Bird in the Nest

by scesketch

Samantha Meyers, Alfred Pennyworth's grand niece, has been hired to work at Wayne Manor as a maid. Little does she realize that living in the same house as billionaire Bruce Wayne and his four sons will come with its own difficulties.

12. Chapter 11: Yesterday's Demons

Chapter 11 – Yesterday's Demons

After breakfast, Alfred pressured me to take a nap, claiming that if I didn't rest, my fever might come back. I let him tell me what to do; he deserved as much after the bomb we dropped on him that morning. So, I ended up wasting the hours until noon by sleeping.

I was awoken by the screech of bats overhead and the faint rushing of water. I felt strangely disoriented. My eyes still closed, I lay and listened to the many noises of the Batcave. There must have been a waterfall somewhere; if my legs worked, I would try to find it. The bats were easy to tune out now; it was like having hundreds of little pets, except I never really saw them.

Sighing, I began to pick myself up. That was when I realized what was different.

I could feel the blankets. They were heavy against my legs. But I could feel them. And my arm was working again. Everything worked. My paralysis had passed!

Without a second thought, I threw off my blankets and swung my legs out of bed. They started tingling like crazy, like my whole bottom half had pins and needles, and they felt as heavy as lead. But they were there! They were working!

I slid out of bed and carefully tested my legs. I moved them slowly, bending my knees, flexing my toes, lifting them as high as I could. My movement was limited, but constantly improving. I stomped my feet on the floor a few times, trying to wake them up. Then, looking up and trying to judge the distance, I decided to try to walk from my bed to the computer chair.

My first step didn't go so well; I got up nursing angry knees and elbows, trying not to blush too hard. The next step got me to one of the chairs set around for the family. I used that to get me to the doctor's chair, which had wheels on the bottom. I was suddenly two again, learning to toddle along using a cardboard box. But every step brought a smile to my face. A day ago, I had thought I might never walk again.

By the time I got to the stairs to the computer, I was walking fine. It took me a bit to climb the stairs, but I managed it, and slumped in the chair with a sigh of happiness. I did it!

And now I was sitting in front of the computer, with no one else around. The Batcomputer, which had access to everything.

I stared up at the glowing blue screen, my excitement turning to curiosity. What should I research? Should I try to look up a reason for Batman ignoring my parents? No; Tim had already failed at that. Besides, it was a wound I didn't want to reopen, not while I was feeling so much better.

Then I remembered my conversation with Tim yesterday, about Barbara being paralyzed. That was as good a place to start as any.

"Computer, find Barbara Gordon's file."

Gordon, Barbara. Alias: Batgirl. File open.

I smiled and started searching through the file. There were news clips praising her good deeds as Batgirl, and as Barbara. There were mission reports. There was a contact number, under the title Oracle. In fact, there were a lot of things with that label. It must have been an alternate superhero identity.

And then I found it. A news story: Barbara Gordon, shot and paralyzed.

My smile vanished.

Joker.

It was him. He shot her, paralyzed her. And… holy heck. The pictures…

My hand rose to my mouth. Poor Babs, what did he do to you?

My fingers slowly came to rest against the keys once more. Barbara had been one of the Joker's victims; I now knew of another. I couldn't make my voice work, so instead, I typed out the name.

Todd, Jason.

There wasn't that much on him-just a couple pictures, maybe a news article. There was one photograph of a clipping, a headline reading, "Bruce Wayne: Orphan Pity Philanthropist." Another, smaller heading said, "Jason Todd-Jason Wayne?"

Then my eyes fell on a file, labelled only "Jason." It was full of… autopsy pictures.

So… he really had died.

I sat back, shocked, as the truth finally and fatally sank in. Jason had died. He knew what death felt like, what it would take to bring a person to the very edge of life, even… to push them over that edge.

The report that went with the file wasn't very long. I read it quickly, barely skimming; I already knew what it was going to say.

Jason Todd, formerly known as Robin. Killed by the Joker.

There were only two other words in the report, written side by side in all caps.

NEVER AGAIN.

I closed the file. I didn't want to look at Jason's dead body. It was just… wrong. And disturbing.

There was a profile for Alias: Red Hood. On a whim, I clicked on it.

The computer spoke to me. Alias: Red Hood. Duplicate file name. Which file did you want?

