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Chapter 24 – The Joker's New Game
Joker had been quiet. Too quiet.
Harley called it a "vacation." Joker called it "boredom with extra lipstick."
But tonight, the silence ended.
He caught it on the television in a pawnshop window — news of Batman. Not in Gotham, not skulking in shadows. Out there, chasing something strange. Not alone, either. Reports spoke of allies.
Batman with friends.
The thought cracked something inside Joker's grin.
"Oh, Batsy, you're stepping out on me? That hurts." He pressed a hand over his chest, then burst into a fit of laughter that startled the pedestrians nearby. "If you've got new friends, then I must meet them."
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The outskirts of the city looked like a war zone: collapsed asphalt, burning wreckage, a hum in the air that didn't belong to this world. Joker strutted through it, humming, until he saw her.
She stood in the middle of the street, framed by the fires. A tall woman, broad-shouldered, every movement sharp with discipline. Her dark hair whipped in the wind. Armor of crimson, blue, and gold gleamed as though forged from some divine furnace. A lasso at her hip pulsed faintly with golden light. Her gaze was unwavering, ancient.
Joker stopped, blinked, and clapped slowly.
"Now this is new. You're not one of Batsy's playmates, are you? Too shiny. Too perfect. But tell me… where is he? Where's my Bat?"
Her expression didn't change. Her voice was calm, direct.
"Who is this Batman?"
Joker froze, then smacked his forehead. "Right, right. Nobody knows each other yet. I keep forgetting the timeline. Tsk." He turned to leave, hands in pockets. "Well, princess, pleasure's mine. I'll just—"
Her arm barred his path. "You carry yourself like you own this chaos. Show me if there's truth to that madness."
Joker's smile dropped. Just slightly.
"No one tests me, darling. I test the world."
He swung. Hard. The punch echoed like a gunshot when it met her bracer. The shock jolted up his arm, but instead of pain, he felt… power. Raw and electric.
His pupils widened. His grin snapped back into place.
"Ohhh. Interesting."
She pressed forward, shield angled, forcing him back. He dodged, faster than he'd ever moved before. Too fast. His body wasn't supposed to work like this. And yet it did.
Each exchange drove him further — harder, sharper, stronger. He was changing mid-fight.
Wonder Woman's eyes narrowed. She'd fought gods, monsters, warriors forged in fire. This clown fought like none of them. He was adapting. His body trembled, then steadied, each strike heavier than the last.
Joker stumbled after taking a shield bash to the ribs, then laughed hysterically as he rose.
"Ohhh, Diana, is it? I get it now. It's not just strength. Not just speed. It's growth. Every time you hit me, every time I push back, I break, and then I… get better."
His voice dropped into something darker.
"I grow."
He lunged again. His blows came faster, meaner, each strike forcing her to parry harder. She realized the danger: the longer this lasted, the stronger he would become.
And Joker? Joker was reveling in it.
For the first time in his life, he didn't just laugh at the fight.
He loved it.