In Kansas, Martha Kent's farmhouse sat peaceful under the afternoon sun. Faora had materialized on the front porch via the Watchtower's teleporter an hour ago, one hand instinctively resting on her stomach.

  The door opened before she knocked. Martha stood there, her weathered face creased with worry. "Faora dear, Clark called ahead. Come inside, quickly."

  Faora stepped into the familiar warmth of the Kent home. The smell of fresh bread. Photos of Clark's childhood on the walls. The worn but comfortable furniture.

  They had sat down and had tea as Martha kept trying to take her mind off by talking about simpler things. Faora almost felt at ease.

  It should have felt safe.

  Suddenly, Faora sensed something appearing out of nowhere in front of the house. Her warrior instincts screamed danger.

  "Martha," she said carefully. "Is there a storm cellar? Somewhere underground with thick walls?"

  Martha's expression shifted to alarm. "Yes, out back. Faora, what's wrong?"

  Faora replied tensely. " We need to get you there right now."

  The front window exploded inward.

  Dick Greyson, no, Mockingbird crashed through in a shower of glass and splintered wood, his body moving with inhuman speed and precision.

  He landed in a crouch, head cocked at an unnatural angle, those green eyes fixing on Faora with predatory focus.

  "Knock knock!" he giggled. "Who's there? Death!

  Death who?

  Death to baby Kryptonians!"

  He was wearing a crude but effective armor, with plates that glowed sickly green. Kryptonite dust laced through every piece. In his hand, he held a dagger, its blade pure Kryptonite, impossibly sharp.

  The radiation hit Faora like a physical blow.

  Her knees buckled. Her strength, the invulnerability she'd relied on her entire life, drained away like water through her fingers.

  She managed to keep herself between Martha and Mockingbird, but barely.

  "Aw, what's wrong?" Mockingbird tilted his head, his expression a mockery of concern. "Feeling a little green? Get it? GREEN?" He dissolved into laughter.

  "Oh, that's a good one! I should tell Daddy J... wait, I AM THE JOKER now! So I just told myself! Hahahaha!"

  Faora tried to reach through him. " Stop this. Remember who you are . Bruce is worried about you..."

  Mockingbird interrupted her mid speech. "I remember everything , Mommy. And it makes me crazy that I was such a gullible kid to fall for these heroic bullshit. It's not really funny."

  He took a step forward, twirling the dagger. "You know what's really funny? Superman thinks he can protect people. Thinks his big blue Boy Scout routine means something. But he can't even protect his own baby!"

  Mockingbird's expression shifted to something uglier. "And when I kill you, when I cut that little parasite out of you and show it to him, he's going to break. Just. Like. Batman."

  Faora tried to stand, tried to fight, but the Kryptonite was too much. Her vision swam. Her muscles wouldn't respond properly.

  Behind her, Martha grabbed a shotgun from the wall, farm defense against coyotes, useless against this.

  Mockingbird laughed harder. "Oh, that's adorable! Grandma's going to protect you with a gun! This just keeps getting better!"

  He lunged forward, the dagger aimed at Faora's stomach.

  Martha fired. The buckshot hit Mockingbird square in the chest, but he just staggered back a step, still laughing. The pellets had barely penetrated his armor.

  "Nice try!" he giggled, blood seeping through his shirt. "But I don't feel pain anymore! Pain is just another joke! Everything's a joke! And here comes the punchline..."

  He punched Martha in the face who groaned in pain and fell down.

  Faora was crawling towards her but she was kicked away by Mockingbird, making her cough up blood. She still kept her hand over her stomach, trying to protect her unborn child.

  Mockingbird shook his head. " Tsk, tsk. Such a loving family. You should be smiling more. Let me put a smile on your face."

  Martha screamed as he carved her face with a knife, making her mouth bloody and stretched just like Joker. She passed out from the pain and trauma.

  Mockingbird smiled happily. "Doesn't she look happy. She can smile wider now!"

  Faora growled from the ground. " Clark will kill you for that. "

  Mockingbird jumped in glee. " I know right! That's what I'm trying to do. But he won't kill just me. He will kill everyone who stands in his way.

