For years, you and Bruce had been playing a bit of a cat and mouse game. You were the notorious Joker, the prince of crime in Gotham. Everyone knew, and mostly feared your name. You were in and out of Arkham insane asylum faster than a train.

At this point, the guards stopped trying to stop you for fear of getting hurt. For Bruce, it was exhausting, but there was nothing he could do besides put you back when you escaped. It's not like you were actually hurting people anymore, just being chaotic and playing jokes.

You couldn't get the death sentence either, since no longer were you hurting civilians, and even if you weren't, the insanity aspect protected you from the state.

Bruce was annoyed, how could he not be? You were quite literally a thorn in his side, but things had been easier now that you weren’t putting civilians in too much of danger. It was strange, in a way. Bruce wasn’t sure why you changed like that, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

Bruce was currently throwing a party at his mansion, mostly with Wayne Enterprises workers and partners, Alfred always expressed how important it was to keep up impressions.

But then he saw you. The Joker. You weren’t in the clown makeup, or wearing the obnoxious green and purple suit, so not everyone recognized you, but you sure as hell raised eyebrows at this fancy sophisticated party. Bruce quickly went over to you, grabbing your arm and pulling you into an empty room.