It was once again opening night at the Paris Opera House, and almost the entire elite of the city had turned out to see the new production of The Batman Triumphant written by the illustrious Vicomte Bruce Wayne. He was in the audience, tempting fate by seating himself again in Box Five, although he had to grudgingly admit, it did have the best view of the stage.

"So what's your plan for tonight, Brucie?" chuckled a familiar voice from the shadows. "I enjoyed watching rehearsals for your little melodrama – is that really how you see yourself? As some kinda superhero?"

"You won't be laughing about anything after tonight, clown," growled Bruce. "This is the end for you and your reign of terror."

"What, you think people are gonna see your little vanity project and rally behind your cause to rescue Miss Quinzel from my nefarious clutches?" chuckled Joker. "You think you're gonna rouse the aristocratic mob to grab their torches and pitchforks and hunt down the murderer from wherever he's hiding in the opera?"

"I think I'm not going to tell you my plan," retorted Bruce. "Only supervillains do that, don't they?"

"Yeah, that's a point," agreed Joker. "But only because the heroes are too stupid to figure it out otherwise. I, on the other hand, am not. You've got a surprise ready for the opening night, haven't you? Something planned for the show that wasn't in the rehearsals. Well, luckily I was paying close attention during the rehearsals, so I'll be able to tell what you've changed for opening night."

"We'll see," said Bruce.

There was no reply, and he thought the Joker had disappeared for the moment, when suddenly his voice whispered right in his ear, "You can't win Harley's love by trying to be a hero, y'know. They ain't her type."

Bruce whirled around with his pistol drawn, but the box was empty. He sat back down slowly and forced his eyes back to the stage, where the overture was winding down. He opened his pistol and checked to make sure it was loaded – that was essential to his plan. Then he looked toward the stage, where his opera was beginning.

Unfortunately for the Joker, nobody actually did laugh at Bruce's opera. Opera audiences were used to taking more ridiculous stories seriously, like Rigoletto, which is about a hunchbacked court jester who mocks a guy and gets a curse put on him that destroys his life. True story, it's an opera about how people can't take a joke. Anyway, this opera about a justice-seeking man in a bat costume was actually hugely appealing to such an audience, and by the climax of the show in the chemical factory, nearly everyone was on the edge of their seats. Especially Bruce, who felt his nerves tense up as he leaned forward, grasping the pistol and aiming it carefully.

On stage, the Prankster was belting out a gleefully triumphant number as he began to cut the ropes holding up Harley over the large tank of what looked like green acid, who was belting out an equally loud plea to stop. Suddenly, Signor Dent as the Batman appeared on the stage, climbing the platform to reach his enemy as he too joined in the number. The Batman and the Prankster confronted each other in song, with the tank in between them over which a suspended Harley also sang.

From the box, Bruce took a deep breath, and then raised his pistol up to the rafters. He aimed at the rope holding up a sandbag, released his breath, and fired.

The bullet whizzed through the rope, and the sandbag fell down toward the stage. It landed in the tank of acid with a splash. Bruce had assumed there would be a splash, but he hadn't counted on how much of one would occur, nor the angle at which it would splash out. His intention had been to shoot the sandbag down and let it fall into the acid and dissolve, so that everyone could see that the acid was real, and that Harley's life was in danger by being suspended over it. The Joker would be blamed both for the sandbag and for switching out the fake acid for the real – Harley would be horrified, and reject the monster even as he rushed to save her. Then Bruce would appear, swing Harley to safety, and shoot the Joker, becoming the real life hero of the story. But unfortunately for him and others, that wasn't what happened at all.

The liquid in the tank surged violently upward as the sandbag hit, splashing out onto half of Signor Dent's face with a sickening hiss.

He instantly stopped singing and began screaming, clawing at his face. The actors on stage broke character as Basil Karlo rushed over to him, removing the Batman mask with some difficulty. He gasped in horror as he saw that half of Signor Dent's face had been horribly burnt and scarred.

The audience's collective reaction was to gasp in horror. "Harvey!" screamed Ivy, who had been watching from the wings. She raced onto the stage as Basil tried to calm Dent, who was thrashing and screaming in pain. "Harvey, oh my God!"

