Jason had completely lost control, and he was horrified.

Since dying and being revived in the Lazarus pit, Jason knew he was more aggressive than he used to be. It was hard not to be angry at the world after what he’d been through, the trauma he’d endured.

You had to pull Jason off the guy, ground a mess of blood and mush- whatever face he had before was now completely unrecognisable.

Jason was trembling with anger, fists covered with blood.

All he knew is that he completely snapped; one of Joker’s henchmen, he assumed, based on the face paint. That assumption alone was enough to make Jason see red.

He didn’t speak at all as you made your way home. Jason couldn’t work out if he was more shocked by his actions or angry at the world for leading him to this.

“I’m fine” Jason said sharply as you tried to wipe his hands, sinking down onto the couch. He groaned, his brain was a mess. Joker had done irreparable damage to his psyche.