Red on Black

Bruce Wayne thought the Joker was dead. But he was wrong.

Every night, Bruce dreams of the Joker's final moments in his arms, laughing through blood and pain, blaming him for the inevitable end. But the Joker isn't gone. Not in the way Bruce wishes.

In a city that never sleeps, their twisted dance continues. It's not love. It's not hate. It's something far more dangerous, far more real. Red on black, lipstick on suit, blood on armor-it's a collision of madness and desire that neither of them can escape.

A slow burn of passion. A descent into madness. And one truth that neither can ignore: they're both drowning in the storm.