Batfamily Short Stories

You Think We Buried A Clone?

Joker hummed gleefully as he slowly walked away from a disfigured body, his fingers and switchblade covered in blood. He meandered a few feet further, only to slow to a stop and look around with a grin.

"Now, who's come to see little ol' me tonight?"

Joker turned on his heel, his eyes falling on Red Robin. He stood perfectly still, about twenty feet away, and Joker could feel the teenager's analytical gaze through his cowl. What surprised Joker most, however, was the fact that Red Robin's stance was perfectly open. His arms hung by his sides. His body wasn't tense, or ready to jump into action like usual.

It was odd. And it was hilarious, so Joker laughed. A large grin spread wide over his scarred, pale face.

"Does dear old dad know you're here, little boy has-been?" Joker cackled, his arms spread wide.

"No one does." Red Robin shot back. "And by the time they find you, they'll be putting you in a body bag."

At that, Joker's smile became hard, and his teeth ground together. "That so? Well, little birdie, I don't exactly like that-"

His words cut out as Red Robin whipped a taser out of his utility belt and fired it, knocking Joker to the floor in the blink of an eye. The switchblade slid across the floor, far out of reach. Joker coughed roughly, before bursting into laughter again.

"Well! That was certainly unexpected!" Joker practically giggled. "Any more tricks up those kevlar sleeve of yours, bird-boy?"

The warehouse's terrible lighting glinted on gunmetal, and Joker nearly choked he was laughing so hard. Red Robin stood, unwavering, with the gun outstretched, aimed directly at Joker's forehead. Even from that distance, Joker knew Red Robin wouldn't have a problem hitting him straight between the eyes.

"Ooh, now this just got interesting," Joker said, his lips curling into a humorous snarl.

"You like it?" Red Robin asked, his voice staying completely monotone. His lack of flair had always annoyed Joker, even back when the boy was just Robin. "Borrowed it from one of your thugs outside. You really should have hired better help."

"You know," Joker shot back, ignoring Red Robin's previous words. "This doesn't feel very personal, kid. I don't remember doing anything that would get you riled up enough to pull something like this."

Red Robin pulled back the hammer on the handgun, the sound of it echoed through the empty warehouse. "It's not personal. Not really. It's not even funny."

"I beg to differ!" Joker interjected before releasing another high-pitched cackle, one that felt too forced for the Clown Prince of Gotham.

"It's logical." Red Robin said curtly, closing the distance between him and Joker like a stalking predator. "You'll be gone. My family, and all of Gotham, will be better off. Simple as that."

"Uh-uh-uh," Joker managed to wag a finger at Red Robin, "What's your old man gonna say when he figures out your little scheme, huh? What's he gonna do? Oh, maybe you'll end up in my old cell at Arkham! Wouldn't that be hilarious?"

"I could handle it." Red Robin replied, his voice becoming quiet. "If it meant protecting my family from you, I would spend the rest of my days in that cell. But I've spent years planning this, Joker. Not this moment exactly, but how I was going to end you. Even before I became Robin, I've been balancing the pros and cons. Weighing out every possible outcome. Planning for every single way this event could end."

Joker opened his mouth again, but only a single, choked laugh left his throat.

Red Robin smirked. Coldly. Maliciously. It wasn't like Red Hood, who was always red-hot with anger, or Robin, who only scowled in disdain. Not even the Batman could make a face as cold as Red Robin's, and Joker hated that.