Night. Gotham City.
High above the streets, Batman stood on the edge of a rooftop, his cape swaying in the wind as he watched the city below.
The lights of Gotham stretched to the horizon, but his attention remained on the darkness between them.
The Joker had vanished after the attack on Gotham General Hospital.
Batman had spent days tearing apart every lead, every abandoned hideout, and every known contact. It was as though the Joker had disappeared from the face of the Earth.
That was what worried him.
Standing a few feet away was Robin, the newest member of the Bat Family.
His red, green, and yellow costume stood out against Gotham's gray skyline, and despite the serious situation, the excitement of being Robin hadn't faded.
"You're thinking about the Joker again, aren't you?" Robin asked.
"He's preparing something."
Robin shoved his hands into his belt. "We've searched everywhere. It's like he doesn't want to be found."
"He doesn't." Batman finally looked away from the city. "He wants me to look in the wrong places."
Robin nodded thoughtfully before another question popped into his head. "Hey... next time the Justice League comes around, can I meet them?"
Batman glanced at him. "Why?"
"I don't know. Everyone keeps talking about them. Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash... and the Reaper. I just want to see them."
"It's not a sightseeing tour."
Robin grinned. "Then let me join."
Batman looked at him for a second. "No."
Robin sighed. "You always answer too fast."
"Because the answer doesn't change."
Robin folded his arms. "So when can I join?"
"When you're ready."
Robin's eyes lit up. "So... eventually?"
"If you keep asking, eventually becomes later."
Robin groaned. "That wasn't the answer I was hoping for."
Batman didn't respond. He fired his grappling hook and the line carried him across Gotham's rooftops. Below, police sirens echoed through the streets.
Then laughter drifted up from an alley. "Ahahaha...!"
Batman released the cable. His boots hit the pavement without a sound.
A man stood alone beside a dumpster, laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face.
His clothes were ordinary office attire, but his face wasn't. His lips had been stretched into a permanent smile, the corners of his mouth cracked and bleeding — yet he kept grinning as though he couldn't feel the pain.
Batman grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall. "Where is the Joker?"
The man stared with bloodshot eyes. For a moment, he stopped laughing. Then his shoulders began shaking again.
"Hehehe..." The chuckle grew louder. "Ahahahaha!" He looked Batman straight in the eyes. "Why are you looking for him?" His voice broke into another fit. "I am the Joker!"
Without warning, the man lunged forward, trying to bite Batman's face instead of throwing a punch.
Batman shoved him back.
The man's movements were clumsy and untrained, but he showed no concern for his own safety — slamming himself into Batman again and again, laughing the entire time, even after scraping his arms against the brick wall hard enough to leave blood behind.
Batman caught his wrists and forced him to the ground. The man continued laughing. His pulse was racing. His pupils were heavily dilated. The smell of chemicals clung to his breath.
This wasn't ordinary insanity.
Batman's communicator crackled. "Batman," Robin said.
"I've got two civilians attacking people over here. They're laughing nonstop — one of them smiled so hard he split the corners of his own mouth." A pause.
"They keep calling themselves Joker."
Batman looked at the man pinned beneath him. "...I've got one here too."
The infected man looked up and burst into another round of hysterical laughter. "Ahahaha... Batsy found me!"
***
Batman returned to the Batcave carrying three sealed evidence containers, each holding a blood sample from one of the infected civilians.
Alfred looked up from the Batcomputer as Bruce entered. "Welcome back, Master Bruce. I trust your patrol wasn't too troublesome."
Robin dropped into a chair with a tired sigh. "It was worse than usual, Alfred. One Joker is already hard enough to deal with. Now there are people all over Gotham acting exactly like him."
Alfred's expression became serious. "That certainly doesn't sound like the Joker's usual methods."
Batman placed the blood samples into the Batcomputer's medical analyzer.
The machine sealed the containers as robotic arms extracted tiny portions from each. Robin walked over and leaned against the console.
Several minutes passed before the first results appeared. Batman compared all three samples immediately — every result was identical. He enlarged one of the microscopic images on the screen.
"...It's a virus."
Robin straightened. "A virus?"
"Engineered." Batman switched to another display showing abnormal cells attached to blood cells. "It spreads through the bloodstream."
Robin frowned. "So the Joker infected them?"
"I don't know if Joker created it, but whatever this is, it isn't natural." More results appeared. Batman read through them in silence. "The virus crosses the blood-brain barrier — it reaches the brain directly." He zoomed in on the analysis.
"Based on these samples, it alters brain chemistry, suppresses normal emotional responses, and induces extreme psychotic behavior."
Robin's face became serious. "So... that's why they're acting like the Joker."
"It doesn't just make people insane." Batman's eyes remained fixed on the monitor. "It makes them behave like him."
*****
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