Re: Joker/Batman: In person at the Science Building
I am. I am Batman. [It was growled, almost spat in the clown's whitewashed face, as Damian lifted him by the throat, aided by adrenaline running sour in muscle, combating noxious, maddening poison, combating the horror he felt—at himself, at what he'd managed to do in so little time. He could never atone for this. He drove the pair of them back against the wall behind the podium, slamming into Joker and scraping him up cement blocks, like he couldn't feel the icepick nails scrabbling at his hand.] But, you are nothing. I'm going to make sure no one remembers you. [Spit flecked through teeth, and though Damian was young, he was strong. He squeezed that lunatic laugh out of lungs.
His father wouldn't like this. Even less than he would like the massacres behind Damian in the tarry stretch of night; those were committed by a mind warped by Joker's chemicals. This was a choice. And, this young Batman, he had been telling the truth when he said he'd do what needed doing. The question was then, one of need.
Did he need to kill Joker?
Did he need to add to the blood on his hands? Or was it want? Was it old habits? Was it worth the tarnish of his trust, his promise to his father—to the city? Whatever vengeance he could extract from the pallid, worthless rogue—was it worth it? Years seemed to pass in seconds. And still he squeezed, slacking only once, muscles flagging in brief, near-collapse that broke cold sweat out behind that black mask, on skin darker than any Wayne's. He had to fight for control of himself and his grip tightened like a noose. Breathing ragged, he laughed at the clown.] My father will never even know you were here.