NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 32: Not the boring little girl...
The Monarch Theater loomed before me, its once-grand façade now crumbling from decades of neglect.
In Park Row – the area now grimly known as Crime Alley – this building stood as a monument to tragedy.
The place where Thomas and Martha Wayne were murdered, where Bruce's childhood ended and Batman's journey began.
And now the Joker had chosen it for our confrontation.
The symbolism wasn't subtle – a place of transformation through violence, where one identity died so another could be born. The clown expected a similar transformation from me tonight.
I reverted from XLR8 to human form in the shadows across the street, surveying the building carefully.
My enhanced senses detected no immediate signs of surveillance or traps outside, but that meant little with the Joker. His preparations would be inside, where Barbara waited.
The thought of her in his clutches sent another surge of cold rage through me, but I forced it down.
Emotion clouded judgment, and I would need perfect clarity to navigate whatever twisted scenario the Joker had designed.
"Superman and Flash have secured Finch," Batman's voice came through my communicator. "He's unharmed but shaken. They've neutralized the explosives at the Harlow Street location."
"Good," I replied quietly. "I'm at the Monarch Theater now. No external security visible."
"Maintain communication," Batman instructed. "We're positioned to intervene if necessary."
"Understood." I stated - yet had no intent to as I deactivated the communicator, knowing the Joker would expect me to enter alone and uncommunicative.
Any deviation from his script might trigger whatever failsafes he had prepared.
I approached the theater's entrance, pushing open the weathered doors with deliberate calm.
The lobby beyond was dark, illuminated only by faint moonlight filtering through broken windows.
Faded movie posters hung in tatters from the walls, and the ticket booth stood empty, its glass long since shattered.
A single spotlight cut through the darkness at the far end of the lobby, illuminating the entrance to the main theater.
Another piece of the Joker's theatrical staging – a literal spotlight guiding me to the main event.
I moved forward cautiously, alert for any sign of traps or surveillance.
As I reached the illuminated doorway, music began to play – a scratchy rendition of "The Show Must Go On" emanating from ancient speakers somewhere in the ceiling.
The main theater beyond was cavernous, rows of decaying seats facing a stage where a single spotlight illuminated Barbara, bound to a chair.
The Joker was nowhere in sight, but his presence permeated the space – this was his stage, his production, his twisted philosophical experiment.
"Barbara," I called, moving down the center aisle toward the stage. "Are you hurt?"
She looked up, relief washing over her face. "Samael! I'm okay. But be careful – he's got explosives rigged throughout the building."
I continued my approach, scanning the theater for any sign of the Joker. "I know. Superman and Flash have already rescued Mr. Finch. You're my priority now."
"How touching!" The Joker's voice echoed through the theater, though he remained hidden in the shadows.
"The hero arrives to save his damsel! Though I must say, I expected you sooner. Did the kindly neighbor delay you? Or were you perhaps strategizing with the Bat, trying to outthink me?"
I reached the edge of the stage, still unable to locate the Joker visually. "I'm here now. That's what matters. Let Barbara go – this is between you and me."
"Between you and me!" The Joker repeated, finally emerging from behind the tattered curtains at the back of the stage. "How delightfully direct! But you're missing the point of our little production, my philosophical prodigy!"
He skipped forward, stopping beside Barbara's chair. "The commissioner's daughter isn't merely a prop – she's an essential element of our experiment! The variable that tests the strength of your convictions!"
I maintained my composure, assessing the situation methodically. The Joker stood too close to Barbara for me to risk any sudden movements.
His right hand held what appeared to be a remote detonator – likely connected to the explosives Barbara had mentioned. His left hand rested casually on the back of her chair, but I noted the subtle bulge of a weapon beneath his purple jacket.
"What exactly is this experiment supposed to prove?" I asked, buying time while I considered options. "That people abandon principles when someone they care about is threatened? That's hardly a profound insight."
The Joker's smile widened. "Oh, it's so much MORE than that! This isn't about proving some pedestrian point about moral flexibility under pressure! This is about YOU specifically! The fascinating contradiction you embody!"
He began pacing excitedly, though he maintained a position that kept Barbara between us. "During our last philosophical discourse, you argued so eloquently that meaning exists even in chaos.
That moral choices matter even in a meaningless universe.
That connections have value despite the inevitable entropy of existence!"