  And soon, god will become a demon, and the look on people's face when their god who should be their salvation, becomes their end! Now that's a good joke!"

  He lunged again.

  Faora, using the last of her fading strength, threw herself sideways. The dagger missed her stomach by inches, cutting deep into her shoulder instead.

  She cried out in pain. not from the wound itself, but from the Kryptonite poisoning flooding her system from direct contact.

  Mockingbird pulled the blade free and raised it again. "Second time's the charm! Or is it third? I forget! Who cares! Dead is dead!"

  Then a red and blue blur crashed through the wall.

  Clark hit Mockingbird with enough force to send him flying through the opposite wall, through the yard, and into the barn a hundred feet away. The entire structure collapsed on impact.

  Clark was at Faora's side instantly, his hands gentle despite the terror in his eyes. "Faora. Faora, look at me."

  She managed to focus on his face. "Clark. The baby—"

  "I know. I'm here now. You're going to be okay."

  He looked up at Martha and almost broke down again. His mother, the gentle woman who raised him had mouth carved wide, bleeding heavily, disfigured by the very kid he once used treat as family.

  He almost wanted to kill him. Maybe that should free him from this twisted madness. He grabbed his mother and wrapped a towel to stop the bleeding. He would take her to a hospital once he dealt with this monster.

  Clark then carefully lifted Faora, carrying her toward the cellar that had led pipes. Every second she was exposed to the Kryptonite was poison in her system, poison reaching their child. It can lessen the effect at least.

  From the wreckage of the barn, laughter echoed. Mockingbird emerged, bleeding from a dozen wounds, his armor cracked, but still grinning. Still laughing.

  "Aw, Supes! You made it to the party! Better late than never, right?" Mockingbird picked up the Kryptonite dagger from where it had fallen. "Want to play? I've got a special present for your baby!"

  Clark's eyes flashed red. "Bruce was right. You're not Dick anymore."

  "Ding ding ding! We have a winner!" Mockingbird giggled. "Dick is gone! Dick is dead! Dick is ME now! And I'm going to kill your baby and your girlfriend and then we're all going to laugh about it!"

  He charged forward, dagger raised.

  Clark's heat vision lanced out, hitting Mockingbird in the chest. The beam was

  controlled, enough to stop him, not enough to kill. But Mockingbird just laughed through it, his flesh burning, and kept coming.

  Clark caught his wrist before the dagger could strike, but Mockingbird's other hand shot out, grabbing Clark's face. His fingers dug in, that inhuman strength granted by whatever the Joker had done to him allowing him to actually hurt an invulnerable Kryptonian. Clark winced from the pain and weaknesse.

  The armor made by Alphonse was left in the watchtower. Without it, he was vulnerable just like Faora.

  "You can't kill me!" Mockingbird giggled, inches from Clark's face.

  "Because I'm Dick Grayson! Batman's son! And if you kill me, you'll break him! You'll destroy your best friend! Isn't that FUNNY?"

  Clark's grip tightened on Mockingbird's wrist until bones cracked. "You're not Dick Grayson. You're just the Joker's puppet."

  "Same difference! The meat remembers! The body knows! And Bruce will never forgive you for killing his son!"

  Mockingbird's laughter became hysterical. "Either you let me kill the baby, or you become a murderer! Either way, the joke's on you!"

  Behind them, Bruce's voice cut through the chaos. "Clark. Get Your mother to safety. Faora should be moved to watchtower with Diana guarding her. I'll handle him."

  Batman stood at the edge of the property, having arrived moments after Superman. His cape billowed in the wind, his expression hidden behind the cowl, but his voice was cold as death.

  "Bruce, he is too far ..." Clark started to protest.

  "It's my sin to bare, Clark."

  Clark hesitated for only a moment, then nodded. He was angry, but he could also understand what his best friend was going through.

  He wrenched the dagger from Mockingbird's hand, threw it into a field a half-mile away, then carried Martha away from the farmhouse. Faora who regained consciousness spoke barely. " He is... gone, Bruce."

  "I know Faora... I'm sorry he hurt you and your child. Rest now. Diana has contacted her parents. They can help you."

  She nodded and closed her eyes.

