If you've ever seen The Batman, and since you're reading this I'll assume you have, then you may have seen an episode called "The Laughing Bat." This is just a little "what if" scenario. So…
Batman, The Batman, Joker, and whatever belong to whoever, just not me. Warps and his merry crew are mine.
Prologue
Dear Journal,
There are all sorts of crazy things I've seen. I look in the mirror every morning, after all. There's all kinds of weird stuff out here, and I grew up watching it. Nowadays, I'm part of it, right there in it, keeping things shipshape in the sidelines.
It's part of the job. And I love my job.
I'm Matthew Warp, the 100th Guardian of Reality, the White Rabbit (No, Not That One), and Wielder of the Morph Cane. You'd know me if you saw me. Tall, young, wearing white with a splash of a sunny yellow here or there. I'd be carrying a golden walking staff, most likely, and my hair will be blonde, brown, or some combination of that, since I often forget to dye it.
Of course, if you saw me I wouldn't be doing my job. The Guardian is supposed to be Secret.
Anyway, I've seen weird stuff. I am weird stuff. But this one bears repeating.
Past Guardians have used this Journal to catalogue their adventures, but nothing much has happened to me yet, and I doubt anyone else would write this story down.
It starts in the DC Universe, one of the larger ones. One of its Pocket Dimensions, the one where Bruce Wayne is young and the Joker knows kung fu-the "The Batman" Pocket Universe (loved that show)-this pocket universe is unusual because it has developed a tiny little pocket 'verse of its own, and I have to say, it's real intriguing.
Apparently some of the energy responsible for all those "What If…" dimensions attached to the Marvel Universe leaked out and whatever. I don't care because the results are truly awesome.
This is how it went down: the Joker, in his crazy little mind, decided to dress up as the Batman and pretend to fight crime (for a given value of crime, of course) for a fee of one million dollars from the city for his services. The real Batman went out to stop him and whatever, and Joker injected him with what he called Joker Venom, telling Bats that it would turn him into the new Joker, because "the Batman needs a Joker."
However, as Alfred said, a pulse wasn't a requirement. The venom slowly caused an increase in bouts of laughter, making it harder and harder for the Batman to focus or take things seriously, but would also have him literally die laughing.
He quickly developed an antidote, but needed some of the Joker Venom to finish it. Naturally, being the you-know-what, he got it, after a drawn-out three-way free-for-all between the two Batmen and the Penguin, but he cut it close. Like, with literally seconds left until he died.
And so he beat up Joker and the Penguin, told a joke that the Joker laughed at and complimented, and the status quo was restored.
…
OR WAS IT!
The DCU wasn't going to let this one go without a fight, it seems. There was promise here.
While in one timeline everything worked out, the other? Well…
Tell me, someone: What if…
Batman was wheezing, gasping. He could hardly take a breath anymore. He couldn't stop laughing. Bruce decided he had a minute at most.
But that's alright, he had the snake, all he had to do was… heh… he had to… heh heh…
He felt Joker push him from behind, but he held on-
Wait, no! For a second… it felt like the world just jumped. One second he had a firm grasp on the poison pouch, the next it was gone.
"That joke always slays 'em!" Joker sneered. He walked a few paces and opened the snake's mouth. He stopped in horror, realizing the poison sac was gone.
Joker whirled around. The sac was on the ground, and Batman was dragging himself towards it. Joker bounded forward and scooped the little green pouch out of his rival's grasp.
"Now, now, Joker. You really should know better than that." Joker straightened his cowl. He stood straighter and lowered his voice, forcing his face into a frown.
"Now, Joker, I can't waste any more time here. After all, crime doesn't take breaks-"
He paused and turned to the former Dark Knight. A grin crept across his face. "-and neither do I! Haha!"
He pulled out his grappling hook and sped to the rooftops.
As he began to make his way back to the Batbuggy, he turned and listened to the dying laughter. Penguin got infected too.
Ah, well. If you can't do the crime… hehe.
Still, the old Batman made things so much fun. It's a shame he had to go.
The former clown shook himself. He wasn't Joker anymore. Now, he was the Batman.
For once, he didn't feel like smiling at all.
Bruce heard Joker go. He couldn't get the venom.
There was nothing for it. Racking with laughter-well, more a snicker by now, no air, you see-he pulled out the vial with the antidote.
It wasn't complete, there was no telling what it would do. But it was the only choice left. He was dead anyway, so why not?
Bottoms up.
He downed the serum, and for a second he felt the laughter subside. He gulped in a massive breath and smiled in relief.
For a second.
Then his vision exploded with colors, and he blacked out.
Hours later, around two in the morning, Alfred heard the Batmobile park at the bottom of the cave. He looked over the edge of the landing. The car was parked crookedly, and it was pretty banged up too. The was some kind of purple spray paint all over it.