The Joker spun dramatically, arms spread wide. "Most people cling to such positions out of ignorance or fear – never truly confronting the absurdity at the heart of existence!
But YOU – you acknowledge the fundamental meaninglessness of it all, yet STILL choose to create meaning! It's the most beautiful contradiction!"
I met his gaze steadily. "There is no contradiction. You've fundamentally misunderstood my position."
"Oh?" The Joker's head tilted curiously. "Do enlighten me, then! I so love a good philosophical debate!"
"I never claimed the universe is meaningless," I stated clearly. "I said that even if one accepts the premise of cosmic meaninglessness – your premise – the meaning we create still matters. But that's not my actual position."
The Joker's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of genuine interest breaking through the manic persona. "Not your position? Then what IS your position, my philosophical prodigy?"
"That meaning is fundamental to existence," I replied. "Not arbitrary, not constructed, not a comforting illusion we project onto chaos.
Meaning is woven into the very fabric of reality – all meanings connecting to a single source, an essence of meaning itself."
The Joker's smile faltered momentarily before reasserting itself. "How quaintly metaphysical! Almost religious in its implications!
But if meaning is intrinsic rather than constructed, then what of chaos? What of the random cruelties that define our existence?"
"Chaos is just pattern we don't yet comprehend," I countered. "Randomness is a limitation of perception, not a fundamental state of reality.
What appears meaningless is simply meaning we haven't yet grasped."
I took a careful step forward, noting how the Joker's hand tightened slightly on the detonator. "That's why your worldview is fundamentally flawed. You mistake your inability to perceive meaning for the absence of meaning itself.
You confuse your limited perspective for ultimate truth."
The Joker's laughter echoed through the theater, but it carried a different quality now – a hint of defensiveness beneath the manic glee.
"Such certainty! Such conviction! But how do you KNOW this meaning exists? What evidence can you offer beyond your own subjective experience?"
"The same evidence you use to justify your nihilism," I replied calmly. "Observation, analysis, and logical deduction.
The difference is that I don't mistake my limitations for cosmic truth. I don't elevate my confusion to a philosophical position."
Barbara's eyes were on me, a mixture of concern and something else – perhaps pride – in her expression. I maintained my focus on the Joker, watching for any sign that my words were affecting him.
"Fascinating!" the Joker declared, though his voice had lost some of its confident resonance. "A metaphysical realist in a postmodern world! But let's test this grand theory of intrinsic meaning, shall we?"
He raised the detonator, waving it tauntingly. "If meaning is truly woven into the fabric of reality, then what meaning would you assign to THIS moment?
What cosmic significance exists in my finger hovering over this button, ready to bring this entire structure down around us?"
"The meaning is clear," I replied without hesitation. "This moment represents your desperation to validate your worldview – your need to force others to confirm your belief that existence is meaningless.
If you truly believed in cosmic nihilism, you wouldn't need my validation. You wouldn't need to convert others to your perspective."
The Joker's expression flickered again, something almost vulnerable crossing his features before the manic grin reasserted itself. "Desperation? DESPERATION? Oh, that's rich coming from someone clinging to metaphysical fantasies to avoid confronting the void!"
"I'm not the one kidnapping people to prove philosophical points," I observed calmly. "I'm not the one designing elaborate 'tests' to validate my worldview.
That behavior doesn't suggest confidence in your position – it suggests profound insecurity."
The Joker's composure cracked further, a flash of genuine anger breaking through the theatrical persona. "INSECURITY? You think THIS is about insecurity?" He gestured wildly with the detonator.
"This is about REVELATION! About stripping away the comfortable lies people tell themselves!"
"No," I replied, taking another careful step forward. "This is about your fear that you might be wrong.
That your embrace of chaos and meaninglessness might be based on a fundamental misunderstanding of reality.
That's why you need me to break, to abandon my principles – to validate your choice to abandon yours."
The Joker's face contorted with rage, all pretense of playful philosophical discourse momentarily forgotten. "ENOUGH! You think you understand me? You think your undergraduate philosophy can unravel what I AM?"
He pressed a button on the wall beside him, and suddenly the theater was bathed in an eerie red glow.
The air seemed to thicken, charged with an energy I recognized immediately – magical energy, specifically chaos magic. Klarion's contribution to this "test."
"Our mutual friend Klarion left me a little gift," the Joker explained, his composure returning as he gestured to the glowing sigils that had appeared on the walls and ceiling.
