The night in Gotham was cold and suffog, the kind of darkhat felt alive. Thick clouds smothered the sky, blotting out the moon and stars, leaving the city in an eerie gloom.

  It wasn’t unusual fotham to feel oppressive, but tonight, the air carried something else. Anticipation. As if the city itself knew what was about to go down.

  On the rooftop of an old, crumbling building, Batman stood still as a statue, his cape rippling in the wind.

  His figure was almost indistinguishable from the night, a dark silhouette against a darker backdrop. He stared down at the city below, his jaw tight, his expression hidden but his fury unmistakable.

  He couldn’t shake the memories tonight, no matter how hard he tried. Jason’s funeral pyed on a loop in his mind, every detail vivid. The rain had beeless that day, drumming on the coffin like some cruel punctuation.

  Everyone had spoken in hushed toheir words meaningless in the face of what they’d lost.

  A coffin too small for someone who still had so much life to live. Batman’s fists ched at the thought, the leather of his gloves groaning in protest.

  But this wasn’t a night frieving. Not this time. There was no Bat-Signal in the sky, no issiordon waiting with another case. Tonight, the mission wasn’t about Gotham, it was about him. About Jason. And the Joker.

  He’d spent hours chasing whispers, fragments of rumors that barely qualified as leads, but he didn’t care. He followed every single one.

  Now, it had all brought him here, to the gates of an abandoned amusement park. The Joker’s kind of pce. It erfe that grotesque way only the prince of crime could appreciate.

  The gates creaked on their rusted hinges as Batman pushed through, the wind making them groan like they were alive. Ihe park was a ghost of what it once was.

  Broken rides loomed in the dark, their faded colors dull under yers of grime. faces were everywhere, grinning in a way that felt less cheerful and more like a warning.

  He moved through the wreckage with practiced ease, every step calcuted, every movement deliberate so as to not give away his presenbsp;

  The silence pressed in, heavy and almost suffog, until it was shattered by a sound that made his blood run cold.

  The Joker’s ugh.

  That high-pitched, grating cackle that seemed to echo from everywhere at once. Batman froze for half a sed, his muscles coiled like a spring.

  Then, he moved, heading straight for the sound, his cape trailing behind him. His destination was clear, a funhouse at the ter of the park, its garish neon lights flickering in and out, casting jagged shadows on the ground.

  Inside, mirrors lihe walls, dist his refle into grotesque shapes. He ighem, his focus unshakable as the Joker’s ughter grew louder.

  It was ing from somewhere deep within the funhouse, boung off the walls in ways that made it impossible to pinpoint.

  “Joker!” Batman’s voice was low and rough, a growl with the weight of suppressed emotions.

  Then the man himself appeared, stepping out from the dark like he owhe pce. His pale face almost glowed uhe flickering lights, that red grin of his stretched wide, and his eyes sparkled with sick glee. He cpped his hands slowly, the sound deliberate and mog.

  “Batsy!” the Joker said, his voice dripping with that manic cheerfulness. “I knew you’d e! Took you long enough. I was starting to think you didn’t care.”

  Batman didn’t waste time. He closed the distan a heartbeat, his first punding squarely on the Joker’s jaw. The stumbled back, ughing even as the blow split his lip.

  Batman didn’t stop. His fists flew, each strike harder tha. Every hit was fueled by the memory of Jason, of the pain and guilt he couldn’t shake. Gss shattered around them as they crashed into mirrors, the shards raining down in glittering fragments.

  “Still so serious!” the Joker wheezed, his grin never faltering. “You really don’t know how to have fun, do you?” He said as he looked at blood stain on his suit. “I had so much fun with the kid, too bad he died at the end. What I say, he was indeed a… Blunder.”

  Batman grabbed him by the colr and smmed him into the wall, the cracked gss spider-webbing out from the impact. His voice was a snarl. “This is for Robin.”

  The Jrin widened, somehow, his eyes alight with cruel amusement. “Oh, little Robin,” he said, his voice softening to a mogly teone. “He was such a good boy, wasn’t he? Too bad…” He leaned in, whispering like it was a secret meant just for them. “…he couldn’t take a bst.”

