Bruce Wayne stood at the edge of the Watchtower's observation deck, watching Clark accept congratulations from the gathered heroes. The celebration felt genuine. Warm laughter, friendly ribbing, the kind of moment that reminded him why they fought. Why they endured.

  His communicator suddenly buzzed. It sowed Alfred's name.

  Bruce moved away from the noise, finding a quiet alcove before answering. "Yes, Alfred."

  "Master Bruce." Alfred's voice carried a tremor that Bruce had only heard twice before in his life—once when his parents died, and once when Jason fell. "You need to return, Immediately."

  Bruce's hand tightened on the communicator. "What happened Alfred?"

  "It's Master Dick, sir. The Joker sent a video. It arrived five minutes ago." Alfred paused, and Bruce could hear him struggling with composure. "Sir, it's... I cannot adequately prepare you for what you're about to see."

  Bruce was already moving toward the teleporter bay. "I'm coming now."

  "Master Bruce—" Alfred's voice cracked slightly. "I'm so sorry, sir."

  The line went dead.

  Bruce's mind raced through possibilities as he activated the teleporter. He was able to take care of himself. He was Robin, and the leader of the new team they made to grow talented kids into future superheroes. They named it the 'Teen Titans'. Bruce knew Dick was supposed to be with them, so how did the Joker get to him?

  He forced the thoughts down. Emotion was a luxury he couldn't afford. Not now when his... son was in danger.

  The Cave materialized around him. Bruce strode down the steps, cape billowing behind him, and found Alfred standing before the main computer console. The old butler's face was ashen, his normally impeccable posture slightly hunched, as if he'd aged ten years in the last five minutes.

  "Show me," Bruce said.

  Alfred's hand trembled as it moved toward the keyboard. "Sir, I must warn you, it's rather graphic..."

  "Show me, Alfred."

  The screen flickered to life.

  The Joker's face filled the display, but something was different. His smile was wider than usual, stretching beyond what should be physically possible. His eyes held a manic gleam that seemed to pierce through the screen itself. Behind him, strapped to a metal table in what looked like an abandoned warehouse, was Dick Grayson.

  Bruce's breath caught in his throat.

  Dick's face had been painted white, a grotesque mockery of the Joker's appearance. But the paint couldn't hide the extensive bruising underneath—swelling around both eyes, a clearly broken nose bent at an unnatural angle, split lips still bleeding. His costume was gone, leaving him in torn pants.

  The Joker had carved a clown face into his flesh. Not a simple design, but an elaborate, grotesque artwork. Empty eye sockets cut deep enough to expose muscle. A triangular nose between them. And below, a smile carved from collarbone to collarbone, the wounds still weeping blood that dripped steadily onto the concrete floor.

  But the absolute worst part was Dick's eyes.

  They glowed an eerie, unnatural green. Veins of the same color spread from his pupils like cracks in fractured glass, running down his cheeks and disappearing under his jaw. They pulsed with each heartbeat.

  And Dick was laughing. That high, broken, utterly wrong sound that was pure Joker.

  "Hahahaha...hah...haaa... Hellooooo Batsy!" The Joker's voice sang out, gleeful and sharp. "Surprise! I bet you weren't expecting a party invitation in the middle of Supes' baby shower, were you? But you know what they say, tragedy and comedy are two sides of the same coin!"

  He giggled, the sound building into full-bodied laughter before cutting off abruptly. His expression shifted to mock seriousness. "You're probably wondering what I've done to our dear little Robin. Your ward. Your partner. Your SON." The last word dripped with venomous delight.

  "Well, let me give you the full explanation, maybe even a how to do it yourself video! You deserve that much, don't you think? After all, we are besties!"

  The Joker stepped closer to Dick, running his hand through the boy's hair like a proud parent. Dick leaned into the touch, still laughing.

  "You see, I got tired of our dance, Bruce. The same steps, over and over. You catch me, I escape, I cause chaos, you stop me, I go to Arkham, I escape again....it's gotten SO predictable! Where's the fun in that! I mean, sure, I've killed other super heroes before, but that's old hat. Been there, done that, got the crowbar! Poor Booster, he really need a...boost. Hahahaha"

  He leaned in close to the camera, his smile somehow stretching even wider. "So I decided to try something new. Something extra special for our last tango. I created a brand new toxin, my magnum opus, really. It doesn't just make you crazy, Batsy. It doesn't just break your mind. It rewrites your entire personality. It makes you... ME."