The window slid back. Bruce climbed out of the car, or tried to. He stumbled and fell out. Alfred considered going down to help him, but Bruce picked himself up and ambled to the elevator up to the landing.
He wasn't walking in a straight line, and his posture was lacking. Unusual, as Master Bruce did not drink, but only slightly worrying.
A stifled laugh echoed up from the car's platform. Alfred winced. The deadline had passed, Surely Master Bruce had cured himself or he wouldn't be alive, right?
The elevator hummed and stopped at his level. The doors slid back and Bruce shuffled towards the computer.
He walked strangely, his head down and his arms hanging limply. The Shadow cast by his cowl hid his face. He sat down heavily in his chair and just sat there.
Alfred, now very concerned, hurried over. "Sir?"
"Yes…Alfred?" His voice was slow and deliberate, as though he was carefully watching his speech.
"Are you alright, sir?"
Bruce didn't answer right away.
"Sir?"
"Did you ever think we needed a bit more color around here, Alfred?"
Alfred paused. On the one hand, all this black and grey was depressing after a while, but then his master was the Batman. What other color could he be?
"Well, sir, if you ask me-"
"Because I think we need more color."
"Well, if you want, I can-"
"I never realized just how depressing black was until tonight."
"Sir?"
"Alfred?" Bruce looked up.
Alfred jumped back, knocking a few unfinished devices off a desk. "Sir! Your face!"
Bruce smiled. "Yes? What about my face?"
Dear Lord, those eyes… "You look a little… pale, sir. And are you wearing… lipstick?"
"No," he said, still smiling, "I'm not."
Bruce pulled his cowl back and ran a hand through his hair. His hair…
"S-sir, I think you should get to a hospital. They might be able to…"
Bruce stood up quickly. Alfred shrank back. He started to groped behind him, just in case he…
"Alfred, I don't know why you're acting so strangely. I'm just fine. Let go of the Batarang, please."
There was a clang as he dropped the weapon.
Bruce shook his head, all the while not letting the little smile slip from his face. "For shame, Alfred. Maybe you should take a week off. A man your age shouldn't have to deal with all this."
"Well-"
"Speaking of, Al, I've been thinking."
"Of what, s-sir?" Al? Al?
"I'm thinking it's time we went in a new direction."
"Oh no-"
"All this Batman mess, it's just getting old, y'know? Besides, someone else is taking care of that shtick now, and there can't be two Batmen."
"Sir, I really think you should find a mirror."
"Meanwhile, there's a Joker-shaped hole in the universe-"
"Sir!"
Bruce turned. "Yes?"
Alfred took a deep breath. "I don't think you are in your right mind!"
Bruce grinned. "Ha! Of course! I'm just a bit batty at the moment." He laughed. It started out innocently enough, but there was something else there…
Alfred deflated. "Sir, I…"
"Don't worry, Alfred, I'm just making a few…aesthetic changes. That's all." His smile widened. "I drove some guy Bats, and he returned the favor. Heheh."
He swiped a pack of cards from the desk and laid them out on the table, sweeping the other stuff into the floor. "A man after my own heart, ha, he had comedy in spades!" He giggled to himself. "Haha! He wasn't playing with a full deck, though, since he thought he could join the club!" He laughed again, and this time there was a definite edge to it.
A bat flapped overhead. In one quick movement, Bruce flung an ace of diamonds toward the noise. There was a shriek cut short, and a second later Alfred heard a thump a few feet behind him. He didn't dare turn around.
"Guess I out him on ice," Bruce said, glaring past Alfred. He held a straight face for all of four seconds, then broke up, snickering. "Get it? Ice? Diamonds? Brilliant!"
Alfred sighed. "Good one, sir." He turned towards the exit.
"Where you, hah, going, huh?"
"Just going to heat up your dinner, sir. You missed the meal."
"Oh, right, right. Carry on. I've got work to do down here."
"Yes, sir. I expect you do."
Alfred hurried to the elevator. As the doors closed, his friend's laughter echoed throughout the cave. It grew in intensity, and then his voice cracked. Now it was hysterical.
The bats flew from the cave. They didn't know what was happening, but they could sense that this was no longer a safe home.
And the echoes carried…
…far, out into the city of Gotham, though only one person heard it.
He was standing in the mayor's office, demanding his payment. The Batman had claimed another "criminal," but was willing to give the antidote for all his "arrests"… provided the city doubled his payment.
The mayor refused. Smiling slightly, the Batman reached into his belt and raised up a little aerosol can-
And stopped. The laughter reached his ears and he felt a chill go down his spine. It wasn't possible.
And yet it was.
He dropped the can and dived out the window, not caring that with that gas, the hospitals could easily make their own cure. He didn't care that he wouldn't get paid, or that his Batbuggy was being towed.
All that mattered right now was that he was the Batman.
And the Joker was alive.