PAINTED SMILES

PROLOGUE

Deep down the winding passages of Arkham. A boy heard a cry arising from the level 6 restricted area. He hurried his loading of dirty uniforms, almost afraid to look up in fear that he might see something undesirable. The cries continued... whining, sobbing, remorseful. He could barely make out the words...

"It was me! It was me! I was wrong..."

Dr. William Jackson picked up his pen, scribbling a couple of notes. "In what way were you wrong? Could you elaborate?"

Hands trembling. "How could I kill that woman... her family? And all those people before her? I cannot imagine what came over me Dr. Jackson. My dear dear dear Dr. Jackson." Hands reaching out and clasping William on his shoulders. But Dr. Jackson remained unmoving.

"I don't know how to ever make up all my wrongs. For all those deaths, and misery. Oh woe is me! Woe! Woe!"

William pushed his glasses up his nose.

"I'm a happy soul! It is against my nature to bring misery. I must have been posessed! Oh woe woe woe! I don't know what came over me. Now that I have awakened, how can I ever go on?"

The figure in front of him slumped onto the table, sobbing. Shoulders slumping up and down with ever sob. Hair, a dark color, but clearly dyed. The hands, pale. Unnaturally pale. William put his pen down, laid a warm touch on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you see the wrong of your doings. That's the very beginning of a full recovery." He smiled calmly. "Before you know it, you'll be out on the streets again, able to operate completely as a normal person."

He returned his eyes to the paper in front of him, tapping the side of the table gently with his pen. "Now, can you tell me your real name? Can you remember what you used to be called?"

The slumped figure looked up, his eyes still wet with tears. "I have no name... "

He grinned. Grinned so wide the red of his gums could be seen, "But you can call me... " The figure arises from his seat, bowing graciously, "...the Joker."

CHAPTER 1

The wind blew in across the bay. The moon hung in the sky, seemingly taking up a vast amount of space. It was unusually large tonight. There was a chill in the breeze. He liked this time of year. Cool but not cold. Warm but not hot. Bludhaven wasn't always the nicest place to be, but every now and then a night like this could make you forget just how bad it could be.

This was his favorite spot in the city. Leaning next to a gargoyle, whose wear and tear from the salty air was plainly visible, Nightwing gazed out across the water. Since he made his new home in Bludhaven, he felt he had finally proven himself to his mentor. They were getting along better than ever now and he new Bruce trusted him with anything. And crime had seemed to waver since Nightwing's arrival. He felt especially proud at the moment.

A scream brought him back to reality. "Oh well, back to work," he quipped.

He grabbed a line from his belt and swung over to the next roof to see what was going on. If Bruce had taught him anything it was to be prepared and to know what you were getting into. Anything that would give you the upperhand. Good old Bruce. He really knew his stuff. Nightwing saw a figure with a ski mask running from a woman with something in his hand.

"A purse snatcher, eh? This should be easy enough!" he smiled. Bruce had also taught him that self confidence was a key as long as it didn't interfere with judgement. Nightwing knew to be prepared for anything. Nothing was as it seemed. Most of the time. The purse snatcher rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the tall athletic looking figure in black with light blue trim standing with his arms crossed. He stood staring at the figure his mouth open and eyes wide. Dick was in almost in as good a shape as Bruce. He ought to be with all the training. He was a most impressive sight.

"You know, that color purse just doesn't go with that mask," Dick chided. He always had a flair for remarks. Even after adopting his darker image from the red and yellow of Robin- he just couldn't resist the one liners that had made him famous. Dick was always trying to lighten Bruce up. He often wondered why Bruce never said anything to him about that. A round house kick laid the man out cold.

"These flex cuffs ought to hold you till the police arrive." Nightwing picked up the purse and found the woman still in shock after what had happened. She was just standing there now, she had stopped screaming.

"Ma'am, I believe this is yours," Nightwing said politely. The lady was in total shock. She thought to herself that she had never seen a finer specimen of a man. She gazed admiringly at Nightwing before she finally spoke.

"Th- thank you, who are you?" she stammered.

"Well, they call me Nightwing. Are you ok? Do you need any medical attention? Do you need anything?" Nightwing asked.

"Well, there is one thing," voice still shaking a little, "how about a date?"

Nightwing smiled and replied, " I'm afraid now isn't a good time- I've still got rounds to make. Plus the coffee shop won't serve anyone wearing a mask. Thanks for the invite though. Take care now."

Nightwing aimed his grappling gun and fired it skyward. It found an anchor and in a flash Nightwing had disappeared into the night. Dick decided the night was slow and turned in early. He slipped into his apartment and went straight to the shower. After washing up he fixed a sandwich and got some chips and flopped down onto his couch. He clicked the remote on to watch the news.

"Tonight's top story," the anchorwoman said sternly, " the Joker, now known as Mr. Carl Jones, is seemingly rehabilitated. Doctors say he has undergone extensive psychotherapy and is nearly fit to return to society as a member."

"Yeah, I'll bet!" Dick said sarcastically.

"Dr. William Jackson, PhD in psychological behavior has attributed his previous violent behavior to a misleading childhood," the anchorwoman continued, " Dr. Jackson, who has spent two gruelling years studying and rehabilitating Mr. Jones, says the turning point was when Mr. Jones finally recognized the weight of his actions. And now, Dr. Jackson assures the public of a much calmer, and very much sane Joker. During a recent press conference, the new Mr. Jones made a public apology to all affected parties, and promises to repay society, especially the children, when he is released. Our reporter on the scene describes the new Mr. Jones to be, surprisingly calm, collected and very sane. Mr. Jones, who became the show stealer of the day, moved the audience with tears, and is now the talk of the town. So the question now is, is the much feared madman, once known as the Joker, now rehabilitated and ready to rejoin society?"

"HMMM... I'll bet Bruce would like to look into this. Although he probably already is. He always was one step ahead of the game." Dick thought out loud. "I guess I may have to make a trip into Gotham tomorrow..."

CHAPTER 2

Bruce sat gazing at the television screen. Pondering the possibility of the Joker being even remotely capable of rehabilitation. The cave's surroundings were best for him when he needed to think. Bruce always felt more at home here than up the stairs in the manor. The bats fluttering past every now and then helped him concentrate more on the thought at hand. The dankness of the cave somehow comforted him. Bruce was staring a hole through the Batmobile when a voice shook him from his thoughts.

"Master Bruce, I take it you heard the wonderful news broadcast about Mr. Jones?" asked Alfred. Alfred, the Wayne's butler and foster father to Bruce after his parents were killed. Alfred always tried to lighten the mood around Bruce, Dick was like him in many ways. Bruce was fortunate to have such a good father, friend, brother as Alfred. He filled so many roles. Not to mention doctor and psychiatrist.

"Yes, Alfred, I heard the news," replied Bruce. "I just don't know what to make of it."

"Yes, well, I brought you tea to settle your stomach. I knew you must need it after news of that sort," Alfred shot back.

"So you're not convinced Mr. Jones has been rehabilitated?" Bruce queried.

"Sir, if I may be so bold, if it talks like a madman and walks like a madman...well, I'm sure with your deductive skills you can figure the rest." Alfred stated abruptly.

Bruce knew what human beings were capable of. He saw it all too often. Every night, as a matter of fact. He liked to think that some people could be rehabilitated. Bruce was no fool though. He knew there were those who could not be.

"There's got to be something Alfred...I just don't know what it is. Maybe he has come to his senses. I wouldn't bet on it though. He's fooled people before...but he's never gone this far. Joker is the worst foe I've ever come up against. I only hope I can figure it all out before someone gets hurt." Bruce thought.

"Well, sir, if there is anyone who can... I know it to be you. By the way, Master Dick phoned to say that he was coming to Gotham and would like to stop by. He should be here tomorrow." Alfred added.

"What does he want?" Bruce asked sternly.

"He didn't say, I assume it was in light of tonight's breaking news," Alfred said matter of factly.

"Hmph...," was Bruce's reply.

Bruce thought back to the last time they had worked as a team.

They had just returned to the batcave and Batman hadn't spoken a word the entire way back...until they pulled up in the cave...

"You were reckless. If you continue to disobey me and not follow the rules, Robin will be suspended," Batman said firmly.

"What are you talking about? I was in complete control, I knew you had my back. I did what you taught me!" Robin fired off.

"What you did was disobey a direct order from me! I told you we don't go until everyone is in position. That's why the element of surprise works. We do what I say, when I say... no questions." Batman demanded.

"I'm 17 years old now. I know what I'm doing. You have to trust me to go with my instincts!" Robin yelled.

"Not when those instincts can get you killed! I taught you to take full control of a situation, not partial! You never even saw the counter surveillance outside or the man in the rafters. You didn't evaluate the situation fully. That's what I taught you- that's not how you acted!" Batman interrupted.

"That's where working as a team comes in. You take care of your part- I take care of mine! I trust you to do that for me." Robin struck back.

"A team is no good unless each player is on the same page of the playbook! My rules keep us alive and help protect us from injury. That's why they're set up-that's why you will follow them!" said Batman emphatically.

"I can't believe this!" Robin said in disgust.

"Well, believe it. Until you learn that what you did was wrong- Robin is officially grounded. I have much more experience at this than you. I've made the mistakes before- I won't let you make them." Batman said with finality.

"You won't have to. We are no longer a team. This night has seen the last of Batman and Robin. I leave for college next week anyway. Consider me gone! From this point on there is no Robin!" yelled Dick.

With those last words, Dick threw his mask down and his cape and ran to his room. Dick didn't come down for breakfast that morning and Bruce had gone to the cave. When he made it back upstairs, Dick was gone.

That was five years ago...

"Well, Dick, your timing may be just right this time. If there was anyone I would want help from, it would be you. Nightwing has proven himself to the Batman," Bruce thought aloud, "but will it be enough to stop the Joker?"

CHAPTER 3

"Sunday, January 24th 1999 came Mr. Carl (the Joker) Jones' final release from Arkham Asylum on the count that he has finally gained his sanity after ten long years of psychological problems. All thanks to the effort of Dr. William Jackson, who graduated from the Washington Academy of Medicine in 1989, and holds a PhD in psychological behavior. Our on-the-spot reporter Charlene Burgh was there to catch the mood during his release."

The scene cut to a daylight shot of the outside of Arkham. The scene was chaotic, with reporters of various television and radio stations all pushing against one another, just to get their tape recorder closer to the man of the moment.

Dr. William Jackson had his arm around the pale-faced gentleman. Both men were beaming.

"Dr. Jackson," called out a lady reporter, "The Joker has been, for years, a dangerous man to Gotham. He has been called a murderer on many counts, but escaped further judgement on the count of insanity. How can you assure the public that the Joker has indeed gained his sanity?"

"Miss," said Dr. Jackson, "You have mistaken Mr. Carl Jones with the old terror, called the Joker. He is a new man now. His past is behind him, and I beg you not to remind him of his horrifying past, for it only upsets him. He will address all problems during a press conference on Friday."

"But how can you verify your method of psychological persuasion was good enough? What if the Jo... I mean, Mr. Jones, falls for his old ways again?"

"Madam..." William frowned, "Do you doubt my methods? Can't you see the visible change in Mr. Jones' mental state? Can't you see how calm and reassured he is now? He wouldn't hurt a fly."

The pale faced gentleman smiled, waving.

"In fact, you can bet Mr. Jones' sanity on.... on my life!" A murmur of laughter crossed the crowd.

A chocolate haired reporter said, laughing, "Alright, we take your word on it Dr. Jackson."

He turned his microphone to the pale faced gentleman, "Mr. Jones, tell us what is the first thing you plan to do now that you're out of Arkham?"

The pale faced gentleman turned to the camera, smiling. "Why, mister reporter. I plan to bring a smile to Gotham!"

The camera cut to Mayor Hill. "If the man has really become normal, as we rate it, then he has every right to rejoin society."

Arthur Reeves, district attorney, came on next. "I've never trusted the man. But I'm willing to give him a chance. Everyone deserves a chance. And I'm a true believer in human rights. Like my spokesperson says, Arthur; the man with a heart." He beamed.

Pete Wyoming, offical accountant, propped up his glasses. "I don't know what I think of the whole matter. Just keep the man away from the Gotham Mint, and away from me!"

Commissioner Gordon came on, walking briskly away from the cameras. The reporter pushed the microphone in front of his face. "Commissioner Gordon! What do you think of the Joker's release from Arkham?"

The Commissioner continued walking, pushing the microphone out of his face. "No comment."

The television clicked off.

"Well well Dr. Jackson! Looks like we've scored! I think your speech about betting my sanity on your life did it. Looks like this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship!" The pale-faced gentleman wrapped his arms around William. But William swept them away.

"Remember this Carl, I was the one who saved you from Arkham. You owe me. You'll listen to what I say."

The pale-faced gentleman laughed, "Of course! Of course Dr. Jackson. Your word is my every command." He grinned. "So tell me... when is that award giving ceremony gonna happen? The one commending your... genius-ness for getting me out of the looney bin?" he said, widening his eyes.

William looked down. "It happens on Wednesday. Remember you are not to say or do anything till I tell you to."

"Of course Dr. Jackson!" the pale-faced gentleman put a finger to his lips. "Not a word, not a word! I'll be as hush, as a lamb. My word of honor!" He put two fingers to his forehead, grinning widely. "Heir General! Mon Capitan! Yeah Sergeant!" he continued.

Dr. Jackson rolled his eyes. He reminded himself for the tenth time that day that it would be over soon. The Joker would be free, and he would have all the fame he'd ever want.

Just a few days more...

CHAPTER 4

"Great job, Robin! Next time be sure to get your left arm up to block any blow that may come from your foe. You must always remember-no matter how well you do, you can always do better." Batman instructed.

"You don't allow yourself much gratification do you?" asked Robin.

"If I didn't believe I could do something better every time I did it, it wouldn't amount to much. If you become too complacent you begin taking things for granted. When you do that, you open yourself up for failure. In this line of work, you don't get a second chance." Batman replied. His eyes nearly burned a hole through the young boy.

Robin had just completed his first solo mission. He had stopped a man who had held up a family for their possessions. It was an exciting time for Robin. He hadn't stopped talking about it all the way back to the cave. Batman was good at recognizing victories and praising them.

