"When truth enters a room, even madness must fall silent."
---
The courtroom smelled of stale air and the faint metallic tang of fear.
Judge Hammersmith, a man who had seen Gotham's worst, rubbed his temples. "Again," he muttered under his breath, glancing at the defense table. "Again I must do this. Mr. Joker, you are being remanded to Arkham for… the hundredth time. Your plea of insanity—"
Joker, ever smiling, twirled a playing card in one hand. "Oh, your honor, sanity is such a bore! Don't you agree?!"
"Silence!" The judge barked, slamming the gavel.
The courtroom murmured, restless. Lawyers adjusted papers, reporters clicked cameras, and police officers shifted uneasily.
Then, a hush fell over the room.
The doors at the back swung open.
King entered. Rain still clinging to his shoulders, scar visible under the courtroom lights, walking calmly as though he had all the time in the world.
He did not wear a suit. He carried no briefcase. He was simply… present.
All eyes followed him. Even Joker tilted his head, curious, unnerved. Again.
King's voice, low but carrying, echoed. "I do not come as a lawyer. I do not come as a prosecutor or a defender. I come as a witness to truth."
The judge blinked, irritated and confused. "Sir… this is a courtroom. You cannot simply—"
King raised a hand, calm and authoritative. "You can, Your Honor. You can because this is not about procedure. This is about fact."
He turned to the Joker. "You have been treated at Arkham countless times. Therapy. Medication. Attempts to rehabilitate. And each time, you have proven through your choices that you are irredeemable."
Joker tilted his head, grinning. "Aren't we all irredeemable, dear friend?"
King's gaze held him. "Perhaps. But you choose chaos, pain and destruction when you are given the choice not to. That is not circumstance. That is choice. And choice defines accountability."
The judge leaned forward, startled by the weight of King's words. "What… what are you suggesting?"
King's voice softened, but thundered in the silent room. "I am suggesting, Your Honor, that the true verdict is not what the law requires you to declare. It is what the law seeks to enforce: safety, justice and truth. And truth does not lie in repeated incarceration for one who has consistently rejected redemption."
The courtroom held its breath. Lawyers shuffled papers nervously. Reporters whispered into microphones. The Joker's grin faltered. He had never been so completely seen.
King stepped closer to the bench. "Judge, I ask you this: you have the power to follow procedure. You have the power to maintain ritual. But what does justice require? What is the verdict your conscience must render?"
The judge's hand trembled slightly over the gavel. He looked at Joker, at the man who had terrorized Gotham for decades and then at King. The courtroom, the city, even the law itself seemed to hold its breath.
King remained still, quiet, his scarred gaze steady. Presence alone conveyed what words could not: the weight of truth.
Finally, Judge Hammersmith whispered, almost to himself, "We have failed… not in law, but in honesty."
King nodded once, a subtle gesture of acknowledgment and then stepped back. Rain still clinging to him, scar catching the light, he became merely a man among men yet the room could not forget him.
The Joker squirmed, unnerved. For the first time in decades, he was silent.
The judge banged the gavel. "Court adjourned… with consideration for permanent containment. Arkham shall no longer attempt rehabilitation where none is possible. Security protocols will be reviewed immediately."
King turned and walked out. The courtroom was silent. Even the reporters whispered: "Who… was that?"
And Gotham, yet again, had witnessed a man who changed the course of events simply by existing.
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