  Bruce walked toward them slowly, deliberately. He could see the details now, the carved chest, the green eyes, the blood and paint mixing together. Up close, it was so much worse than the video.

  "Daddy Bats!" Mockingbird called out cheerfully despite Clark's iron grip. "Did you come to watch? Did you come to see me kill the baby?

  Or are you going to stop me? How are you going to stop me, Daddy? Will you kill your own son?"

  Bruce stopped ten feet away. "You're not my son. Not anymore."

  "Sure I am! I've got his face! His voice! His memories! Ask me anything! Ask me about the Flying Graysons! Ask me about the first time you took me out as Robin! Ask me about—"

  "Those are Dick's memories," Bruce interrupted. "Not yours. You're the Joker's creation. A weapon. Nothing more."

  Mockingbird's expression twisted into something ugly. "You're wrong! I'm still in here! Dick is still in here, screaming and crying and begging for you to save him! Can you hear him, Daddy? Can you hear me crying?"

  Then his expression shifted back to manic joy. "Just kidding! Dick's gone! There's only me now! Only the Mockingbird!"

  He dissolved into laughter again.

  Bruce looked at Clark. "Take Faora to the Watchtower where Diana and Victor is. Kara and Alphonse are on their way probably. It's the most secure location we have now. I'll handle this."

  "Bruce, you can't..."

  "I won't kill him." Bruce's voice was firm. "But I will contain him. Go."

  Clark wanted to argue. Wanted to stay and help his friend with this impossible situation. But Faora needed medical attention, needed to be away from Kryptonite radiation.

  He nodded once and flew off to the watchtower.

  Bruce stood alone with the thing wearing his son's face.

  "So whatcha gonna do, Daddy Bats?" Mockingbird giggled. "Gonna lock me up? Gonna try to cure me? Gonna hope the Joker's toxin wears off?"

  His smile stretched impossibly wide. "Spoiler alert, it won't! I'm permanent! I'm forever! I'm the punchline that never ends!"

  Bruce pulled out a syringe from his belt. "We'll see."

  "Ooh, what's that? A sedative? An antidote?" Mockingbird's eyes gleamed. "Won't work! Daddy J made sure of that! Nothing can bring back Dick Grayson! He's gone gone GONE!"

  Bruce moved forward. Mockingbird lunged at him, laughing, but Bruce was ready. Years of training, years of fighting alongside Dick, meant he knew every move the boy would make. Even twisted by the Joker's influence, the muscle memory remained.

  Bruce dodged, trapped Mockingbird's arm, and drove the syringe home.

  Mockingbird's laughter didn't stop, even as the sedative flooded his system. Even as his eyes rolled back and his body went limp. Even as unconsciousness claimed him, that horrible giggle continued to bubble from his throat.

  Bruce caught him before he hit the ground. He held his body, because it was still Dick's body, even if nothing of Dick remained inside, and for just a moment, allowed himself to feel .

  The grief. The rage. The guilt that he hadn't protected him. The horror of what had been done to his son.

  Then he locked it away. Pushed it down. Became Batman again.

  He activated his communicator. "Diana, abort the warehouse mission. The Joker won't be there. This was just the opening move." He looked down at Mockingbird's unconscious form. "I have Dick. I'm bringing him to the Cave for containment. What's the update on your father?"

  "Father has just returned from his quest, and currently unavailable. I told mother to tell him it's an emergency. Bruce, are you—"

  "I'm fine. Keep searching for that fifth-dimensional entity. Find the source of the Joker's power. That's our only chance of stopping whatever he's planning next."

  He ended the transmission before Diana could argue.

  Athena landed beside her, her face pale. "Is he—"

  "He's alive," Bruce said. "But Dick isn't in there anymore. " He showed a rare vulnerability that he usually doesn't.

  Athena embraced him gently. " I'm so sorry dear. I know how much he meant to you.

  "I'm sorry you had to see this, Athena." Bruce allowed her to hold him, returning the hug. " I... I am afraid. Afraid that I will fail to protect others too.

  Athena's expression hardened . "Stop doubting yourself Bruce. You are the man who who surpasses even the divine with sheer efforts. You can't give up or feel weak.

