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Chapter 26 – The Truth
The night was heavy.
The ruins stank of smoke, sweat, and rusted iron. Gotham wasn't sleeping—it never did—but even the city seemed to hold its breath.
Batman stood in front of him, cape torn, fists clenched, jaw locked so hard it might crack bone. Across from him, the Joker swayed like a drunk prophet, blood on his teeth, madness in his eyes.
And then the clown spoke.
"You want to know a joke, Bats?" Joker's voice was quiet at first. Too quiet. It made the air crawl. "The greatest joke of all... it's me. It's always been me. From the beginning. From the start."
Batman's eyes narrowed. He didn't move, but the silence between them tightened like a noose.
Joker licked his lips. His smile trembled. His eyes burned. "Your parents. Your precious little mommy and daddy. The pearls on the pavement, the blood in the alley, the little boy crying while the world broke... hah..." He giggled, then snapped forward, shouting. "That was me!"
The words struck like knives.
Batman's chest seized, every muscle locking. He stepped forward without realizing, fists trembling. "You're lying." His voice was stone, but cracks showed.
Joker shook his head violently, like a dog flinging off water. "No, no, no. Not this time, Batsy. I was there. I pulled the trigger. I painted the alley red. I made you."
And then the world shifted.
---
The alley. Crime Alley. Cold rain hitting brick walls, puddles glistening with neon reflections. A man and a woman, wealthy but trying to look small, pulling their boy close as they left the theater.
And in the shadows—him.
Not the clown yet. Not the painted lunatic. Just a man with shaking hands and a gun too big for his pocket. His grin was nervous, sharp, twitching.
"Wallet. Necklace. Quick." His voice cracked.
The man, Thomas Wayne, stepped forward. Proud, foolish, protective. "You don't have to do this."
The gun twitched. The woman screamed. The boy froze.
And the man in the shadows laughed. Just once. A short, broken laugh.
"Of course I do."
Bang.
Bang.
The pearls snapped. Blood bloomed across the pavement. The boy fell to his knees, his scream swallowed by thunder. And the man with the gun... he laughed again. Longer. Louder. It wasn't joy, it wasn't triumph—it was hysteria.
And then he ran. And the boy became a Bat.
--
Batman's vision blurred red. His fists clenched until the knuckles cracked. The world was spinning, shaking, collapsing.
"You," he whispered. "It was you."
Joker tilted his head, his smile too wide. "Surprise. The great tragedy, the holy wound, the little pearl that cracked and grew into a Bat—it's all thanks to me! I made you! I'm your daddy, your mommy, your god, your demon. Without me, you're just another rich brat crying over spilt milk. Hahaha!"
Batman moved.
He didn't think. He didn't plan. He was rage given flesh. He slammed into Joker with the force of a falling building, his fist crashing into the clown's jaw. Bone cracked, teeth snapped, blood sprayed.
But Joker only laughed.
"Yessss, that's it! Hit me! Hate me! Kill me! Every punch is a punchline!"
Batman hit him again. And again. And again. His gauntlets split skin, shattered cartilage. Joker's face turned into pulp, red and purple smeared together like abstract art.
But the clown didn't stop laughing. Every time Batman struck, Joker's body twitched, then grew. His muscles swelled, his speed sharpened, his bones reinforced. The power of Grow.
"You can't beat me, Bats!" Joker shrieked through broken teeth. "You made me, I made you, it's the circle of death and comedy!"
---
The battle spilled into the street, each blow like thunder. Batman's precision met Joker's chaos.
Batman struck with trained fury: hooks, elbows, knees, crushing techniques honed across decades. Joker countered with raw savagery, his movements unpredictable, his strength unnatural.
Batman drove him into a wall—crack. Joker smashed through concrete, laughing as he clawed back to his feet.
Joker swung a broken pipe—Batman dodged, countered with a crushing kick to the ribs. Joker coughed blood, then used the momentum to slam his head into Batman's jaw.
"Rgh—!" Batman staggered.
"Round and round we go!" Joker sang, spitting blood in his face.
Batman tackled him to the ground, fists raining like hammers. Joker caught one punch, their eyes locking—one burning with fury, the other with manic delight.
"You can't kill me," Joker hissed. "If you kill me, you kill yourself. I am you. I'm the night you never woke up from. I'm the joke you never stopped laughing at."
Batman roared, lifting Joker and slamming him into the ground so hard the pavement cracked.
Joker coughed, laughed, spat teeth. "That's it, baby bat. Break your toy. Break your maker. Break the joke."
---
The fight became messier, uglier. No rhythm, no order. Just chaos.
Batman was slipping—his training drowning under the tide of rage. His punches lost precision, his movements grew reckless. He wasn't the Bat anymore. He was the boy in the alley, screaming, bleeding, lost.
And Joker thrived in it. Every punch made him stronger. Every wound made him laugh louder. His "Grow" power surged until his veins glowed faintly, his eyes manic with more than madness—they were filled with power.
He threw Batman across a car, shattering the metal like tin. He lifted him, slammed him into the hood, fists pounding down.
Batman blocked, countered, twisted Joker's arm until it snapped—but Joker didn't scream. He laughed, headbutted Batman, blood spraying across both their faces.
It wasn't a fight anymore. It was two tragedies smashing against each other, over and over, until the city shook from the echoes.
---
And then—
A blur.
A streak of lightning.
Between the Bat and the Clown, a figure appeared, holding them apart with hands faster than thought. Both men froze, blinking through blood and fury.
"Enough!"
The voice was sharp, urgent, desperate. The man was young, red-suited, his chest emblazoned with a bolt of lightning. His breath came fast, his eyes darting between the two monsters.
"The world is ending," the Flash said. "And you two are trying to kill each other? Wake up! We don't have time for this!"
Batman's chest heaved, fists trembling, rage still boiling. Joker's grin was wide, blood dripping from every tooth.
And for a moment, the world held still—the Bat, the Clown, and the Flash frozen in a triangle of hate, madness, and urgency.
The storm was coming.
And this fight was far from over.