Panic! At the Disco

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since the Joker had threatened Batman. During the time, the millionaire had placed a police detail on his butler, he barely left the house. The clown had been watching him the whole time. He hadn't actually done anything, only observing the famous Bruce Wayne panic and freak out.

It was hilarious.

He loved how just one threat had completely undone the man.

The Joker grinned, looking at himself in the mirror, placing the hat on top of his head. "Time for the next phase. Let's kill tonight."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Bruce was pacing up and down the wood floors of his main living room, dressed as Batman. There weren't many people Bruce was close to at this point, he knew Lucius was safe, Alfred was in the kitchen along with several police officers, and...

They were all he had.

He had hoped that one day the city would stop needing Batman, but it was people like the Joker that reminded him how foolish that dream was. They needed someone to spread hope, and he'd believed Harvey could've done that, but now he was Two Face, and almost as mad as the Joker himself.

He stared at the fireplace, fiddling with a baterang, sighing. He hadn't slept well since Joker discovered his idenity. He could strike at any moment and there was nothing he could do about it. That's when one of the officers assigned to Alfred entered the room, "I have some news."

Bruce waved his hand for him to continue, not turning around.

"They're all dead. Every single one of them."

This statement was followed with maniacal laughter. Bruce spun around to see the gleaming eyes of the Joker underneath the police cap. "What did you do?" Batman charged the man, rage fueling him as he slammed the Joker against the wall.

"I made them kill each other," the clown sang, "kill each other like animals fighting over a bone. I made them tear each other limb from limb. And I made that pathetic butler of yours watch until it was his turn to die."

Bruce stared into the crazed eyes of the man in his grasp, searching for some hint of remorse in his expression but finding none. Anger boiled his blood as red spots danced before is vision. He could feel the same pain he'd felt when his parents died. "Why? Why!"

Joker laughed, leaning towards him as he spat, "Because, I want to make you hurt. I want to show you how much like me you really are. To make you admit how much you need me."

"I'm nothing like you. You're insane."

"'I'm just as sane as you are,'" Joker quoted, chuckling at his reference, "you are like me, and deep down you know it too."

"I didn't just kill an entire room full of people."

The maniac shook his head with spasms of laughter, "Once I would never smile. But I learned not to take things so seriously, now I'm always smiling! You know what else I learned? The best way to kill someone - make them kill themselves, make them kill each other. The best way to destroy something is to make it destroy itself. That's when you know you've won, Brucie dear. All I had to do was say a few little words and you unraveled like a string."

The thin man watched as anger spread across the Dark Knight's face. "I am nothing like you. I will never be like you!" he screamed, slamming Joker against the wall.

Joker laughed, coughing as Batman began to punch him repeatedly. Without thinking, Bruce began to attack his enemy, who didn't even try to stop him. He just laughed until he choked, and choked until he passed out. Even then Bruce didn't stop, unable to bring himself out of his fit of rage.

Blood was all over the place, on Bruce's hands, covering the Joker's clothes, the floor. Still he didn't stop, kicking the unconscious man.

"What are you doing?" shouted someone from behind him.

Alfred entered the room, followed by a team of perfectly healthy police officers. "What have you done," said the butler, slightly quieter this time.

Bruce looked at the man crippled on the floor, what had he done? He collapsed over his enemy, resting his head on the thin man's stomach. He checked for a pulse, gasping with relief when he found one. He took the Joker's bloodied hands in his, staring at them with horror. "What did I just do?"

Let's kill tonight, kill tonight

Show them all you're not the ordinary type

Let's kill tonight, kill tonight

Show them all you're not the ordinary type

Let's kill tonight

May your feet serve you well

And the rest be sent to hell

Where they'll always have belonged

Cold hearts brew colder songs

Fate will play us out with a song of pure romance

Stomp your feet and clap your hands