A/N: So halfway through writing this, I realized it wasn't in first person anymore... Derp. Please leave any comments or criticisms.

He had been in this room before, long ago. As he looked around the infirmary, he recalled where the boy had been standing…

"Hey, he's awake."

Jester turned to look as Barbara and Dick entered. They were in casual wear; Dick still wore his sunglasses while Barbara wore her regular reading glasses. Jester sat up, wincing as his singed body protested.

"Good morning," the clown croaked.

"Actually, it's two o'clock in the afternoon."

Barbara sat in a chair, watching Jester with concern. "How're you feeling?"

"Like a well done filet mignon." The clown winced. "It's a false lead, huh?"

Barbara sighed. "I got weird readings on my instruments. There were no bodies, no crates, just a pile of explosives."

"Of course; you bats and your fancy toys."

"Don't get sour at her; Barb was trying to protect you."

"Then why didn't she just say, 'Hey, don't go down any stairs, because there's a bomb lying around'?"

"Ahem." They all turned to see Cassie standing at the door with a tray. Dick motioned for her to enter, and she approached Jester cautiously. He flashed a winning smile at her.

"Hellooo."

Cassie blushed scarlet, leaving the food tray on a table and exiting quickly. Barbara glared at Jester, but Dick smiled.

Jester grabbed the tray and stuffed a roll of bread in his mouth. "So where's my helmet?"

Dick frowned. "What helmet?"

Jester paused, exchanging glances with Barbara. She sighed. "I couldn't find it."

"Maybe it's for the best. Masks are cooler, anyways."

Barbara frowned in disapproval. "Jester, we found five dead men in an alley. We tracked down another man, who was crawling towards a phone booth. His leg was shattered."

Jester shrugged. "They were five thugs, and the other was just a desperate man who fell into the wrong hands."

"Thugs or not, they were still human." Dick had crossed his arms; Jester recognized the action as a sign of the Flying Grayson's irritability. "You could have just handcuffed the man and called the police."

"Hey, he learned his lesson."

"Jester…" Barbara sighed, glancing at Dick. "We're going to have to arrest you."

Jester laughed. "Like I haven't escaped from Arkham before."

Behind his sunglasses, Dick's eyes narrowed. "What were you thinking?"

"I'm bored. For as long as I've known you bats, I've been sitting on the sideline watching you get the glory. Admit it; this team is keeping you busy. Whenever you all leave, Gotham starts falling apart. So I've stepped in to take matters into my own hands."

Barbara growled softly, "This isn't a game, Jester; people are dying because of you."

"I'm administering justice."

"No, we're administering justice. You're promoting warfare."

"Wrong. I'm showing the criminals whose boss. People listen when death is on the line. Our most humane instinct is to fear, and I'm using that fear against them. Isn't that what Daddy Bats is all about?"

Dick glared at him. "Batman is a symbol; crime has been dropping for years because of him."

"But it never ends, Dick. I can destroy it altogether, even if it means slaughtering the pigs."

Barbara was eyeing him with disgust. "As soon as you're healed, you'll be put on trial." She stood and started following Dick out of the room. At the door, she paused, and looked back. "We're worried, Jester; we don't want you to become… like him."

As soon as they had departed, Jester frowned at his meal. He ran his fingers through his hair, snarling softly. "I'm not like him…" he muttered.