turned back to give Bruce a sickening sweet smile that wasn't appropriate given the occasion.

"Nice day for a funeral, isn't it?" He states with all the pleasantries of a madman. "A funeral always needs a clown. Wouldn't you agree, Brucie? How else can you put the fun in FUNeral? Hehe."

The clown was not disturbed in the slightest by the violent action of the grieving man. In fact he seems downright ecstatic. And, when he was grabbed roughly by the colors of his suit jacket; hoisted off the tombstone and lifted up in the air. All he did was lay one hand on Bruce's wrist. The other holding out the dead flower as a twisted peace offering. His smile growing wider. His body letting out a shiver of uncontrolled delight.

"This some kind of sick joke?" He spats out. Venom leaking in his tone and his ever growing anger palpable. "If so, it's not very funny. Leave. You're not welcome here." Bruce's patience was already thin as it was. Ready to snap at a seconds notice. And, despite all the criminals he fought in this city, he knew in this instant there was no one he hated more than this trespassing clown.

"Silly, me. Did I forget to tell you, that I'm welcomed everywhere in this playground?" The clown taunts Bruce. A knowing look in his eyes that Bruce couldn't decipher its true meaning. And, wouldn't until the clown deemed it was the right time.

"You're insane," He states and tosses the clown to the ground. Taking deep breaths to control himself. He couldn't end up losing it. Not here. Not now. Not as Bruce Wayne. Obviously, this person was mentally ill to crash a funeral. "Go, before I call the police and have you escorted out."

The clown giggles, standing to his feet. Takes a bow and offers out the flower again; only for Bruce to just glare at it.

"Don't get so testy, now. I just wanted to meet you is all. See, what all the fuss is about. Have to say. I'm impressed." another laughing fit encompasses that lithe form. Holding his sides to calm himself down, before grinning at Bruce. Offering the flower once more to take.

Did those eyes just change color?

Another look.

Still green.

Perhaps, Dick was right and Bruce needed to get some rest.

Realizing that the clown had no intention of following his order, Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. Taking another deep breath. Then dropping his arm. Looking at the clown in the eyes. And, as best as he can manage, calmly states. "Well, you met me. You can go. I'm not seeing guests right now."

"I can see that. Must be hard losing a kiddo after all." he doesn't leave and Bruce's fists clench at his side. He'd give everything he owned to punch that smug look off the clown's face. Leave him bleeding on the floor. Taking out all his frustrations of his failures out on the man. It would be all to easy. But, he must resist the temptation. No matter how much it was calling him into action.

"It is," he says. Hoping that agreeing would be enough to get this crazy person to leave. A second thought crosses his mind. More curiosity than anything making the comment come forth. "I didn't get your name."

"I know." The clown says; indifferently.

"You know mine, and you came to all this trouble to meet me-"

"No, trouble at all." He gets interrupted.

"It would only be fair if I knew who you are." He finishes as if the interruption never took place.

The clown just offers the flower out to him again. Silence passes, then says. "Take it, and I'll tell you." an easy trade. Although, not for Bruce.

Bruce huffs. Giving in if only to make this madness end sooner. Taking the flower and without hesitation crumbling it in his tight grip. He didn't want the damn thing and didn't care for it at all. Making that point known in the most obvious way that he could get the message across. The clown frowns for a small second at Bruce's display. Adjusts his tie and smiles slightly. Contemplatively. Offering his hand out next to be shaken.

"Names Joker, don'tcha forget it." Joker replies. His tone suddenly dangerous and threatening. A declaration and a threat all in one. Catching Bruce completely off-guard. He suddenly feels the way he does most nights as Batman. Facing down a foe that had all intents and purposes to end his life. Not afraid. But, cautious. Aware of the danger, but brave enough to tackle it head on. Defeat it. Come out on top. Though, by the gleam in those green eyes the Joker seemed to believe the exact opposite would be the case.

Before, Bruce could even respond, a voice in the distance calls his name. Causing a start to his system. He turns to look behind him.

"Master Bruce, lunch is ready." It's Alfred.

"Be there in a moment." He calls back. Glad for the excuse to leave this odd encounter. Yet, when he turns back to inform Joker that he needs to leave the clown is nowhere to be seen.

Bruce blinks several times. Casting glances all around the cemetery. Knowing given the flashy attire it wouldn't be all too difficult to spot where the clown had gotten off to. Nothing. Not a single person is there, but himself. For one second he thinks he might have imagined the whole thing. Only to be proven wrong when he looks down at the what used to be a flower. Dropping it instantly in shock and revulsion. His head spinning. Feeling like he'll pass out at any second. Breathing coming in haggard as it feels like his heart has stopped. That time has slowed down to a snail's pace.

What lies on the ground is the bloody remains of Robin's logo from Jason Todd's costume. The yellow colored R painted over by a green smiley face.

It's only then that the answer to who killed Jason Todd that night a week ago is answered for Bruce. Leaving only countless more to take its place. Questions, that would haunt him for the foreseeable future. Leaving countless bodies to follow this revelation. A new game that he was unprepared for playing.

A disappearing clown simply known as the Joker was to blame for the death.

And, Bruce had seemed to gain the attention of his partners' murderer in a way he never wanted.