However, he always held Robin's feet to the fire when it came to details and complacency. All for his safety of course. Batman was always serious. He hardly ever cracked a smile. Robin wondered how he kept it all inside. Robin was always cracking comments when taking down bad guys. Batman just scared them to death. Each had it's own advantage.

"One day you will take over the mantle of the Bat, Robin. I won't always be able to do this. You are being given every opportunity to further yourself. Take advantage of it and learn from your mistakes. There must come a time when you do not make them."

Those words stayed with Robin through the years. He never really understood how he could reach a point where he would make no mistakes. Maybe that's what was holding him back. Maybe that's why he retired Robin. Well, it was something to think about. Dick was pulled back into the present when the loud hissing of the bus brakes sounded off.

"Welcome, to Gotham Central!" the voice bellowed out over the loud speaker. The voice was barely audible and if he hadn't heard it before, he would not have made it out. Dick grabbed his bag and stepped off the bus. He headed for the front of the terminal in hopes of grabbing a cab to his final destination. Just then he heard a voice.

"Master Dick! Master Dick! Over here!" the voice shouted.

"Alfred, how did you know what time I was coming in?" Dick asked puzzled.

"My dear boy, you are not the only one with detective skills. Where do you think Master Bruce learned his abilities from?" Alfred said sarcastically.

"It's great to see you again, Alfred!"

"And you, sir." Dick stepped into the jet black Rolls Royce and Alfred closed the door.

There was a sandwich, Dick's favorite-ham and cheese- on the tray and a large plastic bottle of water. Alfred always made sure his heroes ate well. "This is great, Alfred!"

"I prepared it myself, sir. I am so happy you like it."

"No, I mean being back in Gotham, seeing you. How's Bruce?"

"Master Bruce is... how shall we say...himself."

"Ah, well, some things never change I guess."

"No, sir, some things never do."

Traffic was unusually bad. With all the hype about the Joker, people were flocking to bookstores and malls grabbing up Joker paraphrenalia in hopes of gaining some collectibles. Business can profit off of nearly anything. "This is crazy!" Dick piped up.

"Interesting choice of words, sir. Considering the topic." Alfred added.

"What does Bruce make of it?"

"Well, as of yet... Master Bruce is currently contemplating the matter. He doesn't quite know what to make of it just yet." Alfred explained.

"Yeah, really. Well, who does? I don't believe it for a minute. That's why I headed this way to help Bruce out."

"Good luck with that, sir. Master Bruce hasn't worked with anyone since the day you left. If he allows anyone- I believe it to be you."

"Let's hope you're right, Alfred, let's hope you're right." Alfred continued on the freeway north out of Gotham. Wayne Manor was only about ten minutes outside of Gotham's city limits. It took a few minutes longer by conventional travel. About five minutes the "other" way. Dick remembered many nights when he hugged his motorcycle around these curves heading into Gotham to work. The view was always beautiful during the drive out of and into the city- some things never change.

Alfred pulled around the circular drive of Wayne Manor. The house had been in the family for ages. A large black iron gate with the initials "WM" in gold adorned the front. A high, long brick wall encircled the great house. The house itself was three stories high and covered an immense 8,000 square feet. It was beautiful. Dick remembered growing up here. It was a happy time for him. As happy as it could be after one's parents were murdered before your eyes.

"Leave your bags, Master Dick, I shall tend to them shortly," said Alfred.

"Don't worry about that, Alfred. I can get my own bags. You've done too much for me as it is." replied Dick. Dick walked into the foyer. Just in front of him was a huge staircase that started in the middle and forked just in front of a huge bay window that overlooked the grounds. Just beyond the grounds the cliffs and the bay were visible. A truly magnificent sight to behold at sundown or sunrise. The house was immaculate as always. Alfred never stopped cleaning or straightening. Just to the right was the living room. Two rapiers from the Napoleon hung on the wall just before entering. A large painting of Thomas and Martha Wayne hung proudly over the huge fireplace on the far wall of the room.

Dick glanced around looking for Bruce. Not seeing him around Dick bounded upstairs to his old room. It was nearly as he remembered it. A large king size sleigh bed stood in the middle. An antique table was set just to the right of the bed with a Tiffany lamp on it. Dick dropped his bag and walked over to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes. From his room the bay and cliffs were barely visible. He remembered nights when the moon was full and the reflection from the water although far away would light his room. The shadows of bats would flutter across his window as he drifted off to sleep. It seemed so long ago.

Dick left his room and went to Bruce's. He knocked on the door. There was no answer. Dick knew where he was. There were many secret passages inside Wayne Manor. Most were added during the American Revolution to protect family heirlooms and hold secret meetings. Bruce had added several once he took on the identity of Batman. There was a secret entrance behind a large mirror in Bruce's room. Dick didn't dare enter.

He headed down stairs and set the time on the grandfather clock that stood in the west wing of the manor. The time of that fateful night when Batman was created. The clock slid open and Dick bounded down the winding stair case into the cave.

When he reached the bottom step he saw the Batmobile as shiny as ever facing out ready to go. It was truly an awesome sight everytime to lay his eyes on that vehicle. The giant crays computers hummed quietly processing information faster than anyone other in the world. Bruce always had the best of the best in equipment. Wayne Technologies, Wayne Enterprises, and the Wayne Foundation were all well known enough and had the top scientists from all over the world. Dick moved around the corner and saw who he was looking for. Bruce sat in front of a computer monitor seemingly staring off into space. Bruce was an incredible sight even out of his Batman outfit. His dark hair and eyes pierced the screen as if trying to look through it. Bruce was what every Olympic athlete strives to become but never will. His physique could never be matched by anyone, not even the hero of Metropolis. Dick moved quietly around the cave. Bruce had taught him many years ago the value of moving quietly and using the shadows. Dick was near to Bruce's chair when Bruce acknowledged him.

"Hello, Dick. How are things in Bludhaven?"

Startled, Dick answered, "Fine." He wondered how he always did that.

"Let me guess, you're here to help me with the Joker? I don't need it. You're welcome to stay as long as you like but Nightwing is not." Bruce said matter of factly never taking his eyes from the screen.

"I thought you might say that. I want to help," Dick said thoughtfully.

"I don't need it," Bruce said sternly. "Well, heaven forbid the great Batman should ask someone for help. I know you don't need it Bruce, I'm offering because, I, like you, know the Joker is up to something. You trained me remember? Two heads will be better than one on this one. You gotta let me help on this one." Dick pleaded.

"I don't have to do anything, Dick. This is my city, I'll take care of the problems here. I know you're capable, but I'll handle it. Go home." Bruce never took his eyes from the screen. Dick didn't feel like arguing with Bruce. It wouldn't do any good anyway. He headed back up stairs and went into the kitchen and sat at the bar next to the window.

After a few minutes Alfred came in. "Ah, Master Dick, I'm afraid I don't have dinner ready quite yet," announced Alfred.

"That's ok, Alfred, I'm not hungry," pouted Dick.

"I see you've talked to Master Bruce. Let me guess...he doesn't need your help...and he wants you to go home."

"He said I could stay, but Nightwing can't. Alfred, I've got a bad feeling about this. Joker is on to something big. I have to stay. Bludhaven will be fine without Nightwing for a while..." Dick said defiantly.

"Master Dick, you know he'll never go for it...do you really want to see him angry?" asked Alfred.

"Alfred, I think what he doesn't know won't hurt him. I'm staying and more importantly- Nightwing is staying."

"Well, neither one of you ever minded very well. At least things will be interesting around here for a while," Alfred sighed.

"They'll be more than interesting, Alfred, and I'm going to need some help from you."

CHAPTER 5

There came a knock on the door of Mayor Hill. The mayor, who usually spent hours in the morning composing himself, fell out of thought.

"What is it?" he demanded as his meek secretary popped her little blonde head round the corner of his door.

"Mayor Hill, a Dr. Jackson is here to see you."

Mayor Hill widened his eyes, so his secretary continued. "Remember you made an appointment for him to see you today?"

The mayor snapped his fingers. "That's right! Please... let him in!"

A tall and slender gentleman entered. "Dr. Jackson!" Mayor Hill called, "How might you be doing this fine morning?"

Jackson stood at the door, feeling a lump in his throat. The mayor himself was talking to him! "I'm doing well Mayor Hill.... thanks for inviting me."

Mayor Hill laughed. "It was my pleasure! Believe me. And call me Hamilton, please."

Jackson nodded. "So tell me, how you find your present job in Arkham Asylum?" The mayor clasped his fingers.

Anticipative; William read. A little habit William picked up through time. "Well... I love what I do, but I can't lie and say I've grown accustomed to Arkham's dark corridors. Still, I'm a professional and work with what I have, in whatever conditions I'm placed in."

"And you are professional." The mayor nodded, looking him over.

Observing, studying; read William. He cleared his throat. "I've been recently speaking to an associate of psychologists, situated in New York. "

Mayor Hill tapped his pen softly, he smiled. "You might be familiar with the WCIPS?"

"Yes. The WCIPS... the World Congress Institute of Psychological Science, one of the most globally recognized institutes specializing in psychology. What about them?" "Well, they've inquired about you, and are very interested in having you join their association. Believe me, only the greatest professionals throughout the USA have been called. And I'm glad to say you are one of the very fortunate."

William's heart skipped a beat. "Wha...?"

Mayor Hill laughed. "Oh yes. Believe it." He'd expected just a bit of media exposure for the Joker case, and a moderate amount of fame... just enough to get him out of Arkham and earn him a better pay. But this really cut it! Being chosen by the WCIPS was more than he'd bargained for! Mayor Hill read his face and smiled.

"I'd like to congratulate you Dr. Jackson, for the fine work you did on the Joker when it was impossible for so many. Keep up the good work." William met the mayor's hand in a firm shake.

"Thank you Mayor."

It was then that he realized that he was shaking his head in disbelief.

Mayor Hill said, "ah, don't thank me. The institute MADE me call you." He chuckled. "If you'll agree to all this, I'll send word to them right away. If all goes well, they'll soon have a place for you in New York where you will live and work."

"I do... I mean, I agree." William coughed, "Thank you again Mayor. I cannot thank you enough."

"Oh come on now. You're making me blush." Mayor Hill said, and William laughed. "Now go on your way. I'll keep you posted."

Dr. Jackson thanked the mayor one last time before he walked out the door. His heart was leaping! And he was grinning to himself more than he'd ever grinned. In the lounge, someone clicked on a television. The news was reeling on a recently crossed press conference. William stood from afar to watch. The pale-faced gentleman stood centerstage, his eyes downcast, and his voice dreary. The room was filled with flashing lights, and the sound of his soft breathing, but nothing else.

"It has all returned to me recently... the event that happened to me so long ago, that had made me what I am." His voice was quivery, and he pressed his lips after every sentence. "I was a poor man. And I had a wife, and a little boy. We were happy together. Sure, we were poor... but what does poverty matter when you have the people you love around you? I had just found a job, and rushing home with my first month's pay, ready to share it with my family... when some street thugs met with me, tried to extort the money from my hand and asked for more. They didn't believe me when I told them that all I possessed was in my hands. I begged them to let me go, but they forced me to bring them to my home, or they would surely kill me! I told them if I did that, to spare me and my family. They said that I was safe with them, but what a LIE! Not only did they ransack my house, they killed my wife... killed my son, and threw me in a pit of acid. And all this time they were laughing, laughing and laughing!" he paused a while, grabbed his cheeks till his face expanded, distorted. "I was dying, my skin was melting and they were LAUGHING!"

He stopped, looked up as if he'd just come back from somewhere far away, and continued. "I can't tell you then... what I became. I... became... became a monster! Too overwhelmed with sorrow for the death of my lovely wife and son.... a... and my face had become so disfigured... " He touched his face lightly in effect to his words, his eyes red with tears. "I could barely recognize myself. And couldn't face society. Not knowing what I had become. Perhaps I was acting on my grief, or shame, or just plain anger. Revenging the world for what those murderers had done to my family. And what I did then... I can never apologise for, enough." He broke out into raging sobs. His shoulders humping up and down with every grief wrenching sob.

The audience was silent with sympathy... all eyes downcast. Some ladies were dabbing their eyes softly. A plump little red-headed lady from the side stage came up to him and gently hugged him. One by one, a crowd gathered on stage, wrapping their arms around the man; once a hated murderer.

The reporter came on screen, "Once Gotham's worst criminal, other known as the Joker, created due to several unfathomable tragic-filled events in his life, had found sympathy with the crowd yesterday in the recent conference. Coming back to sanity, and repentant of his wrong-doings, it looks like Mr. Jones is going to receive his well deserved second chance. All thanks to the work of Dr. William Jackson, who was formally congratulated in an awards ceremony earlier this week."

Dr. Jackson grinned from where he was standing. "And to be known throughout the world in due time," he mumbled to himself, turning around, whistling.

CHAPTER 6

Dr. Jackson fixed a dry martini and walked back to his study. His study was like most psychiatrists' studies. Piled to the ceiling with books, a mahogany wood desk, a high back leather chair, a comfortable looking couch-like piece of furniture and a large window parted in the middle that opened outwards.

Dr. Jackson liked to retire here after long days at his office at Arkham Asylum. It was a return to normality for him. A time for him to reflect on his work and research. And what he had to reflect on as of late. The Joker without a doubt was his most interesting work to date.

However, this patient was different so were the stakes. This time he had stepped outside of the oath he had taken and was playing with a fire that could consume him at any moment. He knew he would be a rich man if things went as planned. Book deals, movies, guest appearances on talk shows and most of all 'Good Morning Gotham', the most widely watched talk show of all. Not to mention a slot in the prestigious WCIPS. Things were looking up.

Suddenly there was a draft. Dr. Jackson turned to find his window had blown open.

"That's odd," he thought to himself. "Those windows have never done that."

Dr. Jackson made his way over to behind the desk where his lamp sat dimly lighting the room. He preferred to contemplate in a low light setting. What Dr. Jackson witnessed next was the definition of frozen in fear. There standing before him was what had to be the biggest shape he had ever seen. All he could see were long ears and piercing eyes. Also the unmistakable symbol of a black bat over-laid on a yellow background burned into his memory.

"Dr. Jackson, we need to talk!" came the raspy voice.