"It's real acid," whispered Basil. "Someone's switched out the prop stuff…"

Harley shrieked suddenly as her rope, which had been deliberately cut to fall in the scene, began to snap. Basil reached for her, and caught her hand. "Hold on, Harley!" he hissed, trying to pull her to safety. But he didn't have a good grip, and her hand started slipping just as the rope snapped…

Suddenly, she was seized around the waist by a pair of strong, firm arms. "I got you, kid," whispered the voice of the Joker, who pulled her to safety on the platform. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing against him.

"You bastard!" shrieked Ivy, glaring up at Joker in fury. "How could you switch the acid like that?! How could you do this to Harvey as some kinda sick joke?!"

"I didn't!" snapped Joker. "Why would I deliberately put the woman I love in danger by making her hang over real acid? That would be a monumentally stupid thing to do, and also, not funny!"

"Then who did do it?" demanded Ivy. "And why?"

"I know who, and I know why," hissed Joker, glaring across to Box Five at Bruce. "Someone who wanted to play hero for a night by rescuing a damsel in distress. Well, come on then, hero!" he shouted, holding open his arms. "Come on and face me! This ends tonight!"

"Mr. J, don't…" began Harley, but she screamed as a bullet sliced through the Joker's cape. Bruce held the smoking gun, standing up in the box and suddenly jumping from it onto the stage.

"This does end tonight," he agreed. "Miss Quinzel and this opera will be free of the plague of your existence."

"Hey, I'm not the one who just scarred Harvey for life!" snapped Joker. "That's your fault, hero!"

"It's yours!" shouted Bruce. "By forcing me to take extreme measures! By your relentless persistence in haunting this opera and bothering Miss Quinzel…"

"The only person bothering me is you!" shrieked Harley. "Why can't you just leave us alone?!"

"Because it's not right, Harley, don't you understand?!" roared Bruce. "He's the deformed lunatic, the villain of this story! I'm the hero! You're supposed to be with me! Villains don't get the girl, not in any story ever! They end up unhappy and alone, because they're bad people, and they don't deserve to be loved!"

"This isn't a story, Bruce!" shrieked Harley. "Life isn't like your opera – there aren't good guys and bad guys and heroes and villains fighting each other night after night! And just because you see the world in that black and white way doesn't mean that's what it's really like! And just because you're rich and handsome doesn't mean you deserve to be loved either! I'm sorry you've been spoiled your whole life so you believe that, but it's just not true! People are more interested in what's on the inside of a person than outside appearances or superficial things, like good looks and wealth! At least, I am! Mr. J has done bad things, but I love him and he loves me!"

"A creature like that can't love!" shouted Bruce. "And how can you love a monster?! Have you even seen his face?!" he shouted, gesturing at the mask that the Joker wore. "I'm sure no one can look upon it and not be horrified!"

"Well, see for yourself!" retorted Joker, ripping off the mask to reveal his clown face. "This is what I look like, people! Now who are you more horrified by – the clown, or the so-called hero who hurt Harvey?! Yeah, I've done some horrific, violent pranks on you all, but I've never done anything like that to anyone!"

"What about when you killed Nygma and crashed the chandelier?" spoke up Tetch from the managers' box.

"Ok, hands up here who liked Nygma?" asked Joker, looking around the cast. Nobody put their hands up. "Face it – nobody's upset about that," he said. "And yeah, the chandelier gag killed some randomers, some well-dressed, well-off shills who pay a fortune to watch people dressed in silly costumes act out ridiculous plots and scream into each other's faces for hours on end, not because they enjoy it, but because that's what rich people do. Frankly, I think the world is better off without 'em. And at least I killed 'em quickly and cleanly, unlike what Brucie has done to poor Harv! He's gonna have to live with that deformity for the rest of his life, and trust me, people aren't nice to you when you look like a freak! I should know! The first time someone spits at him, he's gonna wish he was dead! That would be a mercy compared to the life he's gonna lead now, the life I led for years and years until I met the one woman in the world who could see past my own deformity and love me for who I am. This world ain't kind to freaks. After being treated with violence for so long just for being who you are, no one can blame you for fighting back against people who think that being born pretty and rich means you have the right to do whatever the hell you want, and treat people who aren't born pretty and rich like dirt. If there was any justice in the world, it'd be you who got the acid in his face, not Harvey, so you can see what it's like to look like that. But there is no justice in this world – that's an idea made up by people who write operas. The truth is the world is harsh and brutal and cruel, and the only thing anyone can do when confronted with that is either give in to it, or laugh at it. And that's what I do, Brucie. I laugh at it, and at you, hero."

