Chapter Ten: The Last Laugh
The news hit Gotham like wildfire: the Joker was back. No one knew where he'd been, but whispers claimed he had been lying low after the murder of the Bat Family, savoring the chaos he helped create. Now, hearing of Batman's brutal return, the Joker couldn't resist the opportunity.
He made his grand reappearance by hijacking Gotham's news network, his twisted grin splashed across every screen in the city.
"Hello, Gotham!" Joker's voice oozed with glee. "I'm back, and I've got a special surprise for our dearly beloved Bat. Oh, Bats… I know you're watching. Come out and play."
In a dimly lit alley nearby, Batman's gaze flickered to a public screen, the Joker's face taunting him from the other side. His blood boiled as he watched the madman laugh, his eyes narrowing to dangerous red slits. But there was no game left to play, no elaborate schemes or banter. Not anymore.
Batman turned and moved with swift purpose toward the broadcast station, each step echoing with cold intent. Joker's laughter filled the air, but Batman didn't feel a shred of the old frustration, the maddening push and pull that had once defined their encounters. Now, all he felt was quiet, seething rage. He flies into the air like a missile locked onto a target.
The Joker continued to monologue on every channel, basking in his comeback. "Oh, Bat-sy, it's been too long! A whole year without a single caped crusader to tussle with. But I heard you've been… quite the busy boy!"
In the heart of Gotham, in the broadcast studio, Joker danced around in front of the camera, relishing every second of his televised chaos.
The door shattered, and Batman stepped inside, his figure casting an ominous shadow on the Joker. The crew froze, backing away from the caped figure radiating fury.
"Oh, Bats!" Joker grinned wider, barely contained excitement lighting up his face. "Look who finally decided to join the party. Damn, have you been working out? What took you so—"
Batman didn't answer. He launched forward, a blur of black as his fist collided with Joker's face, the impact snapping Joker's head back with a sickening crack. Blood sprayed across the floor, and Joker stumbled, his laughter trailing off in a wheeze.
"No banter today, Bats?" Joker panted, a crazed grin splitting his bloodied face. "No back-and-forth? Must be the roid rage."
Batman's grip found Joker's throat, lifting him off his feet. "No games, Joker. No more."
"Oh, but that's no fun!" Joker managed, his hands clawing at Batman's iron grip, his face turning red. He tried to laugh, but the sound was cut short by Batman's grip tightening.
Without a word, Batman flung Joker across the room, his body crashing into the metal equipment, bones cracking on impact. Joker tried to pull himself up, his limbs trembling, but Batman was already on him again, relentless and cold.
A kick to Joker's ribs shattered them, each blow calculated, controlled. The Joker, for once, found himself struggling to laugh through the agony, his face twisted in pain. "Ha…ha…Bats…" he gasped, blood dripping from his mouth. "I… missed you. Or should I call you Bru…"
Batman grabbed Joker by his throat cutting him off, lifting him once more to meet his gaze. "You murdered my family." His voice was low, each word drenched in fury.
Joker's grin flickered, fear beginning to creep into his eyes.
Without hesitation, Batman's hand transformed, bone spikes jutting from his knuckles as he plunged them into Joker's side. The Joker screamed, blood pouring from the wounds as Batman twisted the spikes.
Joker laughed through the pain, the sound strangled and desperate. "Go on… Bats… finish it. Do it!"
Batman's grip tightened, the bone spikes inching deeper. The broadcast camera, still rolling, caught every second. He didn't care. He lifted Joker up high, the madman's blood dripping from his suit, pooling around his feet.
Without a word, he brought Joker down with a force that shook the room, tearing him apart. The Joker's body hit the ground, broken, his laughter cut short as he lay motionless, lifeless.
The camera zoomed in on Batman's cold, expressionless face. He met the lens, his blood-red eyes staring into the soul of Gotham itself, sending a clear, unmistakable message.
The Joker was dead. And Batman was done playing.