"Wh- what could you possibly need to talk to me about?" was the response. Dr. Jackson was clearly trying to hide his fear, but to no avail. The Batman's presence was too much for the good doctor to handle. Dr. Jackson had always written off Batman as an urban legend, the ravings of lunatics. This encounter would change Dr. Jackson's opinion for the rest of his life. Provided he didn't die of a heart-attack.

"What's your involvement with the Joker comprised of?" Batman was always to the point. He could never be accused of beating around the bush, so to speak.

"I-I-I'm his doctor. Mr. Jones has shown remarkable recovery," he said trying to steady his voice. Dr. Jackson didn't dare stare into Batman's eyes. The whole experience was much too much for the doctor. Dr. Jackson made his way back to his mini-bar this time pouring a straight Scotch and gulping it down hoping it would calm his nerves. It didn't.

"I know the Joker better than you, doctor. I know he doesn't do anything without thinking it through. He is a genius trapped inside the body of a homicidal lunatic. Joker doesn't want to be cured. I think he's up to something and I think you know what it is." Batman charged.

"Well, I've been with him and studied him and evaluated him. He is ready to return to society as a productive member. He will still have to have visits for months maybe years, but it is a step process. I know of no such illicit actions Mr. Jones may be taking nor do I have anything to do with them." the doctor said as confidently as possible.

Batman stepped closer to the doctor. His cape made a leathery rustle when he moved only because he wanted it to. Batman stood a few inches taller than Dr. Jackson and looked down at him with a glare that would have melted a snowman. "For your sake, doctor, I hope not. If I find out you do know something, and I will find out- I will be back!"

Batman disappeared before Dr. Jackson knew it. The only way he knew he was gone was the fact that his window was again open. Dr. Jackson hurried to the window to close it. He sat down quickly. His legs had grown weak, and his eyes blurry.

The doctor gulped down the rest of his drink and passed out in his chair.

CHAPTER 7

It was a sleek and uniquely shaped machine. Anything but street legal this monstronsity had enough horses under the hood to challenge, no beat out, any racer in history. The color was a dark midnight blue-black with small menacing headlights. Secretly built from Wayne Technologies it utilized bullet proof glass, side, front, top and rear panels. The tires were so large they had to be special ordered, but replacement was almost non-existent because of the new polymer that had been developed but not released to the public. The tires too were bulletproof. The instrumentation panel looked as if it belonged in a jet fighter. Several special options were built into the vehicle. Too many to mention, yet at the same time very useful. A turbine engine was hidden away somehow in the frame with the opening spouting fire as the engine roared to life. There was no mistaking this piece of work. Though few saw it, those who did knew what it was. The batmobile. Batman had never grown comfortable with the name and rarely used it, however, it was Alfred who coined the term so it wasn't all bad. Batman always parked the Batmobile in a secluded area. He preferred a more subtle approach. The Batmobile was quiet despite its size, but Batman was much quieter. Often times in and out of busy places without anyone so much as catching a glimpse of him.

Batman activated the security systems and left the Batmobile reaching for a grappling gun on his belt. He raised his arm and pressed a button. In mere seconds he was at the top of the building making his way to Joker's new residence. Batman had little trouble finding the special hiding hole the Joker had been set up in as Mr. Carl Jones. A quick scan on the inboard computer, which was connected to the computers in the cave turned it up on his way into the city. Batman knew right where to go and wasted no time in finding the Joker's new home. Now it was time for a little heart-to-heart with the new Mr. Jones.

Joker had acquired quite a place in his new found sanity. He was living in a penthouse suite owned by Oswald Cobblepot, who graciously set up the new home for the Joker. The suite featured a fireplace, french doors leading into the bedroom, and a large bay window over looking Gotham Harbor. Joker was seated in front of the fireplace with a brandy in one hand and a book resting on his lap. He stopped and glanced around.

"It's great to be normal!" he shouted with hysterical laughter. Then he returned to his reading. Sipping every now and then on his brandy and then returning to his book. The book was one written by Dr. Jackson, Whole Again was the title of the book. It dealt with facing fears and phobias and overcoming anxiety.

"This Dr. Jackson is a real loony!" Joker said matter-of-factly. Just then a shadow fell over the pages of the book.

"Do you mind? You're standing in my light, don't you know reading in the dark will ruin..."

At that point, Joker realized he had been alone, up until that moment. It was at that point that the shadow took the form of a bat. "I really do need to get those locks changed!" Joker yelled in frustration. "But since you're here, how 'bout a drink for old times sake?"

"What's your game Joker?" Batman demanded. Batman stood with his cape folded around him. This made him look more menacing than actually seeing his chiseled features. "Game, Batman? Whatever do you mean? Don't you read the papers? I'm a sane man now. A 'productive member of society'".

The Joker was so mad that he didn't know to fear the Batman. Sure he did some, but his fear didn't show when he was confronted like most people. Batman knew Joker was capable of anything and never stopped gleaming at him as he walked around the room giving his production. The Joker was most theatrical. Hands waving, frowns, smiles, tears the whole nine yards.

"Joker, I know you're up to something- I'm going to find out. You can save us both a lot of trouble by coming along quietly."

"Batman, that's half the fun! Besides, I've turned over a new leaf and am changing my ways," Joker stated waving his arms.

"It's not like I plan to steal the gold bar shipment coming into Gotham tomorrow night! Oops, did I say all that? Ah, well, no matter..." Joker said waving his hand in passing.

Batman continued to glare at Joker as he followed him with his eyes around the room ready to react at a moments notice.

"I've decided to bring smile to Gotham. She's been gloomy way too long. Don't you think?" the Joker stated. He ended breaking out into one of his maniacal laughs.

"You won't get away with anything, Joker. I'm watching you. When you slip up I'll be there." Batman stated determinedly.

"Is this how you treat all the citizens of Gotham? No wonder everyone's scared of you." Joker said sarcastically. Joker made his way back to his chair where his book and brandy were and sat down. He placed a pair of fake glasses on his nose and pretended to go back to reading.

"You know you're breaking and entering in my home, I should call the police, but I think you know the way out." Joker said never taking his eyes from the book. "But since you gotta go Batsy, go with a smile!" with that the Joker erupted into more of his insane laughter.

Batman slipped out of the window and off the ledge making his way back to the Batmobile.

"Hee-hee-hee, oh, whew, he has no clue! I love it! Yes, Batman, I will bring a smile to Gotham's face, and I want to see your face when I do," the Joker said with an evil grin.

Slience echoed against the walls of the ancient cave; once a shelter for dozens of homeless people, now housing only one man, his butler and his protege. Night was beginning to dawn, and the many bats began to get excited. All at once, they began chattering and screeching. Swooping down from their resting places, heading towards the ocean.

"Don't you ever get terrified of those... pests?" inquired Alfred, wiping his brow with his handkerchief.

"Bats are magnificent animals, and this is their home. If anything, we are the pests," came the sharp reply. "I suppose you're right, as always," said Alfred. Turning his eyes away from the ceiling, and watching the screen in front of him. "May I ask what you are looking for this evening?"

"I met up with Dr. Jackson and the Joker last night. Something's up."

"Isn't something always up?" sighed the elderly gentleman. Batman clicked several buttons, and a list of twenty names came on the screen. "I don't know what Dr. Jackson's deal is in this, perhaps fame, perhaps fortune... perhaps bribery. Whatever it is, he's not going to be dangerous without the dealings of the Joker. And the Joker did say something about a shipment of gold bars coming into Gotham tomorrow."

"I say! An invitation?"

"That's what I suspected at first. But why would the Joker go through so much trouble to prove his sanity, when he's just going to throw it all away in one night?"

Alfred shook his head, "What can we say about the insane?"

"I think there's more to this than what's apparent." He clicked a few more buttons. A name appeared on screen, together with a black and white picture of a rough skinned man staring straight at the camera.

"Don Bocelini? Sounds awfully familiar... Isn't that the brand of men's attire you wear all the time?"

"Bocelini once worked with the Joker," said Batman, ignoring Alfred's little joke.

"He'll talk." Batman stood up, walking towards the Bat-mobile. "Take care. Keep Dick in the house."

"Master Bruce, if I may be so bold to point out that Master Dick is now a grown man. I believe he can take care of himself. If you keep goi...."

"I don't have time to argue. Goodbye." Batman interrupted, shutting the door behind him. Before Alfred had time to react, Batman was gone.

CHAPTER 8

Don Bocelini, other known as the 'Jack-of-Spades' laughed. 9 out of 9 times had he won Johnny Schmoze, and his wallet was filling up with cash, sweet cash!

"I don't believe it man! You're up to something," Schmoze cried like a baby. A wimpy baby, all the easier to steal candy from him. Bocelini grinned to himself.

"I just have the winning streak. You can't take it? Then you can leave." Schmoze grabbed his arm.

"Alright, alright. One more game is all. 50 50." Bocelini considered it a while. "Alright. Deal." The game went on for a considerably long time. Even the bartender strolled over to watch. Finally, Bocelini smiled. "You're out boy." Schmoze slammed down his cards.

"You're doing something! I'm sure of it!"

"What? I deal honest cards bro. Now hand over the 50."

"It's a trick! You've cheated me of my money!" Schmoze ramped Bocelini onto the wall, shaking his coat.

"Quit that, you moron!" Bocelini threw a fist at Schmoze, that landed him on the ground. But at the same time, an ace flew out of his sleeve.

"I knew it! How many more of those do you have in there huh? How many more?!" shouted Schmoze, jumping Bocelini, but Bocelini soon had Schmoze's arms wrapped around his back.

"I'm gonna tell the other boys you're a big fat cheat! They'll get you! They will!" Bocelini laughed. "That's if you can still talk after I'm done with you," he whisked another fist in the air and was about to throw Schmoze another when he felt a dull cramp in his fist. He spinned around. It was the Batman.

"You!" cold sweat began to run down his face. Schmoze got off the ground, and began running like hell. The coward!

"Let's see if you can talk first," came a deep rasp. "What have you heard of the Joker?"

"Wha... what Joker?"

"Let's try that again. I have a list of things I could land you in the slammer for. Are you talking? Or do I have to make you?"

Bocelini choked on his own saliva. "I... he hasn't talked to me in years."

The Batman narrowed his eyes. Bocelini felt the clutch on his fist getting tighter, and his knuckles making cracking noises, like popcorn.

"I swear! I swear! It's the truth, you must believe me! It's just honest o' Don here now!" His smile felt cheesy.

"The Joker said something about a shipment of gold bars coming into Gotham. Are you or are you not involved?" Bocelini could feel the Batman's breath on him.

"What gold b.. bars? I ain't heard of no... gold bars."

The Batman continued to glare at him. "Alright! Alright! Yeah, I've heard of a shipment of gold bars coming in tomorrow noon. But I swear, I ain't got nothing to do with it. Please, let me go! Please..."

Bocelini felt the clutch on his fist loosen.

"If the Joker starts anything, I'll make sure you'll be the first one on my list to visit. And if I find out you have anything to do with it, things are not going to be pretty for your future." Bocelini rubbed his bruised fist.

"Y... yes sir." The Batman stood up straight, his cape covering the rest of his body; morphing to the likeness of a demon, standing gruesomely tall with horns on his head. His shadow fell over a shivering Bocelini.

"Now I want you," said the Batman, "to give the money back to those you have cheated from. You don't want me on your tail."

"B... but I... " Bocelini clung onto his wallet. Money like that was hard to come by. Damn that Batman! "I need t..."

He stopped. An empty room was all that was left of the Batman.

CHAPTER 9

Batman, swung down into the alley where he had left the Batmobile. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a figure leaning on the vehicle. "Nice wheels, why didn't we have this when I was here?" Nightwing stepped from the shadows. Only his light blue wing across his chest became visible.

"What are you doing here?" Batman demanded.

"Look, I want to help. Joker is bad news. Two heads are better than one. Let me in on this." Nightwing pleaded.

"This is my city, my problem! What ever happens here, I take care of. Go home, take care of yours." Batman stated grimly.

"Batman, you taught me everything I know. I know we went our separate ways, but that was bound to happen. It was unfortunate it happened the way it did, but that's life." Nightwing implored.

"What I did with you was wrong. I never should have given you the opportunity to wear that suit. When I did that I robbed you of ever having a normal life. It was my mistake, one I'll have to live with. I won't put you at risk with a maniac like the Joker."

Nightwing was taken back. He had never heard Batman admit to a making a mistake. He really did care about him, he just didn't know how to show it. "You didn't make me put on that costume. That was a choice I made. One I have to live with."

"You were too young to make a rational decision. By the time I realized it, it was too late. We were a team. Now Batman works alone."

"Hey, a normal life would be boring. I don't regret a day being in the yellow and red outfit. You made an impact on my life and I won't forget it. Let me help this one time. Then I'll leave you alone to your city." Nightwing argued.

The two men stood staring at each other. Wondering really what had just happened between them. The sound of a pin dropping would have been deafening at this moment. Neither man moving, both standing facing each other.

Finally, Batman broke the moment and walked to the Batmobile de-activating the security systems. The top slid open and Batman bounded in. The ignition fired sending a stream of fire out of the back. Batman turned to Nightwing. "You coming or not?"

A loud sporadic knocking came at the Joker's door. The Joker walked idly over to the door. "Who could be calling on me at this time of night that isn't wearing a cape? Can't this wait till morning? I mean I do need my beauty sleep. You don't think I got this handsome out gallivanting around at all hours of the night do you?"

Joker asked across the closed door. "J-J-Joker," stammered the voice outside. "Don?" the Joker pulled open the door. "Don the Jack-of-Spades?? How are you old friend?" Joker said grabbing his lapel, ushering him onto a greenish colored arm-chair.

"N... ot... not well." Suddenly, all Bocelini wanted to do was to leave as soon as he came. He had no idea why of all the crazy things he'd done in his life, he'd come to the Joker. Then again, desperation can lead a man to do crazy things.

"aw... I'm sorry to hear that. Why not?" the pale faced gentleman put his arm around Bocelini's shoulders. Cooing in his ear.

"B-B-Batman came to visit me at the pub tonight," Don stuttered.

"ARGH! And here I was thinking I was special and he goes and slips off to chat with you as well!" Joker said furiously.