Bruce had raised his gun again, but Harley leaped in front of Joker before he could fire. "Don't you dare!" she screamed. "You'll have to shoot me too!"

"Harley, don't tempt fate!" shouted Joker, pushing her gently away from him. "You getting accidentally shot instead of me is basically the ending of a tragic opera! Or indeed, that ridiculous sequel to The Phantom of the Opera. The Phantom and Christine having a one-night stand the night before her wedding to Raoul – can we say OOC much? Like, what part of 'It's over now, the Music of the Night' screamed sequel to Lloyd Webber?"

He ducked suddenly to avoid another bullet. "Bruce, don't!" shrieked Harley, trying to grab the gun from him.

Bruce knocked her away, hissing, "You'll thank me later, Harley. Once the monster is dead, and you're free of his power."

He aimed again, but before he could pull the trigger, he was punched in the back of the head. "That's for Harvey!" shrieked Ivy, as he whirled around. "And so's this!" she shouted, kicking him hard in the groin. Bruce fell to his knees with a gasp of pain, and that was when the Joker ripped off his cape and hastily tied it around Bruce, binding him securely.

"No!" shouted Bruce, struggling against the purple material. "You can't do this to me! I'm the hero!"

"Hero, huh?" repeated Joker. "Well, the audience has seen the whole thing – let's ask them," he said, gesturing out at the packed auditorium. No one had moved, but now they began to jeer and hiss at Bruce, booing him loudly.

"Yeah, doesn't sound like the reception a hero would be getting," said Joker, nodding. "Believe me, I've seen a lotta operas in my time here, and they only ever boo the villains."

Harley raced into Joker's arms, embracing him tightly. "I'm so glad you're safe," she whispered. She kissed him tenderly, and the audience collectively 'aww'ed.

During the confrontation, Crane had telephoned the police, and they arrived on the scene suddenly, bursting into the auditorium. "We received reports of a disturbance here?" said the chief of police.

"Yes, from that man," said Crane, pointing at Bruce. "He's been subdued, but please remove him at once. He interrupted the show by leaping onto the stage brandishing a weapon, and attempted murder by replacing fake acid with real. Just look at our principal tenor's face," he said, nodding at Dent, who Ivy cradled gently in her arms. "That's the Vicomte's doing."

"Crane, are you mad?" demanded Bruce. "You can't arrest me! I'm the patron of this opera!"

"And that doesn't give you the right to use it as your own personal playground, Monsieur le Vicomte," agreed Tetch, joining them on stage. "We must ask that you publicly renounce your patronage of this opera, since many eye witnesses have seen you commit acts of violence. We won't accept money from a criminal."

"Criminal?" repeated Bruce, aghast. "I'm not a criminal! That's him!" he shouted, nodding at Joker. "The clown! He's the one who murdered Nygma and caused the chandelier crash!"

"Those were both unfortunate accidents," said Crane, calmly. "But in his madness, the Vicomte seeks to blame, in his mind, the obvious suspect – the deformed clown. He's seen one too many operas, I expect, and it's corrupted his mind. Terrible tragedy, but not even the wealthy are immune from madness."

"Come along, Monsieur le Vicomte," said the chief of police, hauling Bruce to his feet. "We'd like a word down at the station."

"No! He can't win! I won't let him!" shouted Bruce, as he was dragged away. "I'm not crazy! He's terrorized the opera, corrupted Miss Quinzel's mind, murdered innocents…"

"Perfect plot for an opera, wouldn't you agree?" asked Tetch of the police chief. "He's clearly unable to distinguish fiction from reality, the poor, poor fellow. If you need us to testify at any point during his sanity hearing, we are at your service. Now please remove him from our opera."

