Hitting the light switch with a wide sweep of his arm, Dick stepped into the freezing cold interior of the cell. The first sight that met his eyes was that of a straightjacketed Joker looking up at him from where he sat on the side of the cot, silently smiling.
And that was all it took.
Grabbing the straps of the straightjacket, Nightwing threw the criminal against the stone wall beside the cot. As his head made contact the Joker began to laugh, and only stopped when he landed, slumped on the floor like a child's toy. The noise his collisions against the floor and the walls had made seemed to resound – any normal person probably would have passed out.
But that wasn't what Dick wanted anyway.
"Hello, big-grown-up Bird Boy," the Joker said brightly, continuing to smile as a stream of blood ran down from his hairline to his chin. "Need something?"
"I've come to end you," Nightwing hissed. "On your feet, Clown."
"A guy who knows what he wants," the Joker commented as he stood, balancing as easily as if he had worn a straightjacket for most of his life. "I like that."
"You're coming with me," Nightwing said, taking hold of the straightjacket again.
The Joker shrugged, as well as he could, and walked out of the cell ahead of the former Robin. The two headed down the corridor to the left. As they rounded a corner, Nightwing pushed the Joker, wanting him to go more quickly, and the latter lost his footing and landed on his knees on the ground. Nightwing responded only by getting in front and dragging his companion until the latter managed to stagger back to his feet again.
"What's the hurry?" the Joker demanded, examining his scuffed knees with distaste.
"You hurt Barbara," Dick replied simply, jerking the Joker again. This time, the Clown Prince managed to keep his footing, despite the fact that they had begun their ascent up a rather long flight of stairs.
"Is that all?" he demanded, laughing. "I've blown up whole buildings of people and gotten away with it. Now I rough up the Commissioner's kid a little and you people throw the book at me."
Disgusted, Dick shoved the Joker against the wall again. This time, the other side of his face made contact, and he gained another streaming wound that served to create some symmetry.
"Is this going to be a thing with you?" the Joker inquired, stumbling back to his feet again as Dick continued to climb the staircase. "Because I've heard hitting your head a lot can mess you up. I don't want to lose my mind, or anything."
"So I don't get an answer?" the Joker asked. Dick paused in the middle of the stairway, holding the bleeding Joker off to the side as casually as a woman might hold her purse while deciding between two dresses in a department store.
"No, I'm afraid you'll lose consciousness eventually," he finally responded, giving obvious thought to his answer. "And I want you to feel the impact of the ground once I throw you off the roof."
"Oh," the Joker said, as though this was an entirely valid excuse. He continued to follow Nightwing as the latter started walking again. "You know, kid, I'm beginning to think you made a mistake when you teamed up with the Batman. You and I would have been a pretty good pair."
Nightwing ignored him completely.
"But seriously," the Joker persisted as they stepped out of the stairwell into the cold night air. "You had one bad day, and you're talking about throwing people off of buildings. Gordon's experience didn't go quite as planned, but my little experiment might have worked after all. You have potential!"
Again, he got no response. Finally, when they approached the side of the building, the Joker spoke up one more time.
"This is the part where you get all defensive and say that you would be far too noble to join me or sink to my level," he suggested.
Nightwing gave him a smirk, but it was cold and terrifying. Lifting the Joker up with a single arm, he dangled him over the edge of Arkham's steep wall over a busy, decrepit street of the narrows.
"Actually, this is the part where you shut up. Permanently."