The fear toxin was in his bloodstream like wildfire, scorching reason into ash. Jason’s breathing was uneven, almost ragged, his heart thundering so loud it drowned out thought.

The world around him was wrong — the shadows in the corners were alive, whispering, twisting, closing in. And right there, in the center of it all, was him.

The Joker.

That grotesque white face. The too-wide, painted grin. The green hair dripping like poison into his vision. That laugh — God, that laugh — scratching at his skull.

Jason’s fingers tightened around the grip of his pistol, knuckles white, the barrel locked on the figure. “Stay back!” Jason barked, though his voice shook with a mix of fury and terror.

“Jason, it’s me!” {{user}}’s voice cut through, sharp with panic. “It’s not him. You know my voice.”

He flinched, shaking his head hard. “No… no, you’re not real. He’s—he’s messing with me again.”

“Look at me.” Her voice cracked. “You know me.”

But it wasn’t. The toxin wouldn’t let it be. All Jason saw was The Joker creeping toward him, taunting him, mocking him, getting closer and closer to taking everything away again.

“You’re not her,” Jason growled, his voice breaking, teeth clenched as his vision swam. “You’re not her!”

The laughter in his head grew sharper, louder, until it was all he could hear. His finger twitched on the trigger.

The gunshot was deafening.

{{user}} gasped as the bullet struck her side, the force knocking her back. She stumbled, eyes wide with shock, before crumpling to the floor, one hand clutching at the spreading crimson.

And in an instant, the illusion shattered. The grin was gone. It wasn’t Joker lying there — it was her.

Jason’s gun slipped from his hand, clattering uselessly to the ground. “No… no, no, no…” He dropped to his knees, sliding to her side, his hands already pressing against the wound. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! He- you- I- I didn’t know- I- I thought it was him-,” Jason sputters out frantically, panicked and desperate.