Batman created by Bob Kane and owned by DC Comics. I own the story and any original characters; no copyright infringement is intended.

Last Laughs: Part I

Wayne Manor.

Throughout Gotham City, the stately mansion had been known for decades as the site of charities balls and fundraisers as well as the home of the playboy Bruce Wayne.

But beneath the manor lay something far greater, a living example of a man's promise, strong will, and a lifelong quest. It was a place that truly emphasized that criminals were a superstitious, cowardly lot. It was as Jean-Paul Valley, the former assassin of the Order of St. Dumas, Azrael had called it, "a magnificent subterranean cathedral."

It was known simply to its owner as 'the cave.' But to the JLA and other superheroes, it was the Batcave. And in this very cave, or rather on the trophy room level, kneeled the Dark Knight of Gotham City, the Caped Crusader. The Batman.

At this time, he was in deep thought and meditation.

Many had come to question exactly what the Dark Knight dreamed of when he meditated. No one in he superhero community knew, not even his protégées or his manservant Alfred Pennyworth. The issue was of course, the subject of the many betting pools that Wally West, the third man to bear the name Flash, ran in both the JLA and in the Titans. J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, with his telepathic skills, probably knew, but had never said anything to anyone.

The truth was, there was nothing. Just calm soothing blackness for the Dark Knight to rest his mind in.

But he couldn't.

Not tonight. Try as he may, he could not fully slip into total meditation and with good reason.

Not on this night.

No, it was not THE night, the night that had defined his destiny.

It was the anniversary of Jason Todd's death.

Not, not death. Death was too easy to state, to easy to forget.

Murder.

Even with the mere thought of that word, the Batman's eyes remained closed. He knew what he would find when he opened them. In front of where the meditation pad where he was kneeling, there was a display case. Inside it was a short yellow cape with its hard, pointed collar and a crimson tunic. A tunic that had been cleaned and repaired with care in one night by Alfred. An Alfred who had stitched it with a shaking and emotionally distressed hand…

At the bottom there lay a plaque, simply stating "In Memory of Jason Todd: A Good Soldier."

Jason Todd, the second Robin, had been dead for almost seven years, killed by bludgeoning and an explosion in the Sinai.

And the killer still reigned free, still causing more mayhem and more deaths.

It was Bruce's greatest enemy: the Joker.

Call him whatever you want. The Clown Prince of Crime. Th Ace of Knaves. The Harlequin of Hate.

But to Bruce, he would always be Jason's murderer. And with that thought in mind, a wave of thoughts crossed across the threshold of his mind in an instant.

All of the destruction caused by the Joker….

…Barbara's paralysis and rape was foremost in his mind.

And all of the deaths…

Jason AND Sarah Essen Gordon, the latter right as No Man's Land had finally come to an end…

All of it over the course of nearly two decades. And all of it could be laid at the hands of the Joker. It burned the Batman to the heart of his core every time he saw the sick clown's face, both in person and in his mind. The Joker deserved death a hundred times over for everything he had done to Gotham and to the Dark Knight. And of all of his opponents from Ra's al Ghul to Bane, the Ace of Knaves was the one exception he would make in his oath to never kill.

But he forced calmness to return to him, as difficult as it was. Killing the Joker would not undo Barbara's paralysis or bring Jason. And besides, the consequences were too great. The Batman knew if that if he ever killed the Joker, if he ever crossed that line, the GCPD would have to take him down.

So would his Dick, Tim, and his other protégées. President Luthor too; that bastard was always looking for an excuse to sic the CIA on him ever since Bruce had stolen back Luthor's kryptonite ring.

Hell, the entire super hero community would probably go after him; like Luthor, they were also looking for an excuse. Except it was for his 'betrayal' of the JLA during the Tower of Babel incident. Even after he had reestablished his trust to the Justice League, there were still those who had never liked him and some had even threatened to take him down prior to the outbreak of the Imperiex War.

"Master Bruce?"

Bruce's eyes opened as Alfred Pennyworth approached him.

"I have your morning paper and coffee, sir."

Bruce nodded. "Thank you Alfred."

The Butler was silent. He also knew the significance of this day and was doing his best to not break down into absolute mourning as his master had done almost every year since Jason's murder.

Alfred's thoughts were interrupted by an unusually loud gasp from the master.

"Alfred, did you read this paper?"

"No sir, I didn't. I hadn't even unfolded it before I gave it to you. Master Bruce, what is-"

Alfred dropped his tray, the dishes rolling onto the floor. But he never saw this. Both his and the eyes of Bruce Wayne were focused on the front page story of The Gotham Gazette.

Or rather the headline

JOKER DEAD

To be continued…