  The Joker gestured dramatically to Dick. "Meet Mockingbird! Clever name, right? Because mockingbirds mimic other birds' songs, and now your little birdy mimics ME! Every thought in his head, every impulse, every delicious bit of madness that makes me who I am, it's all in there now. He sees the world through my eyes. He thinks with my brain. He laughs at my jokes."

  The Joker's expression shifted again, becoming almost tender as he looked at Dick. "And the best part? He LOVES it. Don't you, Mockingbird?"

  Dick's head turned toward the camera, and his green-tinted eyes focused with terrible clarity. When he spoke, his voice was Dick's, but the words were pure Joker.

  "Everything's so funny now, Daddy Bats! Why didn't you ever tell me how HILARIOUS the world is? All those people running around pretending their lives matter, pretending they're safe, pretending YOU can protect them, it's the greatest joke ever told!"

  Dick dissolved into laughter again, his body convulsing so hard that his wounds reopened, sending fresh blood streaming down his sides.

  Bruce's hands clenched into fists so tight his gauntlets groaned. Behind him, Alfred made a small, choked sound as he looked away.

  The Joker's attention returned to the camera. "Now, I know what you're thinking, 'Oh no, the Joker's finally done it, he's finally gone too far!' But wait! There's more!" He spun in place like a demented game show host.

  "You see, I recently made a wonderful new friend. A very special friend from a very special place. And he gave me a gift, just a teensy, tiny gift. Only 0.1% of his power. He said it would make things more FUN! Such a nice fella."

  The Joker's eyes glinted with something darker than madness. "And let me tell you, Bruce, even that little sliver is enough to make miracles happen. Enough to track anyone anywhere. Enough to make sure my plans go off without a hitch. Enough to guarantee that you specifically, cannot stop what's coming. You see... I got tired of losing, so I rigged the game ! Isn't that genius?"

  He walked back to Dick, placing both hands on the boy's shoulders. "You know what your problem is, Batman? You have this code. This pathetic, self-righteous, holier-than-thou CODE that you cling to like a security blanket. 'I don't kill.' 'I'm justice', 'I'm vengeance.' 'I'm better than them.' Blah blah blah. You really need some new lines."

  The Joker's voice dropped to something cold and focused. "I'm going to break that code. I'm going to shatter it into so many pieces you'll never be able to put it back together. I'm going to make you kill, Bruce.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Maybe you'll kill me. Maybe you'll kill your son here. Maybe you'll kill someone else entirely, someone innocent even. But by the time this is over, you WILL have crossed that line you've been tightrope-walking for your entire miserable career cosplaying as a Bat. Maybe you'll become just like me."

  His manic energy returned in a rush. "But I'm not going to tell you how! Where's the fun in spoiling the punchline? I've prepared a KILLER joke for you, Batsy, one that'll make you die of laughter. Well, maybe not literally. Probably not literally. We'll see how it goes! Man, I love this new feeling of being in control rather than random chaos... Do you think I should keep this? Send me an honest feedback will ya? What are friends for anyway."

  The Joker grabbed Dick's face, forcing him to look at the camera. "Say goodbye to Daddy, Mockingbird!"

  "Bye bye, Daddy Bats!" Dick giggled. "See you soon! This is going to be SO much fun!"

  The Joker released him and straightened up, brushing off his purple suit. "Oh, and one more thing, Bruce. Remember that this? All of this?" He gestured around the warehouse. "This is just the opening act. The real show? The main event? That's still coming. And trust me, you're going to have a front-row seat. With 3d glasses, popcorns, and the whole shebang. I know, I'm such a genorous guy!"

  He leaned in one final time, his face filling the entire screen. "This time, the joke's on you, Batman. It always has been. You just haven't realized the punchline yet."

  The screen went black. Then coordinates appeared, along with a timestamp. The video had been sent eight minutes ago.

  The silence in the Batcave was absolute.