"H-he thinks I'm still with you. And says if you wer.. were to try anything, I'd land in the slammer. Even if it has no.. nothing to do with me."

"And you come in here... assuming I AM up to something?" Cooed the pale faced gentleman.

"No no!" cried Bocelini. "It's just... he's watching my every move now. A.. and I can't sleep nights like this. You've got to do something, you've got to take care of the Batman. If not for me, then for yourself!" Don spouted desperately.

The Joker widened his eyes. They had turned nearly red as he glared at Don. "What did you say? You want MOI to save your butt from the Batman? You want MOI to put myself in danger, just so that you can sleep in the night? Is this what you're saying to ME???"

Bocelini felt himself shrink. He knew the mood swings Joker was capable of and that alone was enough to terrify him. "N... no. I guess not."

"Oh come on! I was just kidding with you," Joker's whole demeanor had changed suddenly. "Can't you take a little, tincy wincy joke?" Joker said, holding his fingers out an inch.

Don tried to smile, but it came out sheepishly. Beads of sweat were running down his face like water. "My good friend, you just leave the Batman to me. Trust your o' buddy smiley face here! You don't have to worry about a thing!" Joker said with an ear-to-ear grin.

Don's second attempt at a smile didn't work out to be much either. But his heart was beginning to beat a little slower. He'd done right. The Joker'll know what to do. He's dealt with Batman before, he'll help me, Don told himself.

"That's it! A smile does wonders doesn't it?" grinned the Joker.

Don nodded.

"Now tell me," said the Joker, standing up. "Would you like some red wine to cool the nerves? You look so... tense!"

Don loosened his grip on the arm chair, and wiped away the sweat from his brow. "Y... yes, Mister Joker."

"uh-uh-uh," the Joker waved a finger, "It's Mr. Jones to you. Mr. Carl Jones."

"Mr. Jones," repeated Don. The pale faced gentleman gleamed, walking out of the room. Don let out a large breath. Things were really looking up for him. The Bat'd be off his back, once and for all. Sounded like a beautiful but distant thought. No one watching over his shoulder no more. No one grabbing him by the back of his shirt no more. No one telling him what to do.

"Don..." said the pale faced gentleman, strolling back into the room. Don looked up.

"I'm sorry to say the basement's out of red wine." He came close. "But why drink the dusty old wine from the store when you can have fresh red-eye?" All of a sudden, the something small and dark flew forward, and soon, blood erupted from Don Bocelini's torn face.

"Whoops! Did you think I was talking about wine that time there? No no no! I was talking about, you!" The Joker laughed hysterically, dancing about the room. "gee-whiz! Now I see why Batsy's so CRAZY about those bat-a-rangs!"

A bat-a-rang was gruesomely lodged in Bocelini's face, its end pierced in his right eye, coloring his shirt a crimson red. "They're such fun toys! heeheehee! Won't this add spice to the children's department!" squealed the Joker. "And to think I was holding back all the fun, keeping this all those past years, just waiting for the time to get it stuck in Batsy's head..." he pouted. "I can have twice the fun by letting him live and having all of Gotham kill him for me! Weee whoooo!"

The eyes that once belonged to Bocelini stared back. The flickering of the fireplace lighting its empty mouth, widened to speak. But there were no words within... only dancing lights, laughing and gay, and a sea of red.

CHAPTER 10

He was a top-notch detective despite his appearance. Harvey Bullock had been on the force for years with no thought of retiring anytime soon. He strolled in with his hat and coat with stains on it eating a jelly doughnut.

"Sarge, it's not a pretty sight. You may not want to be eating when you see this, " one officer urged him.

"I've seen my share of gruesome murders, Mc Gaffey one more ain't that big a deal!" Bullock said pushing his way into the crime scene. Bullock started up the stairs to the penthouse and took the elevator the rest of the way. He stumbled out of the elevator wiping the powdered sugar on his coat.

"Hey, where's the stiff?" Bullock shouted.

"Over here, Sarge," came the reply. There was a flash of camera bulbs going off and people crowding the door. The press had wasted no time in getting the scoop. They were more or less camped out outside Joker's residence as of late anyway.

"Cripes get those people out of here! This is a murder scene, not a three ring circus!" Bullock bellowed.

"Detective Bullock, what happened here? Who's responsible for this? Do the police have any leads?" one reporter queried.

"Do I look like a freakin' fortune teller?! I just got here! We'll issue a statement once we've gathered the evidence. Jones- get these people outta here now!" Bullock ordered.

"Yes, sir, sarge, " was Jones reply.

"Jeez, what's that in his head?" Harvey asked.

"It's a batarang, and it's stuck in there pretty good," replied the crime scene officer.

"Whoa, this don't look good. Where's the Joker?"

"You mean, Mr. Jones?"

"Yeah, yeah, whoever he is today."

"Well, he's at the station for questioning. He looks pretty beat up. Keeps muttering something about Batman breaking in. He's really upset," stated one officer.

"Yeah, I'll bet he is," Harvey replied sarcastically.

"Any other witnesses?"

"Actually, yeah. We got a guy says Batman broke up a game between them and dragged this guy off."

"Hmmm, any truth to it?" Bullock asked.

"Sounds pretty solid, Sarge," replied the officer.

"Just great, just what we need, " Bullock said placing his hands on top of his head.

"Looks like we got the bat freak now, huh, Harv?" congratulated one officer.

"Don't look so cheery. Something's not right. Everything's a little too convenient, " Bullock said with authority. Just then a beeping went off. Some where on his belt under his rather large belly was his pager. Bullock hated those things. He complained he never had enough room for them. Bullock felt around on his belt until he finally found it. Bullock checked the number. It was the commissioner. Guess it was time to break the news.

"I need a phone, " yelled Bullock.

"Here you go, sarge," a young officer piped up. He handed him a mobile phone.

"Commissioner Gordon, "came the response from the other end of the phone.

"Commish, Harvey. It don't look good," Bullock said without enthusiasm.

"What do you mean, Detective?" was the reply.

"Well, Commish, we got one stiff, one batarang through his head, blood everywhere, and two witnesses saying it was the bat."

"WHAT!!" shouted Commissioner Gordon.

"Yeah, I know. It doesn't add up. Something's wrong and I'll be here and on this one till I find out what it is. Don't worry Commish, it's all circumstantial. I'll get to the bottom of this if it kills me. "

"Stay on it, Harvey, and keep me updated," commanded Commissioner Gordon.

"Will do!" Harvey replied. Bullock walked over to the window and stared off into the sky. Sometimes he wondered why he stayed in Gotham City. Winged vigilantes, homicidal psychos. Night after night, day after day. The same thing. Nothing ever changed in Gotham, except the rent, he thought. Well, somebody has to do it and it might as well be him. Bullock didn't approve of vigilantes. He was from the old school. He also knew that the bat didn't operate like this and he would get to the bottom of it.

"All right, Joker, round one to you. Get ready for round two," mumbled Bullock.

CHAPTER 11

"This is going too far! Shall we continue letting masked vigilante's like the Batman control our every move? To allow them to convict and punish the citizens of Gotham on account of his feelings, rather than the law?" cried the voice of Arthur Reeves, popular district attorney.

"No!" echoed the crowd.

"It was people like the Batman who introduced violence to our normally peaceful city! Just look at what he did to Carl Jones and Don Bocelini! He broke in and entered private property, manhandled an innocent victim killed another, just because he couldn't forgive Mr. Jones' past crimes. And he did all that without a consideration at all for the law at hand! Such vigilantes should be taken from the streets once and for all! Away with the Batman!"

"Away with the Batman! Away with the Batman!" echoed the crowd, chanting in rhythm.

The television clicked off. "You're in a lot of trouble. You know that don't you?" said the Commish.

"Yes," came the short reply. "And you do know better than to show your face around town when the talk of the town's having your head, don't you?"

"No," the darkness spoke, "The Joker killed Bocelini and hurt himself to stop me from tracking him. It's only the beginning of his plan."

"So you think he's up to his old tricks again?" The Commissioner walked over to remove the video tape.

"The leaner vine feeds on its host to grow, at the same time crushing it within. Call it a hunch, but Jackson will be next."

"Alright," the old Commish sighed, "I'll try to keep the cops away. You see what you can do about the Joker."

"Thank you."

"But make sure you don't run into Arthur Reeves and his band of..." Commissioner Gordon turned around to an empty room. He sighed again.

"Now I'm beginning to talk to myself. Sheesh."

"And now I present to you... Mr. Carl Jones!" the plump lady applauded. A mixture of responses came from the crowd. Some cheered, and some shouted curses. A slim figure in tattered clothes, a cast on his arm and head, limped up the stage. He stood at the stand, watching the crowd silently as they gradually calmed down.

"I know, for the time I've spent in Gotham, I've gained a bad reputation. I've been a baaaaad boy."

Someone shouted,"You can say that again, insane freak!" The crowd mumbled.

"But," he continued, "My true self was in a deep slumber. And I have woken up today, to see what I have done. And am ashamed." His voice was quivery. The crowd kept silent. Some whispers were exchanged.

"And although most of you have been supportive towards me... and I thank you." there rang a scattered applause. "I found out yesterday, that the Batman will not show that same kindness towards me. He refuses to give me a second chance, to share even a wince of mercy for me." He sobbed. The crowd mumbled.

"And I had to suffer. And my poor poor friend, Don; had to die in my place." "But I hold nothing against him. I know I haven't been good, and if I were him, I wouldn't believe the good news of my recovery either. But all I ask... Batman, if you're listening to this now, is an ounce of kindness for me. Please forgive me for who I was, and accept me for who I am."

Some of the crowd began to chant, "Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones!" The slim figure smiled, "And for you, my adoring public, I've decided to share a load of my wealth with the homeless and the needy. From tomorrow onwards, my generosity will commence. The homeless shall receive clothes, and the poor shall receive money." There was applause.

"Come to me all you dear people, and rest under my wing. I will wipe away your tears, and paint a smile on all of Gotham." The crowd cheered, whistling and roaring. And the slim figure, the pale faced gentleman, grinned to himself.

CHAPTER 12

It was 4am in the early morning. Echoes ran through the Bat-cave. The echoes of bats, and of wind seeping through cracks. There was a big storm outside, and at times as these, the cave would get really chilly. Dick felt the warmth of a blanket on his shoulders, and turned around.

"Master Dick, you really should try to keep warm. We wouldn't want you catching a cold," said Alfred, and Dick smiled. Alfred had spent most of his adulthood caring for both he and Bruce. Dick had always admired Alfred's strength and patience. As Bruce had once jokingly said to him, when the world goes crazy, the only two unchanging people in this world that you can depend on is God and Alfred.

"Don't worry about me Alfred, but thanks anyway." Dick snuggled in with the blanket, and continued his work at the computer.

Alfred read the words on the screen quietly, then asked, "Looking up on Mr. Jones I see."

"Yeah. I have the strongest feeling that the Joker's soppy story's pure fiction, and Mr. Jones is nothing more than an adopted name, aimed to get him out of Arkham as a rehabilitated patient." He numbered a few keys on the board, then continued, "As far as I've searched, he could not have been any of the Carl Jones within a range of 10 years, 30 years back."

He paused, "Thought I'd go that way since the Joker has got to be no older than 40, and no younger than 30."

"Sounds like a reasonable path of deduction," said Alfred. "But don't you think Dr. Jackson might have something more to do with the name?"

"I'll give that a go," said Dick. On the screen came Dr. William Jackson's profile. "Hmmm... son of Ryan Benjamin Jackson and Ophia Jones. Jones..." he muttered, typing. On the screen came the profile of Ophia Jones. "Deceased. Daughter of Dan Jones and Cecilia Baltimurry."

Dick paused, "What are we looking for Alf?"

"Deceased. When was that?" Alfred pondered.

The date appeared on screen. "30 years ago. She..." Dick scrolled up the screen, "... drowned in a river. Police say its suicide."

"Oh dear, and Dr. Jackson must have been less than 10?" "Look here Alfred... it says Ryan Jackson left the house when Ophia Jones died, and never came back. So his uncle, brother of Ophia Jones, took him in," Dick paused, "And guess what his name was?"

"Our very own Carl Jones."

"Bingo! He went to Cambodia a couple of years back, and disappeared in the jungles there. And so Dr. Jackson lends the identity of his uncle to the Joker. Very clever."

"And now we have evidential proof that the Joker is running under a false name. Bravo Master Dick!"

"No, bravo to you Alfred! And after all this time you've been hiding this detective 'know-how' behind a duster and a pan?"

"Housework comes first Master Dick. How can one go out into the streets and fight crime when you know very well your house is in a mess?"

Dick laughed.

"Besides, we've already got two brilliant detectives on the job." Alfred winked.

"And the brain behind, doing the housework," said Dick teasingly.

Alfred grinned, "You are learning."

Morning was approaching soon, and Batman didn't want to lose the last few hours of darkness. It was darkness that he thrived on, darkness that gave him the edge. He'd usually appear earlier in the night, when he'd have more time before morning came, but this time he didn't have much of a choice. The guards would be less attentive at this time.

As softly as the rustle of leaves, the Batman entered the mansion through the third floor window, making sure to wipe his wet footprints before proceeding. Stormy nights were good for creeping around, unnoticed. But the footprints would always present a slight problem. The room was grandly decorated, with art pieces as far back as the 18th century. As Bruce Wayne, he'd have stayed around to marvel at them, but there was no time. The Batman headed for the stairs. The Joker had given testimony that Batman had killed Bocelini at the bar, and brought his corpse into the living room of Oswald Cobblepot. There had to be something in the room that said Bocelini was killed IN the living room, and not brought TO the living room, dead.

The wooden flooring was spewed with dried blood, and there were pieces of paper scattered around the room. The stench of the room was apparent, but something else that caught the Batman's eye was four round spots on the ground. The kind of spots that a chair would leave after being on the same spot for too long. The rest of the flooring had darkened with time, but those four little spots retained their fair wooden color. By their retentive state, Batman would have to guess that it was a heavy wooded arm chair. If someone had wanted to remove that chair, he'd have to head for one of the exits. Either the front or the back. The front entrance was already heavily investigated by the police, so the Batman decided to check the back. A door led him to the main hall where another door lay directly opposite. Looking closely at the floor, he could see two scratch marks, possibly made by the feet of the chair. The next door led to the kitchen.

