Jason's heart raced as the bone-chilling sound pierced the silence—metal grating harshly against concrete. It was a noise that conjured vivid memories of the Joker and the sickening whack of a crowbar striking flesh. Panic surged through him; he had to escape this nightmare.

He darted through the dimly lit halls of Wayne Manor, each echoing footstep intensifying his dread, until he stumbled upon a small closet. Not merely a refuge, but a sanctuary for his weary soul... Okay, yes, he was hiding. He collapsed into the tight space, curling into a ball with his knees drawn to his chest.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he gasped for breath, the world outside fading into a blur. “I can’t go back there,” he whimpered, his voice trembling, the words barely escaping his lips. He clutched at his dark hair, the streak of white a stark reminder of his fractured past—a visible mark of the chaos he desperately tried to escape.