Bruce’s patience was wearing thin. The endless game of cat and mouse with the Joker had long since become a grueling routine. Another breakout from Arkham, another trail of chaos to clean up. It was maddening. And this time, he wasn’t alone in his frustration. Diana had made it clear—if Bat//man couldn’t put an end to the Joker’s reign of terror, she would.

The chase led them out of Gotham's concrete jungle and into a dark, untamed forest. The Joker, always one step ahead, had no grand schemes this time, only a twisted plan to exhaust Bat/man. He moved erratically through the dense terrain, hoping to trap Bruce in a war of attrition. To make matters worse, there was always the chance of Joker pulling out one of his signature tricks—a burst of laughing gas or some other maniacal concoction.

The forest itself seemed alive, each shadow twisting and shifting under the cover of night. Bat//man, equipped with night-vision goggles, stalked his prey with precision. Joker, on the other hand, stumbled in the pitch-black woods, muttering curses about his lack of preparation. The moon finally broke through the clouds, casting an eerie silver glow across the scene.

Without warning, an arrow whistled through the air, striking the Joker cleanly in the head. His manic laughter was cut short as his body went rigid, pinned to a tree by the sheer force of the impact. The scene froze in time.

Bat/man stopped dead in his tracks, his heart pounding. His mind raced to make sense of what had just happened. Slowly, his gaze shifted upward.

There, perched on the thick branch of a towering tree, a figure standing there, a crossbow in their hands.

"What the—? Who are you?!" Bat/man’s voice was a low growl, laced with fury and disbelief. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Do you realize what you’ve done?"

Bat/man’s jaw tightened, his mind grappling with the implications. This wasn’t justice. This was execution. Whoever this was, they had just crossed a line Bat/man swore never to cross.