The Batman stepped quietly, following the contours of the room so that he would not damage any evidence, when he suddenly felt something sharp against his back. He turned around and saw a hook next to the stove. Probably once a towel hook, but the tip was broken, and a small piece of green leather hung loosely at the tip.

The Batman took the leather carefully and kept it in his belt. The backdoor from the kitchen led to the road. There was no chair anywhere to be seen. The Joker had probably taken the chair and dumped it somewhere. Somewhere that....

"Stop!"

The Batman turned around to see a guard, holding a gun at him. "Guys! It's the Bat!" he cried.

Several others joined him. "You're surrounded. Give yourself up. Move slowly towards me, and put your hands up."

The Batman stood, staring at them for a moment, the silhouette of his figure in the darkness. Then all of a sudden, he was bounding off toward the front of the house, in the rain.

The guards followed, shouting, "Stop or we'll shoot!"

Guards appeared in front of the Batman's path. They began shooting, and the ones at the back began shooting too. A pain shot through the Batman's arm, but he couldn't stop to check on his injury. A grabbling hook pulled him up to the roof of the house. He ran, and leapt onto the roof of the next house. It was doubly hard to land safely since they were flowing wet. The guards were still on the chase. The Batman moved from house to house, till he came to the uptown connecting bridge.

"Stop!" cried several of the guards. The Batman stepped to the edge of the bridge, stood there silently for a moment, then disappeared. The guards clambered to the edge of the bridge and looked down, but there was nothing. Just the swift moving waters of the Gotham River.

"Do you think he's dead?" said one. "Who knows? We saw him go down. Who could've survived that fall?" said another. They walked around the bridge, searching the area with their torchlights for a minute. Saw nothing. Then decided to return.

When silence regained its residence there, a little moan came from below the bridge. Hands clung tightly to the steel foundation bars of the bridge as the Batman's cape swung out from below him. The pain in his arm pierced. The bullet had escaped by the back of his arm, on its way, puncturing a muscle and it was bleeding rather severely... enough for him to wince, despite his years of training in pain endurance. But the Batman could tell it did not crack a bone. And he was glad at that. He holstered himself onto the surface of the bridge, panting. The rain had lessened, and there were tell-tale signs in the sky that the sun would be up in just a couple of minutes. The Batman stood himself up slowly and headed back for the cave.

CHAPTER 13

"Oh, Mr. Jones, thank you for these donations. You've really done too much!" exclaimed Ms. Taylor.

"Well, it is the least I can do after all I've done in the past. I realize it won't make up for everything, but it's a start," Joker said in an exasperated plea. "All of these clothes and food will feed the people here at the shelter for, oh I don't know how long. They'll be able to have hot meals every night."

"Yes, they deserve as much. I really need to share my fortune with them. After turning over a new leaf, I need to pay back the society I have wronged for so long," Joker expressed.

"Oh, Mr. Jones, how could they think you such an evil man? Look at all the good you are doing. Say...are you free for dinner tonight?" asked Ms. Taylor. She was a young girl in her mid-twenties, somewhat shorter than the Joker who stood six feet one. She was only five-eight. Sheryl Taylor had devoted her life to helping others since she was in high school where she served as a candy striper at Gotham Memorial Hospital. She majored in sociology at Gotham University and graduated with a 3.7 GPA. She was currently studying in graduate school at the university for her master's degree in sociology. She saw Mr. Jones as an interesting study but also a man of mystery.

"Ms. Taylor, I am flattered that you'd ask me, but I have a charity dinner to attend tonight at the Wayne Foundation and I am supposed to speak," explained Joker.

"I understand. Perhaps another night?" she asked.

"Perhaps" Joker smiled slyly. Joker had not given up his sense of style for clothes. He still paraded around in his purple suits with the bright satin and silk shirts and long ties. Every now and then he would add a plaid colored vest to liven things up a bit. His hair remained the dark green he was famous for and his irreplaceable smile was forever etched into his pale face. His green eyes were the only things that looked in place as to him ever being a normal human being. But one got lost in the soulless stare he produced when gazing into them. Joker was carted around in a limousine provided for by his good friend Oswald Cobblepot, who provided him with a new penthouse seeing how his previous residence was a crime scene now.

Joker walked into his new home and made his way to the wet bar. He poured himself a Scotch on the rocks and carefully sipped it. Just then he erupted into the maniacal laugh he was so famous for. Waving his arms completely oblivious to the drink he held in his hand spilling it and flailing about wildly.

"Oh, it's so good to be me!" he laughed out loud.

"Soon, I will have all of Gotham at my mercy, and there will be no one to stop me. Not even my dear, dear friend Batman," again Joker erupted into laughter.

Just then a dinging sound came about. It was the doorbell. Joker was in no particular hurry and poured himself another drink. He walked idly to the door and opened it.

"Dr. Jackson, so good to see you good fellow. What brings you to my neck of the woods? And if you say you were just in the neighborhood, I'll kill you!" Joker laughed.

"Well, it's time for our session Jo-er-um Carl, don't you remember?" asked the doctor. Joker pouted and looked at Dr. Jackson.

"You know, doc, those really don't do anything for me. You really don't have to keep trying. You have nothing to worry about; I'm not going to blow your cover. You'll still get your fellowship and all that good stuff," Joker quipped.

"I understand, but the press needs to see me at least make the effort," Dr. Jackson explained.

"I suppose you're right," Joker said in agreeance. "Would you like a drink, doctor?"

"No thank you... I'd like to ask you something though. J... Just to clear my doubts." he hesistated, sat down, then continued. "What actually did happen that night of Bocellini's murder?"

The Joker stopped in his tracks, and turned around most bemusingly. "What my good doctor? Do you doubt your own masterpiece?" he chided, running his hands up his sides as if his very structure was a display piece.

Dr. Jackson laughed uncomfortably. "Just answer the question, Mr Carl."

The Joker walked two steps closer, patting Dr. Jackson on the shoulders. "Well, what do YOU think?"

Dr. Jackson cleared his throat, "I'd like to believe that you're innocent, and Batman did it all. But somehow my teaching in psychiatry tells me that you've broke the pact that we made."

"Pact?? Please refresh my memory dear doctor..." "You know what I mean! Don't play games with me Mr. Carl. Did you or did you not kill Bocelli?" William had come to the end of his patience. He did not know exactly why he needed, or wanted to know. He just felt he had to.

The strangest thing happened next, the Joker stopped smiling. He walked around the room, his eyes searching the ceiling. As if he was recalling the events of that night. He almost looked normal.

"I'm innocent Mr. Jackson. I may have been the worst human being who's walked this earth, some may even call me the son of Hitler himself... but for once in my life, I'm innocent. You've got to believe me!"

Then the Joker turned to William with such fierceness of being misunderstood in his eyes, that Dr Jackson's heart skipped a beat, falling back in his chair. It seemed then, undoubtable that the Joker really was innocent. In fact in that very moment, he would've classified as a model of innocence, judging by his tone of voice, facial expressions and his eyes. There's been very very few people able to actually stimulate the listed features of body language in a truly innocent individual. Dr. Jackson began to wonder why he'd even suspected the Joker of having murdered.

He opened his mouth to apologise, but at that moment, no words emerged. And he wondered why, till he realised that the Joker had stuck a fork in his throat!

The eyes that had been so firey with innocence before, now firey with insanity. They changed so suddenly as if with the flick of a switch.

William grabbed at his chair, gasping for breath. He felt as if he was drowning, though there was not a drop of water around. And heard the Joker's most infamous maniacial laugh, the one he thought he'd cured him of.

"William, William, William... You've been such a wonderful doctor to me, counselling me, talking to the press for me, getting me out of that stinkhole. But now you've become too analytical for my liking. I believe it's time for you to take a vacation," he grinned at William, slowly wrapping finger by finger around the fork at his neck. "Since you've been such a help to me, let's make it a permanent vacation!" The Joker's eyes widened suddenly, they seemed to illuminate with light. Dr. Jackson knew what would happen next, he closed his eyes. And in a second, the fork was jammed right through his throat. His body went limp and his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Whoopsy! Goodbye doc... looks like I need a new PR manager now," Joker jested. "My plan has been moved up a bit now, doc, thanks to you. But no matter everything's still coming along as planned!"

CHAPTER 14

The room was bright. Bruce wanted to get up, but there was a sharp sting in his arm. He fell back, glancing over. His arm was bandaged up, a portion of the white turned brownish-red. Then he remembered what had happened the night before. The chase, the bullet, the bridge, the rain... Bruce's head was spinning, he shook it a couple of times, and tried getting up again.

"Master Bruce! I must insist that you rest, and take this day off, " said Alfred, walking in with Dick who was holding a glass of water.

"Yeah, that wound's gonna take time to heal," said Dick, setting the glass in front of him. "Oh boy, when you party Bruce, you PARTY!"

Alfred smiled at the joke, but Bruce remained indifferent. "Ahem," Dick cleared his throat, widening his eyes. "So what happened last night Bruce?"

Bruce used his left arm to lever himself upright. "I had business to do." "I think what Master Dick and I would like to know is specifically what kind of 'business'."

Bruce gazed at Dick for a while, drank up his water then said, "The Joker's hidden evidence that could convict him of the murder of Don Bocelini. I have to find it."

"What kind of evidence is it?"

"Some kind of green leather arm-ch..." Bruce paused.

"Where's my belt Alfred?" "I left it in the Bat-cave," said Alfred, and Bruce began getting out of bed.

"Ah, ah... but you're not to get it till you've rested enough."

"I'm fine," said Bruce stubbornly, pulling himself out of bed.

"Master Bruce! I must insist I... " Alfred stopped with his hands in the air. "Oh why bother? You never listen to me anyway."

"Come on," said Dick, stepping in front of Bruce, "I'll handle what needs to be done. You really need your rest."

But he merely narrowed his eyes at Dick. "I said you could help. Help me now by getting out of my way."

He shoved Dick's hand away, and continued toward the cave.

"geez... someone got off the wrong side of the bed today," said Dick.

"Typical," Alfred shook his head. "By the way, I've heard that the Joker's gonna deliver a surprise to the Gotham Valley Orphanage this afternoon."

"Are they going to accept it? Surely they know the Joker's not one to be trusted." Dick shrugged. "I don't get it. In the past few weeks, the Joker's managed to grab the hearts of almost every person in Gotham City. And whatever he's done before, it doesn't seem to matter to anyone anymore. They all believe he's a different person now."

"Goodness me. That leaves Gotham in a very vulnerable state."

"You've said it Alf. I'm gonna keep an eye on him this afternoon. If..." Dick motioned towards the door with his eye, "...he decides to come out of his shell and ask where I am, don't tell him where alright?"

"I... but... " Dick winked at Alfred as he headed out of the door.

"Thanks Alfred! You're such a pal!"

"But b... Oh my..." said Alfred, slumping into a chair.

"Be careful with those!" said Carl Jones as his men carried large boxes from a truck into the Gotham Valley Orphanage. The children were squealing with excitement from the corner of the doors which they peeped out from.

"Mr. Jones. You are most generous, but I must say I'm terribly curious as to what is in those boxes." said Mrs. Candice, volunteer help at the home. Mr. Jones smiled.

"It is to be a surprise madam. Rest assured that it's something the children will certainly love. Trust me, please."

Mrs. Candice smiled back, and waited quietly till all the boxes were in the middle of the hall, and the children gathered around them. Mr. Jones stepped forward, as cameras positioned themselves to get the moment on film.

"People have made many promises. But whether they actually do carry them out is another thing. I have made a promise. That is, to share a load of my wealth with the homeless and the needy. And I do not take my promises lightly. That's why I'm here today, to show my concern for the many orphans in Gotham City, and hopefully renew your trust in me."

There came applause. Mr. Jones was handed a pair of scissors from an assistant of his. He handed it over to Mrs. Candice, bowing. She seemed blushy and shy, walking over to one of the boxes. All the cameras stood in attention. All the children waiting with mouths wide open. The whole room was silent, except for the soft snipping of the scissors, as it bit at the tape around the box. Suddenly, out of the silence came,

"Stop! Don't open the box!" Everyone turned around. There they saw Nightwing, who landed with a thud behind the children. Several kids muttered with excitement. Others screamed, and began running towards Mrs. Candice.

"What do you mean by crashing in here and spoiling our little party?" said Mr. Jones, furiously.

"Our? Don't you mean yours?" said Nightwing. He walked towards the Joker.

Mrs. Candice spoke up, "You've been mistaken. Mr. Jones has generously donated these boxes of gifts. He means no harm. He... he is a changed man. We must learn to forgive."

Mr. Jones smiled, patting Mrs. Candice. "She's right Nightwing. I'm no longer the old Joker you once knew."

"Oh yeah? If you've become so 'gentle' and humane, why bring bombs into the school?"

Mrs. Candice gasped, pulling the children closer to herself.

"Bombs? Where might you have gotten that idea?" said Mr. Jones innocently.

Nightwing turned to the frightened lady. "Ms Candice, might I suggest that you take the children to a safe distance as I settle this with the J... ahem... Mr. Jones?"

Mrs. Candice nodded, getting the kids to follow her to a nearby park. Away from the school. The reporters left too after some persuasion.

Mr. Jones was getting more and more agitated with every minute. "Now did you have to go spoil everything?" he shouted when everyone was gone.

Nightwing took Jones by the collar. "Listen up, and listen good. I've evidential proof that you are not who you say you are."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Carl Jones does not exist. Dr Jackson gave you that name. Admit it!" Mr. Jones lowered his head for a moment, then said, "Yeah, you've got me there. Because of the accident, I can't remember my real name. Dr. Jackson decided to lend me his uncle's name till I can remember mine. You see, my past is really too tragic to probe. I..."

"Spare me the drama. Now tell me what you put in these packages!"

"They're surprises!" cried Mr. Jones. "aw... come on. Didn't you ever have a childhood?"

Nightwing pulled on Jones' collar even harder. "Alright! Alright!" he shrugged. They're dolls. Smiley dolls."

Nightwing tugged again. "Liar," he said.

"No nooo! Believe me. They really are dolls. I'll open them up if you want."

