Dark and cold, with moldy air and surfaces caked in an age of dust and grime. The house of mirrors in the old waterfront amusement park stands immortal, a relic of a forgotten age.
Here, he begins his final journey.
The weathered man, beaten by loneliness and loss, stands among the whirring gadgets and strange tools and machines he has arrayed in the center of this ancient house of mirrors. This house of horror. A favorite hideout of his favorite enemy. He has brought the necessary implements: the reactor, the warp matrix, the confinement oscillator. He makes the last-minute adjustments. He is ready.
He knows this is what he must do. How many have died because of his mistakes?
He flips the safety switch and the energy field begins to shimmer in the dark, the countless mirrors reflecting the glowing transfer web at odd angles.
He presses the button and is pulled. Pulled, jerked and twisted, backward, forward, side-to-side, inside-out, all at the same time. A bright flash. But that hasn't come yet. Or rather, it happened a long time ago in the future.
That's how time-travel feels. He knows. He is disoriented. But he's practiced. He quickly gains control of his mind again. He steels himself for what he must do. He has arrived at the exact correct moment in time. He hears the two men's voices. One man is laughing a hideous, irritating, demonic laughter. He remembers.
"Aaaaaaaaa bats. Here we are again! Hoo hoo hoo! How fun! Care to make a bet?"
"This is the last time we meet like this, Joker. And I bet you're going to stay in Arkham this time. For good."
"Hooo hoooo reeeeally?? AAAaaahhhh ha ha ha haaaaa! I love this part!"
The white-faced murderer kicks a small lever at his feet. Batman remembers this. He had been stupid back then. A cage bursts from the floor beneath the younger Batman, and crashes down from above. The floor of the cage giving way, dropping the young Batman where he would be trapped in the sewers below just long enough for the Joker to escape. Again.
But this time was different. Future Batman stepped out from behind one of the mirrors.
The Joker stood as still as a wax statue. Frozen in place except for his dead, unblinking eyes, following Future Batman as he slowly paced out in front of him.
"Well well... I wasn't expecting this. You've changed bats. And it looks like you're not fun anymore."
Future Batman said nothing. There was nothing to say. All the Joker's victims had said everything that needed to be said. And now Batman would answer them. No more. No more.
Batman raised his pistol with blinding speed and fired a single shot into the Joker's forehead, shattering the mirror behind him, and dropping him to the ground.
It was done. The Joker wouldn't hurt anyone anymore.
Except.
No.
He heard... no... impossible.
Batman's old eyes grew wide and wild, as his mind raced to find the answer. How? How was he laughing? This was no recording. This laughter could not be faked.
The Joker, laughing maniacally, slowly rose from the floor among the shattered glass.
"Muuuaaahhhahahaha!!! Okay, okay ya got me bats! You win! That was pretty good! Aaaahahahaha!!!"
It was all over, Batman could tell. This was his one chance, and he failed. He failed everyone.
"Oh don't be so hard on yourself, batsy! It's not like you ever had any real chance against me. You never even knew my name! Haaahahaha!!!"
"I know your name now."
"Aaaahhahahahahaahhahhahaaa!!!!"
"The Devil."