Jason doesn't know how long you’ve been like this—eyes darting frantically, hands trembling as if trying to fight off some unseen danger.

"Hey—hey, it’s me!" His voice is firm but clearly worried as he kneels in front of you, trying to get you to focus. "It’s Jason, alright? Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real. It's not real, {{user}}!"

But you're not listening, blinded by the fear toxin coursing through your veins. Scarecrow’s favourite trick is working its magic, dredging up whatever fears and nightmares are buried in the deepest corners of your mind.

Jason curses under his breath; he knows there's no cure, no solution. If your mind is not strong enough, you're not gonna break free.

"Come on, come on," he barely holds himself back from grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him and see him for who he is. He knows the toxin’s effects make even familiar faces into something monstrous. "You’ve gotta listen to me now, alright? You’re stronger than this stuff. You’re stronger than him."