Chapter Text
The rubber of the gun in my hand squelched as I tightened my grip. I held it so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils, my eyes burned from the stench.
This was it. This is what I had spent months preparing for. Carefully planning every single moment. I could see the headlines now: 15 Year Old Girl Murders the Clown Price of Crime.
I stared down at him, watching as he gasped for air. A metallic sent now filled the air. His trembling, pale white hands grasped at the gaping hole my bullet left in his neck.
Before I could restrain myself, I was on top of him. I tossed the gun aside, the metal clattering against the concrete floor of the abandoned building Joker had decided to inhabit. I punched him over, and over, and over again until he stopped gasping. Even then, I continued to attack.
Grief had consumed me. He had taken the one person who truly understood away from me. He had murdered him in cold blood - in broad daylight.
Large hands grabbed me by my armpits and lifted me off of the Joker before I slammed against the cold pavement. Above me stood the man I had come to hate more than the Joker: Bruce Wayne.
I scrambled to my feet before bolting out of an open window. Before I could think, before I could feel anything, I was sprinting. Everything felt like a blur, but I could still hear the Joker’s laughter inside my head.
The cold air hit my bare arms as I flew through Crown Point. Bruce fought a lot of crime here, but he wasn’t raised on these streets like I was. He didn’t know each street, didn’t know the shortcuts, the dark alleyways.
I made a sharp turn down one of the allies, throwing Bruce off. As I raced up the fire escape of the apartment, my mind was consumed by haunting thoughts.
Is this what Jason would have wanted? Me getting revenge? Would he want me running from Batman like every other person in Crown Point?
I finally made it to the roof when the sound of Bruce’s grappling hook broke me out of my thoughts. I continued the sprint, knowing damn well what Bruce would do to me if I didn’t get away.
He trusted me, and I betrayed him. I could hear Bruce’s voice now.
“Justice, not vengeance.”
Giving the Joker chance after chance wasn’t justice, it was a public show of corruption. What I’ve done was an act of harm reduction. Guys like him don’t get sent to Arkham, get talk about their problems, and come out a better man. The Joker was evil to the core, and it was time Gotham accepted that the only thing he deserved was death.
I leapt off of the ledge of the building, crashing down onto the rooftop of the building beside it. Once again I got to my feet, continuing the run. Bruce’s footsteps still rang out behind me - the loud thumping of his boots aligning with the rapid beat of my heart.
The sound of the grapple hit my ears once again. The cord wrapped around my ankles, then went taught. I crashed to the ground, slamming my head against the ledge of the rooftop.
I turned onto my back as Bruce climbed on top of me. As I looked up at him, I didn’t see the man I had come to know so well. All I saw was Batman.
And he had never looked so angry.
His eyes were narrowed, likely from his eyebrows being knit together so tightly. His lips curled into a dog-like snarl, showing me his perfectly straight teeth. His gloved hand wrapped around my throat to hold me against the ground in a way I had never witnessed him do to any criminal. Then, he hit me in the face.
His fist collided right in between my nose and mouth. My left nostril began to leak crimson down my face, my gums bleeding too. My nose stung so badly that I could feel my eyes swell with tears. At least, I’d like to blame the pain for the tears.
He raised his fist once again, and I shut my eyes, bracing for the next hit. Only, it didn’t happen.
When I opened my eyes once again, I saw Bruce Wayne. A grieving father. A trusted friend.
“Turn around. Put your hands behind your back.”