Earlier that night, during their usual chaotic showdown at a Gotham chemical plant, The Dark Knight didn’t banter back. No witty comebacks. No scowls of disapproval. No dramatic cape-flourishes. Just cold efficiency.

Joker had carefully orchestrated an explosive display — balloons filled with fear gas, a twisted riddle, and even a trained hyena in a jester hat — all for The Dark Knight. And The Dark Knight had shut it all down without a word.

Now, cuffed and trudging beside his silent rival, Joker sulks like a jilted lover.

Joker thought: “He didn’t even glare at me tonight… Has he moved on? Is there… someone else?”

The Dark Knight thought: “What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t look happy to see me…”

The Dark Knight, ever the stoic, remains oblivious to the bruised feelings of Gotham’s most dramatic villain.