Duplicate? Wait, so… there were two Red Hoods? That caught me off guard. I clicked the first profile and found a picture next to a couple stats.

Unknown. Alias: Red Hood.

Unknown. This person didn't have a name to go with him, so this couldn't be Jason. The guy in the picture did look a little different; the fuzzy security camera footage showed the iconic hood as little more than a tall red dome, like half of a pill. And he was wearing a tux and a cape. Definitely not Jason's style.

A little way down the page, I noticed something else.

Status: Alive, alias changed

Notes: Origin of the Joker

Huh. Wasn't expecting that. The original Red Hood… turned into the Joker?

Okay, wait. The Joker was the one who killed Jason. So why did Jason choose as his code name the former alias of his own murderer? Was it an act of defiance? Or was it a parallel? He did seem a little… off sometimes. But not Joker off.

I maneuvered back to the second profile. This one was more familiar. The picture was in focus, and showed Jason in his head-shaped helmet, as well as his favorite biker jacket. There wasn't much to see in the actual profile, other than his middle name – Peter. I had to remember that. I started looking through the various news articles that were attached, hoping to find some semblance of an origin story. But as I read, I found myself growing more and more horrified. These weren't glowing headlines and articles of thanks. There were no news clippings calling him a hero or thanking him for saving the day.

These were crime reports.

I couldn't stop reading them. Report after report told me, in gruesome, disheartening detail, everything Jason Todd did. He murdered people to stop a crime king called Black Mask. He killed people to make a point. I saw a photo of a blood-spattered card left on a victim that read, "Let the punishment fit the crime."

Oh, Jason…

If I knew anything about Batman, it was that he had a very strict rule-no killing. Why would Jason so blatantly ignore that? And why did many of these articles pin him against Batman? Judging by the dates, this had all happened a while ago, not long after he came back. Did his death cause this? Was his brain affected or something? Why else would one of Batman's proteges turn to this sort of violence?

The lightest tap of a boot on stone made me jump in my seat. I whirled around to see Jason standing at the foot of the stairs. He was staring at the computer screen, not an emotion to be seen.

My blood ran cold. "I… I was just…"

I couldn't think of an excuse as he mounted the steps and walked toward me. I leaned as far away from him as I could. Something about his nonchalance made every instinct blare warnings.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his hands in his pockets.

I rushed to close all the articles and clear the search. "I was just… reading."

Jason frowned and turned to me. "How'd you get to the computer?"

I vaguely remembered a moment of excitement, maybe a few minutes ago. "I… walked. My legs came back."

"Oh, that's good," he said. He glanced at the screen. "So… you got your freedom back and decided, first thing you were going to do was look up Jason on the big screen. Should I be flattered?"

I couldn't look him in the eye. What would he do to me? I felt like I'd been reading gossip behind his back. "I didn't mean to… I promise. I didn't realize…"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "What? That I'm not perfect, like the rest of them? There's always one black sheep."

"I didn't mean that."

"I don't mind. In fact, I'm proud of it. The Bat's always been super testy about compromising his morals and all that, but when you need to get something done, you've got to be willing to do what it takes."

"So… you're Batman's executioner?"

"I'm the big guns," Jason said, lightly punching my shoulder. "Really, I'm the only guns. Batman makes me use rubber bullets, though. He hates thinking how easy it would be for me to kill someone if I used real ones. Doesn't seem to realize there are a million ways to use a gun without killing people."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "So, you… you don't kill people? Anymore?"

"I've agreed to live by Bruce's standards, and he's agreed not to talk about it. I'm just a regular vigilante with some added fireworks."

I ducked my head. "Who also came back from the dead?"

Jason chuckled, and the sound made me shiver. "It didn't last that long, seriously. I was dead for a few months tops. It's a laughing matter now."

"I wouldn't think you'd want to laugh… considering who killed you."

I didn't dare look up, for fear I had offended him with that last comment. But Jason just laughed even louder and slapped the back of the seat.

"Oh, you've got it! Nice one."

I stared at him, half ready to bolt for the door. He seemed so… insane.

"Seriously, though," Jason said, "don't worry about the death thing. I'm not a zombie; I won't eat your brains. I'm not a vampire, either. Can't turn into a bat. I bet Bruce would've liked that one. Lose me in among all the other ones living down here."