  Bruce stood motionless, staring at the blank screen. His mind was racing, cataloging every detail, analyzing every word, but underneath it all was something he rarely allowed himself to feel. Sheer, overwhelming horror and rage. Maybe Joker was right. He would kill him this time.

  Dick's laughter echoed in his mind. That broken sound that wasn't Dick at all. Those green eyes staring at him with manic glee, with genuine joy at the thought of causing chaos and pain and death.

  "Master Bruce." Alfred's voice was barely a whisper. "What... what are we going to do?"

  Bruce's jaw clenched. When he spoke, his voice was ice. "Contact the League. Emergency protocol Skyfall-02. I need everyone here, now. This is bigger than anything Joker has pulled."

  ****

  Within twelve minutes, the Batcave had transformed into a command center. Superman, Wonder Woman, Cassie, Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, Aquaman, Green Arrow, and Black Canary had all answered the summons. They stood in a semicircle around the main console, their expressions ranging from concerned to confused.

  "Bruce, what's going on?" Clark started.

  "Watch." Bruce pressed a key.

  The Joker's video played again. This time, Bruce watched his friends' reactions instead of the screen.

  He saw Clark's face go pale. Saw Diana's hand instinctively move toward her sword. Saw Barry's perpetual motion stop completely. Saw Hal's constructs flicker into existence unconsciously. Saw J'onn's eyes widen with telepathic recognition of the psychic violation that had been done to Dick. Saw Arthur's expression darken with the fury of someone who understood torture. Saw Oliver's bow appear in his hand. Saw Dinah cover her mouth in horror. Even Cassie felt nausea watching it.

  When it ended, no one spoke for a long moment.

  "Jesus Christ," Oliver finally breathed. "Bruce, I'm so sorry..."

  "We need to analyze the situation first," Bruce cut him off. His voice was flat, emotionless. "Grief will come later. He mentioned a new friend who gave him 0.1% of his power. That narrows our list significantly. We're talking about a reality warper or cosmic entity."

  J'onn stepped forward, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I sensed something in the video. An energy signature that doesn't belong to our dimension. It's... alien in a way that goes beyond extraterrestrial. This power comes from outside our universe entirely."

  "Outside?" Barry asked. "Like another dimension?"

  "A higher dimension," J'onn confirmed. "Fifth-dimensional, if I'm reading the traces correctly. The beings from that plane exist outside our normal concepts of space and time. They can manipulate reality as easily as we breathe."

  Clark's expression was grim. "I've heard stories about fifth-dimensional entities in the Kryptonian records. Beings that treat our universe like a playground. They're supposed to be nearly impossible to fight because they don't follow our physical laws."

  "And the Joker now has a fraction of that power," Diana said quietly. Her hand rested on her sword hilt. "Even 0.1% would make him exponentially more dangerous than he's ever been."

  Bruce was already pulling up data on his screens. "Which means every contingency plan we have is potentially useless. He can track targets across dimensions, manipulate probability, bend physical laws. We're lucky that he's a lunatic and not using it properly."

  "Then we adapt," Diana said firmly. "The coordinates he provided—they're obviously a trap, but we need to secure Dick regardless."

  "It's more than just a trap," Bruce said. He pulled up a tactical map. "The Joker doesn't do anything without layers. This video wasn't sent to me alone—he made sure it would bring all of you here. He wants us gathered, distracted, reactive instead of proactive."

  "Then what's the real target?" Hal asked.

  Bruce looked at Clark. "He mentioned this was just the opening act. That the main event is still coming. He called Dick 'Mockingbird' and said he'd be 'very busy' while we deal with him." Bruce's eyes narrowed. "Busy doing what?"

  Cassie who was quiet suddenly spoke. "Umm... He won't attack the Justice League because you guys are always together. But now... aren't we missing someone?"

  Understanding dawned on Clark's face, followed immediately by terror. "Faora."

  The name hung in the air like a death sentence.

  "She's pregnant," Diana said quietly. "Vulnerable. If the Joker wanted to force someone to break their code, wanted to create a scenario where killing seemed like the only option..."

  "He'd go after her, to get to me." Clark finished, his voice hollow. "He'd go after our baby."

  He was already activating his communicator. "Faora, it's me. I need you to leave the Watchtower right now."

  Static.

  "Faora?" Clark's voice rose slightly. "Faora, respond."

