Jason first encountered a woman, a woman named Christina Bell. She was wearing a pink shirt, glasses, and was not particularly strong, but her mood was unpredictable.
She looked a bit like the Joker, but she wasn't. Jason swiftly knocked Bell down with a well-placed kick, but as she laid on the ground, she burst into crazy laughter.
The lenses she wore on her face were shattered. Some fragments were even lodged within her eyeballs, yet her blood-streaked gaze remained fixed on a door beside her.
Jason squinted, stepping over Bell's arm and moving towards that door. He hadn't reached it when he was already hit by the strong scent of blood.
A hand covered in a metal gauntlet slowly pushed the door open.
Blood, blood everywhere.
A young man in a red bodysuit sprawled in the center of the room, surrounded by a pool of blood.
It was Robin, and he'd been gutted.
Jason was stunned. He stood still, watching for a while before rushing over. Robin was taking his last breaths.
He didn't say anything and was gasping with pain in his eyes, until he finally went silent.
Jason stood up unbelievably, looking at the blood around him. At this point, the woman's maniacal laughter rang out again.
"Hahahaha! Poor little bird...what pitiful illusions have you conjured up? You think Batman's come to rescue you, or have you run away? You know you haven't!"
Jason rushed out and grabbed Bell's collar. As he was about to land a fist on her face, the wounds on Bell's eyes suddenly began to bleed.
Certain memories began to playback in Jason's mind.
"Did you know? As long as the optic nerve isn't damaged, an eyeball can endure torturous pain before infection. You're going to watch all sorts of sharp objects pierce your most vulnerable spots."
"You can even watch the blood flow out, washing over the surface of your eyeball, seeping out of your sockets. Some can even witness how a needle puncturing the eyeball creates a wound in the vitreous humor."
"Next, let's try..."
Jason let out a cry of pain, clutching his eyeball. When he opened his eyes again, his vision was obscured by a tube-like object.
A bizarre perspective showed him a tubular object obstructing his sight, but when he tried to focus, he could see nothing.
Bell fell to the ground. When Jason looked down again, the woman's eyes were filled with various needles.
Jason backed off, clutching his eyes, but the darkness in his vision was growing, thin blood-red slices resembling tubes and needles, followed by absolute darkness.
He could only feel vague movements of light and shadow before his eyes and heard heavy footsteps around him.
But there should be no one else in this room except him.
Was it an illusion?
Had he truly left that room?
Jason staggered forward. With his sight gone, he relied on his hearing to judge his location. Then he heard even heavier footsteps and an angered roar.
Strong, very strong. It would have been an evenly matched fight, but Jason was now blind, and he was sent flying with a well-aimed blow.
Albert Gold. Jason remembered seeing this name in the Bat-base files. That was a very strong man, and he exhibited clear Joker-like violence tendencies.
Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice. That was Nightwing screaming, bones shattering, and flesh squelching.
Jason yelled and ran, but he saw nothing. When a gust of wind approached, he instinctively dodged and seized the opportunity to punch the attacker on his cheek.
A wave of rage overwhelmed him, and Jason ruthlessly pinned down the attacker, punching him again and again as bones broke one after another.
But Albert's voice still held laughter.
"Just like that, remember what you've been through..."
Jason fell off Albert, realizing that he couldn't muster any strength. He struggled to use his waist muscles to stand up, but when he tried to use his arms, he felt unspeakable agony.
Completely shattered bones were lodged in the flesh; his arms had almost been crushed, but the blunt trauma left them attached to his body.
"People always talk about the tremendous ability of the body to heal, but there's one exception—wrongful recovery."
"When flesh attempts to heal, regardless of the foreign object inside, shattered bone fragments get embedded within. With gradual healing, they become countless thorns in the flesh."
"Without the support of the skeleton, your arm will lose all functionality, but it will fully heal, becoming two hideous decorations, turning into instruments of pain."
In his haziness, Jason saw his two arms, looking like weird tumors, hanging lifelessly by his side.
He sprinted upstairs with the last of his strength, where he saw Johnny wearing a white coat, the last survivor of the Joker virus infection.
As expected, he heard Batman grunting and the sound of a heavy body falling, along with the strong smell of blood.
Jason had no strength left to support his body, and Johnny's voice echoed in his ear.
"The evolution of the human pelvis is fascinating. It sacrificed the stability of quadrupedal locomotion, but sometimes I can't help but wonder, how to reverse this evolutionary marvel."
"It's actually not that difficult. With a few steel pins, we can make the structure of the body look more primitive."
