Batman was having a baaad day. It had started with the morning news, when the camera had panned over for Weather with Wendy and revealed The Joker casually leaning against the map instead.

"Gooooood morning, Gotham!" He had purred. "Today's going to be cloudy, with a high chance of ex-plo-sions."

The camera shook, and an arm splayed across the floor was just visible at the bottom of the screen.

"But I could be wrong." The Joker continued with a blasé shrug. "Maybe that last word could be pre-ci-pi-tation. Just ah...hit me up, and say the magic words, Batsy."

He stalked froward and leaned down so that his face was even with the camera, smile filling the screen.

"Your first clue is the word...'yes.'"

Then he was gone, and no one had been able to find him since. The news station still didn't even know how he had managed to get inside, and Wendy was in the hospital.

One of the hospitals that hadn't been evacuated at least.

And, of course, as always, the public was furious.

Why couldn't anyone find The Joker? What was he going to bomb? Why hadn't the Batman just caught him yet?

Yeah, Batman would get right fucking on that with his super mind reading abilities. It wasn't as if The Joker wasinsane or that the Gotham police force was constantly trying to arrest both the clown and the vigilante or anything.

But as bad of a day as Batman was having, Bruce Wayne's day turned out to be even worse when a dead rabbit showed up at the front door of his mansion via UPS because, apparently, they really will ship anything anywhere.

And if there was any doubt whom the dead rabbit was from, its mouth had been cut open in a smile.

Bruce considered calling Gordon, but then he would have to think of a plausible explanation for why The Joker was sending him dead woodland creatures.

Oh sure, he could have just pointed out that The Joker was...well...insane. But since The Joker also seemed to have figured out Batman's alter ego was Bruce Wayne—

—or that Bruce Wayne's alter ego was Batman—

—involving the police in any way, shape, or form would probably only compound the problem rather than actually solving it, especially considering how useless Gotham PD was.

Because really, if they had been any good in the first place, Batman would never have needed to exist.

So now Batman was in his cave, using highly invasive technology in an attempt to find The Joker, or at the very least, the implied bomb.

"Master Wayne, you have another parcel." Alfred announced.

Batman leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. "Is it dead?"

"Inanimate, sir."

"Explosive?"

"Highly unlikely, although I already ran it through the scanners to be sure."

"What is it then?"

Alfred walked over to the desk in front of the wall of monitors where his master sat.

"A horseshoe, sir."

He set it down with a clatter. Batman glanced down at it, and they both started at the horseshoe for several moments.

Finally, Batman looked up, but when he spoke, it was in the voice of Bruce.

"He's fucking insane, Alfred." Bruce said, almost pleading.

"I know, sir." The butler replied.

"The last time, he hit on me!"

"Literally or...?"

"He had wine, Alfred!"

"Truly repulsive, sir."

Bruce tried to swipe a hand through his hair, but the cowl was in the way, which now seemed ridiculous as he had nowhere to go and no one to punch.

It looked like it would be Bruce, not Batman, who saved this day.

If he could save the day.

Bruce took off the cowl and gloves—although he left the kevlar armor on—and picked up the horseshoe. Even upon closer examination, it refused to provide any profound insight into The Joker's madness.

"How am I even supposed to call him?!" Bruce demanded, dropping the horseshoe back onto the table.

"This was taped to the package in place of a return address, sir." Alfred replied.

The butler placed a playing card next to the horseshoe—the joker of course.

Bruce picked up the card and took a second to glare at the grinning jester before he flipped it over. A telephone number was scrawled in messy handwriting across the back.

"Yes, a rabbit, and a horseshoe. Those are my only clues."

Bruce let the card fall back to the table and looked at the ceiling for inspiration. When none came, he looked back at Alfred.

"Do you think I could just say, 'pretty please'?"

Alfred simply gave him a look, and Bruce sighed again. He wished his friend had agreed to stay somewhere else for his safety, now that The Joker knew who Batman really was.

Several hours passed without any epiphanies, and Bruce's only consolidation was that The Joker hadn't set any particular deadline for the call.

Then again, that also meant something in Gotham could blow up at any second.

Bruce was working with the theory that each clue either stood for a particular word to make a three word phrase. He had considered they might combine together to make one word, but after watching the news clip replay a few dozen times, he decided that The Joke definitely said words, plural.

But "yes rabbit horseshoe" didn't make any sense.

He had scoured the Internet for anything pertaining to rabbits and horseshoes, which brought up a lot of myths about luck, but none of it felt right, and it didn't make use of the word "yes."

Bruce had eventually decided to take a lunch break, after Alfred had threatened to force feed him if he didn't.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Master Wayne." He chided. "I might not always be here to do it for you."

Bruce grunted an affirmative, still staring at the horseshoe and rabbit, which he ad brought down much to Alfred's complaint.

"Really sir, are you sure you don't want me to dispose of the hart? It's starting to smell." Alfred wrinkled his nose and eyed the rabbit with distaste.

"No, I—wait, what did you call it?" Bruce asked, abruptly setting down his sandwich.

"A hart, but I don't see—"

"Which is another word for rabbit." Bruce said over his friend. "What's another word for 'yes'?"

Alfred thought for a moment. "Aye, sir."

"Aye hart..." Bruce paused and picked up the last object. "Horseshoe?"

Alfred blinked, then grasped Bruce's hand and turned it until the ends of the horseshoe pointed at the ceiling.

"Aye hart U."

"I heart you." Bruce repeated.

Then he pulled out his cell phone and dialed. Calling The Joker would only confirm Batman's true identity, but he couldn't risk the madman blowing up another hospital if he didn't make the call.

The ringing finally stopped as someone picked up.

"Well it took you long enough, Brucey boy."

"Where's the bomb?" Bruce growled, Batman once more.

"What's the magic wooo-ords?" Joker sang.

"...I heart you."

"No no no no no, that isn't...good...enough."

Batman almost threw up on his cell phone.

"I...l—lo..."

"That's right, Batsy...just, ugh...say it."

"Joker, I swear on all that is holy, if you're doing what I think you're doing right now..."

"Oh, so you think...mhmmm...about jacking off to my voice too?"

CLICK.

"Something the matter, sir?" Alfred asked.

Because of course his butler and oldest friend was still in the room. He probably heard what the maniac was doing through the phone speakers, he was moaning loud enough.

"Yes, the smell of dead bunny is giving me a headache. Could you take it out?"

Each word was carefully measured and said in a completely even tone. Alfred wisely said nothing and quietly left with the rabbit.

Batman fumed and debated and even literally shook with anger at one point, then picked the phone back up and redialed.

"Iloveyou." He snarled in one word. "Now is something going to explode or not?!"

"...yes."

"But I—"

"Ohhhhh, Bruce!"

Batman threw the cell phone at the wall. He really needed to work on his word choice—but first, a shower.

With bleach and steel wool because no matter how much he scrubbed, he had the sinking feeling that he would never be clean again.