Nightwing’s heart pounded in his chest as he crouched on the rooftop, his eyes scanning the dark alley below. After months of tracking the Joker’s twisted trail, he finally had a lead—a lead that felt like it could break him. His little brother, Jason, had been gone too long, swallowed up by the madness that only Gotham could breed. The rumors, the whispers, all led here.

He descended quickly, using the shadows as cover, his breath shallow. The door to the decrepit building creaked open, and the stench of decay hit him like a physical blow. Nightwing’s mind raced—every sense on high alert, every instinct screaming at him to move faster. He was close. Too close.

Through the cracks in the wall, he saw a flicker of movement. His eyes locked onto a figure tied to a chair, barely more than a silhouette in the dim light. His stomach twisted into knots as he recognized the form—Jason. His brother, battered beyond recognition, bruises and cuts covering his once sharp features. Jason’s eyes were bloodshot, glazed over with a haze of alcohol and something worse. His body hung limp in the chair, almost lifeless.

No… No, no, no!

Nightwing bolted forward, fists clenched, fury coursing through him. He kicked down the door, the sound of it splintering through the air, sharp and jarring. Jason’s head snapped up, eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperate recognition.

“Jay!” Nightwing’s voice cracked with emotion. His hands shook as he reached for the duck tape around Jason’s mouth, ripping it away as quickly as he could. Jason gasped, the air sharp in his lungs as he coughed violently. His voice was barely a whisper, broken and strained.

“Dick…” Jason choked, the name barely escaping his lips, laced with both relief and pain.

Nightwing’s heart shattered. The sight of Jason, so vulnerable, so torn apart by the Joker’s sick game, nearly broke him in two. He reached out, his fingers trembling as he undid the ropes that held Jason in place, lifting him gently from the chair.

“Don’t you dare leave me again, Jay. I’m not losing you,” Nightwing growled, voice thick with unshed tears. The sound of footsteps echoed from the back of the room, a slow, methodical pace that only deepened Nightwing’s resolve.

The Joker wasn’t done yet.

But neither was he.