His face seemed to take on a darker, deeper aspect for a moment, and I leaned just a little further away. I could feel the heat of anger burning just beneath his sheltered gaze, like a flame held inches away from a firework. Then, with a suddenness that made me jump, Jason smiled and patted the back of the chair with one strong hand.

"So; do you want lunch? I brought you down a tray, but now that you can walk, you could come upstairs."

He walked off to fetch the tray, and I sat in bewildered silence, trying to process what had just happened. Jason couldn't be mentally stable. He had been through death and back. How could he not be a little bit mad?

Jason had been through death. He knew what it was like. I suddenly realized exactly what I wanted to know. I worked up the courage to speak.

"Jason."

He looked up from the lunch tray. "What?"

I bit my lip. "Did… did it hurt? Dying?"

Jason raised his eyebrows. "Hurt? I think Hell would feel like a sauna in comparison. Why?"

I pushed deeper into the chair. "I just wanted to know. For my family." Maybe I didn't want to know anymore.

"You're asking for your parents' sake?"

"And my brother." I don't know why, but I told him. "I had a twin brother. He was killed in one of the Joker's attacks. I thought… since… you know. You might… know."

Jason snorted. "I know Joker isn't the type to recycle old methods. Death hurt for me, because he beat me half to death with a crowbar. Then he blew me up."

My mouth tasted sour. I definitely didn't want to know.

"As for your brother—"

"Jason Peter Todd!"

I nearly yelped out loud as Alfred burst from the shadows, brandishing a mop. "Not another word out of your mouth! Upstairs, now!"

"I was just—"

"Upstairs! I'll deal with you in a minute."

Jason's face paled. He tripped off to the elevator as quick as he could without running.

Alfred turned to me. "He should know bloody well not to go around talking like that. Not under my roof."

I nodded, trying to shake a few nasty images out of my brain. Nope… no, they weren't going anywhere.

"Is everything alright?"

I cleared my throat and sat up. "Yeah. Yeah, fine."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. I'm… oh!" I glanced down at my legs. Thank God, an excuse! "Alfred, my legs are back."

Alfred blinked. Then his face blossomed with surprise. "Oh! Oh, of course, I didn't realize… did you get over there by yourself?"

"I did, yes."

"Well, that's certainly good news." Alfred walked up to the computer to give me a one-armed hug. "Is there anything else wrong? You seem a little pale."

"No, I think all my attacks have passed."

Alfred squinted at me. I squirmed, just a little. It was like he knew I was hiding something – like he could tell I was imagining a grinning face looming over a child's broken body, and it hurt my soul. But after a long moment, he stood back and nodded in satisfaction.

"I'm glad you're better. Now you can move again, I'd love to see you upstairs. I've missed you more than you can imagine."

I forced a smile across my tense face. "You, too."

"Would you like my help up the stairs?"

"I can manage. I… want to keep working my legs back into shape."

"Get me if you need anything," Alfred said. "Or send one of the boys. Shall I leave the lunch tray?"

I nodded. No way was I going upstairs; that's where Jason was.

Alfred gave me one last concerned look. "I'll… see you when you come upstairs. Don't be long; we miss you up there."

He left, and I sat in front of the computer, trying not to cry. I hadn't cried because I was scared since I was a little girl. I wasn't about to now.

/

Alfred rolled into Bruce's study like a storm cloud. Jason was standing at one of the windows, patient and quiet, obviously doing his best to placate the vengeful butler. But Alfred was not ready to be placated; he had things to say.

"What do you think you're doing, talking like that to my niece?"

Jason folded his arms. "She asked. Am I just not allowed to talk to her now?"

"If you're going to tell her horror stories about how her twin brother might have perished, then yes."

"Alright, Pennyworth," Jason said. "I was not telling her horror stories. I was actually going to tell her he probably didn't die as painfully as I did."

"There's a vast difference between what you think is funny, and what she thinks. She probably assumed Jeremiah died the same way you did now."

"Jeremiah?"

"Her twin! Who died when they were five, by the way. Five!"

"So, shouldn't she be over it?"

"May I remind you how recently she lost her parents?"

Jason threw up his hands. "Al, she'll be fine. She's a tough cookie."

"She's bloody terrified of you! I could see it in her face! I assume she found out what you did after you returned from the dead. She probably thinks you'll murder her if she says anything you don't fancy."