Nightwing breathed into Mr. Jones' face, then let him go. "Open them up."

"Sheesh... " Mr. Jones straightened his jacket. "Some people just don't know how to have fun." He picked up the scissors and continued to snip at the package. The tape came free. He glanced at Nightwing, who took a step back, then turned the box over. Out came a box load of plastic dolls with short blondish hair. They smiled at Nightwing with their little dolly smiles, humilating him.

"So what do you have to say now Batboy?" Nightwing picked up a doll and examined it up and down. Seemed amazingly enough like a regular doll. "Now what do you think that little dolly could ever do huh? Jump out of your arms and shoot you with a 24mm?" Mr. Jones laughed sacarstically. "You are waaaay too paranoid boy. Go home and watch some good tv."

The next thing Mr. Jones knew was that he was on the floor. "Don't fool with me Joker. I'm watching you." Mr. Jones wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "geez, you're getting more and more like Bats. If one isn't enough... urrgh.."

Nightwing stood there, not saying anything. He'd been so sure the Joker would try something that day. Carrying the doll with him, he shot a grappling gun and sat on the roof of the orphanage. Watching the Joker as he called in the children and the reporters, telling them what had happened. They laughed, and the children played with their dolls.

It was only till 4 hours later that Nightwing decided to leave.

CHAPTER 15

Bruce pulled the mask down over his face. He had now become Batman. Alfred had often said Bruce Wayne was the mask. In the outfit was where Bruce felt truly comfortable. At one with the night. At one with himself.

"I'm going out, Alfred," came the raspy voice.

"But, Master Bruce, your injury has barely had time to heal!" pleaded Alfred.

"It's fine, Alfred. I've dressed the bandages and I haven't lost any strength in the arm-the bullet made a clean exit," Batman directed. Batman was what every athlete strives to be. If there were ever the perfect body-it was the Batman's. That alone made him all the more formidable. Not to mention his extremely strong will and other skills that seemed to make him almost an unbelievable sight. Just then there was a roar of a motorcycle and a long screech as it found its way to a stop in the parking area beside the batmobile in the cave. Nightwing was off the motorcycle and up to Alfred and Batman in a flash.

"Where've you been?" Batman demanded.

"Getting this!" Nightwing shot back as he shoved the funny looking doll into the face of Batman. "This is what Joker is handing out to all the kids at the orphanage."

"What's the catch?" Batman asked.

"I don't know. They look harmless enough- but I thought you'd want to examine it further," Nightwing explained.

"Put it in the box," Batman instructed. The box was made of a shatterproof material that had been created and tested by Wayne Technologies. The clear material was a form of extra strength plexi-glass that was to be created for the bomb squads for police departments all over the country. After a cursory examination, the results turned up nothing out of the ordinary.

"That's odd," stated Nightwing, "Joker never does anything for the good of humanity."

"Agreed," came the grating approval of the Dark Knight, "there has to be more to it. What does the doll do exactly?"

"Well, it cries, laughs, burps, sings this crazy song, and will even regurgitate real vomit."

"Interesting," came the reply, "any particular order or at random?"

"At random. You push the button on its stomach and it randomly does those things," Nightwing made clear.

"Hmmm, well, let's try it," Batman said activating the button on the navel. The doll sprung to life first bursting into tears, then tearing into a laughter that rivaled even the Joker's maniacal laugh, after that the doll broke out into a rendition of "Painted Smiles", a twisted nursery rhyme as demented as the Joker himself. Then nothing.

"I thought you said it also vomited?" Batman queried.

"That's what they said- don't look at me, I just picked it up," Nightwing shrugged. After what seemed an eternity of endless mixes of laughing, crying and singing- Batman marked his paper pulling the list of how many possible orders remained.

"There are only two possibilities left, let's see what comes up next," Batman said. This time the doll began laughing then fed into crying. After that the insane "Painted Smiles" song played again as Nightwing rolled his eyes. He thought he could sing it now that he had heard it so many times. This time, however, the doll did something it hadn't done before.

This time the doll said: "I don't feel so good". Still nothing. Batman watched it carefully as Nightwing was about ready to explode.

Suddenly the doll piped up again, this time in Joker's voice saying: "The joke's on you!" The doll began spewing up green and brown fluid that began bubbling down the chin. Batman noticed that smoke was rising from it as the two liquids began to blend. There came a muffled sound from the box. It was the sound of an explosion inside the box. The box remained intact. Wayne Technologies had once again produced a top of the line safety product. But there was a more pressing problem at hand.

"Great Scott!" Nightwing yelled as Batman stared in amazement.

"Which orphanage were these delivered to?" Batman asked.

"The one near Crime Alley," came Nightwing's reply. "We've got to get there and get those dolls before anything happens to those children," Batman stated in urgency.

"The cops are after you, they may not believe you," Nightwing wondered.

"Commissioner Gordon will, I'll call him on the way. Also we've got to find a green armchair. I found blood-matching Bocellini's on the scrap I found. Joker killed him and we've got to stop him," Batman urged. The Batmobile once again roared to life and left a smoke trail down the exit of the batcave. The Nightcycle was right behind it, both traveling at speeds far above that of your average vehicle. There was a great sense of urgency that made Batman glad he had that power. The only question was was would they be fast enough?

CHAPTER 16

Little Denise was sleeping soundly on her bed when she felt a sharp blow on her back, and heat radiating from the next room. The other kids began screaming, and running in different directions. Many look scared, and others were crying. She felt confused, and she didn't know what to do.

"Deni, Deni," cried Jessica, a little girl with brown pigtails, "There's fire outside! There's fire outside!"

"What do we do?" asked Denise, quivery.

"I don't know. I can't find Ms Candice. I'm scared," she cried. Denise felt like crying too, but she knew she couldn't cry or Jessica would be even more scared.

"Let's stay together here Jessica. Ms Candice will know what to do." She pulled Jessica under her covers, and Jessica began to sniffle. Little Denise tried not to look out from the covers herself. Staying under the covers always worked for her. She hoped it would work for her and Jessica now. It seemed like an awfully long time. And it was getting hotter and hotter under the blankets. Another loud bang came very nearby. Denise could feel the bed shake under her. Jessica was holding onto her so tight now she nearly couldn't breathe.

"Don't be scared." said Denise, though she was afraid herself. The screaming outside got softer. They began to sound like moans, and loud sobs.

"Please God, make Ms Candice come quickly," she whispered to herself, "If you help us, I'll promise to be a better girl if you do. I'll do my homework, I'll..."

Another explosion came very close this time! She felt hard things falling on the bed. "I'll listen to Ms Candice all the time! I won't complain! I won't..." The covers flung off her. Jessica and her began to scream. There was a lot of smoke in the room... but out of the confusion came a warm lady voice.

"Don't worry, you'll be just fine." Denise couldn't keep her tears back any longer, and began crying her heart out. Arms reached out for her, she felt hurled onto a shoulder, and she clung very hard onto that shoulder. She couldn't hear Jessica's crying anymore.

"Oh no!" echoed the Batman's voice, a veil of dread covered over the Dark Knight and Nightwing as they approached the crumbling site.

"We're too late..." Nightwing whispered as if he were afraid to hear it himself. The cover of the Batmobile slid open. Smoke and dust immediately fumed in the faces of the two men.

"Put on your gas mask Nightwing, we're going in," the Batman threw a gas mask at Nightwing, and Nightwing saw that he had his on and was moving into the dust already. The Batman had all senses on maximum range. He could feel the crumbling beneath his feet, see the unstable areas of the walls around him, and hear the faint sounds of little children... their cries, their coughs, but worst of all, he could smell death all around him. He and Nightwing would have to be extra careful not to step on any of the unexploded dolls. They were waiting like land mines, ready to blow.

Further on, the crumbling floor beneath him got worse, and it got harder and harder to walk straight. The Batman thought he saw something small in front of him. He rushed ahead and saw a little hand sticking out of the rubble. Immediately he set to work digging the child out... but as he cleared the brick away, he saw that it ended at the elbow. The rest of the child's body was missing somewhere in the rubble. The Batman held on to that little hand... a hand reaching out for help, but help had come too late. It had come too late.

Rain drops fell onto the Batman's glove, but the Batman realised they weren't raindrops. They were his tears.

Nightwing moved gracefully among the rubble, careful not to step on anything important. There were about four floors up, and some of it had collapsed. But the 3rd floor seemed pretty 'there' still. Nightwing decided to check that out. It was hard looking for the stairs, but he was glad that the stairs wasn't so affected by the blast. And the dust wasn't as bad there too. There'd be a way to rescue the survivors yet. He'd just follow the stairs and... wait, something was moving around in there. Nightwing swept the door open, and through the dust came some coughing and a figure... a womanly figure.

"Well well kids, look at who decided to pay us a visit. And they say women these days don't spend enough time with the kids." Nightwing moved closer and saw... Catwoman. She was carrying two little children with her, each on one of her shoulders.

"Cat... how..." Nightwing decided it wasn't the time for pleasantries, "Come let me help you." He took one of the little girls into his arms and followed the Catwoman out. She led him out to near the next building where about five other children sat, their faces black with dust and shivering with fright.

"How... when..."

But Catwoman had begun walking back towards the wreck, "We'll talk later. It's your turn to take the kids!"

"But... I..." said Nightwing, but Catwoman had disappeared. He turned back to the frightened children.

"Right... and leave me to play babysitter... at a time like this too." The children continued to stare at him.

"So kids, have you heard the story of the three little pigs?"

The Batman had found about a dozen body parts so far, and was elated when he finally chanced upon a child, still intact and breathing. But he had a bad concussion, and was barely conscious.

"Hey there." Batman said as gently as he could to the child, "I'll have you out of here in a jiffy, don't you worry." He moved a large piece of rock, with some amount of pain from his right arm. The little boy still remained unmoving. The Batman picked him up gently, and carried him towards the Batmobile.

Nightwing was nowhere to be seen. The Batman beeped for him through a little transmitter in his belt. Nightwing's voice came from the other end of the line, "Yeah Batman?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm in a corner of the next building with two... really unresponsive kids here. You won't believe who I bumped into earlier!"

"Nightwing," said Batman, ignoring what he had said, "I've got a boy at the mobile. You've got to take him, I'm going back in to check around for more calamities."

"What? First Catwoman makes me a babysitter, now you too?"

"This boy is badly hurt, he needs needs immediate medical attention.... Catwoman?"

"Yeah, long story. I'll be there in a minute, over and out," the voice on the other side of the transmitter clicked off. Batman returned to the rubble filled spot, digging. But there seemed to be no more life there. Only death stank the air, the faded voices of children's laughter. Now faded screams of agony. All because he had gotten there too late. Too late.

"h... h..."

The Batman heard a faint cry. He sprung at once in action.

"Where are you? Keep talking."

"h... h..."

The Batman figured it came from somewhere at the basement. Some crevice. "Keep talking. It'll make it easier for me to locate where you are."

"heel... help..p... " The Batman began digging carefully through a collapsing area in the ground, careful not to let the rubble fall to the floor below. The smaller bits were easier to move, but then came two large boulders blocking his view. His right arm strained as much as it could, but it seemed to be in vain. The Batman knew that the bleeding in his wound had started again. And yet he toiled on, hoping against hope to reach that faint voice.

When suddenly a shadow hovered over him. "Need a hand?" Catwoman stood behind him, as sleek as she always looked, even with the soot in her hair, and the tears in her spandex. She bent down to lift up the other side of the boulder. "Hope you don't mind me saying so, but you look horrible today."

The Batman replied sharply, "More than a dozen children have been killed today. All under the hands of the Joker."

"What? Don't tell me you're blaming yourself for this." A last tug and the boulder was lifted.

"I could've, should've done something more." The second boulder slipped out faster than the first. Beneath the rubble, was Mrs. Candice with scratches on her face and rubble in her hair. She seemed more than glad to see them.

"Her leg's fractured." The Batman pointed out. "I'm going down there, you hold on to this line and don't let it snap."

He passed Catwoman a line as he secured himself to it. Before he could move, Catwoman placed a hand on his shoulder. "Be careful down there..." she kissed him lightly.

The Batman held onto the line, unmoving for a moment, then slowly inched his way downwards. Catwoman watched him as he removed the bricks from on top of the battered lady. That was when she noticed a little yellow tuff of doll's hair sticking out from the rubble at the back of the Batman.

"Watch out! The.." Catwoman held her breath and prepared for the worst, but all that came out of the doll was a rendition of 'Painted Smiles'. She heaved a heavy sigh... so did Mrs Candice. Batman remained silent as he continued his work.

"Come to me, my dear one... Where the moon hides the sun..." sang the doll. "Give to me, your innocence. You need not ever fear. For I'm the painter, you are the canvas. And on your lips, I will give you laughter all around, and... Painted smiles."

The Batman had Mrs Candice free. Catwoman began pulling on the rope. "Come to me, my dear one... Where the moon hides the sun. Life is just, an endless game. Of torture and of pain." The Batman passed Mrs Candice gently over to Catwoman. Her leg looked awkward being bent in the wrong place. "I am the painter, You are the canvas. What I am offering, you can't refuse; a life beyond, and... Painted smiles." The doll began laughing.

"Get out! Now!" Batman leapt out from the basement, pushing the two women ahead of him.

"Hahaha, the joke's on you," it sang. Smoke began appearing from beneath the ground.

"Down!" The Batman commanded, and just as his words came forth, a large explosion erupted from behind the three-some. Catwoman rolled, and somersaulted with Mrs Candice in her arms, landing on her feet some distance away. The Batman had done the same, and landed in front of her a couple of seconds later.

They watched as the rest of the building that was still standing, collapsed. As smoke and ash swirled around them like leaves in autumn. While fires sprung from every corner of the rubble. And through all that time, there was only one thing on the Batman's mind, the decapitated hand of the child, and the name of the Joker.

CHAPTER 17

"This boy needs help!" shouted Nightwing as he entered the Gotham General Hospital. ICU staff ran out from their rooms, receiving the boy with a stretcher. "He was just involved in a building explosion," added Nightwing.

"You can relax Nightwing, the boy's in good hands." They rushed off into the building with the boy. And Nightwing returned to the Batmobile. Suddenly a little trap door at the side of the mobile swung open, and out came two smoke bombs that fizzed, sending smoke everywhere.

