Chapter 26
"It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend."
William Blake
---
The days bled into each other. Same chaos. Same silence after the storm.
The news couldn't keep up.
Another building gone.
Another massacre.
No survivors. No witnesses.
Just bodies — and rumors.
The Raven of Death did it again
A ghost. A shadow.
Some swore they saw him glide from rooftop to rooftop.
Others claimed he moved faster than bullets.
But one thing everyone agreed on —
For the first time in a long time…
Gotham was starting to feel like a city again.
People walked a little freer.
Doors stayed open a little longer.
The air was less poisoned.
But in the Batcave, hope had a different face.
Bruce sat in silence, staring at the screen. His hands clenched.
Damian leaned beside him, arms crossed.
"He'll kill the Joker next," Bruce finally said, his voice weighed with something between dread and inevitability.
Damian didn't flinch.
"So let him."
Bruce turned to look at his son.
"You don't understand."
"I understand enough," Damian replied. "He's cleaning up the trash. Something you never finished."
"No," Bruce said quietly. "You don't understand. The man who killed Matthew's parents… was the Joker."
Damian straightened. "You're sure?"
Bruce nodded slowly. "And Matthew doesn't know. He thinks it was some nameless lunatic. If he goes after the Joker now—"
"He'll kill him," Damian interrupted.
Bruce's face darkened. "No. The Joker will tell him. Right before he dies. He'll use it to break Matthew."
He looked down, almost whispering—
"And you don't want to see a monster break."
---
Harley's house was unusually quiet.
The air was heavy.
The kind of stillness that screams.
Matthew stood by the window, dressed in his usual — black hoodie, black jeans, black homemade mask resting in his hand.
He wasn't readying for war.
He was war.
He didn't glance at Harley as he spoke.
"Are you sure you can do this?"
She said nothing.
"I'm not going to stop," he continued. "You've seen what I do. I'm going to kill the Joker. If you want out, say it now. If you want to go back to him, do it. But don't follow me if you're going to hesitate."
Still nothing.
Matthew finally turned.
Harley was staring at him with tired eyes. Not sleepy — broken.
She looked like a woman carrying a coffin on her shoulders, and the corpse inside was a secret.
Every day for the past week, she'd wanted to tell him.
Tell him the truth.
That the man who killed his parents — the one that changed everything — was the Joker.
And she had been there.
She'd tried to say it.
But guilt is a quiet noose. And Harley's neck had been tightening every day.
"You okay?" Matthew asked, his voice oddly soft.
Harley didn't answer.
Instead, she stepped forward and hugged him.
He stood still, like always.
He didn't hug back.
But he didn't pull away either.
She whispered into his chest. "I'm sorry."
Matthew looked down at her. "It's okay. You can stay."
But Harley shook her head.
"No. I'll go."
He sighed. "Okay, crazy pants. Let's go."
---
The Joker's warehouse smelled like gasoline and gunpowder.
He sat in the center like a king on a throne of madness.
Thirty or more men surrounded him, loyal and violent.
He hadn't moved for hours. Just sat. Waiting. Smiling.
Matthew was coming.
At first, the Joker had been furious when he heard Harley was working with the Raven.
His Harley. With that thing.
But then he remembered.
That night.
Seven years ago.
At first he didn't. Even after meeting him he didn't remember but when Matthew gave himself in and the joker saw the news and saw his name
He started to remember and now he reminded everything
The blood.
The screaming.
The boy crying over his parents' corpses
The Joker had pulled the trigger with a giggle.
Just another night. Just another joke.
And Harley had been there.
She'd held the boy's father by the arm while the Joker pulled the gun.
Matthew doesn't know.
He only remembers a blur, a mask, and a laugh.
The Joker smiled wider.
He couldn't wait to tell him.
Not yet.
Not until the boy looked him in the eyes.
Not until the knife was deep enough to twist.
---
Outside, Matthew crouched behind the shadows of a rusted container.
He counted the men. All of them holding Guns. Blades. Chains.
Harley stood behind him, quiet as death.
"You sure about this?" he asked, eyes never leaving the target.
She nodded, but inside she was falling apart.
Matthew adjusted his mask.
"Good. Then let's go say hi."
---
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