A new batman streaked through the skies of Gotham. He was the Bat of the Future. 'Alright, things might look different, better even, but that doesn't change the location. Max said it's a left then a right from here; and if she said it, we know it's right." He remembered his last conversation, possibly ever, with his best friend, standing in the computer lab at school.

"Here you go Ter." The young black woman held out a sheet of paper. "Why do you want it anyway?" He looked thoughtfully at Max, taking in her bright pink hair, her chocolate skin, her keen eyes. He knew he would have to tell her, or she'd find out anyway, and then she'd really be mad. She might even tell Wayne; which would totally not be good.

"You remember when the Joker came back?"

Max nodded, crossing her arms, tucking the paper against her breast, where he wasn't likely to grab for it. He could tell she was suspicious now. "Yeah," she drew the word out. 'Definitely suspicious' he thought.

"I'm going to keep that from happening." Max's eyes had widened at his declaration.

Her pretty mouth opened slightly, staying that way for a moment before she responded. "And just exactly how were you planning on doing that." Now Max sounded smug, like she didn't believe he could do it. "And just what does that have to do with these directions?"

"I'm going back Max."

"What! Terry, you can't do that." She was emphatic, imploring. She knew he could, and would, if she didn't stop him. "Messing with the past is a bad idea. You could erase us all. You, me, Dana, Mr. Wayne, your mom, Matt, everyone; you could kill everyone." That gave Terry pause, he hadn't thought about his kid brother... But, no. Matt or no Matt; things would be better.

"I have to go Max. They didn't deserve that stuff. I know he's rough around the edges, but even Wayne didn't deserve that. And especially not Tim, he was just a kid." He had meant to be firm, put Terry knew he had ended up pleading for Max's blessing. He was willing to plead. He knew he was right. Things would be better. "Besides, if things change it's not like we'll remember." And that seemed to give Max pause.

"Alright McGinnis, what else do you need me to do?" Terry McGinnis grinned as Max, the self proclaimed New Robin, handed over the paper. "I need you to distract the old man while Static, Gear and I get the whole time machine part done."

He hadn't kissed Max then, but he did just before she led an elderly Bruce Wayne into the kitchen. Just before he smuggled Static and Gear into the cave and left for the past. Well the present now.

Terry pressed his fingers to the window. He listened through the glass for a few minutes before slipping inside. The Joker seemed to have been waiting very quietly for any sound of his impending visitor. "Took you long enough bat for brains. You're just in time to see my newest joke. Aren't you excited?" The Joker's laugh was even creepier than Terry's memory of it. He swallowed down the crawling feeling it gave him and continued on with the plan.

"Nope. I'm not your Batman." Terry moved from the ceiling to behind a crate. "I'll laugh." He stared down at the Joker, swinging around, looking for the source of his echoing voice. "So you might as well just give up. He's not coming. You've broken him."

"What!" The Joker spun around. "What do you mean?" He demanded of the disembodied voice.

"He's holed up in the cave. Crying." Terry moved again, best to keep this psychopath guessing. He didn't have Wayne in his ear giving him directions this time. "Hasn't eaten anything in days," Terry was silent for several moments before continuing, suspense was a good weapon and one of the few he had, "by this time next week the Batman will be dead."

"No!" the Joker challenged his declaration. "That can't happen." He whipped around once more. "I'm supposed to kill him." Terry laughed, just like he did the last time he faced the insane clown.

"What's the matter puddin'?" Harley came out of an adjoining room.

"We," Joker stuttered, "we have to do something!" He grabbed Harley's shoulders. "It can't end like this!"

"Project CADMUS," Terry McGinnis' voice a la Batman rang out from the darkness above them. "They'll blame it on Luthor." Then he slipped out the way he came, making sure the window clattered just enough to let the demented circus folk know he had left. Terry moved to another, secure, window and pressed his finger to the glass, listening for confirmation that the plan had worked.

"That's what we'll do Harl," the Joker was saying. "We'll get it all blamed on Superman's pesky enemy."

"If you say so, Mista J."

"And it'll be one less rich buffoon around to deal with." The Joker began to laugh again, but this time there was the distinct note of a desperate man who had just found the only way out. Terry left.