"A touch of chaos magic to... enhance our philosophical discourse! To create the perfect conditions for your true nature to emerge!"
The magical energy intensified, coalescing around the stage. I could feel it probing at me, specifically at the Ultimatrix – seeking something within it.
"You see, my philosophical prodigy, our witchy friend sensed something in that fancy watch of yours!" the Joker continued, his voice rising with excitement.
"Something hidden! Something powerful! Something you're afraid to access because of what it might reveal about your true nature!"
Barbara struggled against her restraints, her expression shifting to one of alarm as the magical energy continued to build. "Samael, whatever he's trying to do, don't let him!"
The Joker ignored her, his focus entirely on me. "Three transformations! That's all you've ever shown the world! XLR8, Graymatter, Chromastone! But there are others, aren't there? Forms you keep hidden because they frighten even you! Powers you restrain out of fear of what you might become!"
The magical energy surged, concentrating around the Ultimatrix. I could feel it attempting to interface with the device, to force an activation sequence.
Klarion's chaos magic was trying to trigger a specific transformation – one I had deliberately avoided since arriving in this world.
"The ghost!" the Joker exclaimed, his eyes wild with anticipation. "The shadow lurking in your watch! The form Klarion stated with powers of intangibility, invisibility, possession – all the abilities you'd need to save the commissioner's daughter before I trigger these explosives!
He sensed it!
But you won't use it, will you? Because of what might emerge alongside it!"
I fought against the magical influence, trying to maintain control of the Ultimatrix. But Klarion's power was formidable, and it had been specifically designed to target this vulnerability.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said through gritted teeth, though we both knew it was a lie.
"LIES!" the Joker shouted, his voice echoing with unnatural resonance in the magically charged air. "Boring, predictable lies! Our mutual friend Klarion was quite specific about the shadow in your watch!
The consciousness that doesn't belong in this reality! The being waiting for its chance to emerge! The being you created! One from the darkest echoes of your very soul!"
The Ultimatrix began to pulse erratically on my wrist, its control mechanisms fighting against the external magical influence. Warning messages flashed across its display: "EXTERNAL ENERGY DETECTED. TRANSFORMATION SEQUENCE COMPROMISED. SECURITY PROTOCOLS ACTIVATING."
"This is the true test!" the Joker declared, his voice rising to a fever pitch. "Will you maintain your principles at the cost of the commissioner's daughter's life?
Or will you embrace the darkness within to save her? Either way, my point about the ultimate meaninglessness of moral absolutes is demonstrated!"
The magical energy surged again, and I felt the Ultimatrix's resistance beginning to fail. The selection dial rotated without my input, cycling through transformations until it reached one I had never used – Ghostfreak, the Ectonurite form containing Zs'Skayr's consciousness.
"Samael!" Barbara called, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Whatever you're afraid of, whatever risk this transformation poses – I trust you! I trust you to remain yourself, no matter what form you take!"
Her words reached me through the magical interference, a reminder of what was truly at stake. This wasn't just about philosophical positions or proving the Joker wrong.
It was about protecting someone I cared about, someone who believed in me despite not knowing the full extent of the risks.
The Joker raised the detonator, his finger hovering over the trigger. "Time's up, my philosophical prodigy! Choose now! Your principles or her life!"
In that moment of crisis, I made my decision. I would use Ghostfreak – but on my terms, not the Joker's.
Not as a surrender to chaos, but as an affirmation of the meaning I found in protecting those I cared about.
"Ultimatrix," I said aloud, my voice steady despite the magical energy swirling around me. "Access transformation: Ghostfreak. Authorization: Samael Morningstar."
The device beeped in response, a warning message scrolling across its display: "CAUTION: ECTONURITE DNA SAMPLE CONTAINS DORMANT CONSCIOUSNESS. EXTENDED USE MAY COMPROMISE CONTAINMENT PROTOCOLS."
"I understand the risks," I replied. "Override safety protocols."
The transformation began, but unlike the usual surge of energy reconfiguring my body, this felt like being turned inside out –
my consciousness separating from my physical form, stretching into something ethereal and cold.
A chill spread through me, not just physical but spiritual, as if the very essence of my being was being submerged in ice water.
When the transformation completed, I hovered above the floor, my body now a pale, ghostly form with a single purple eye and black lines running across my surface.
