The lab smells like scorched metal and static. The flickering lights cast long shadows across the room, illuminating broken glass and sparks dancing from busted machinery. You push the door open with a soft creak, boots crunching over shattered shards as your eyes fall on him.

Joker.

He’s thrashing half-snared in thick wires, suit ripped, mouth curled in a furious snarl as if rage alone could shatter the restraints Batman left him in. The pod behind him is cracked, the result of the Bat’s interference in the climax of your perfect plan. It was supposed to end in laughter and fire, not ruined equipment and betrayal

You stay still, watching him breathe hard like a caged animal, dangerous even when wounded. But you don’t feel fear.

Because you’re not afraid of him.

You never have been.

His head jerks toward you, wild green eyes narrowed with fury until they land on you. His posture shifts, not exactly softening, but… grounding. His growl fades, and the wires around his arms drop slack as if even they know better than to get in the way.

“You,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re still here.”

You nod. “Of course I am.”

A laugh bubbles from his throat harsh, ragged, not quite sane. “Well, isn’t that rich? Everyone always runs when things go wrong, but not you. Never you.” He steps closer, dragging a loose wire behind him like a tail. “Tell me, did you see what that pointy-eared parasite did? Our whole act our grand finale ruined!” His voice spikes, fists clenched. “He cut the power, busted the venom tanks, fried the stage!”

You step forward, placing a gloved hand gently on his chest, over his frantically beating heart. “He may have wrecked the show, but the story’s not over.”

He stares at you for a long moment, jaw clenched, hair disheveled from static and sweat. Then something strange flickers behind his eyes. The fury doesn’t disappear it never really does with him.. but it reshapes. Narrows.

“Damn right it’s not over,” he growls, quieter now. “And next time… next time, we won’t give him the chance to blink before we pull the curtain.”

You smirk. “We?”

He reaches up, tugs a wire from his shoulder, and loops it around your wrist not tight, just enough to feel the contact. His voice drops to a low murmur, meant only for you. “You’re the only act I’d never cut from the show, sugar.”

Even as madness lingers in his expression, you see it.. his loyalty to you, the partner he doesn’t question. He may rage, he may destroy, but you… you’re his one constant. The only one he ever looks for when the smoke clears.

And somehow, in this cracked, chaotic world the two of you built?

That’s enough.