  Batman saw red. He struck again and again, the Joker’s words cutting deeper than any bde.

  The sound of shattering gss filled the air as the mirrors around them gave way, but all Batman could see were fshes of Jason, Jason alive, Jason gone, Jason lying still in that coffin.

  Finally, he stopped, his breath ing in harsh, ragged gasps. The Joker crumpled to the floor, blood smeared across his face, his smile somehow still intact. He coughed, the out anh, hoarse but just as maddening.

  “Go on,” the Joker rasped, his voice a dare. “Do it. Finish it. You know you want to. Kill me. It’s what the little bird would want, isn’t it?”

  Batman’s fist hovered in the air, trembling with the force it took to hold back. He could do it, end it all right here, right now. Orike, and it would be over. Justice for Jason. Justice for all of them.

  But deep down, he khe truth. It wouldn’t bring Jason back. It wouldn’t even feel like justice. It would be surrender, giving the Joker exactly what he wanted.

  With a sharp exhale, Batman tapped a button on his belt. The silent signal activated, and seds ter, the rumble of engines broke through the oppressive quiet. A prison van rolled into view, the armed officers inside ready for his cue.

  He let the Joker fall, his grip releasing with a snarl. The hit the floor hard, shards of broken gss g beh him as he crumpled in a heap.

  “Yoing back to Arkham,” Batman said, his voice cold and clipped. “But this isn’t over.”

  As the van screeched to a halt outside the dipidated funhouse, the officers spilled out, their ons trained on the maniac sprawled on the floor.

  The Joker, of course, couldn’t resist. He grinned up at Batman, blood smeared across his , his teeth still stained with that twisted, perpetual smile.

  “Oh, Bats,” he rasped, a wheezing chuckle bubbling up as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Always so predictable.”

  Batman ignored him, dragging the Joker to his feet before shoving him toward the waiting officers. They moved in swiftly, spping on cuffs that ked like a death knell.

  “Way to ruin the finale, Batsy,” the Joker said as they hauled him toward the vahrew his head back, ughing through the pain. “I’ll see you soon.”

  The echo of his ughter cut through the night, sharp and grating, and for a moment, Batman stood frozen, his jaw tight.

  issiordon approached, his boots g over the broken remnants of the Joker’s chaos. A cigarette burned between his fingers, the ember casting a faint glow in the darkness.

  “When you called earlier, I thought tonight might be the night,” Gordon said, his voice heavy with somethiween relief and resignation. “Thought maybe you wouldn’t hold back this time. Thought maybe it’d finally be the end of him.”

  He dropped the cigarette, grinding it into the grouh his shoe.

  Batman didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He simply turned and walked away, the Joker’s ughter following him like a taunting echo.

  It g to him as he stepped through the rusted gates of the park, the sound burrowing deep into the ers of his mind. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. Not tonight.

  The Batmobile waited just beyond the shadows, its sleek frame a sharp trast to the decay around it.

  He slid into the driver’s seat, the familiar hum of the eeadying his restless thoughts. When the car roared to life, it drowned out everything else, the ughter, the memories, even his own doubts.

  The city blurred past him as he sped into the night, light and shadow streaking across the windshield. But no matter how fast he drove, he knew ohing for certain: that ughter would follow him long after the night ended.

  Batman’s thoughts weren’t on the roads ahead. His grip oeering wheel tightened as his mind wandered, dragged back to a past that refused to stay buried. Jason.

  Even thinking his name felt like a punch to the gut, stirring a storm of emotions he couldn’t trol, grief, guilt, anger, and an ache that no amount of time or distance could dull.

  Jason was a tough kid, all fire and fight, with a grin so wide it seemed to dare the world to knock him down.

  Bruce could still hear his ughter, rare in Wayne Manor’s somber halls, but so full of life that even Alfred couldn’t help but smirk when Jason’s antics got out of hand.

  That ughter had been sunlight breaking through the darkness, a sound that made the weight of their mission feel lighter, if only for a moment.