  You will stop whoever did this. You stop them, and you make sure they can never hurt anyone else. Like you always do. But this time... I will hold the blade that kills them, I will not let you break your code."

  Bruce nodded and activated his suit's teleporter. He, Athena, and Mockingbird vanished, teleported to the Batcave.

  *****

  Meanwhile, in the Gotham warehouse, Mr. Mxyzptlk materialized with his characteristic theatrical flai. A pop of purple smoke, a flash of golden light, and a fanfare that only he could hear.

  The fifth-dimensional imp looked around with interest, his purple derby hat perched jauntily on his head, his purple suit immaculate despite the dimensional transition.

  "Well, well, well!" he announced to the empty air. "The Great and Powerful Mxyzptlk returns to see what chaos his little gift has wrought!

  I must say, when I decided to liven up my existence by giving a fraction of my power to some random inhabitant of the regular realms, I had hopes for entertainment.

  But has it been entertaining? Let's find out!"

  He floated around the warehouse, examining the Joker's handiwork. The painted walls showing grotesque parodies of heroes. The scattered playing cards. The board covered in photos and plans. The surgical table still stained with Dick Grayson's blood.

  "Oh my!" Mxyzptlk clapped his hands together. "How delightfully twisted! This mortal has been busy indeed!"

  "Oh, my wonderful benefactor!" The Joker's voice echoed from the shadows. "You came back! I'm so glad! I've been waiting for you!"

  The imp turned to find the Joker sitting on an overturned crate in the corner, swinging his legs like a child, that impossible smile stretched across his face.

  "Of course I came back!" Mxyzptlk said cheerfully. "I need to see what you've accomplished with my generous gift!

  I gave you 0.1% of my power, just enough to make things interesting but not enough to actually threaten the cosmic order. Tell me, what have you done with it?"

  The Joker hopped off the crate, his movements loose and energetic. "Oh, where do I even start? I made a new toy out of Batman's sidekick! Completely rewrote his personality, he's basically mini me now!

  I sent him to kill Superman's pregnant girlfriend! I'm planning to capture THAT GUY'S daughters to draw out that scary god-killer everyone's so afraid of! It's been an absolute BLAST!"

  Mxyzptlk rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Excellent! Delicious chaos! This is exactly what I was hoping for! You three-dimensional beings are so wonderfully creative with your cruelty!"

  "I know, right?" The Joker giggled, walking closer. "It's been so much fun! But you know what I've been thinking about all day?"

  "What's that?"

  The Joker's smile never wavered, but his eyes, his eyes took on a different quality. Sharper. More focused. "Well, you gave me this amazing gift. This incredible power. And I'm very grateful, don't get me wrong! But..."

  He tilted his head. "What if I had... more?"

  Mxyzptlk laughed, a sound like crystal bells mixed with breaking glass. "More? Oh, you are a greedy one! What makes you think I'd give you more? 0.1% is already more than any three-dimensional being has ever received!"

  "Oh, I don't need you to give it to me." The Joker's voice dropped to something colder, more focused. "You see, when you opened that connection, when you granted me even that tiny sliver of your power, you said and did something very interesting."

  Mxyzptlk's smile faltered slightly. "What do you mean?"

  "You left a link. A thread connecting your dimension to mine. And I've been following that thread, pulling on it, studying it." The Joker giggled, but there was nothing funny about the sound now.

  "You see, I'm not entirely sane. Never have been. And insanity has its advantages. Normal minds have rules, boundaries, limitations.

  But me? I can see connections that shouldn't exist. I can follow logic that defies logic. I can understand things that can't be understood."

  Mxyzptlk floated backward slightly. "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about THIS." The Joker pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket.

  On it, written in blood, were symbols that hurt to look at. Fifth-dimensional notation rendered in three-dimensional space, which should have been impossible. The characters twisted and writhed on the paper, existing in more dimensions than the eye could perceive.

  Mxyzptlk's eyes widened in genuine shock. "How did you.... that's impossible! Three-dimensional beings can't comprehend fifth-dimensional mathematics! The information would destroy your mind!"

