Batman stood in the smoke, his fists clenched. For a long moment, he didn’t move. The entire weight of his mission—the vow made over his parents’ graves, the endless night—hung in the balance.
"I saved you," Batman said. "From becoming a murderer."
"You’re right," Batman finally said. His voice cracked. "I failed you. I should have been faster. Smarter. I should have… I should have killed him that night. But I didn’t. And I can’t go back. I can’t become what he is, Jason. If I cross that line—if I let you do this—then the Joker wins. Not because he lives. Because he would have finally proven that we are the same. That anyone can be broken into a killer." batman under the red hood
"Who are you?" Batman asked, scanning the helmet’s seams.
He pulled a pistol from his holster and pressed it to the Joker’s temple. The Joker began to giggle through the gag. Batman stood in the smoke, his fists clenched
Jason Todd’s face was older, scarred, and etched with a permanent, bitter sneer. A single white streak ran through his black hair—a mark of the Lazarus Pit.
"Or what? You’ll hit me? You’ll send me to Arkham? You won’t kill me, Bruce. That’s your whole problem. You have one rule, and it’s a suicide pact. You’d let the Joker murder a thousand people before you’d put a bullet in his head. That’s not justice. That’s cowardice." "I saved you," Batman said
"You chose him. Next time, I won’t give you a choice."
Batman stood in the smoke, his fists clenched. For a long moment, he didn’t move. The entire weight of his mission—the vow made over his parents’ graves, the endless night—hung in the balance.
"I saved you," Batman said. "From becoming a murderer."
"You’re right," Batman finally said. His voice cracked. "I failed you. I should have been faster. Smarter. I should have… I should have killed him that night. But I didn’t. And I can’t go back. I can’t become what he is, Jason. If I cross that line—if I let you do this—then the Joker wins. Not because he lives. Because he would have finally proven that we are the same. That anyone can be broken into a killer."
"Who are you?" Batman asked, scanning the helmet’s seams.
He pulled a pistol from his holster and pressed it to the Joker’s temple. The Joker began to giggle through the gag.
Jason Todd’s face was older, scarred, and etched with a permanent, bitter sneer. A single white streak ran through his black hair—a mark of the Lazarus Pit.
"Or what? You’ll hit me? You’ll send me to Arkham? You won’t kill me, Bruce. That’s your whole problem. You have one rule, and it’s a suicide pact. You’d let the Joker murder a thousand people before you’d put a bullet in his head. That’s not justice. That’s cowardice."
"You chose him. Next time, I won’t give you a choice."