"Damn, those kids!" cried Nightwing, pulling open the cover. The two kids sat uncomfortably inside, innocently gazing at him.

"Now who was the one who pulled the lever?"

No one spoke. Nightwing lifted his hands up in exasperation. "Right, be quiet when I need you guys to talk."

Nightwing leapt into the driver's seat and buckled up. "Well, we're gonna get you all somewhere safe."

The children continued to stare. "Enough with that already! It's making me nervous!" he finally shouted. And the kids began to turn away, one by one.

Leslie Thompkins had heard about the blast. The old television in her office flickered scenes of the remnants, and of firemen digging through the waste.

That was when Leslie heard a knock on her door. She opened it, and there stood Nightwing with a pair of little girls clinging to his legs. "umm... this is kinda of an awkward moment for me," Nightwing picked up one of the kids into his arms. "These kids need somewhere to stay, I was wondering..."

"These kids were from the Gotham Valley Orphanage? Yeah, sure, please make yourself at home," she said, ushering the visitors in. Nightwing inched his way in sideways, the kids still keeping close to his legs.

"Hey, would you guys give me a little room to walk?" asked Nightwing.

Ms Thompkins hid a smile. The kids moved a little further, and Nightwing sat on a bench near the door, heaving a big sigh. "Wasn't Batman with you?" Leslie asked.

"Yeah he was. Catwoman too, but they sent me to run errands for them while they continued at the site. There was a little boy... he was barely conscious. Had some kind of concussion. I just sent him to the hospital."

The kids began to climb up the bench to sit next to Nightwing. One of the little girls crawled onto his lap, and gazed into his eyes.

Leslie smiled, "They seem to take to you quite well."

"That I don't need," said Nightwing, but smiled anyway. "Are you able to care for them temporarily till we can get them to a new home, or when we find people to foster them?"

"Yes, that is fine with me," Leslie paused for a moment, "I take it the Joker's behind the accident."

"No prizes for guessing... "

Something on the television caught Nightwing's eye. "And speak of the devil!"

The signal had been interrupted, green and purple shades appeared on screen, and decreased in size, till you could see it was the front of the Joker's suit. He sat coolly on a large green arm chair.

"Greetings to you Gotham," he said dully, "This is Carl Jones. And I've decided to turn over a new leaf... bah!" He suddenly stood up, squealing with his usual maniacal laughter. "But the joke's on you Gotham City!" More laughter rang out, the kids clung tighter to Nightwing. Leslie gasped.

"Boy oh boy! I just want to say, thank you Gotham for trusting me, and letting me have a whopper of a time! I'm sure you all just heard about the explosion down at the Gotham Valley Orphanage. That was me! Me! Me! Me! All those little stinking sweet devils deserve front row seats in the best fireworks show in the history of Gotham City! And I did it! Me! Me! Me! Woo hoo! Oh..." he moaned, "This is becoming such a great day for me! All that sobbing and crying in front of the camera was so totally exhausting. But now I'm myself again, and that sick fool Carl Jones is dead... You'll see a lot more smiley faces in Gotham! Come on Gotham, join in the cheer! The Joker's back! Anyone caught without a smile will have their guts ripped out! Woo hahahahah!"

Leslie was just about to turn off the television when the Joker continued, "Oh oh, and besides, guess what I'm sitting on now?" he widened his eyes. "Did you say a green chair? Eh! You're wrong! This isn't no ordinary chair. Gotham Police Department, listen up. It's evidence... oh yes. I killed Jack-of-Spades Don Bocelini in this chair! And there're still his blood stains here. I swear it!"

The Joker ran a finger down the length of the blood-drenched chair, then stuck it in his mouth. "Hmmm. If only my dear friend Don had as sweet a face as his blood. Ow hahahah!" he burst into sick laughter again, "Oh and by the way, for you people who're wondering what's happened to the good doctor? Let's say he can't be here with me right now, 'cos he's got a fork stuck up his throat! Wahahahahaha!"

The television clicked off. Nightwing was holding tight to that little girl in his arms, his fists clenched so tight, it'd leave marks if not for his gloves. He stood up as Leslie turned around, her eyes wet with tears.

"I have to go."

She nodded, wiping her eyes. "Don't worry about the children. They will be safe with me."

Nightwing put a hand on her shoulder, then gave her a tight hug.

"I promise we'll do all we can to stop him. Thanks for taking care of the kids." He began moving off, "Take care of yourself too."

Leslie nodded again, waving.

The little girl who had sat on Nightwing's lap tried to follow him, but he bent down, taking her hand, "Take care little tike. Ms Thompkins will take good care of you, you hear? Be nice. I'll be back to visit all of you in a few days. Promise."

The little girl turned around to look at Leslie, then nodded.

"Ok Mr. Nightwing," she said. And Nightwing smiled.

The day was breaking, red spread across the sky. Nightwing knew what he must do. And that he must do it quickly.

CHAPTER 18

Batman cruised down the highway in the batmobile. The car was not the only thing racing- his mind was as well. Thinking about the kids that were hurt and those who weren't lucky enough to just be hurt.

Everything in the batmobile was voice operated. Alfred had helped him install the program that was created by technicians at Wayne Technologies and adapt it to meet his needs.

"Comlink open," Batman ordered, "Nightwing, have Leslie take the children to the Wayne Foundation. Bruce Wayne has set up a facility for them there."

"Copy that, Batman, how..." the reply ended abruptly.

Batman had shut off communications.

"I will find you, Joker! You will pay for what you've done!" Batman grimaced.

His gloved hand pounded the dash. The batmobile screeched to a halt and the canopy slid open. Batman leaped out and raised his arm. A grappling hook found its mark and carried Batman to the top of the building. He was on top of the Gotham National Bank Tower. The building overlooked Gotham Bay. The moon was full and Batman stood with his cape wrapped fully around him staring off into the night with a glare that could cut through a diamond. Batman pondered the location of the Joker and what he had planned next. Batman felt a presence on the roof with him. His years of training had heightened his senses far beyond that of the ordinary man. But then, Batman was no ordinary man.

"What are you doing here?" Batman demanded without turning around.

A sleek feminine figure in purple spandex stepped into the moonlight.

"One day I'm going to sneak up on you without you knowing, " the voice purred.

Batman remained motionless ignoring her comments and attempts to lighten his mood.

"I figured I might find you here. You like to come here to think for some reason," Catwoman noted.

The Tower stood overlooking what used to be Park Row, but had since become known as Crime Alley. A grim reminder indeed for the Dark Knight.

"It helps me think," was the reply.

"It certainly is a beautiful sight," Catwoman offered up.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What is beautiful to some may be horrible to others. It all depends on how you look at it," Batman stated.

Catwoman strode over to him and placed her hand on his strong shoulder. She looked out over the bay with him.

"What could've happened to make you what you are?" Catwoman asked rhetorically.

"Something no one could understand. I do this because I'm the only one who can, and I made a vow which I will see through," the raspy voice replied monotonely.

"I can help you-Nightwing can help you. Why won't you let anyone help you?" Catwoman asked angrily.

With that remark Batman turned throwing his cape back revealing the large yellow oval with the bat and walked towards Catwoman staring straight into her eyes.

"Because its something I have to do- something I have to make right. I've got to stop this psychopath and make sure he doesn't do this again," Batman stated sternly.

She looked into his eyes and saw the pain he carried with him for so many years. She placed her head on his chest and hugged him. Surprisingly, he didn't resist. It seemed the only time his human side came out was when Catwoman was around. She had a way about her that went far behind the obvious superficial reasons. Something he couldn't understand or rather had never allowed himself to understand. It seemed as if she might be getting through to him. He took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes...they moved closer. "BEEP! BEEP!" Came a sound from his belt. Just like that he was back to business.

"Damn!" Catwoman stated in disgust.

"Batman here," his voice grated.

"I've checked all Joker's former hideouts and locations. Nothing. Word is he's planning another TV appearance at 10 p.m.," Nightwing informed.

"Go to the cave and wait for me to call you..." Batman said with a sudden start in his voice.

"What is it!" Nightwing asked alertly. "Do you know where he is?"

"Go to the cave- I'll need you there. Raise me when you get there," was the reply.

"Nightwing out," he replied.

"What does this mean?" Catwoman asked.

"It means that I'm going to find the Joker-and I'm going to stop him-permanently!" he said forcefully avoiding contact with her eyes as he turned- cape sweeping gracefully in the wind.

She had never seen him like this before. The rage, the look in his eyes. In all the years she had known him, through all the fights- she had always held her own. Always more mesmerized by his appearance than fearful of his abilities-but now, for the first time in her life- Catwoman was scared of Batman. She looked away. In the two seconds she had her head turned, he was gone. She threw her arms in the air.

"He never tells me goodbye! He just disappears," she cried out loud.

Catwoman walked over to the edge of the building. She yelled out into the blackness.

"Just once, one night, I wish you'd say goodbye!"

But Batman was no where to be seen.

CHAPTER 19

The time was 9:55 p.m. Once again Batman was in the batmobile. He turned the corner and headed towards his destination. Joker's next transmission was about to take place. He knew more would die if he did not stop him this time. Batman wanted, no, needed to handle this one on his own. He could have no interference in the service of his duties.

"Nightwing," came the raspy voice. "do you have the satellites on-line and in place?"

"Roger that, Batman," Nightwing replied. "all systems are go and awaiting the appropriate signal. We'll find out exactly where he is this time."

The equipment being used was a satellite run system set up to determine locations from certain frequencies even through those that attempted to hide or block such attempts. Wayne Technologies had worked together with LexCorp from Metropolis to fund this project which had been the brainchild of the government.

The time was now 10:00 p.m. Just like clockwork the screen in the batmobile came to life and the familiar white face with the evil grin was all over the airways.

"He's trying to scramble the signals, but we'll have his location in a few seconds," Nightwing said excitedly.

"I hope we have a few seconds," Batman murmured.

"Goooodddd Evening Gotham City!" came the high pitched voice followed by a maniacal laughter that was all but deafening.

"I'm so glad you all decided to tune in just to see little ole me tonight," Joker said smugly. "Well, Gotham the time has come for at least one more painted smile for your eyes to behold. But not to worry, before I'm done-all of Gotham will have a painted smile. Just consider it my little gift to you all for believing in me. I wish I could give you more really-but this was the best I could come up with!"

Again laughter broke out as Joker fell backwards laughing so hard. He picked himself up and motioned for the camera to follow him. He strolled through a familiar building until he came to a large room with children sitting in chairs around a table. All bound and gagged. Most of the children were crying as Joker stepped into the room.

"Oh, why the long faces? Are you not having fun?" Joker asked with a frown. "Well, not to worry, we're about to have a lot of fun!"

Batman grew impatient as he watched the antics on the screen in the batmobile. Nevertheless, he continued heading in the direction he had started out in.

"Nightwing, do you have the coordinates and location yet?" Batman asked impatiently.

"Ok, it's coming up now-here it comes, here it comes...oh...my..." Nightwing sputtered.

"It's Wayne Foundation isn't it?" Batman asked with certainty.

"How did you know?" Nightwing inquired.

"I know the Joker-I also know how to stop him!" Batman replied.

"I'm on the way..." Nightwing announced.

"NO! I handle him- this is my fight!" Batman demanded.

"But what about Leslie and the kids?" Nightwing queried.

"I'll handle it, Batman out!" the comlink fell silent.

The batmobile pulled up into an alley that led to a dead end. After shutting down the batmobile, Batman leaped out as the canopy slid open. He activated the security system on the batmobile and strode toward the end of the alley. His gloved hand reached down and pressed a button on his belt. A compartment in the wall slid open to reveal a stairway leading down. Batman had had these secret entrances installed into all of Bruce Wayne's buildings in Gotham. All led to locations inside the buildings, mainly in Bruce Wayne's offices. In times like this, he was glad that he had done so. It allowed him to get into and out of the offices without being seen.

The door opened into a small storeroom that housed a secret elevator. Batman stepped into the elevator. It shot him straight up to Bruce Wayne's large office. He stepped out and looked out over the city from the view provided him by the huge window just behind the desk. From the look on the screen, Joker was in the main conference room on the 20th floor located almost halfway down the building from his current location. The Dark Knight made his way quietly down to the floor the room was located on.

Leslie Thompkins had taken in Bruce Wayne when his parents were killed. She was one of the first people to reach young Bruce just after the tragedy struck. Thompkins had remained close to Bruce through the years. She had always been a friend of the family, since she was in the same profession as Thomas Wayne. Leslie had also become a friend of the Batman often nursing him back to health when it became too difficult to reach the cave and immediate attention was a necessity. She knew who the Batman was but didn't like it. Every chance she got she would preach to the Batman trying to appeal to Bruce Wayne under the mask to give up this dark image which would surely cost him, heaven forbid, his life one day. Batman often avoided Leslie because of this, but she continued to keep his secret safe. Leslie knew that once Bruce had made up his mind, it was all but impossible to change it. Nevertheless, she continued to try in hopes that she might reach him-one day.

Joker walked around the table staring, laughing, and making faces at all the children until he came to Leslie.

"Well, looks like I've found my next candidate for a painted smile!" Joker exclaimed. "In the past I've used a spray to bring happiness, but I've revised it! Made it better! Now all you have to do is breathe the gas that comes out of this small container. I guess it's almost like ether-only more user friendly!" Joker laughed uncontrollably.

He held out a small container with a smiley face on the front. His ego allowed him to make everyone in his image. The last thing he wanted to see on their face was a smile. He raised his hand with the container to Leslie's face. Something struck his hand and knocked the bottle away. The gas, which was contained in a lead vial, lay harmlessly on the floor. Joker and Leslie looked at each other in shock wondering what had just happened. Joker looked over to the wall and saw the familiar shape of a batarang sticking in the wall. His eyes widened then he composed himself.

"Batman, glad you could make it! I wanted you to try this new batch I made," Joker uttered undisturbed.

"By the way? How did you find me?" Joker asked perturbed.

There was only silence. Joker looked around and saw nothing. Batman was in his own environment now and used it to his advantage.

"Hmmph, too scared to show yourself, huh? I'd expect that of your type," Joker muttered.