  "Would it?" The Joker's smile stretched even wider. "Or does my mind work differently?

  See baldilocks, I'm already broken. Already shattered. Already existing in pieces that don't quite fit together. Maybe that's why I can see what others can't. Maybe madness is its own form of dimensional transcendence."

  He looked down at the paper with something like affection. "And once I could see the connection, once I could follow it back to the source, well... learning your TRUE name was easy."

  Mxyzptlk's face actually went pale, his usual jovial expression replaced by something three-dimensional beings rarely saw from fifth-dimensional entities: fear.

  Stolen story; please report.

  "You wouldn't dare," the imp breathed.

  "Wouldn't I?" The Joker's eyes gleamed with malevolent joy. "You came here looking for entertainment. Well, congratulations! You're about to get the show of a lifetime!"

  The Joker spoke a word. A name. Backwards.

  "KLTPZYXM!"

  The effect was immediate and catastrophic.

  The connection between them, that tiny thread of 0.1% power, suddenly reversed. It became a siphon, a drain, a hungry void that latched onto Mxyzptlk's essence and began pulling with impossible force.

  Mxyzptlk screamed.

  The sound was unlike anything that should exist in three-dimensional space. It echoed across dimensions, a cry of pure terror and agony as his power, his very being was torn away and consumed.

  The warehouse erupted in chaotic light.

  Purple and green energies swirled together, creating colors that had no names in any language. The walls melted and reformed into impossible geometries, angles that bent inward and outward simultaneously, surfaces that existed in multiple states at once.

  Gravity became a suggestion rather than a law, objects floating and falling in random directions.

  Time stuttered violently, forward three seconds, back two, frozen for an eternal instant, then rushing ahead five seconds.

  Mxyzptlk thrashed in midair, his form flickering between dimensions as he tried desperately to break the connection.

  But he'd made a critical, fatal error. He'd given the Joker power voluntarily. He'd opened a door between their dimensions.

  And now that door had been kicked wide open, and everything was flowing in the wrong direction.

  "NO!" Mxyzptlk shrieked, his voice distorting as he flickered between his true fifth-dimensional form and the three-dimensional avatar he used to interact with lower realities. "You can't! This isn't how it works! You can't just TAKE—"

  "Can't I?" The Joker's voice echoed with layers upon layers of reality, each word existing in multiple dimensions simultaneously.

  "You gave me the key, my little munchkin. You showed me the door. All I had to do was figure out how to open and walk through it. And you know what the funny part is?"

  The drain intensified. Ten percent of Mxyzptlk's power ripped away. Twenty percent. Thirty.

  "The funny part is that YOU made this possible! Your arrogance! Your boredom! Your need for entertainment!" The Joker laughed, and the sound shook the foundations of reality itself.

  "You wanted to see what a mortal would do with power? Well, LOOK! LOOK AT WHAT I'M DOING!"

  Fifty percent gone. Sixty.

  Mxyzptlk's form began to shrivel and fade, his usually jovial face twisted in terror and agony.

  He tried to speak his own name backwards, tried to activate the failsafe that would send him back to the fifth dimension, but the Joker's grip was absolute.

  The connection held him anchored in three-dimensional space while his essence was systematically devoured.

  "PLEASE!" Mxyzptlk begged, all his usual arrogance and playfulness gone. "Stop! You're destroying me! It will cause serious problems across the Multiverse! I'll give you EVERYTHING you desire, just stop this madness!"

  "Give me everything?" The Joker giggled, even as reality continued to warp around him. "Oh, you silly little imp. I'm already TAKING everything!"

  Seventy percent. Eighty. Ninety.

  Mxyzptlk's screams grew weaker as more of his power was stripped away. His physical form became translucent, barely holding coherent shape.

  His derby hat fell off and dissolved into nothing before hitting the ground. His purple suit faded to gray, then to nothing.

  "I learned something interesting when I was studying your power," the Joker said conversationally, as if he wasn't in the process of destroying a being older than the universe itself. "Fifth-dimensional entities like you, you're not actually all-powerful.

  You just exist in a state where you can perceive and manipulate more variables than us lowly three-dimensional beings.

