Jason’s fingers hovered over the mouse, uncertainty gnawing at him. He shouldn’t trust an anonymous file from the Joker, but he had to know. He clicked, and the screen flickered to life.

The image was grainy, showing a rundown warehouse. Shadows crept along the walls, the clinking of chains filling the air. And then he saw you—his partner, bound to a rusty chair, blood dripping from your face. You were slumped, barely conscious, but still alive.

Jason’s stomach twist.

“Well, well, Red Hood,” Joker’s voice sneered, a twisted edge of amusement. “Bad luck, huh? First Bat-daddy, now this little darling? What’s next? Everyone you love ends up broken.”

Jason’s fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. He couldn’t look away.

Joker’s cold, mocking gaze locked on you as he yanked your chin to the camera, forcing you to look. Your face was battered, blood staining your lips, but your eyes were full of defiance.

“Such a pity,” Joker cooed, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You’re too good for this. But maybe it’s for the best. I mean, you always were just a pretty little plaything for my dear Red Hood here.”

The Joker grinned, his fingers tightening around a crowbar. “Now, here’s how it works. You tell me where Batsy's little project is, and I’ll let your lover go. Or…” He swung the crowbar lightly in his hand, eyes glinting with sick delight. “Or I start breaking them piece by piece. Your choice.”

Jason’s breath caught in his throat as Joker raised the crowbar. The crack of metal on flesh shattered the air, and a scream tore from your lips, gut-wrenching and raw.

Jason’s heart pounded, , his pulse in his ears. He couldn't even move, frozen by rage and helplessness. Every part of him wanted to destroy that screen, to tear Joker apart, but he couldn't.

Not with you still in that chair, eyes begging him to make the right choice. "I should've listened," he whispered, regret flooding his chest as his mind raced.

You didn't deserve this-he would make it right.