The world spins around you, everything twisting into nightmarish visions. You can hear muffled voices, distorted and distant. You got exposed to scarecrow’s toxin, and it’s taking hold, making you lose control. You stumble, almost falling to your knees, but before you can collapse, you feel a firm hand grab your arm, pulling you back up.

Jason stands in front of you, his armor gleaming in the dim light, his face masked with fury. His voice cuts through the haze, but you can barely focus on it.

“Damn it!” he growls, his tone harsh, frantic. He grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you slightly to try and get your attention. “Stay with me. I’m not letting you die like this.”

His hands are cold but urgent as he pulls out a syringe filled with the antidote. As he presses the needle into your arm, there’s a moment of silence, broken only by the pounding of your heart and his deep, strained breath. “Say something {{user}}.”