  But power is power, regardless of dimension. And if someone can grab hold of it, if someone can understand the mechanisms behind it..."

  Ninety-five percent. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine.

  "Then it can be STOLEN."

  The final 0.9% of Mxyzptlk's power was ripped away in a blinding flash of light that rewrote the fundamental rules of local reality.

  When the light faded, Mr. Mxyzptlk fell to the ground as a withered, pathetic thing. He looked like a dried husk, barely alive, barely conscious.

  Only 0.1% of his original power remained, just enough to keep him existing, but nothing more. He was powerless, helpless, destroyed.

  And standing above him, transformed beyond recognition, was a different Joker.

  The change was profound and terrifying.

  The Joker's eyes glowed with cosmic power, swirling with colors that existed outside the normal spectrum, ultraviolet and infrared and something else entirely, hues that the human brain couldn't process but the eye could somehow see anyway.

  His smile stretched beyond physical possibility, curving up past his ears, past his temples, becoming an expression of pure, distilled madness given infinite power.

  His body flickered between states. solid and liquid and gas and pure energy and something that was all of those and none of those simultaneously.

  Reality bent around him like light around a black hole. The warehouse was gone, replaced by something that hurt to look at. A throne room that existed everywhere and nowhere at the same time, that was inside out and right side up simultaneously.

  The throne itself rose from crystallized probability, made of every possible outcome of every possible joke that had ever been told or ever would be told.

  Playing cards the size of skyscrapers floated through spaces that folded in on themselves. The floor was the ceiling was the walls was everything was nothing.

  Joker threw back his head and laughed.

  The sound was insane.

  It shook the foundations of reality across the entire planet.

  In Gotham, buildings flickered between existing and not existing, their structural integrity becoming a matter of opinion rather than physics.

  The sky turned purple for three seconds, then green, then yellow, then colors that hurt to perceive before settling on a sickly yellow-green that made people's eyes water.

  The Gotham River ran backwards briefly before correcting itself. Traffic lights cycled through colors that didn't exist. People on the street stopped and heard laughter in their minds just for a moment, before it faded, leaving them confused and disturbed.

  In Metropolis, a building spontaneously transformed into a giant jack-in-the-box before reverting to normal.

  In Coast City, the ocean turned to grape soda for exactly three seconds before becoming water again.

  In Star City, gravity inverted for a heartbeat, sending everything and everyone into the air before snapping back.

  In Central City, time looped, the same five seconds playing over and over three times before resuming its normal flow.

  Small flexes. Little tests. Joker getting a feel for his new power.

  "Oh, THIS IS PERFECT!" Emperor Joker's voice resonated across dimensions, echoing through the multiverse itself. "I can feel EVERYTHING! Every reality, every timeline, every dimension, every possible outcome of every possible choice!

  It's all right here, right now, all at once! The past and the future and the present all happening simultaneously! And it's so funny that I might just laugh to death . Ahahahaha."

  Joker rubbed his chin. "Hmmm.... since I got an upgrade and all that, maybe I should give myself a title too! What sounds good?

  Sir Joker...Nah, too british. They even made Elton John a knight, and I sure can't sing for all my talents... King Joker? Hmmm... better, catchy, but still a little lacking.

  What do you call a guy who can control the universe? Ahh.. I got it! Emperor Joker! Nothing is bigger than the Emperor.

  And I'd rather not be god, I am not answering prayers.... Wait, god doesn't do that either! Screw it, Emperor feel more human-ish.

  Now I need the right apparell.. look at you , you handsome elegant bastard, already talking posh!" He giggled excitedly.

  He spun in place, and with each rotation, he wore different clothes. A king's robes made of the tears of the innocent, a jester's outfit stitched from the fabric of reality itself, a business suit woven from broken dreams, a tuxedo made of solidified laughter, his regular purple suit that somehow contained all the other outfits at once.

  All of them existed simultaneously, layered on top of each other in dimensions the eye couldn't quite perceive.

  He looked down at the pathetic, withered form of Mxyzptlk, and his smile somehow grew even wider.

  "Don't look so sad, little imp!" Emperor Joker's voice was almost gentle, which made it infinitely more terrifying.