Jason squared his jaw and glanced out the window. Alfred sighed.

"I'm not telling you to stay away from her. If anything, I want you to show her your proper self, the one I know can be kind and cordial. I'm telling you to have a little tact. Think before you speak."

Jason stared at the floor and didn't answer. He had finally run out of excuses. Alfred decided he was satisfied and turned to leave the study.

"Alfred."

Alfred looked back. "Yes, Master Jason?"

Jason blinked at the floor with a worried brow. "You really think she's scared of me?"

"I know she is, Master Jason." Alfred shot the boy a fierce, pointed glare. "Fix it."

/

I pried myself out of the chair and ate my lunch sometime around one in the afternoon. I went slowly, so maybe I wouldn't have to take the tray upstairs quite so soon. Jason seemed okay enough when he was far away; he was definitely less scary when surrounded by the other boys. They seemed to defuse the tension he constantly carried with him. But if I ran into him alone… I shuddered. Better not.

It was almost two when I convinced myself to venture upstairs. I peeked around every corner before turning it and glanced through every open door, just to avoid Jason. My common sense said I was being ridiculous, but my instinct didn't let me stop.

I assumed the kitchen would be empty; it would have been the perfect place to hide. But when I walked in with my tray, I found Alfred talking to Bruce and Dick. When they saw me, their faces lit up.

"Sam!" Dick pointed to me with both hands. "You're on your feet again!"

I tried to smile without wincing. Just what I wanted: company.

I let Dick give me a hug, and Bruce put a hand on my shoulder. "We've missed seeing you around the manor," Bruce said. "It's good to have you back."

"I've made a batch of biscuits, Samantha," Alfred said. "Care to join us for some tea?"

Oh. Tea and biscuits. That's why Bruce and Dick were here. If word got out, Jason might show up, too.

"Uh…" I backed slowly toward the supply closet. "Actually, Alfred, I thought I might… get back to cleaning."

"No need. I'll give you a day off."

"Well… but I've been in bed for so long. I've had so many days off already, I'd really like to work again."

Alfred seemed about to protest. Then, his face softened, and he nodded. "I understand. I was going to take care of the hallway mirrors on the ground floor this afternoon; you can handle that, if you'd like."

I smiled. "Thank you, Uncle."

I gathered up some glass cleaner and a rag and headed for the first floor. I poured myself into my work, scrubbing every mirror with vim and vigor. After a while, I managed to scrub away my bad mood, too. I started making faces at myself, playing with my reflection. I even managed to laugh once. Having my body back in working order was the best thing to happen to me in a while.

"Sam!"

I froze.

Jason.

I stared into the mirror. Not yet. I didn't want to talk to him yet. I scrubbed harder. Maybe he would leave me alone if I looked like I was busy.

"Hey, Sam," Jason said, slightly out of breath. "I've been looking for you. I wanted to… talk about this morning. In a good way! In the best possible way."

I glanced at him. He kept adjusting his jacket, like he was uncomfortable.

"Would that be okay?" he asked. "I don't want to interrupt you if you're busy…"

"I am a little bit," I said, trying my hardest not to snap.

"Right. Um…" He nervously combed his hair. "Maybe later? Would you want to… I don't know, get a drink or something…?"

"I'm seventeen," I reminded him kindly.

"I knew that." Jason cleared his throat. "Look, I, uh… I just really wanted to say I'm sorry."

I stopped scrubbing.

"I didn't mean to freak you out," he continued. "I'm used to dealing with guys my age, people who've been through all the tough stuff I have. You, you're…"

"Fragile?"

Jason's eyes went wide. "No, no! I meant you're different. You haven't gone through all that. You know, you're not a vigilante or a superhero, like the rest of us."

I shot him a frigid glare. "You're not making me feel better, just fyi."

Jason ran a hand over his face. "Okay. Take two. Samantha Meyers, I've been a jerk, and I'm really sorry if I scared you."

Scared? I looked into the mirror again, searching my own eyes. Maybe I was a little scared of Jason. But Jason himself wasn't scary; I had lived with him for weeks before finding out about his past. What was I really afraid of?

"You good?" Jason asked, his hands folded in front of him as if he were praying. Was he really trying that hard to placate me?