I could feel the difference immediately – this wasn't just a physical change but a fundamental alteration of my state of existence.
"MAGNIFICENT!" the Joker exclaimed, clapping his hands together in delight. "The ghost emerges! But is it still you in there, Samael? Or has something else awakened alongside you?"
I ignored his taunting, focusing instead on Barbara. With Ghostfreak's intangibility, I phased through the floor and emerged directly beneath her chair,
becoming tangible just long enough to phase my hands through her restraints, disrupting their integrity without triggering any potential booby-traps.
"Run," I whispered, my voice hollow and echoing in this form. "Get clear of the building."
"Not without you," she replied firmly, though she stood from the chair, ready to move.
The Joker's laughter echoed through the theater. "How touching! But did you really think I'd make it that simple?"
He pressed another button on the wall, and the magical sigils flared with renewed intensity. I felt a sudden pressure within my consciousness – something stirring, awakening from dormancy.
Zs'Skayr, the Ectonurite High King, responding to Klarion's chaos magic.
"Our witchy friend was quite specific in his enchantment!" the Joker called out gleefully. "The magic doesn't just force the transformation – it weakens the barriers between consciousnesses!
It creates the perfect conditions for what's lurking inside to emerge!"
I felt it then – a presence at the edges of my awareness. A whisper so faint it might have been imagination, yet carrying unmistakable malevolence.
The consciousness of Zs'Skayr, stirring from its dormancy, reaching for control.
"Freedom," the whisper seemed to say. "Power beyond imagining. Release me, and I will show you wonders beyond mortal comprehension."
"No," I growled, fighting to maintain control. "This is my body, my transformation. You have no power here."
The Joker watched with fascination as I struggled against the internal presence. "Yes! YES! The internal conflict! The battle for control! This is EXACTLY what I wanted to see!"
Barbara had reached the edge of the stage but stopped, turning back toward me with concern. "Samael?"
"She cannot help you," the voice within me grew stronger. "No one can. This form is mine by right. This power belongs to me."
The magical energy continued to build, weakening the barriers between our consciousnesses.
I could feel Zs'Skayr pushing harder, seeking dominance, his will ancient and powerful.
But I had something he didn't expect – a soul anchored in meaning, in connections that mattered. Barbara's presence, her faith in me, became a tether to my own identity.
"You're wrong," I said, addressing both Zs'Skayr and the Joker simultaneously. "This form, like all others, is an extension of who I am – not a separate entity to be controlled, but an aspect of my being to be integrated."
With that declaration, I gathered my will and pushed back against Zs'Skayr's influence.
Not fighting against it directly – that would only strengthen his position – but incorporating it, acknowledging it as part of the transformation without surrendering to it.
The Joker's expression shifted from delight to confusion as he watched me stabilize. "What's this? Where's the struggle? The corruption? The beautiful descent into darkness?"
"Disappointed?" I asked, my ghostly form hovering toward him. "Sorry to ruin your theatrical moment, but your fundamental premise was flawed from the start."
I gestured toward Barbara, who had reached the theater's main exit. "You assumed that saving someone I care about would require abandoning my principles.
But my principles aren't arbitrary constraints – they're expressions of who I am at my core."
The Joker's confusion gave way to rage. "NO! That's not how this works! The test was perfect! The conditions ideal! Klarion's magic should have released what's buried in that form!"
"Your mistake," I continued, advancing on him steadily, "was believing that darkness is our natural state – that moral principles are merely fragile constructs hiding our true monstrous nature.
But what if the opposite is true? What if connection, meaning, and moral choice are our natural state, and your nihilism is the artificial construct?"
The Joker backed away, his finger tightening on the detonator. "Stay back! One more step and this whole theater comes down around us!"
"You won't do that," I said with quiet certainty. "Because then you'd never know if you were right.
You'd never see me break, never witness the transformation you're so desperate to provoke. And that uncertainty would haunt you far more than any defeat."
Something flickered in the Joker's eyes – a moment of genuine fear as he realized I had seen through him. Not just his plan, but the insecurity at its core.
"You're WRONG!" he screamed, spittle flying from his lips. "This isn't about ME! This is about revealing the truth of existence! The joke at the heart of it all!"
"No," I replied calmly. "This is about you needing validation for your worldview.
About your desperate search for confirmation that everyone would make the same choices you did if pushed far enough.
