After Jason's final words hung in the air, the entire laboratory was plunged into a stifling silence. The hum of machinery faded into the background, overpowered by the heavy, unspoken tension settling over the room like a storm cloud waiting to break.
Bruce Wayne shifted awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable beneath Jason's gaze. For a man known for his poise under pressure, he suddenly looked like someone who'd been caught sneaking candy before dinner. He rubbed the back of his neck and coughed, a gruff sound that echoed far too loudly in the silent lab.
"Jason, this isn't cosplay," Bruce said, his voice slightly hoarse. "I am Batman."
He forced a small, sheepish smile.
"How about it—cool, right?"
Jason stared blankly at him, unimpressed.
He hadn't expected Bruce Wayne—Gotham's most elusive vigilante—to be caught up on semantics. Jason had long admired Batman's exploits, sure. But seeing his father stumble over an awkward confession like a teenager with a secret identity made the whole thing feel... oddly anticlimactic.
Jason rolled his eyes. "Maybe," he said. "But let's focus. We've got bigger problems."
He raised his hand and pointed at the transparent screen floating in midair. On it, a pale white face with a permanent grin stared back at them like a specter pulled from a nightmare.
"Who is this?"
The moment the image materialized, Bruce's entire demeanor changed. The nervous awkwardness vanished in an instant, replaced by grim resolve. His jaw tightened. The lightness in his eyes was replaced with something far colder.
"That's the Joker," he said quietly.
"A madman. A psychopath. A lawless terrorist who thrives on chaos."
Jason knew who Joker was, of course. He'd read every file, analyzed every scrap of footage, studied every criminal report. But he played dumb, not wanting to reveal how deep his knowledge really ran. This was Bruce's show—for now.
Bruce exhaled slowly, turning to the others with a distant look in his eyes. It was clear he'd been transported somewhere far from the sterile, gleaming lab.
"Gotham has always been a city teetering on the edge," he began. "Rotten at the core. Corruption embedded in every brick, every dark alley, every courtroom and precinct. When I became Batman, I thought I could turn the tide. And for a while... I did. Crime rates dropped. Organized syndicates scattered. People began to hope again."
Jason remained silent, watching him closely.
"But just when it seemed like the city might finally breathe... he showed up."
He turned his eyes back to the Joker's grinning face on the screen.
"This lunatic with clown makeup and a penchant for blood. He didn't just commit crimes—he mocked everything I stood for. Every time he appeared, it was like a declaration: Gotham belongs to the chaos."
Jason leaned in slightly.
"What did he do the first time?"
Bruce's expression darkened.
"He robbed the Gotham National Reserve in broad daylight," Bruce said. "Wore a carnival mask. Smiled for the cameras. Left his own men behind as bait. He didn't care about money. He just wanted attention. He wanted... a message."
"What message?"
"That he was smarter. That he wasn't afraid. That all our laws, our police, our security measures meant nothing to someone like him."
Jason nodded, feigning curiosity.
Bruce's voice dropped lower.
"But the worst was what came later. The day I saw him face to face."
Jason raised a brow. "You've fought him before?"
Bruce didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a breath, like someone preparing to reopen a wound they'd rather keep sealed.
"I was tracking a cocaine shipment moving through the port—run by one of Falcone's last surviving lieutenants. I was in full gear. Stealth mode. Took out half their crew in under five minutes."
He flexed his gloved hand subconsciously, remembering.
"Just as I was securing the evidence, I heard... clapping."
Jason blinked. "Clapping?"
Bruce nodded grimly.
"Slow. Sarcastic. Like a sick applause."
Jason leaned forward, intrigued despite himself.
"I turned, and there he was—Joker. Standing atop a shipping container, purple tuxedo, green hair, and that damned smile like he knew every move I was going to make. And in his hand, a red detonation trigger."
Jason's brows furrowed.
"You didn't think he was bluffing?"
"With Joker, you never bet on sanity," Bruce replied. "I froze. There were civilians nearby. Apartment complexes. If he had wired bombs to even half the places he claimed…"
Jason's tone dropped. "He could've taken out hundreds."
Bruce nodded. "So I asked him what he wanted."
Jason raised a brow. "And?"
Bruce's mouth twisted.
"He said he wanted to play a game. Twenty bombs. Hidden across the port. I had five minutes to find them all. Or else…"
He trailed off.
"And?" Jason prodded.
"I didn't let him finish. I launched three mini-darts from my shoulder-mounted launcher. Shattered the trigger mid-air."
Jason's eyes widened slightly. "Nice."
"I lunged, tried to grab him. But Joker's not just brains. He's fast. Wild. Fights like a contortionist on speed. Still, I had the edge—until he started laughing."
Bruce's face hardened.
"He coughed, wheezed, then said: 'Batman, you've only got three minutes now...'"
Jason leaned back, processing the story.
"What did you do?"
"I had no choice. Left him tied up and rushed to the Batmobile to begin bomb detection. Managed to disable seventeen of the explosives. The other three... turned out to be decoys. But by the time I got back—he was gone."
Jason nodded slowly. "And the drug dealers?"
"Gone too."
Silence settled in again.
After a few long seconds, Jason spoke softly.
"He's not just dangerous. He's unpredictable."
Bruce looked at the screen again. "He's chaos incarnate. No pattern. No logic. Just destruction."
Jason crossed his arms.
"You want to find him, right?"
"What?" Bruce blinked, pulled from his thoughts.
"I said: Do you want to find him?" Jason repeated.
"Of course," Bruce said immediately. "But he's like a ghost. Slips through every net I throw. He knows how to disappear."
Jason tilted his head.
"With the right system—AI analysis of crowd patterns, supply routes, satellite heat mapping—"
Bruce cut him off. "Jason, I appreciate it. Really. But Gotham's infrastructure is a mess. Forty percent of the city has no surveillance coverage. There are entire districts operating off old analog systems, abandoned subway tunnels, storm drains—"
Jason held up a hand.
"Bruce. You're thinking like a human."
Bruce narrowed his eyes.
"I'm serious," Jason said. "You're operating within human limitations. Manual surveillance. Known routes. Standard patterns."
He tapped the screen.
"Artificial intelligence doesn't care about limitations. It doesn't get tired. It doesn't second-guess. It learns. It adapts. It predicts."
Bruce remained skeptical.
Jason stepped forward.
"Joker can't vanish into thin air. He still eats. Sleeps. Moves. Leaves traces—footprints, power usage spikes, chemical residues. You just need the right system to detect it all."
Bruce still looked unconvinced.
"Thanks, Jason," he said. "But this is my fight. I've been chasing him for years. I'll find him."
Jason rolled his eyes again.
"Stubborn," he muttered.
Bruce gave him a long look.
"I've faced gods, aliens, and monsters. But Joker… he's the one that gets under my skin."
Jason smirked.
"Then let's skin the clown."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "You really think your system can find him?"
Jason walked over to the lab's central console.
"Let's just say… by the time I'm done, Joker won't even be able to sneeze without me knowing."
The lab fell silent again, but this time the air crackled with energy.
The hunt had begun.