The Joker was going to start a war.

Bruce took the report with no seriousness. News stations all over the globe were talking about the war-like brutality and mayhem going on in Gotham. Its citizens didn't admit it though, they were desensitized. Death had become a part of everyday life. But this was the only time that the Joker gave the news himself.

The TV Joker grinned the colors were off too pale and washed-out, like a cheap production of an old masterpiece, but he would make up for it in character. "Greetings Comrades. I believe all of you have noticed the lack of…" His eyes rolled in his sockets as he searched for the right words. "Fun, I've been having lately." All of his plans were bare bones. If you're hungry steal some food. If you're feeling bad kill a priest. If you're feeling vengeful kill your father. "This is because of the GCPD's wonderful plan to boost Batman up to enemy number one. And in doing so, I can't even get a glimpse of my poor honey without him being shot at by one of the boys in blue." He was still smiling but his eyes had filled with their own internal flame. His voice lost its mocking tone. It reminded many of the Narrows, clutching the Mace in your pocket but too scared to turn around and see if you're actually being followed.

"Stop trying to kill my Bat or I will level every police station in the entire city." The camera zoomed in, filling the screen with dark-rimmed eyes. "This is your only warning." The screen cut to black.

Bruce shut off the TV before a reporter could have a chance to get back on and fry his brain with inept observations. He tried to leaned back into the pillows, winced and adjusted the bandages spanning his chest. He had been shot only one night previous.

He stretched his aching body and snagged his laptop off of the side table. He opened it and started going over all of the old files on the Joker. Finger-prints, dental and previously used alias'. The false light illuminated every shadow under his eyes and the harsh lines made by him frowning. Why would the Joker start a war to protect Batman? He would read long into the night.

* * *

He had been hounding Fox for a new suit that would make flight easier. Being able to sustain flight for longer periods of time would increase his stealthiness ten-fold and give him the option of simply jumping off a building if cornered. Coming short of "just attaching a propeller to the damn thing" Fox gave the billionaire only one option.

Make the suit lighter. Again.

The thickness of the Kevlar and titanium mesh had been decreased, lowering the suits weight two pounds. As a side effect he would be very susceptible to gun fire, especially in the chest and abdomen. Fox also mentioned something about going on a diet.

(Testing the new suit involved breaking into Wayne Tower in the middle of the night, running all security cameras on a tight loop and knocking one overly-curious guard unconscious. But it worked.)

* * *

He found one possible reason in one of the many psychiatric evaluations given at Arkham. "The Joker shows a great obsession with the vigilante known as Batman. Both have an on going personal conflict, but his interest goes past rivalry. He says that the Batman "completes him", despite whatever that alludes to, it clearly shows the other man as a type of role-model to the patient. (Note: This could be a mutated form of Stockholm Syndrome in which one reciprocal abuser becomes attached to the other.)

* * *

Batman soared over Gotham, grimly looking for any signs of a commotion. Until the Tumbler was redesigned and a new model made, this would be his only mode of transportation aside from the Batpod. The late hour had leant Gotham a false silence. From his height the city almost looked peaceful.

Florescent lights and signs winked back at him, a reflection of the stars above.

The report of a gun shot sliced through the air and was picked up by the receivers he had inserted into his "devil horns". He quickly located the source of the shot, a dead-end alley way, and adjusted his course. He landed silently on a parallel roof top.

A police officer was cornered and out numbered, bleeding and clutching his left arm. Batman thought it could have come from the baseball bat that one of the three perpetrators was toting.

He dropped down into the shadows and the moment he landed, he became a flurry of movement. Like a dark tornado he broke noses and cracked ribs, never giving them a chance to fight back. The police officer wedged himself into the farthest corner of the alleyway and slowly sunk to the ground.

Batman grouped the gang of three into a pile and tethered them foot to foot and hand to hand, he wound the wire in between their chests and tied it. They wouldn't be able to get up easily.

* * *

Bruce closed the laptop and rubbed his eyes irritably. He hadn't found anything that would give him a clear cut answer. He might as well wait until the next dusk, hunt down the Joker and ask the madman himself. The nudged the laptop to where it was least likely to be crushed by his sleeping body and closed his eyes.

* * *

Batman approached the fallen officer, all attempts of stealth gone. He had to find his radio and call out for help. Then hope that the ambulance would be able to get to the man fast enough. His eyes were open to the barest of slits and the hand that held his gun trembled. "IT'S ALRIGHT. I'M GOING TO CALL FOR BASE TO SEND AN AMBULANCE. WHERE'S YOUR RADIO?" The question was used to keep his mind occupied, away from the pain of his broken arm. The vigilante could see blood-streaked bone poking through the stained fabric of his blues.

He reached for the radio that was clipped to the man's belt. The officer twitched and raised his right shoulder if to roll over. Batman steadied him, one hand on the radio. He felt the muzzle of the gun against his chest plate even before the shots ripped though him.

Blood splattered the wall behind them, the impressionistic painting of a disturbed child. Pain lanced through his chest as he backed away from the fallen man. He could feel the pain begin to move, rising and falling like a demented wave every time he tried to draw a breath.

He could taste metal on his tongue.

* * *

The balcony door was opened in a fashion completely unlike the intruder. The lock was picked after several moments of low cursing and angry growls. The man entered and closed the door again after him, taking special care not to lock it. Just in case he needed to make a quick escape.

He approached the bed, grinning down at the shrouded sleeping figure with glee. Leaving his shoes on, would Batsy really care if he left mud stains on his clean white sheets when he could leave so much worse? He crawled up the length of the bed and stood on his knees next to his prize.

The Joker giggled, the one hand that wasn't covering his mouth preventing the laughter from spilling out flailing and twitching. He glided his hand down one side of the billionaire's smooth face watching intently as he frowned in his sleep and tried to turn away. He propped both hands on either side of Bruce's face and in one smooth motion straddled him.

Bruce's eyes flew open immediately and he tried to push the Joker off of him. It caused several muscles to scream in protest.

The Joker shook his head. "No Brucie, that's not how we play." His thumb found one carefully sewn wound, when the other man still tried to struggle he pushed down hard. Blood swelled out and slid down the smooth expanse of skin, staining the sheets.

Bruce gritted his teeth and tried to lay still. Being shot three times point blank in the chest didn't leave anyone willing to put up a fight afterwards.

The Joker smiled at Bruce's cooperation. He brought the bloody digit up to his mouth and licked it leisurely, like a cat. "Will you behave?" He didn't wait for an answer. "When I heard about your clash with the law I had to come down and see for myself. Poor Batsy and you were only trying to help. This is exactly what I told you about. They'll turn on you like wolves and cannibalize you to quell their foolish fears. That cop actually thought you were going to kill him, can you believe that?"

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?"

The Joker carded one pale hand through Bruce's hair. "Isn't it obvious?You can't hold your own against them. Not when they're out for blood. So I'll watch you and when they're about to close in on you," He stopped to stare silently at the other man, a strange look growing in his eyes. He surprised the vigilante completely by leaning down to kiss him.

Bruce redoubled his effort to push him off the moment those wide lips pressed against his own. A slick tongue swiped across his lips, forcing a blush. He sought out the Joker's shoulder and tried to force his thumb against the delicate collarbone. If he could break it, there was a greater chance he would get away.

The Joker sighed, his hot breath wafting across Bruce's face and forced his other hand between them. It closed around his neck, squeezing tight. Bruce's other free hand went to the one around his neck, clawing. He still didn't stop his attempt to break bone.

He kissed the man beneath him as he slowly suffocated, his eyes going dark and glassy.

"I'll slaughter them, just for you."