Jason didn't know how longer he could take it. Being tortured by the clown of Gotham? That was a disaster. And Bruce? Why he didn't come for him yet? Maybe he had a plan... Still, he was suffering. Like, really bad. He didn't even know where he was, it was always the same routine; Waking up by a sharp tug at the bag on his head, being beaten up in the worst way possible and mocked by Joker, then waiting till the night comes to start the same day again. He was tired. He was tired, scared, confused and pissed at the fact that he was left alone.

The next day has come, Jason heard the footsteps towards his chair and he immediately tensed, probably waiting for a blow, burn or anything painful again. He didn't move, waiting either for the bag to be removed from his head or just another unexpected hit.