Final Words

*SPOILERS!* For all those who have not finished or have not played Arkham City I beg you not to read this! Please finish and see the ending yourself, then come back and read this.

"Puddin…"

Harley knelt down next to her love's gravestone and wept.

"Oh why puddin? Why did you have to leave us?"

Harley placed a couple flowers next to the grave, along with a set of playing cards Joker was very fond of. She then sat back, leaning against a withered up tree that stood next to the madman's grave.

"They may have said you corrupted me, but I know the truth. Even if you did hurt me, even if you did put my life in danger time and time again, you cared for me in a way no one else had."

Harley sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"You showed me that I have meaning, that I didn't have to conform to anything. You gave me a purpose and took me away from the dying life I used to anguish in."

Harley stood up and pulled her black veil over her eyes. She noticed the police guarding her coming back towards her, coming back to chain her up once more.

"Alright Quinn, time to go."

Harley nodded back to them, then turned back to Joker's grave.

Just before she left, she knelt down and whispered to the tomb, "Don't worry puddin, I'll make sure they never forget you. I'll bring Gotham to its knees, just like you always wanted. I will avenge you…"

0000000000000000000000000000 0

Two Face and Penguin met before the grave of their recently deceased gang rival.

"About time," Cobblepot snorted, staring the Joker's grave.

"Yeah," growled Two Face, "we may all be psychos, but that clown was something else."

"Joker was not one of us, he never was,"

Dent nodded in agreement at and pulled a cigar out from his pocket. He lit one and offered another to Penguin, who accepted and lit up with him.

"I gotta hand it to him though," Oswald said, taking a drag from his cigar.

Two Face gave him a curious look, "Give it to who?"

"The Batman," Penguin answered, "after all these years he finally off'ed the clown."

Two Face chuckled, "The Batman didn't do it. He would never kill anyone."

"Oh yeah? Then why has he not been seen ever since that awful city? What do you know about the bat that makes you so sure."

"Because, I know guys like him," Harvey sighed, puffing out smoke, "If he had it in him to take a life, we'd all already be dead."

Penguin nodded, somewhat relieved that he wouldn't be on the Batman's hit list.

"I'm going to head back to the lounge, I can't stand to be in that man's presence any longer," Penguin told Dent, turning back towards his sleek black car.

Two Face nodded in agreement and watched as Penguin drove off. The split man then turned back to the grave and spat on it.

"We are all evil, but you, you were beyond evil. I have done terrible things, but nothing that compares to what you have. I hope you're burning in hell you sick clown because you sure deserve it.

0000000000000000000000000000 0

Catwoman eyed the Joker's grave as if any moment the prince of knaves would burst from the wet soil and try to wring her throat. Over her years of being associated with the Gotham nights, she had had her fair share of run-ins with the Joker. She didn't even know why she was here; she hated the clown. Ever since his death, though, her Dark Knight hadn't been the same. She barely saw him anymore, and when she did he didn't even speak. Noted, Batman was never really the talkative type, but at least she got something from him before all this. It was like he was empty, and she knew exactly why. As always, the Batman blamed himself for everyone who died, including the Joker.

"Kinda funny if you think about it," she told the dead Joker, "I always expected you to die by Batman's hands when you finally pushed him over the edge. I never expected your death to be entirely your fault."

Catwoman frowned as she noticed a couple of flowers Harley had left for the joker. She picked them up and crushed her in her hands.

"I hope you're happy clown. Quinzel had hope; she could have been cured. She could have led a normal life, but you had to keep dragging her along, and you didn't even have the decency to stay with her. Now her mind's broken, she's gone for good."

She dropped the crushed flowers on top of the grave then stomped on them. The man was a cold-hearted killer; everything he did was nothing less then appalling. She couldn't even enjoy the Joker's departure because it had left the man she loved irreparably wounded and had a woman she had hope for completely broken. As she walked away from the clown's grave and headed home, she thought to herself.

Things have changed, for good now.

0000000000000000000000000000

"I should feel nothing but contempt for you…"

Batman stood over the Joker's grave, dug in what remained of Arkham Asylum. The cold wind bit his exposed chin as he stared at his dead adversary's tombstone.

"Every decision you've ever made has resulted in death and suffering. You were a monster."

He waited for a bit, as if the clown would laugh at him from the grave, but he knew the truth. The Joker was dead for good, another body that he failed to save. The tombstone was chipped and cracked, as if it had been erect for centuries. On the day Arkham City fell, the Joker followed suit. His illness had finally taken its toll, finishing off the clown prince of crime.

"All the lives I've destroyed, all the people I've killed by letting you live, it's over now."

Again, there was no response from the grave. The only sound that could be heard was the rustling of the dead leaves on the broken and dried up trees. The Dark knight glared, the memory of Joker's sick smile before his death still fresh in his head. How many of his friends' lives had the Joker destroyed? Jason lay dead in the Wayne cemetery. Barbara would never walk again. Talia was gone, forever.

"I could never bring myself to do it, because I knew deep down what would happen if I did. I would never come back. You would win. You would have made me loose control."

All those years ago when Joker had killed Jason, Batman remembered almost killing him. How badly he wanted to choke the life out of the clown, to beat the jester until his ribs punctured his heart. 600. The body count for this man was 600, 601, now.

"You were a monster, but also a human being. A life I didn't save. So I came here to say… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let you die. You were a psychopath, a killer, a cold hearted anarchist and I let you die."

Why did he feel so bad?

He exhaled heavily, the cool night air causing his breath to show. Finally, the guardian of Gotham turned and walked of into the night. After years of fighting mentally and physically, the battle was over, and yet he still felt just the same as before; empty, alone, and depressed.

A/N: This is my first Arkham City Fanfiction, so I would enjoy feedback! For all of those who have read my other fictions I hope you will enjoy this one as well. I know I usually write borderlands fanfics, but this game is so incredible that I couldn't resist. If you haven't played this game, I seriously suggest it. You won't regret a cent!