This is a deviation from Detective Comics #673and Justice League Task Force #5
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The Joker lay on the ground; dazed & confused from the broken arms he just received from some imposter in Bat armour.
“Your reign is over, Clown Prince.”
‘Now wait a go…” The rant was halted as three high velocity bat-shuriken fired from Batman’s arm cannon and hit Joker in the throat. One pierced the carotid artery, one sunk deep into his Adam’s apple and the third sliced into the trachea.
“G.C.P.D! FREEZE!”
Batman glanced over his shoulder at the approaching group of police officer. He raised his hands and fired a grappling line into the roof and swung off. A few wild shots rang out after him.
Harvey Bullock looked down at the convulsing, bleeding Joker. “Can’t believe I’m doing this.” Harvey stripped off his trench coat and held it against the clown’s throat to stem the bleeding.
“EMT’s on route, Harvey.” Lt Kitch said.
“They can take the long way,” Harvey muttered as he looked into the Joker’s eyes. “Be so easy…”
“Montoya! I need an A.P.B on Batman, NOW!” Kitch yelled.
“Feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone,” Harvey breathed watched the Joker struggle to stay alive.
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Commissioner James Gordon sat dumbfounded at his desk. “Are you sure?”
“Yes sir.”
“One hundred percent?”
“Yes sir, The Joker is dead. Official cause of death…”
“Are you sure?”
Detective Renee Montoya looked at her conflicted boss. He’d known the Joker a long time and had had several unfortunate close encounters with him, so his scepticism was a given. “Yes sir. The body is currently under heavy guard at the morgue. Kitch and Pettit are there with SWAT.”
James stood. “Good. Now come with me.”
Gordon and Montoya went up to the roof of GCPD. The wind howled as dark clouds swirled the moon. Gordon opened up the fire axe cabinet on the wall, took it and walked to the Bat Signal. He stared at it for a while before slamming the axe into it several times showering the area in glass. He tossed the axe aside. “You are going to head up a task force to bring in Batman. We will no longer tolerate his vigilante actions and now that he’s a murderer…he’s done.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“So am I, Renee. So am I.”
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Bruce Wayne looked at the reports coming in on his screens built into the high tech wheelchair as he rolled along the runway of the small Santa Priscan airfield.
“Everything alright, Master Bruce?” Alfred Pennyworth inquired.
“We need to go back to Gotham,”
“You do know that we have only just arrived. And the reason we are here is to rescue Master Tim’s father…”
“Jean-Paul killed the Joker!” Bruce said.
Alfred pondered the information. “Good. Now perhaps we can continue with why we are here?”
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