  "You wanted entertainment! You wanted chaos! You wanted to see what would happen if a mortal got a taste of cosmic power!" He giggled, the sound echoing through the warped space.

  "Well, congratulations! You're about to get front-row seats to the greatest show in the multiverse! The ultimate joke! The punchline to end all punchlines!"

  He snapped his fingers.

  Mxyzptlk was instantly encased in a crystal prison that floated in the air, not glass or ice, but crystallized possibility itself, made from all the futures the imp would never get to experience.

  Inside, Mxyzptlk remained conscious, aware, able to perceive everything that was about to happen but completely powerless to stop it or escape.

  "You'll get to watch everything," Emperor Joker said cheerfully. "Every moment of chaos. Every broken hero. Every shattered hope. And you'll always know, that you made this possible. That your arrogance and your boredom created me. Isn't that hilarious?"

  He turned away from the imprisoned imp, his attention shifting to more important matters.

  With a casual wave of his hand, a viewing window opened in the air. The window showed the Kansas farmhouse, showed Batman carrying an unconscious Mockingbird away, showed Superman rushing Faora to safety, showed the aftermath of the attack.

  Emperor Joker watched with absolute delight, clapping his hands together like an excited child.

  "Beautiful! Just beautiful! My little Mockingbird performed well even if he failed.! He hurt Superman's woman and put a smile on his mommy, traumatized Batman, and forced them both to face impossible choices!"

  He giggled. "But that's just the appetizer. Just the opening act. The real feast is still to come!"

  He opened another window, this one showing Diana and Barry and Hal arriving at the original warehouse coordinates.

  They were searching the empty building, finding nothing but bloodstains and the lingering scent of madness.

  "They're so predictable!" Emperor Joker said with delight. "Running around, trying to save the day, following all my little breadcrumbs. But they don't understand the game yet. They don't realize the board has changed."

  He snapped his fingers again.

  Reality rippled.

  Across the world, across the universe, changes began to take hold. Not instantly, Emperor Joker wanted to savor this, wanted to watch the slow transformation of everything he touched. But the changes were inevitable now, unstoppable.

  Somewhere in another dimension, Bizarro suddenly became the world's greatest hero.

  Somewhere else, Batman found himself trapped in a loop, dying in new and horrible ways every day, only to wake up and experience it again and again.

  The one rule Emperor Joker had to follow, he couldn't permanently kill Batman, because then the joke would end. But he could make him suffer eternally.

  "Sixty-nine seconds," Emperor Joker said to himself, watching multiple timelines simultaneously.

  "That's how long it takes to reshape a universe when you have this much power. Sixty-nine seconds to rewrite reality in my image. To make everything a joke. To prove that chaos is the only truth."

  He opened more windows, watching different heroes scrambling to respond to his reality distortions. The Justice League trying to coordinate.

  Green Lantern's ring failing to make constructs that followed logical rules. Flash getting caught in time loops. Aquaman finding that water no longer obeyed physical laws.

  But Emperor Joker's focus kept returning to two specific windows.

  One showed Superman and Batman, both dealing with the aftermath of Mockingbird's attack. Both trying to protect those they loved. Both facing the possibility of being forced to kill.

  The other showed Diana and Cassie, still unaware that they were the real targets.

  "Oh, Mr. Edward Elric," Emperor Joker breathed, his voice carrying genuine anticipation. "You're going to be my masterpiece. The Killing Joke to end all Killing Jokes. Because you're not like them."

  He gestured at the window showing Superman and Batman. "They have codes. They have lines they won't cross. They cling to their principles even when it costs them everything. But you?"

  His smile stretched impossibly wide. "You've already crossed every line. You've already killed thousands. You've already proven that you'll do ANYTHING to protect your family."

  Emperor Joker pulled up records of Edward's

  activities through his powers that allowed him access almost Everything. The slaughter of gods. The cold efficiency with which he'd killed. The absolute lack of hesitation.

  "So the question isn't whether you'll kill to save your daughters," Emperor Joker continued, his voice dropping to something almost philosophical.

  "The question is: how far will you go? How much will you destroy? How many will die? And most importantly..." He giggled. "Will you realize that we're the same? That the only difference between us is that I'm honest about what I am?"