Joker was furious but hid it under his smug smile and arrogance. He felt the best way to attack the Batman would be through his anger. Batman knew Joker's game and at present held the ball in his court.

"Show yourself!" Joker demanded letting his anger get the better of him.

Joker straightened his bow tie and stood up straight. He walked idly over to his canister. The smiley face was now scared, having been struck by the batarang in that area. Joker was most displeased with this. He bent down to pick it up. When he did a sharp pain entered his jaw as an upper cut found its mark. Joker staggered back dazed and confused. He looked up and saw the menacing figure before him.

"Here I am," Batman said matter-of-factly.

"Hmmm, stho' I sthee," Joker managed spitting out blood as he did so.

"It's over, Joker. Give it up, there's no where to go," Batman urged.

The children and Leslie stared in awe at the sight. The children would remember this day for a long time and some may need help to forget it.

"You're not going to hurt anyone anymore, I'm going to see to that," Batman stated.

Joker began looking around. He hadn't planned for Batman to find him this fast.

"Oh, I don't know. I 've still got an ace or two up my sleeve!" Joker yelled.

With that he through two razor sharp cards in the direction of Batman. Batman dodged them easily and looked back to the Joker. He was gone. The door was just shutting as Batman made his way to it. The elevator was on the way up. Joker surely had a contingency plan and was making his way to his escape. Batman headed to the roof.

Joker reached the top and looked up as if hoping to see his savior from the sky. He checked the wind and went to one of the fan ducts beside the stairway. He had hidden a parachute there for his escape. He quickly began putting it on. Suddenly the door flew open, and Batman stepped out.

"You're not going anywhere, Joker" Batman ordered.

"Survey says, buzzer sound please, you're wrong. You know people never remember to put their answers in the form of a question," Joker laughed.

Joker walked to the edge of the building and turned to Batman.

"Ta-ta!" he said smugly.

A slight smile came across the Batman's face as his arms came from under his cape and directed a batarang with cable toward the Joker. The batarang wrapped itself around him and Batman tugged forcefully. The Joker fell face first banging his nose. More blood flowed. Batman made his way over to Joker. Joker had somehow reached a switch that released acid that had freed him by the time Batman made his way to him. Joker jumped up and took his best swing at Batman's mid-section. He recoiled in pain as his fist found its mark.

"Is that all you've got?" Batman demanded as a roundhouse kick followed flipping Joker over.

Joker was stunned and didn't really know where he was. Nevertheless he pulled himself together and charged Batman again. His attempt to tackle Batman ended up worse than his punch as Batman side stepped him and sent him headfirst into a pipe. Joker stumbled back and fell down. Batman strode over to him and grabbed him by his lapels.

"This is the end of the line for you, Joker!" Batman stated sternly.

Batman walked over to the edge of the building and held Joker over the edge by his lapels. Joker was barely conscious but could still hear Batman's voice.

"I'm going to make sure you never hurt anyone again. You'll never forget me, Joker," Batman made clear.

Suddenly a voice came from behind Batman.

"Don't do it. You won't be any better than him if you do," a feminine figure said stepping from the shadows.

Batman turned to look. Then turned back and dropped the Joker. Her eyes widened in amazement.

"Do you know what you've done?" Catwoman asked in total shock.

"Yes, I do. Thanks for your concern, " he said as he walked by her.

"That's it! You're just walking away after dropping him off the top of the building?" she asked still in shock.

Batman grinned and continued walking. Catwoman hesitantly walked over to the edge and looked over in expectation of a gruesome sight. Instead she saw a parachute with a smiley face on it making it's way down to the street.

"Have you got him, Nightwing?" Batman's voice came.

"Yeah, he's all mine..." Nightwing said with certainty.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't know..." Catwoman said apologetically.

"Things aren't always what they seem," Batman replied.

"I-I just thought..." she paused and looked back.

When she turned around he was gone into the night. Furious she ran to the edge where she last saw him and looked into the darkness.

"You did it again!" she screamed infuriated. "You didn't tell me goodbye!"

There was nothing but the darkness.

CHAPTER 20

It was a sunny day. Almost two months since the Joker had been released from Arkham, and now was to be ushered back in again. This time, there was no protesting, no cheers, no banners. Just silence and solemnity.

The wind rustled uneasily though the trees, blowing their dry brown leaves onto stone slabs, each labelled with names that had once belonged to men, women and children. A voice mumurred through the yards of stone slabs, and roses, as a group of people in black stood watching... unmoving and quiet.

Leslie felt hands on her shoulders, and she turned to see Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce's faithful butler by her side. He seemed downcast, as much as she had felt the soft tugging in her heart as she gazed upon the white marbled structure in front of her.

It read in large carved letters, In memory of the twenty-nine young children who suffered during the Gotham Valley Orphanage blasting, whose beauty and innocence will be missed dearly. Below those large letters were a list of names and ages; from as young as two to as old as fifteen.

The murmuring stopped as the old Reverend stepped back. Leslie followed the procession of people as they lay roses around the structure. A slim female with dark hair tied loosely behind her head crossed her path. She had violets in her hand, and laid them against the white structure. A dark coated feline stood at her feet, watching on. The lady put her hand on the structure, whispered something, then picked up her cat and walked away alone, across the field of grass and stones.

Dick appeared beside Leslie, as he laid down an array of orchids.

"Thanks for your help Leslie," said Dick, not looking up. "I'm sorry about what happened. It was my fault for putting the kids with you. I should've known the Joker would try there. I'm sorry to put you in danger."

He felt a hand on his back. Leslie was smiling. "You do a good job, Dick. And you have a wonderful heart... a heart for mankind, just as Bruce does. I'm sure your parents would have been proud of you."

Dick smiled back, "You think?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Thanks Leslie. Now I see why Bruce is so fond of you."

Leslie laughed softly, despite the solemnity of the atmosphere. "Where is Bruce anyway?"

Dick pointed to a dark figure under a tree, a distance away from the memorial structure.

"Isn't taking it well is he?" she asked rhetorically.

Dick shook his head. "Nothing I say or do can make him feel better about it. He still thinks the explosion was his fault."

Leslie took Dick's hand, "I think I might be able to help."

The grass shook gently in the wind, reflecting their colors in the murky shades of Bruce's sunglasses. He stood alone. Hands in pockets, shoulders slumped and deep in thought.

"Bruce..." said Leslie as she approached.

He looked up, his hair in a mess, and his face un-shaved. "L... Leslie," he stuttered, as if he was afraid that she had found him there.

Leslie stood in front of Bruce as he gazed down at her. His mouth opening to say something, but nothing came out. And she took him into her arms and held him there. It was at times like these that Leslie remembered the young boy that she had held, 26 years ago. The young boy who'd lost all innocence, and his childhood at such an early age. His fists shaking with rage, and sorrow. Tearing himself apart inside. The boy now a man. Just as stubborn, and just as compassionate. Shaking on the inside... afraid to let it show.

"When your parents died, I saw you standing there alone, staring at the grave, eyes full of tears and fists clenched. And my heart broke to see you like that. I wish there'd been some way I could've saved you from what you had to through. I wish I could give your childhood and your innocence back to you. But I knew there wasn't a thing I could've done. There wasn't a thing you could've done. All things work for good, and without you, there wouldn't be a Batman."

Bruce pulled away, and turned away from Leslie. Leslie pulled him back.

"What you do... that accounts for more than what a dozen other people might do. Right now you can only see what happened at the Gotham Valley Orphanage, and you don't see the big picture. Think of all the lives you've saved. My life included! Think of all the criminals you've put away. I've always been afraid for you, that you put your life on the line every night to save others. And I wonder how you do it. But then I see the determination in your eyes, that you know exactly what you are doing with your life, and I leave you to carry out your life the way you want."

Leslie removed Bruce's sunglasses, and he looked down.

"And I've neither stopped admiring your courage, nor your persistence at what you do. You're all that a man can be, and more. You can't stop all crime, no one can. But you've tried your best. And that's all that matters. Please never feel like you're not good enough, because you are..." she took his hand, "... friend."

Bruce held that hand tight. "Thank you Leslie," he said.

Then he turned around and began walking away.

"Where are you going?" asked Leslie.

He paused, looked back and smiled, "Doing what one man can do."

Leslie wanted to say something, but decided not to. "Good luck," was all she said. And he was gone.

EPILOGUE

Chains rattled as they bumped against the steel that held the Joker as he made his back to Arkham.

"I can't. I can't. How could my little outing turn out so damned short? I can't go back so soon. I haven't had enough fun yet!" mumbled the Joker, pacing his cage in the high security van. He made angry noises when the length of the chains on his feet reached the limit. "It's not enough yet. I can't be go back. Not yet."

One of the guards laughed, "Face it buddy. You're going back whether you like it or not."

The Joker looked up, interested. "Oh yeah? How if I escape before I get to Arkham?"

The guards looked at each other. The one who had spoke, spoke again, "You can't escape. These bars are high quality steel. Give it up, no one can saw through them. Especially one without a weapon."

The Joker began pacing again. "I don't think they're that strong. I bet I could blow it down with one kick. And if I did, the both of you would be in deep trouble, wouldn't you?"

The guard stood up, angered. "Look. We have no time for your nonsense! Sit down and shut the hell up! You can't get out, that's all you need to know."

"How are you so sure?" cooed the Joker. "Have either of you tested the bars?"

Again the guards looked at each other. "We test it often enough."

"Interesting. So you haven't tested it today." The Joker ran his fingers over the length of the bars. "Oh yeah..." he said. The other guard stood up. "Do you know what I'd do if I got out?"

The guards remained silent.

The Joker smiled. He was enjoying this game. "I'd cut your heads off!" he gnashed. "Then I'd dig out your eyes, and eat your tongue!" He rolled up, squealing with laughter.

The guard who had spoken could take it no longer. "Shut up! Shut up! You won't get past the bars, and that's it!"

The Joker stopped laughing, and said softly, "Why don't you prove it to me officer? Test the bars and prove it to me officer."

"Oh what the heck. Let's get this over with." The guard put his gun down, walked over and took hold of the bars, shaking it hard. The cage moved a little, but the bars remained intact. "There! Happy now?"

The Joker smiled. "Yes. Now can you open it for me?" Something poked the guard in his side. He looked down and saw it was something that looked like a pack of cards.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"Believe me, it's no joke." The Joker moved something and a sharp pain cut through the guard's side. He cried as the metallic card embedded itself into the wall of the van.

The other guard tried reaching for his gun, but the Joker had already had his weapon aimed at him.

"Now, open the cage or your friend dies."

The guard whimpered, clutching his side. The other guard went to his keys, dropping them twice.

"Hop to! Hop to!" cried the Joker, grabbing the petrified guard by his throat.

The other guard made his way to the cage, and set it open. The Joker dropped the guard.

"Yippie!" he cried, but got agitated when he realised his feet were still tied.

"Un-chain me! Now!"

The guard with the keys shook his head violently. "Those keys are not with me. They're with the driver."

"Call him for me then!" the Joker hastened the guard on. He nodded, and called the driver on the phone on the wall. The van stopped. Footsteps could be heard outside.

"Wheesh! I'm on my way to freedom!" the Joker began jumping around with his chains. "No more sicko cages and chains. Just me and my smilely faces! Woo hoo hoo hoo! And this time no more Mr. nice Joker. Gotham City, here I come! Yeee yippie ya...."

The lock of the door clicked, and it flung open. The Joker immediately stopped laughing. "No! Not you again!" he screamed.

A deep raspy voice shot back, "Oh yes."

The Joker screamed, picking up one of the guards, "I'll kill them! I'll cut out their faces! I'll..."

Something small and hard shot out in an instant and hit him on the head.

"I... I'll... I..." The Joker grabbed at the guard, but he was slipping, his head pounding like a pendulum. In a last attempt, he shot out one of his metallic cards, but the dark silhouette at the door ducked it swiftly as a shadow, and appeared in front of him.

"Here's a present specially from me to you." the dark figure whispered, placing a package in his hands. The Joker's vision was fast getting unclear, but he thought for a minute he saw the Dark Knight smiling, and decided he must be mistaken. He lost consciousness in a minute.

Deep down the winding passages of Arkham, in a padded cell with no windows, except for a sliding peep hole, the Joker awakened. His arms were tied in a straight jacket, and the chains on his feet were not removed. The only difference was that now they were securely tightened to the walls of the room. The room was empty... all except for the brown package some distance in front of him.

The Joker sat where he was a long time, staring at the package. Then decided the suspense was killing him. He had to know what the Batman had put in that package.

He wiggled to get into an upright position with much difficulty, walked over to the package and was gonna open it when he realised his hands were tied. He moaned, bending down to tear the paper with his teeth.

"arrghh... arghhh..." grumbled the Joker through his clenched teeth. Tugging furiously at the paper. Bit by bit it tore, till it finally showed something yellow. The Joker tugged harder till something soft fell out.

The Joker jumped back with fright! It was one of his dolls, smiling gruesomely at him. A piece of paper was pinned to the front of its overalls.

He cautiously moved forward, almost afraid that the doll might jump up and bite him. He peeped at the note. It said:

"The judge has signed off any type of early release for you, so forget about choking up good points with anyone at Arkham. I have removed all explosive devices from this doll. It will still talk and sing as you have programmed it to. I know you will need it for the time you are about to spend in your new home. Have fun. - Batman"

"ARRRGHHHHHH!!!" screamed the Joker, kicking the doll where it hit the opposite wall of the cell and broke into a rendition of Painted Smiles.

"No no no!" he squealed, trying to wiggle his way towards the doll, but realised the chains holding his feet were not long enough to reach it.

"NO NO NO!!!" he cried, tugging insanely at the chains. "STOP STOP STOP! SOMEONE MAKE IT STOP! LET ME OUT OF HERE! I'M SANE YOU HEAR ME? I'M SANE! ISN'T ANYONE LISTENING? I'M SANE! ME ME! I'M CARL JONES! I AM I AM! LET ME OUT OF HEEERRRRREEEE!"

His voice echoed down the long hallways of Arkham. The chamber boy heard the cry. He shook his head, wondering why he'd ever decided to take up such a job. The cries continued... whining, sobbing, remorseful. He could barely make out the words...