Prologue

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Blood splattered across the floor. The taste of that salty liquid slipped between my clenched teeth and poured out of my mouth. The feeling of blood on my cheek warmed my cold face. The cement rubbed against my ear as I tried to turn and face my assaulter. My vision blurred as I felt the shock of the crowbar against my spine. 

"Ya know, this is gonna hurt you more than it's gonna hurt me.", he said. Laughing. 

Another slam and then a crunch. His laughter echoed through the warehouse. It still rings in my ears to this day. The high cackle of violence, and then the act of vulgarity. "Batsy isn't coming for you, little bird."

The sick bastard kept hitting. He broke two ribs, and then took a break. I remember watching him set the explosives. I was barely conscious when he left. Rolling onto my right side, onto the ribs that weren't damaged, I watched the timer. I waited. I waited for my own death. And it didn't come. Not exactly. 

I don't remember anything after that. I was dead before the bomb exploded. I was dead before Batman could save me. He was seconds late, my body was still draining of heat by the time he reached me. I don't remember the 'afterlife'. Hell, I'm not even sure I got there. Next thing I knew, I was gasping for air - covered in scars and the Lazarus pit. 

I didn't return to Gotham for three months. I was scared to go back, I didn't want to face him. 

When I finally returned, I needed closure. It was stupid of me, to think that Bruce would kill the Joker. The guy has got morals, not that I can say the same for myself. That's why I wanted to kill him. I needed to kill the Joker. 

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