Chapter 3 - Ashes of the Boy Wonder
A Single issue from Joker’s perspective.
I’ve always loved New Year’s Eve.
All that hope. All that noise. All those people pretending tomorrow will be different.
That’s when you strike.
Fresh off another laughably easy escape from Arkham
Harley on my arm, Gotham’s finest eating dust behind us
I decided it was time to remind the city who really sets the tone around here. Chaos doesn’t announce itself.
It arrives.
The plan was simple. Elegant, even. A little chemical cocktail released into the air just as the crowds packed the streets. Not a kill gas, oh no, nothing so crude. This one loosened the screws. Rage. Panic. Impulse. Turned good people into bad ideas. While Gotham tore itself apart, we’d empty its banks.
Batman loves puzzles. And I gave him a city sized one.
Everything went off without a hitch. The chemicals dispersed. The streets erupted. Sirens everywhere. Fireworks masked the screams. Perfect.
And of course… the Bat noticed.
Security footage tipped him off. He and his little sidekick came sniffing around the plant. I even left them a note. Manners matter.
“Haha. Joke’s on you, Batman. You’re too late.”
Explosions rolled across the skyline right on cue. Alfred’s voice crackling in his ear. Banks lighting up like Christmas trees. I could practically feel the Bat trying to think five steps ahead.
And then he made the mistake. He split them up.
The boy went to Gotham Financial. Alone.
I didn’t jam the comms right away. I wanted him scared first.
My men jumped him hard. He fought well, credit where it’s due, but panic makes fools of us all.
He lost his gas mask in the scuffle. Just one breath was all it took. The chemicals did the rest. Hallucinations. Anger. Confusion. I watched him tear the place apart like an animal. Poor bird didn’t even know what he was doing.
That’s when I said it.
“Grab him.”
Batman, meanwhile, was cleaning house at another bank. Too easy. He even caught Harley. Good for him. But he couldn’t reach the kid. And when he finally raced to Gotham Financial… all he found was a motorcycle and a mask on the ground.
Oh, the look on his face.
I called him then. I wanted him to hear my voice.
“It’s a wonder why you’d send a Boy Wonder to do a man’s job.”
He threatened me. Of course he did. Always with the growling and the posturing.
So I made him an offer.
The girl… for the boy.
He didn’t like that.
Neither did I when he stalled.
Robin screamed in the background. Not because I needed information. Because Batman needed motivation.
Alfred was tracing the signal by then… I could feel it. So I picked the stage carefully. An abandoned warehouse down at Gotham Harbor. Old and now crowded with men who were more loyal to fear than money.
Batman arrived like a force of nature. He tore through them. Flipped, struck, broken bones everywhere. He was magnificent. Truly prime Batman.
The kind you only get once.
I stood back. Gun in hand. Robin barely conscious at my feet. His suit spray-painted in yellow to mock the Bat.
“The girl?” I asked.
Then the mob arrived. Chemically inspired citizens. Rioting. Setting fires. The building started to come down around us. Batman rushed me. He always does. Fists flying. Rage pouring out of him like blood. He mangled my face. Something was off about him tonight.
But then something I didn’t calculate… The roof collapsed and the gun in my hand went off.
I escaped in the confusion, limping battered and bruised but laughing. That’s when I saw him. Sitting there in the rubble. Cowl off holding back the tears in his eyes.
Bruce Wayne!?
Oh.
Now that was a punchline.
Robin was dead. Crushed beneath the weight of it all. Batman lived. That was important. He has to live with it.
The funeral was quiet. Wayne Manor. I watched from a distance as they buried the boy.
But what really died that night… was the Bat’s restraint.
And I finally knew who he was.
Game on.