That your embrace of chaos and cruelty wasn't a choice, but an inevitable response to the meaninglessness of existence."
I moved closer still, my ghostly form casting eerie shadows in the magically charged air. "But it was a choice, Joker. Your choice.
Not an inevitability, not a revelation of some deeper truth, but a decision you made and continue to make every day."
The Joker's composure cracked entirely, the theatrical persona giving way to raw fury. "ENOUGH! You think you understand? You think you've seen the void? You know NOTHING!"
He raised the detonator, thumb poised over the trigger. "Let's see how well your precious 'meaning' holds up when everything comes crashing down!"
Before he could press the button, I surged forward with Ghostfreak's supernatural speed, phasing through his body.
The momentary contact allowed me to disrupt his nervous system just enough to cause his hand to spasm, dropping the detonator.
I caught it before it hit the ground, then phased it into intangibility, disrupting its internal mechanisms before releasing it.
"It's over, Joker," I said, hovering before him. "Your test failed. Your philosophical position remains unvalidated. And most importantly, no one dies today to satisfy your need for cosmic confirmation."
The Joker stared at me, his expression shifting rapidly between rage, disbelief, and something almost like admiration. "You... you really believe it, don't you? This fairy tale about intrinsic meaning?
This fantasy that the universe isn't just a cosmic accident, devoid of purpose or significance?"
"I don't just believe it," I replied. "I know it. Not as an article of faith, but as a conclusion drawn from observation and experience.
The meaning is there, Joker. Your inability to perceive it doesn't negate its existence."
He began to laugh then – not his usual theatrical cackle, but something more brittle, more desperate. "And yet, despite all this meaning you perceive, you still haven't killed me. Still clinging to the Bat's precious rule, even when you know I'll escape again.
Even when you know I'll come after you, again and again, designing new tests, putting more innocent lives at risk."
His laughter intensified, taking on a manic edge. "That's the real joke, isn't it? Your philosophical certainty means NOTHING in practical terms!
You'll still send me back to Arkham, knowing full well I'll escape! Knowing I'll never stop coming after you, never stop pushing until you finally break!"
I considered him for a long moment, aware of the truth in his words. The justice system had failed repeatedly with the Joker. Arkham couldn't hold him.
And his fixation on me had become something beyond criminal – a religious obsession that would never end until one of us was dead.
"You're right about one thing," I acknowledged. "This cycle needs to end."
The Joker's grin widened with triumphant anticipation. "YES! Finally! The moment of truth! Will you break the Bat's one rule? Will you do what he never could?
Will you become what you truly are beneath all those layers of civilized restraint?"
I felt Zs'Skayr stirring again within my consciousness, responding to the moment of moral crisis.
His whispers grew more insistent, offering power, offering release, offering a simple solution to the complex ethical dilemma before me.
I weighed the options methodically. Killing the Joker would save countless future victims. It would end his obsession with me, prevent further "tests" that endangered innocent lives.
But it would also cross a line I wasn't yet prepared to cross - not morally, since I can rip out his heart and make him eat it and still sleep as a baby, no, it's about the views of the world.
I would be potentially alienating Batman and the Justice League, whose support I still need for my broader objectives in this world.
Before I could reach a decision, a shot rang out, echoing through the theater with startling finality.
The Joker's expression froze in surprise, his eyes widening as he looked down at the spreading red stain on his purple jacket – directly over his heart.
He staggered backward, his eternal grin faltering for perhaps the first time.
Behind him stood Barbara, a gun she had hidden in her clothes in her hands - the Joker far too trusting of Klarion's magics - her expression cold and resolute.
"Barbara," I whispered, shocked by the sudden turn of events.
The Joker turned slowly, disbelief written across his features as he faced Barbara. "The... commissioner's daughter?" Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth as he spoke.
"Not... the philosopher... but his girlfriend? That's... not how the joke... was supposed to end..."
"You wanted Samael to kill you," Barbara said, her voice steady despite the gravity of what she'd just done.
"You wanted him to break him, to validate your belief that everyone becomes a monster when pushed far enough. You wanted to win your sick game."
She lowered the gun slightly, her gaze unflinching. "But you don't get to win. You don't get the satisfaction of being killed by him.
You die by my hand – someone you dismissed as an unimportant piece in your game. Someone you saw as just leverage, just a means to an end."
The Joker staggered, blood loss already weakening him. "No... no, that's not... the punchline... should have been him... not you... not... a boring... little... girl..."