  “, Bruce!” Jason’s voice echoed in his memory, sharp and vibrant. “You gotta loosen up! You’re not just the Dark Knight, you’re also a billionaire.

  Billionaires are supposed to have fun, right?”

  For the briefest sed, Bruce felt the ghost of a smile tug at his lips, only to vanish beh the crushi of reality.

  Jason had been more than a partner, more than Robin. He was family. A son. Even if Bruce had never mao say it aloud.

  The Image of Jason’s first meeting fshed through his mind. A scrappy, fearless kid trying to steal the tires off the Batmobile in the middle of Crime Alley.

  There had been something in Jason’s eyes that day, something raw and untamed. Bruce hadn’t just seen a thief. He’d seen potential.

  He’d seen himself, years ago, burning with the same anger and drive to make somethier out of the chaos.

  “Am I doing this right, Bruce?” Jason had asked during a quiet rooftop stakeout, his voiusually uain. “I mean, really right? Do you think I’m good enough?”

  Bruce could still feel the weight of his response, his voice steady and sure. “Jason, you’re more than good enough. You’re extraordinary. Don’t ever doubt that.”

  But no words, no assurances, had been enough to keep Jason safe. That image—Jason’s broken body, the blood, the stillness—was seared into Bruce’s mind, a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.

  He could still hear the explosion, the deafening silehat followed, the crushing realization that he had been too te.

  The Batmobile’s engine roared as he pushed the memory aside, f himself to focus on the present.

  Jason was gone, and no amount ret er could bring him back. But his loss lingered, woven into the fabric of Gotham itself, a shadow Bruce would carry forever.

  Whemobile finally slowed, it was outside the Batcave. I, he made his the rooftop of the Wayne Manor overlooking the city.

  Batman stepped forward, letting the cold wind wash over him as he stared at Gotham’s sprawling lights, glittering like scattered stars. Somewhere out there, Jason’s memory lingered, refusing to fade.

  “Master Bruce.”

  Bruce turo find Alfred standing behind him, his expression calm but lined with quiet passion.

  “Alfred,” Batman said, his voice low, raw. “I failed him. Jason’s gone because of me.”

  Alfred stepped closer, his haing lightly on Bruce’s shoulder, a small but steadyiure.

  “You did everything you could, sir. Jasohe risks. He chose this life, chose to fight alongside you. Bming yourself will n him back.”

  Bruce’s fists ched, the words like a bitter pill. “I was supposed to protect him. He trusted me. I let him die.”

  Alfred’s voice softehough his gaze remaieady. “Grief is a heavy burden, Master Bruce, but it’s not one you must bear alone. Jason admired you. He believed in you. He wouldn’t want you to lose yourself in guilt of his death.”

  For a moment, the words huween them, raw and unvarnished. Bruce took a slow, steadying breath, letting them sink in.

  He couldn’t afford to let grief e him, not when there was still so much work to be done. Jason’s memory wouldn’t be his undoing. It would be his strength.

  “Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said quietly, the words heavy with siy.

  “Always here, sir,” Alfred replied with a faint smile. “Now, perhaps it’s time we head back down. Gotham isn’t going to save itself, after all.”

  They returo the Batcave, the silence felt heavier, broken only by the hum of maery.

  Bruce’s eyes nded on the gss case where Jason’s Robin suit had once hung. Now, it was empty, a painful reminder of a promise he hadn’t been able to keep.

  He stood there for a moment, his thoughts heavy, his heart heavier. “Jason…” he whispered, the sound swallowed by the cavernous space.

  From the shadows, Alfred watched quietly, his usual stoicism softened by an undercurrent of sadness.

  He knew better than ahat Bruce’s grief wasn’t something words could mend. Still, he hoped that, in time, Bruce might find peace, or at least purpose in Jason’s memory.

  When Bruce finally turned away from the empty case, it was with renewed focus. He moved to the massive puter, its ss alive with data and surveilnce feeds. The Joker had been taken down, but crime still lingered somewhere in Gotham’s shadows.

  *****

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