Disclaimer: This story uses characters, situations and premises that are copyright DC Comics, Inc. No infringement pertaining to comics, television series or films is intended by violetsmoak in any way, shape or form. This fan-oriented story is written solely for the author's own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Rating: T (may change depending on the amount of graphic/details I decide on)

Warning: Will lead to eventual canon-divergence; character deaths (sort of), a few minor original characters (and some canon characters that were never really fleshed out on screen/in the comics); multiple POV

Spoilers: Everything in Batman Beyond until but not including the "Rewired" storyline or anything afterward. Also, references to events and characters present in the DC 'verse up to the New 52 (after the "Robin Rises" story arc) but before Rebirth. (And JFC do I hate keeping all these timelines straight!)

Timeline: Takes place after the events of 10 000 Clowns

Beta Reader: None at the moment; will be fully edited when the fic is completed

The style used in this chapter is not indicative of the style of the rest of the fic; you can even skip it and read the next chapter first before this one; I just put it at the beginning because this is very short and works better as a prologue than it's own chapter...as you'll see with the much longer next chapter :P

MORNINGSTAR

The screen flickers, wavering between static and images. White noise competes with music clips from several songs, before settling on a lazy, melancholy carnival tune.

The words HA HA HA paint themselves across the screen, and then with another burst of static, disappear, revealing a man with a pale face and unnaturally wide smile. The screen shakes, as if the person holding the camera has an unsteady hand.

"Hell-O World! It's your favourite rascal, Uncle J! Coming to you—well, not so much alive, but still—heh—still kicking!" the man chuckles at his own joke, the camera shakes as it zooms out to show him executing several high-kicks that would not be out of place in a music hall or chorus line.

As if a switch flips, the man tucks his arms in and adopts a sombre expression and manner.

"If you're seeing this message, I'm stone dead," he says, and then brings his hand to his forehead as if too swoon, "I know, I know what you're all saying. 'He was so handsome, so brilliant, you never really got a chance to know him!"

The face cuts out, overlaid with black-and-white clips from an I Love Lucy rerun—

"Are you sick?"

"Sick, I'm dead!"

"Oh, that's right."

—and then back to the man. "I don't know if it was an accident, or old age or—heh—maybe our favourite Bat finally grew a pair and offed me! Straaaaaaanger things have happened." He trails off into a short fit of laughing. "Whatever the case, I have passed on—no more—kicked the bucket and shuffled off this mortal coil and gone to meet my maker!"

MORNINGSTAR

The screen flips back to the rerun.

"I burned myself. It's awfully hot in here."

"Oh, that's where you are! Oh, I'm so disappointed in you…"

"But down cry for me, ladies and germs—and those of undetermined nature, of course. Gotta be politically correct these days! Or at least in my day, heh…"

High pitched, canned laughter echoes in stereo, and the screen shows a closeup of a hand holding a fan of fifteen playing cards, all Jokers.

"The fun is far from over," the man continues gleefully. "You didn't think your old pal Joker would leave you without a parting gift, didja? A last hurrah? The final word? Come on, people, I was meant to go our with a BANG!" He arranges his hands to form finger guns. "And so, in case I have the misfortune of expiring in a more, shall we say, mundane manner, I've arranged a little encore to send myself off in style!"

His image is overlaid with that of a young girl making an L-shape on her forehead, which morphs into footage of the atomic bomb going off in Hiroshima.

MORNINGSTAR

"And here you have it! My cherry on the sundae! My parting shot, my…magnum opus! To say a proper goodbye to all you fine folks in the audience!" His voice drops low and sinister. "And I do mean all…"

The screen brings up a giant clock, its minute finger hitting midnight.

The man is all smiles and bounding energy again.

"This joke is dedicate to your very own media darling since it's allll thanks to him that any of this was possible! Always thank your service providers, folks!" he leans in and leers at the camera. "Hear that, Brucie? I still hope you're alive and kicking! Because if not, this is gonna be a lot less funny!" He straightens up, considers and grins. "Well. Not a whole lot. It's still hilarious. Because I'm already pushing up daisies—" The cold demeanor returns, slow and calculated. "And I'm still going to rip apart everything you've built up."

There's a close-up on a smiley-face button, a red splotch of blood dripping onto it.

"And the best thing about it is, it's a done deal! You've all been had! And you didn't even know it!"

This is the end, Jim Morrison sings.

"Though, I suppose you'll all start to understand what I'm saying right…about…" he looks at a comically large wristwatch.

Beautiful friend,

"…NOW!"

This is the end.

The man cackles and makes a theatrical bow. "Exit, Joker, Stage left!"

My only friend, the end.

The screen is once more embossed with the haphazardly painted HA HA HA.

MORNINGSTAR

There is static.

And then nothing.

To Be Continued