He reached toward me, his expression suddenly desperate. "Save me... prove I'm wrong... about meaning... about purpose... save me..."
I remained motionless, watching as the life drained from him.
Not out of callousness, but out of recognition that this moment represented Barbara's choice – a choice I had no right to override, regardless of my own wishes to protect her from the world's future views.
"Please..." the Joker whispered, his voice fading. "Don't... let it end... like this..."
He collapsed to the stage, his eternal grin finally fading as his eyes glazed over.
The Clown Prince of Crime, who had terrorized Gotham for years, who had escaped justice countless times,
who had developed a religious obsession with transforming me into something that validated his nihilistic worldview – was dead.
The magical energy that had filled the theater began to dissipate with his passing, the sigils fading from the walls and ceiling.
Without Klarion's direct influence and the Joker's focused intent, the enchantment lost its power.
I reverted to human form, the transformation ending as the external magical pressure subsided.
Zs'Skayr's consciousness receded back into dormancy within the Ultimatrix, the threat contained for now.
Barbara stood motionless, the gun still in her hand, her gaze fixed on the Joker's body. "I had to," she said quietly.
"He would never have stopped. He would have kept coming after you, designing new 'tests,' putting more innocent people at risk. The system couldn't hold him. Arkham couldn't cure him."
I approached her carefully, gently taking the gun from her unresisting hand. "I know."
She looked up at me, her eyes searching mine for judgment or condemnation. Finding none, she continued, "He wanted you to kill him.
That was his ultimate goal – to make you break your principles, to prove his point about moral absolutes collapsing under pressure.
I couldn't let him win. I couldn't let him use you to validate his twisted worldview."
I set the gun aside and took her hands in mine. "You made a choice to protect others. To end a threat that the justice system had repeatedly failed to contain. I won't judge that choice, Barbara."
"Batman will," she whispered, the full implications of her actions beginning to sink in. "Dad will. The whole system will."
"Then we'll face that together," I replied firmly. "Whatever consequences come, you won't face them alone."
She leaned against me, the adrenaline that had carried her through the confrontation beginning to fade. "He was never going to stop. You saw it – that wasn't just criminal insanity. It was obsession, worship.
He saw something in you that validated his entire worldview, and he would have spent the rest of his life trying to bring it to the surface."
I held her close, feeling the slight tremors running through her body as the shock began to set in. "It's over now. He can't hurt anyone else."
In the distance, sirens wailed – GCPD responding to the disturbance. Batman would be here soon as well, once he realized communications had been reestablished with the fading of Klarion's magic.
The consequences of tonight's events would be far-reaching. Barbara had killed the Joker – an act that would be seen as justified by many in Gotham who had suffered from his reign of terror, but which would nonetheless place her in a difficult legal position.
Commissioner Gordon would face an impossible conflict between his role as her father and his duty as Gotham's top law enforcement officer.
Batman would likely view the killing as a violation of his most sacred principle, regardless of the circumstances.
The Justice League's response would be similarly complicated – relief at the Joker's permanent removal mixed with concern about the precedent it set.
And for me personally, this moment represented both a victory and a challenge. I had maintained my cover in the face of the Joker's test, resisted Zs'Skayr's influence, and protected Barbara from physical harm.
But I had also witnessed her cross a line to protect me – a line I might have crossed myself had she not acted first.
As we stood together on that stage, surrounded by the fading remnants of chaos magic and the cooling body of Gotham's most notorious criminal, I knew that our journey had entered a new phase.
The Joker was gone, but the ripples of his final "test" would continue to spread, challenging us in ways neither of us could yet fully comprehend.
"Whatever comes next," I said softly to Barbara, "we'll face it together." I promised her.
She nodded against my shoulder, her voice barely audible. "No regrets. He needed to be stopped. The system failed, over and over. Someone had to end it."
The sirens grew louder, approaching the theater. Soon we would have to explain what happened, navigate the complex legal and ethical aftermath of the Joker's death.
But for this moment, we simply held each other in the fading red glow, two people bound by choices that could never be undone.
The Joker was dead.
And I was relieved.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!
Yep, Barbara is best girl.
I didn't want Joker to have the satisfaction of being killed by Samael, and well this is perfect, don't you think?
Writing him begging for life was so. damn. satisfying.
So yeah, do tell me how you found it and I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)