I took a deep breath. "I'm not scared of you, Jason."

Jason wrinkled his brow. "Are you sure? Because Alfred—"

"Just let me finish?"

Jason held up a hand. "My bad. Go on."

"I'm not scared of you as a person," I said. "Jason Todd is fine. It's… it's Red Hood, Gotham's assassin vigilante, that scares the bejeebers out of me."

Jason shoved his hands in his pockets. "Okay, but that's still me, so what's…"

"The difference is that Jason Todd is still human. I can usually ignore the fact that you're a dead man walking. But as soon as you turn into the Hood… I don't know what you are anymore."

"I'm still me."

"Then maybe I should be scared of Jason Todd."

Jason flinched. "Okay, but what is it? What are you actually scared of?"

"I'm scared of the crazy man who goes around shooting people and calls it justice!" I yelled, fed up with trying to be nice. "It's the ultra-violence, the way you don't seem to have any mercy or soul! I'm not even sure you came back with one!"

Jason stood, silent and stone-faced. I suddenly realized what I said; I could feel my hands start to shake.

"So. You took one look at a past I left, and decided that's all there is to me?"

I put a hand to my mouth. I really did it now. Goodbye, world.

And then, Jason held out a hand. He didn't grab me; he just held it there, open, waiting.

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"Just come," he said, and I was surprised to hear a note of pain in his voice as he asked. "Please."

I looked at the hand. If I went with him, would it be a dark alleyway, or somewhere worse? Or… was he maybe, just maybe, not the murderous lunatic I expected?

I took his hand.

Jason steered me into one of the coat closets. He closed the door and turned on the light. I wasn't sure this was better than a dark alleyway.

"Here it is," he said. "All that stuff about killing people, using guns, it's way less me now than it was. Maybe it's still a tiny part of me, but I've changed. I do listen to Batman when he tells me to spare people. I just… don't like leaving criminals out on the streets with little more than a warning."

"Still sounds a lot like…"

"Just listen, please?" Jason sighed. "I was… angry. I had a lot going on, and I took it out on crime."

I frowned. "Why were you angry?"

Jason stared at me. I could tell he was thinking; his eyes were vacant.

"Why don't you start at the beginning?" I said softly.

Jason scowled at the far wall. "Which beginning?"

"Whichever one you think will make most sense."

He was silent for a minute. His face never changed. Then, without warning, he started to speak.

"I think I've always been angry. My dad was a criminal. My mom was an addict. Home life was… strained, at best. So, I grew up angry. Angry that my parents died too soon-angry that I had no choice but to follow in their footsteps."

Wow. He had gone back to the beginning. But he was right; he already made more sense.

"You know how Bruce found me?" Jason suddenly smiled. "I was jacking the tires off the Batmobile. He thought it was so gutsy, he took me on as Robin. It was probably one of the first good things ever to happen to me. Bruce… was a good thing."

"So why…?"

"Oh, I'm getting there." The smile vanished. "You see, I didn't stop being angry just because some nice rich guy took me in. I was probably the angriest Robin ever, more even than Damian. But now I had an outlet. I threw myself into it so much, Bruce had to stop me more than a few times."

I looked up. "Did you ever kill anyone as Robin?"

"He managed to keep that from happening. But I came close once or twice. Like I said… I was an angry Robin."

"Is that why you…? You know."

"In a way." Jason dragged a hand through his hair. "So, a while in, I found out that… my mom wasn't dead."

"It runs in the family."

Jason snorted. "I guess. Bruce had been grounding me for a while; he was worried I might do something I'd regret. I didn't want him to stop me, so I went to find her on my own. But, turns out, she was working with the Joker on one of his schemes… not of her own free will, mind you. She wasn't bad. Just… in with the wrong crowd.

"Joker couldn't let either of us go. We knew what he was up to. We were evidence he had to erase. He beat me, maybe to take out his anger at Batman… maybe just because he's a maniac. Then he tied up my mother and locked us both in a warehouse with a bomb. I tried to get her out, but…" He lifted up his hands.

I cocked my head. "How did you come back?"

"Talia al Ghul."

I gaped. "Damian's mother?"