The Joker and Harley had headed over to see how Dent was doing – he had lost consciousness shortly after the accident, but Ivy held him tenderly, stroking his hair back from his face. "Thanks for stopping Bruce back there, Pammie," said Joker. "Guess I owe you one."

"I didn't do it for you – I did it for him," snapped Ivy, nodding at Dent. "But if you'd like to repay the favor, how about you avoid the whoopie cushion during my future performances, where I'll alternate the starring role with Harley?"

"No problemo, toots!" chuckled Joker. "It's a deal. Fortunately, she didn't say anything about the chattering teeth," he whispered in Harley's ear.

"Is he going to be all right?" asked Harley gently, gazing at Dent.

"I don't know," said Ivy. "But I know whatever happens, I'll be by his side to help him through it."

Joker smiled. "Then take it from a deformed lunatic, Pammie – if he has someone he loves by him, he's gonna be all right."

He squeezed Harley's hand gently. The managers dismissed the audience with pledges of a full refund, and came over to Ivy and Dent, along with Madame Leland. "We should get him to a hospital at once," she said. "There's a cab waiting outside."

"Yes," said Ivy, helping to lift him. "Although maybe Harvey would prefer to be dead, since his career will be ruined after this. No one will pay to see a deformed man sing."

"I don't see why not," replied Madame Leland. "If his voice isn't affected, he's certainly welcome back here as first tenor as far as I'm concerned."

"Yes, quite right," agreed Tetch. "There's no reason why he should lose his career over the unfortunate actions of a madman. Be sure to express that to him when he wakes up."

Dent was carried away to the cab with Ivy and Madame Leland accompanying him. "Well…thanks for not ratting me out to the cops, boys," said Joker, turning to the managers. "You didn't have to do that."

"I think we did – it was essential that we proved the Vicomte insane so we could get him out of our hair forever," said Crane. "Believe me, in terms of headaches, he's far more annoying than you are."

"But it's most impolite of you to order us around and demand things from us," continued Tetch. "Especially in note form. If you'd like to discuss creative changes to the opera, do come see us face to face and join us for some tea. That's how civilized people decide things."

"We recognized Miss Quinzel's talent without your threats, you know," agreed Crane. "If anything, they just prevented us from wanting to make her our star. So in future, try the more civilized approach."

"I'm afraid you won't be getting any money from us, though," sighed Tetch. "Losing the Vicomte's patronage means we don't have a single franc to spare, let alone 20,000."

"Oh, don't you worry, boys!" chuckled Joker. "I may have hidden away a lot of what Cobblepot gave me – it's quite a nest egg! I mean, I'm a man of simple pleasures, and whoopie cushions come fairly cheap. I don't even know how to spend that much money - I mostly blackmailed him for cash just to see if I could, and how much he'd put up with before he snapped. I'd be happy to donate it as thanks for getting rid of Brucie."

"How very generous, thank you," said Tetch, smiling at him. "Let's discuss the details over tea tomorrow in our office. You see, Jonathan, I told you buying this opera house wasn't such a bad idea after all."

They left the auditorium, leaving Joker and Harley alone. "So…everyone's seen your face and knows who you are," said Harley. "Your air of mystery is over."

"Yeah, but it was a good gag while it lasted," said Joker, shrugging. "And since I'm apparently the new patron of this place, I'm sure they'll let me stick around in my home underneath it. They don't know where I live, after all, so they can't really evict me. It's just I'll be paying rent now. But that doesn't mean I won't still prank people from time to time, for old time's sake. I'll try to take it easy on Pammie for a little while though – heck, she'll be starring in the next few productions anyway since you'll be gone."

"Gone?" repeated Harley, puzzled. "Where am I going?"

"Well, on our honeymoon with me, of course," replied Joker, grinning.

Harley beamed at him. "You mean…you mean you want to marry me?"

"Yeah, might as well make an honorable woman outta you," he said. "Anyway, I don't want people seeing you singing like an angel up on that stage and thinking you're unattached. They might go all crazy to have you, like Brucie."

Harley smiled. "So, in the spirit of happy endings," said Joker, kneeling down in front of her and taking her hands. "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you'll want me with you here beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too – Harley Quinn, that's all I ask of you."

And they kissed as the curtain came down.