  More static, then her voice cut through, slightly distorted. "Clark? I'm here. What's wrong?"

  Relief flooded Clark's features. "The Joker has Robin. He's making threats. I need you to go somewhere safe. Go to Kansas, stay with Ma. I'll explain everything later, but please, just go there and stay hidden. Now."

  There was a pause. When Faora spoke again, her voice carried the weight of a warrior who understood the gravity of the situation. "I'm leaving immediately. Be careful, my love."

  "You too. Contact me immediately if you sense something."

  The line went dead.

  Bruce was already pulling up energy scans, searching for any trace of fifth-dimensional signatures or anomalous readings. The screen filled with data streams, none of it good.

  "We split into three teams," Bruce said, his tactical mind overriding everything else. "Team One—Diana, Barry, Hal—you go to the coordinates. It's a trap, but we need to secure Dick and assess what we're dealing with. Do not engage the Joker directly if he has fifth-dimensional power. Contain and extract only."

  The three heroes nodded.

  "Team Two—J'onn, Arthur, Oliver, Dinah—you search for any signs of reality distortions or fifth-dimensional energy spikes. If there's a being from that dimension involved, there will be residual traces. Find them."

  Another round of nods.

  "Team Three—Clark and I will secure Faora and establish a protected location. If the Joker's targeting her, we need to be ready. I'll contact Athena to keep an eye out. She might have more information on the higher dimension beings."

  "What about you, Bruce?" Diana asked gently. "That's your... son on that table."

  "I know exactly who that is," Bruce said, his voice like frozen steel. "Which is why I need to stay focused. If I go to that warehouse, if I see him like that in person..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

  Diana placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get him back. Maybe I can contact father for help?"

  Cassie nodded. "Yeah, If anyone knows how to undo this, it will be dad."

  Bruce didn't respond. How could he tell them that he wasn't sure there was anything left to get back? That the look in Dick's eyes wasn't torture or coercion. it was genuine transformation. That his son, his first partner, the boy he'd raised and trained and loved like his own flesh and blood, might be truly gone?

  He couldn't. So he just nodded.

  "Move out," he said. "And everyone, be careful. If the Joker has reality-warping power, everything we think we know about fighting him is obsolete."

  The heroes dispersed, moving with practiced efficiency. Within seconds, the Cave was empty except for Bruce and Alfred.

  "Master Bruce," Alfred said quietly. "Master Dick—"

  "Is gone, Alfred." Bruce's voice was hollow. "That thing in the video isn't Dick Grayson anymore. It's the Joker wearing his face."

  "You don't know that, sir. Perhaps if we can—"

  "I saw his eyes, Alfred." Bruce finally turned to look at his oldest friend. "I saw what was there. Or rather, what wasn't there. Dick is gone."

  Alfred's expression crumbled. "Sir, you cannot—"

  "I can, and I will." Bruce's voice hardened. "Because the alternative is hope, and hope will make me hesitate. Hesitation will get people killed. So I'm going to treat Mockingbird as what he is, a weapon the Joker has created. And I'm going to stop him."

  "Even if that means..." Alfred couldn't finish the sentence.

  Bruce turned back to the computer. "We're past 'even ifs,' Alfred. We're in damage control mode now. Minimize casualties. Stop the Joker. Save who we can."

  His hands clenched. "And if Dick is somehow still in there, still fighting, then we find a way to bring him back. But I won't risk others lives on that hope."

  Alfred was quiet for a long moment. "He was like a grandson to me, Master Bruce."

  "I know." Bruce's voice softened, just slightly. "He was like a son to me."

  The words hung between them, past tense and final.

  Bruce forced himself back to the screen, back to the analysis, back to the mission. Because if he stopped, if he let himself feel the full weight of what the Joker had done, he wouldn't be able to function. And people needed him functional.

  Dick needed him functional.

  Or whoever Dick had become needed to be stopped.

  Bruce wasn't sure which possibility hurt more.

  Maybe he should just call his mentor. But he controlled that desire. He needed to deal with it himself. It was his son, and He would be the one who has to deal with him.

  It was was his burden, and his sin, for dragging Dick into this life. Perhaps the Joker was right. The joke was on him this time.