The warehouse was a stage, and the Joker was, as always, the star of his own deranged show. The air was thick with the smell of dust, gasoline, and something coppery-sweet that turned the stomach. And in the center of it all, suspended in a cage of rusted rebar that hung from a chain, was you.

Jason Todd was lashed to a support beam across the room, thick industrial ropes cutting into the leather of his jacket and the flesh of his arms. A crowbar lay just a few feet away on the concrete floor—a sick, nostalgic touch. But the Joker wasn't using it on him. Not yet.

"No, no, no, Batsy's busy tonight! It's just us! Family reunion!" the Joker chirped, pacing in a circle around your hanging cage like a ringmaster. He tapped the bars, the clang echoing terribly in the vast space. "And we've got a wonderful new guest! Say hello to the audience, sweetheart!"

He gave the cage a hard shove, setting it swinging. You gripped the bars, your knuckles white, trying to steady yourself. Your eyes found Jason's across the room, wide with a fear you were fighting hard to control.

"Let her go, Joker," Jason's voice was a low, venomous growl, a promise of death. "This is between you and me."

"Let her go?" The Joker stopped, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. "But we're just getting to know each other! See, I heard a little rumor. The big, bad Red Hood went and got himself a heart. A real, live, squishy one! I just had to see it for myself."

He skipped over to Jason, leaning in close until their faces were inches apart. "Is it true, lambchop? Did you finally find something you're afraid to lose?"

Jason strained against his bonds, the muscles in his neck cording. "I'm going to tear you apart."

"The enthusiasm!" The Joker laughed, clapping his hands. He turned back to you, his mood shifting like a cracked mirror. "He's so passionate, isn't he? But let's see what's behind door number two!"

From a nearby table littered with... things... he produced a simple, child's toy: a can of silly string. He shook it with gusto.

"Now, this is just a bit of fun! A little party prank!" he giggled. He aimed the nozzle at the cage and let loose a long, garishly pink stream. It coated the bars near your hands, making them slick. You recoiled, trying to find a clean grip as the cage swayed.

"Stop it," Jason snarled, pulling so hard against the ropes the beam behind him groaned.

"Or what? You'll frown at me harder?" the Joker mocked, his voice a singsong taunt. He tossed the can away and picked up a high-pressure water gun, the kind used in industrial cleaning. "This one's a bit more... invigorating!"

A jet of ice-cold water shot from the nozzle, striking you in the chest and knocking the air from your lungs. You gasped, shivering violently, soaked through in an instant.

"JOKER!" Jason's roar was raw, primal. It wasn't a threat anymore; it was a plea. A sound of pure, undiluted agony.

The Joker paused, tilting his head. "Ooh, there it is," he whispered, ecstatic. "That's the sound! That's the noise you make right before everything goes quiet! I remember that sound!"

He dropped the water gun and strolled back to Jason, his demeanor suddenly conversational. "See, this is so much more interesting than just hitting you with a crowbar. That's so... passé. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt!"

He poked Jason hard in the chest. "But this? This is art. This is watching a bomb tick down. I'm not hurting her. I'm polishing you."

"I'm making you perfect. I'm reminding you what you're for. You're my greatest masterpiece, Jason. And every masterpiece needs a little... restoration."

He stepped back, spreading his arms wide to encompass the entire horrific scene. "Look at it! The composition! The emotion! The fear! It's all for you, kiddo! All for you!" He dissolved into another fit of wheezing, ugly laughter, the sound echoing around the warehouse, mingling with the sound of Jason's ragged breaths and the drip of cold water from your clothes.