DONT READ UNLESS YOU WANT CANCER

The Bat and the Joker

"Why so serious, Batsy?"

Batman growled and punched the Joker in the face. "Tell me where Rachel is."

The Joker laughed, a giggle like cats scratching a chalkboard. The Bat glared at him menacingly. "Tell me!"

The Joker frowned. "Oh, but where would the fun be in that? This brings me back to when we first met, Batman. Do you remember that? You know, Martha had eyes just like yours. It's such a shame that she had to go."

He pulled away from the fight abruptly. What? "How do you know about that?"

The Joker cackled. "Oh, what you don't know about our relationship pains me, Batsy. You know what happened that night. The gunshot heard 'round the world!"

Bruce was pulled back to that moment. "10:48..."

Joker's laugh - the same laugh as he heard that night - echoed in his head as the fateful scene played.

Five-year-old Bruce and his parents Thomas and Martha were eating ice cream as they walked out of the movie theater. The smoky scent of popcorn and the sweet refrain of cotton candy had seemed to tickle his nose as he talked and laughed with his parents.

And that was when the hooded criminal had jumped them.

The stranger drew the gun from his pocket, slamming it onto Bruce's father's wide forehead and squeezing the trigger. A painful blam accompanied the corpse down to the ground. His mother had grabbed his hand and pulled Bruce behind her in an attempt to shield him. The gunman shoved his gun through her pearl necklace, resting the barrel on her cheek.

She sobbed, and even now Bruce could still hear her crying, her despair. "Don't hurt my son!"

The Joker's - the murderer's - voice cut like a knife through the memory. "'Martha, dear', I said to her, 'I will not hurt your son. Just you.'"

Her necklace had snapped, the pearls flung into the air, almost in slow motion. The pink beads threaded through the air like birds before being brought back down to earth by gravity. The hooded man turned, and Batman saw his face underneath, a canvas of white and red.

"Martha loved me, you know. We were in a relationship once, but that was when I was still young and dumb."

The Joker's words brought the Caped Crusader back to the present, holding off tears. That memory was still powerful to him. He grabbed the Joker's collar and slammed him against the wall. "Why did you kill her?"

The Joker shrugged and continued. "Well, after a certain... incident with your mother, she left me for the rich and elusive Thomas Wayne. She probably would have gone her whole life without remembering, so I had to make sure that she knew I was still bitter."

Batman felt a blaze of anger flicker into life in the pit of his stomach. He slammed the Joker against the wall again and dropped him before pinning him to the ground. "I can't believe it. You were the murderer."

The Joker laughed. "Oh, come on, Batsy. Put a smile on that face. Hey, do you know how I got these scars?"

The Bat hovered over the Joker, silently assessing his behavior. The Joker continued. "It was from your mother. She did this to me. Cut me up one night when she knew what I really wanted from her. I think that I should return the favor."

He jumped up, knife in hand, and swiped at Batman's face. He easily disarmed the Joker, and stepped on his hand. The Joker tsked. "Such a spoilsport. Anyway, your mother didn't want to be tried for near-manslaughter, so she simply pushed me into a vat of acid, hoping that would work. You didn't really think that my face was covered in makeup, did you?"

Batman dropped the Joker. "...You're saying my mother did this?"

"Why, yes! I guess her insanity was hereditary. After all, why else would you be running around dressed like a bat? Now, I really do love these chats with you, Bats, but I have to get going now. Oh, and by the by, you'll find her on 42nd Street. See you there!"

A smoke bomb went off, consuming the air around the Bat. When the smoke cleared, the Joker was nowhere to be found. Batman turned on his intercom. "The Joker has escaped. Set the Batmobile en route to 42nd Street."

His longtime friend and mentor Alfred's voice crackled to life over the intercom. "Alright, but... Are you alright?"

Bruce pressed his finger to his temple. "Yeah, fine... I'm just thinking about something, that's all."