You think this is about you? About justice? You don’t understand anything, Joker.
Clark has Lois. Diana has Themyscira. Barry has his damn lightning family. I have... shadows. Graves. Empty rooms and silence.
I was ten years old when I watched my parents die. Every night since, I’ve tried to fill that void with something — with missions, with masks, with war. And still, it’s never enough.
Dick wanted to be more than Robin. So I pushed him away. Jason wanted to be like me. He died trying. Barbara — she trusted me, and now she lives with scars I couldn’t prevent. Her father? Jim Gordon looked me in the eye and believed in something. And I still let Gotham chew him up piece by piece.
Even Alfred…
(pause, his voice breaks slightly)
He raised me. He was the last bit of warmth I had left. And I buried him too.
You think this crusade is strength, but it’s not. It’s all I have. I don't live in this city. I haunt it. I’m not a hero. I'm the echo of a boy who lost everything.
(leans in closer, whispering)
I am so lonely, Joker.
And you're the only one who’s always here to remind me why.