  He snapped his fingers one more time.

  In Metropolis, reality began to warp more severely.

  Buildings twisted into impossible shapes. The streets became a maze that changed configuration every time someone blinked.

  The sky displayed images, moving pictures of disasters that hadn't happened yet, or had happened in other timelines, or would never happen at all.

  And everywhere, EVERYWHERE, people heard laughter.

  An internal laughter, echoing in their minds, making them want to laugh along even though nothing was funny, making them question whether reality had ever made sense at all.

  Emperor Joker sat on his lavish throne, watching multiple screens simultaneously, conducting the chaos like a demented maestro conducting an orchestra.

  "Let's see," he said to himself, his fingers drumming on the armrest. "Mockingbird failed to kill the baby, but he traumatized everyone involved. Check.

  Batman is now facing the horror of his son being turned into me. Check. Superman is terrified for his baby. Check."

  He opened a new window, this one showing Gotham in its current state. "Reality is starting to break down, making them question what's real and what's not. Check.

  The heroes are scrambling, divided, reactive instead of proactive. Check."

  He pulled up the footage of Diana and Cassie again. "And now for the main event. Now for the real joke. Now to see what happens when I take away the two things Edward loves most in this world."

  Emperor Joker stood from his throne, his form becoming more defined, more focused. The manic energy that usually defined him settled into something colder, more purposeful.

  "I need to do this perfectly," he said, almost to himself. "That guy isn't like the others. He won't fall for simple traps or obvious bait. He's smart, strong, always three steps ahead."

  Emperor Joker's smile turned vicious. "Which means I need to be six steps ahead. I need to make him choose between impossible options. I need to break him so completely that he can never be put back together."

  He snapped his fingers, and across multiple dimensions, events began to align. Probabilities shifted. Coincidences became inevitable. The pieces of his ultimate joke started falling into place.

  "First, separate Diana and Cassie from the League," he muttered, working through his plan out loud.

  "Make it seem like an accident, like a natural consequence of the chaos. Then, trap them somewhere Edward will have to come rescue them. But not just any trap, a trap that forces him to choose. A trap that proves my point."

  Emperor Joker's eyes gleamed with manic delight as the plan came together. "And while he's dealing with that, while he's fighting to save his daughters,

  Mockingbird will finish what he started. Superman will have to choose between helping his friends or protecting his family.

  Batman will have to choose between his son and his code. Everyone will have to choose."

  He started laughing again, the sound echoing across realities. "And no matter what they choose, I win!

  If Edward kills to save his daughters, he proves that he's just another monster pretending to be a hero. If he doesn't, they die and he's broken anyway.

  If Superman kills Mockingbird, Batman loses his son and his best friend. If he doesn't, Faora and the baby die. Every path leads to tragedy! Every choice leads to horror! That's the joke! That's the PUNCHLINE!"

  Emperor Joker clapped his hands together with childlike glee. "Oh, this is going to be WONDERFUL! This is going to be the greatest joke ever told! The universe itself will be the setup, and the heroes' broken spirits will be the punchline!"

  He looked at the imprisoned Mxyzptlk, still conscious in his crystal cage. "You wanted entertainment, little imp? You wanted to see chaos?

  Well, get ready. Because I'm about to show you what REAL chaos looks like. What happens when reality itself becomes the joke."

  Emperor Joker sat back on his throne, watching his screens, waiting for the perfect moment to make his next move.

  On one screen, Batman was placing Mockingbird in a containment cell in the Batcave, his face a mask of controlled anguish.

  On another, Superman was with Faora in the Fortress of Solitude, using advanced Kryptonian medical technology to counteract the Kryptonite poisoning.

  On a third, Diana and Cassie were regrouping with the League, trying to understand the scale of what they were facing.

  All the pieces were in motion. All the players were on the board.

  And Emperor Joker held all the strings.

  "Let the games begin," he whispered to the chaos. "Let's see if heroes can laugh when the whole universe becomes a joke."

  And in his crystal prison, Mxyzptlk could only watch in horror as the monster he'd created prepared to destroy everything.