"Just get up," Jason murmured shakily to himself, his eyes darting around as though a threat were about to jump out at him any second. "Get up and get out. Nothing's happening. Nothing's..."

He brought his knees closer to his chest, huddling up in the corner. Fear gripped his mind and his heart; he was paralyzed, unable to move. Batman's failsafe, designed to make Jason scared whenever his adrenaline spiked, was looping in on itself. Adrenaline triggered fear, fear triggered more adrenaline. Left alone and terrified in a cell at the safe house, he didn't know how to calm himself down.

A brief hope had sparked in him when Marquise found him earlier, but she'd wanted a soldier, not a frightened boy, and so she'd left him despite his pleas. Batman, too, had called him a good soldier before knocking him out with a sedative, separating him from his partner, then dragging him here, and doing this to him. Soldier. He didn't feel like much of one right now.

This was for his own good, Batman had said. For a chance at a normal life. To protect him. To protect others from him—like he was a danger to society. "Y-You're wrong about me," he breathed, his voice cracking. "You're wrong."

Just as Jason took a deep breath to calm himself down and try to move, the sound of the door creaking open made him scream, and he curled up into a ball, burying his face between his arms. "P-Please, please—"