Batjokes Oneshots

Untold Pasts

The dimly lit room in Arkham Asylum held a heavy silence, broken only by the rustling of paper as Joker flipped through the dusty files he had managed to pilfer from the archives.

His eyes, usually gleaming with madness, were now filled with a profound sadness that seemed almost alien to his clownish visage. The name ' Jack Napier ' echoed in his mind, a ghost of a past he had long ago buried beneath layer of chaos and paint. 

Batman, ever vigilant, had been watching from the shadows, his cape a silent sentinel in the flickering fluorescent lights. He knew this moment was delicate, a rare glimpse into the fractured psyche of his eternal nemesis. 

The Joker looked up, the realization of what he had found came upon him like the first light of a cold, unforgiving dawn.

"You know," Joker spoke, his voice a strange blend of wonder and sorrow, "I never thought I'd miss someone I didn't even know. But here I am, holding onto a name like it's the last lifeline to sanity." He traced a finger over a faded photo, his eyes lingering on a woman who had once been his world. 

Batman stepped forward, his boots clicking against the cold, stone floor. He placed a firm hand on Joker's shoulder, his voice a gentle rumble. "Jack," he began, using the name that seemed to hold so much  pain for the madman, "You've been through a lot. It's only natural to feel loss, even for a life you can't remember." 

The Joker's head snapped up, his eyes meeting Batman's abnormally warm gaze. The sadness in them was raw, and unfiltered. "Do you... do you think I could ever be him again?" His tone was hopeful, yet laced with doubt. The room felt smaller, the weight of his question pressing down on them.

Batman paused, considering the gravity of his response. "I think," he said finally, "that everyone has the capacity for change, Joker. But it's not about becoming Jack Napier again. It's about finding peace with who you are now." He removed his hand from Joker's shoulder, giving him time to process the revelation. 

The Joker's expression twisted into a grim smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Peace," he echoed, the word sounding foreign on his lips. "Is that what you think I'm looking for?"

He chuckled mirthlessly,  flipping through the files with renewed fervor. "Maybe I'm just bored, Bats. Maybe I want to play a new game." 

Batman's gaze never wavered from the Joker's face, his eyes piercing through the madness to the soul beneath. "No," he started, "I know you better than that," he finished after a moment, his voice a low, steady murmur. "You're searching for a meaning, not a game."

Joker's laughter grew louder, a manic cackle that filled the room. His eyes sparkled with a sudden, dangerous light. "Meaning?" He spat the word out like a bad joke. "In this cesspool of a world, you think there'd be a meaning to find?" He flung the files to the ground, the pages fluttering like the wings of a dying butterfly.

Batman bent down and began to collect the scattered papers, his movements methodical and precise. "Everything has the capacity for redemption, Joker, even you. But it's a choice you have to make." He handed the files back to the Joker, his hands unyielding.

Joker took the files, but made no movement to leave, his eyes lingering on images of the life he had forgotten . "I don't want to be Jack," he said finally, his voice barely audible over the fading echo of his laughter. "Jack was weak. He didn't know how to laugh when the world was falling apart."

Batman paused, his eyes once again meeting Joker's, this time with an intensity that spoke volumes.  "You're not weak for feeling pain," he said, his voice a soft counterpoint to the madness that swirled in the room. "Pain is what makes us human."

The Joker leaned against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest, the files of Jack Maple d's life scattered around him like the shards of a shattered mirror. His eyes, so often a window into the abyss of madness, were now pools of quiet contemplation.

"But what if," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "What if being human is what's holding me back? What if this," he gestured to the room, the asylum, the world outside, "is all just a tragic joke?"

Batman straightened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You've always had a flair for the dramatic, but this isn't a joke, Joker. This is reality, and it's a reality that you've shaped with your own choices." He stepped closer, his cape swirling around them. 

"You can't escape who you were, but you can decide who you are now."

The Joker's eyes snapped up to meet Batman's, and for a moment, the madness was gone, replaced by a cold, calculated glare. He took a deep breath, letting out a laugh that started as a chuckle, and grew into a crescendo of hysterical laughter.

It bounced off the walls, filling the room with a sound that was eerily reminiscent of a man who had just realized the punchline of a cosmic joke. He pushed off the wall, the files of Jack Napier's life falling to the ground like dead leaves in the fall.

Batman watched the Joker's decent back into madness with a heavy heart. He knew the truth he had offered was a double edged sword. The Joker was a creature of chaos, and the revelation of his past was a catalyst that could either lead to introspection, or a deeper decent into the abyss. With a quiet resolve, he turned and strode silently toward the exit, his cape billowing dramatically behind him. 

The Joker's laughter grew louder, more intense, until it filled the cavernous room like a cacophony of shattered glass. He clutched his side, tears of mirth streaming down his face. The realization of his lost identity had ignited a wildfire of unwanted emotions, and he couldn't contain the hilarity of the irony. His laughter was a symphony of despair, echoing through the corridors of Arkham Asylum, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.