A/N: Here's a flashback set a few days after Jester first meets Robin. Please leave comments and criticism.

Flashback

I was like a hunter stalking his prey.

In these days, I was young and foolish and somehow sought my father's approval. This was the night that would change.

Robin dashed around the corner, running after the henchman. However, that man was only a decoy to bring the Boy Wonder into my clutches.

I pounced.

Robin grunted as I grabbed him, and we wrestled in the alley. It was our first fight, and neither of us was fighting for the thrill. I was trying to extinguish him while he was fighting for freedom.

The fight was sloppy: random punches and kicks.

Finally, he launched me off, and I slammed against a wall. We stood, glaring at each other. Robin frowned as he finally recognized me. "Hey… You're the kid from the pier."

I laughed. That had been a week ago. "I'm honored that you remember me."

He glared at me, but I could see curiosity behind his eyes. "What are you doing out here? And why did you attack me?"

"To distract you."

"From what?"

"So you wouldn't follow Joker."

He looked even more confused.

I laughed. "Can't you see the family resemblance?"

Robin's eyes widened. "W-what?"

He was caught off-guard; I attacked again.

I was more careful this time: more calculating. He fought back with the same panic of being jumped, and I wondered if, after all that training he'd had, if he had ever wrestled against someone like me.

Either way, it was an enriching experience. Finally, I gained the upper hand and pulled out my switchblade. I placed it against his throat, sneering. "That was fun. Goodnight, Richard Grayson."

I pressed the knife closer to his throat, and then hesitated. My father had ordered me specifically to wound him satisfactorily. In my young mind, I had assumed he meant for me to kill Robin, though in later years I would know that Joker preferred to keep the more bloodthirsty tasks for himself.

However, I found myself not wanting to kill this boy. It wasn't because I was tied by moral standards; I felt like it would be a waste of talent and that I could receive much better training if I kept him alive.

My time was running out; I heard voices behind me. I pulled away the knife, turned, and darted into the night.

I ran until I reached the North side. I rested against a building, frowning at the switchblade. I had been so foolish; for trying to help my father, for trying to receive his approval, for telling Robin that I knew his secret identity and that Joker was my father.

I paused, gazing at the blade. Suddenly, I started to laugh. I tossed the knife in the air, catching it.

I did many things I regretted, but I felt freer, somehow: wiser. I sheathed the blade and dug my fists into my pockets, turning a corner and whistling as I walked in no particular direction.