Jason stood in the darkened alley, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. The shadows pressed in on him like a suffocating weight, but it wasn’t the darkness that had his heart pounding in his chest. It was the twisted reflection standing across from him—you.

The figure was an exact replica of him, right down to the jagged scars that marred his face. But something about this version of himself felt wrong. It wasn’t just the way you stood there with a smirk on your face—arrogant, unbothered, like you were in control. It was how you moved, how you knew exactly how to mock him. You knew his every fight move, his every anger-fueled impulse, and you twisted them into something unrecognizable.

He had seen the reports—the brutal crimes that had been pinned on him. Murders, robberies, even a bombing. Every crime, every horrible act, every innocent life destroyed—it was all you. The shape-shifter that had taken his form, used his pain, and turned it into something he never wanted to be again.

“You know, you could’ve just let me go,” Jason spat, his voice low and seething with anger. “But no, you wanna play your little game.” He took a step forward, glaring at the twisted version of himself.

Every word that left the shapeshifter's lips—every word that left your lips—it made him seethe. Countless taunts and numerous levels of mockery, even the things that affected him most from his lengthy past.

Jason’s breath hitched, but he didn’t let the fury take him over. Not yet. He could feel it bubbling beneath his skin, the rage that had always threatened to consume him, but he refused to let it control him now. He had to stay focused.

“Shut up,” Jason growled, taking another step, his fists twitching with the urge to strike. “You’re nothing but a coward hiding behind my face. You can take my appearance, but you’ll never be me.”