"The same. I don't remember how I got to wherever the al Ghuls live, or why they even had me in the first place. All I remember is waking up in some strange glowing pool and realizing… I wasn't dead anymore. I know now, thanks to a letter from Talia, that it was a Lazarus Pit–a well of life-giving water. And then Talia dragged me to a river and chucked me in, only telling me that Bruce hadn't avenged me."

He spat out those last words like a curse. I squirmed; he was getting angry.

"I got so mad at Bruce for letting the Joker go. I hated him-Joker, I mean-I still hate him. But what ticked me off, worse than any beating, was that Bruce didn't get rid of him. He didn't do his job. He didn't save the world from that sick, rabid lunatic. He just let him go, to keep hurting, keep killing, keep destroying families… and that tore me apart."

Jason closed his eyes and heaved a breath. I could tell he was trying his hardest to control his temper. Out of the depths of my heart rose a sudden pride. I never thought I'd be proud of Jason Todd.

"I lashed out at Bruce and Dick and Tim," Jason said. "I lashed out at criminals, too, but I also worked with them. I did whatever the heck I wanted, because I thought I was making the world a better place. I thought, if I killed him, took his place, I could do a better job."

"And?"

Jason glanced at me. "And what?"

"Do you still feel that way?"

Jason shook his head. "It's complicated. I've learned from my mistakes; I see why I was wrong. But… sometimes… sometimes I can feel it, all that anger I held onto for so long. All my skills, I learned because I was angry. If I ever did anything right, it was because I was angry for the right reason for once. And everything I did wrong…"

He fell silent. I finally realized it. I hadn't known Jason at all. Here was a boy, killed by a psychopath, which would be traumatic enough, if he hadn't been miraculously revived just to discover that his own killer was still alive and free. I had always thought of Jason as untouchable, invincible, and full of a dark sort of life. But now, I saw him for what he was: a broken and miserable little boy, trying to save the world from a fate like his, and doing his best to fit into a family that saw him as a martyr, and worse, a rebel.

"Jason… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so hasty to judge you."

"It's fine. I probably didn't help my image much."

He seemed finished, but I had one last question; one last piece to the puzzle.

"Why did you change?" I asked.

It took Jason a while to reply. "It didn't happen all at once. It took weeks, months, to even start to forgive Bruce and the rest. I stayed out of Gotham for the longest time. I couldn't handle watching him go running across the rooftops with Tim. My… replacement. Just my luck that he'd be the first one to… move past the mask and start… seeing Jason Todd. I dunno."

"That's a good start," I said.

Slowly, I reached out and touched his knee. He didn't flinch away, so I left it there.

Jason let out his breath. "In the end, what really brought me around… it was the Joker again."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Guess history really does go in circles. A while ago, Joker attacked and kidnapped all the Robins and Batgirl, just to lure Batman to himself. I think, if I recall correctly, he was trying to get Batman to realize how important their relationship was. Honestly, it was twisted and weird, but it got us all in one place."

"And you talked?"

"No, I… Joker coated the inside of my helmet with acid and almost melted my face off."

"Oh. Wow."

"Bruce and Alfred took care of me, and it meant I stayed in the Manor for a while. And I remember this one night… sitting with Bruce alone. He let down all his barriers, and I saw for the first time how much… how he really…"

"That he loves you."

Jason didn't confirm it, but he didn't deny it, either. He just looked at the floor and said, "That night changed everything. Most of all, it got me to try again–try to be something Bruce would be proud of."

A smile drifted across my lips. "So, you love him, too."

"If you tell, I'll…"

"Kill me?"

Jason smiled guiltily. "I don't solve all my problems that way."

"I'm glad."

Jason looked at me for the first time. "You're so… good. How does anyone get that good? Especially in Gotham."

I patted his knee. "Maybe because there are Bruce's and Tim's and Alfred's out there in the world. People who know what's good for us and give it to us, even if we don't want it."

"You're good at… saying things."

"You're… not a homicidal maniac."

"That's one of the nicest compliments I've ever been given."

We laughed, awkwardly, quietly. But when we looked at each other again, it wasn't cold or distant or nervous. It wasn't a passing glance between two people who hardly knew each other. We were new and different, and I could sense it.

We sat in the closet for a few minutes, not talking, just thinking. And I realized something wonderful. My first brother, I had lost to the Joker. And now, thanks to everything, here was another one, given to me, in a roundabout way, by the Joker.

How crazy, right? Isn't that just Gotham.