Jason looked down and saw that his abdomen had been completely split open, revealing his pale, yellowish bones. His pelvis, hip bone, and greater trochanter were eerily fused together.
He found that he could manipulate his legs in the usual way, but he was no longer upright. Instead, he was on all fours, like a beast. Every step forward brought with it unbearable pain.
Yet he still persevered press forward, following the direction of the sounds he heard, until he approached Batman.
Until he touched Batman's cold corpse.
"Ah…."
Jason awoke in a panic, sitting up frantically with the aid of his hands. He glanced around and realized he was still in the prison of the Batcave.
Staying up late had made his eyes dry, and the previous battle had left his arms, waist, and legs in pain.
A nightmare, Jason thought, utter madness.
Two seconds after waking up, the details blurred. He figured that the physical discomfort he was experiencing may have inspired some parts of the nightmare. He wondered when the pesky parasite would finish its job.
However, the voices of several people kept echoing in his ears, sounding both distinct yet all blurring into one.
Jason sat in place, recalling the chilling words and the fear he felt empathizing with the fictitious torture.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the door, and Jason heard the mixed footsteps of Batman.
Wait, hadn't he handed over the criminals to the Gotham Police Department?
Was Batman's departure also part of his dream? When did the dream start? Had there been any interaction with Peter?
Anyway, they were returning to visit him again, watching him as if he were a captive beast in a cage, like an animal in a zoo.
"..... it's indeed a bit tricky, but I have to leave for a while. I hope he can get professional treatment."
Jason heard Batman speaking; he didn't expect him to say so much.
"I agree with this decision, we will cooperate as much as possible. The Batman Family will provide you with all the necessary resources. We just hope he recovers quickly."
Jason recognized Nightwing's voice and instinctively felt relieved. But soon, the confusion set in, as he had a hunch that the conversation outside the door was about him.
"We can't neglect him." That was Barbara's voice again, "That'd be wrong, don't you think, Tim?"
"I don't know," came Tim's voice, "But if this doctor can heal Batman, then Jason..."
"I'm sorry, Doctor, but I hope all treatment stays in control. He can only be treated in a specified room. I will monitor the whole process. The Batman Family will not limit your actions, but they are obligated to ensure your safety as well as the safety of the entire treatment process."
"No problem." A stranger's voice appeared. Jason sharpened his ear, hearing the man say: "Due to the special circumstances, I will not adhere strictly to the principle of patient confidentiality. You can fully understand the state of psychotherapy."
"However, it would be best if you find us a quieter and comfortable residence. No psychologist can make you happy in a prison. During the treatment, I will only be active in the specified area."
"No problem ... I'll let Nightwing ..."
The voice faded away. The anger in his heart overcame all other feelings. Jason got up from the ground and ran to the railing, grabbing the bars with both hands.
When the group walked in, Batman came directly towards him. Looking at Jason's expression, he said: "I've hired a psychiatrist for you. He has exceptional professional abilities. You have to cooperate with the treatment while I go to Washington, Jason."
"What do you mean?! You think I'm sick?! I'm not as fragile as you think! Batman! Drop your useless sympathy!"
"All right... Jason..."
Jason suddenly turned to Nightwing and said, "Here we go again, the tone that says you all are doing this for my good, and only I am being unreasonable…"
Nightwing stepped back helplessly, looking over at Batman as if awaiting his opinion. Meanwhile, Peter attempted to be pragmatic: "The symbiont needs time to heal your physical injuries. During this time, you will experience moments of weakness and body pain."
"You could use the rest, anyway. It would be better living with a professional doctor than with us, right?"
Peter shrugged and said, "Then, you'll have to watch us leave freely while any movement of yours will cause discomfort. Isn't that unbearable?"
"I think he should not leave the Batcave." Barbara stressed, "Don't you think he would eat ice cream, fried chicken, three bags of chips a day without minding his health, and even hitting the gym regardless of his injuries? We have to keep an eye on him..."
This point was killer for Jason. Suddenly he wasn't that opposed to living alone.
At this time, a shadow stepped out from behind Batman, strikingly out of place amongst the group's usual eccentric attire.
The man wore a red-brown, crisply tailored three-piece suit with stripes, with a bluish pocket square folded into a flower-like shape in his pocket.
As he stepped out of the shadows and to the front of the prison cell, Jason saw a pair of somewhat loose grey eyes.
"Hello, Jason."
The voice was deep and the tone was soft, but it sounded eerily familiar.
Jason suddenly remembered something and hurriedly retreated a couple steps, slinking back into the depth of the cage, utterly disbelieving the figure before him.
Yet, the deep voice returned.
"I said, you would find me."