It started that summer

حامي من فضلك

Nightwing stood between me and Batman. The Arkham Knight is supposed to be a figure of fear, but right now, all I am is pissed. "Move aside!" I growled.

"Not a chance!" Nightwing shot back, his posture tense and ready. "What the hell do you want with Batman?"

"I don't have time for this!" I snapped, closing the distance. "You're in my way."

He charged, and we collided with bone-crunching force. Each blow I threw was fueled by the anger that simmered just beneath the surface. This wasn't just a fight, it was a desperate struggle to prove my strength, to escape the haunting memories that threatened to pull me under.

"You don't have to do this!" Nightwing shouted, dodging my strikes with agility.

As I pushed his words aside, a strange sensation began to creep in, something unsettling. Something cold poured into my suit and around my body. "What the-" Panic gripped my chest as I realized fear gas was working its way into my system. I scratched at my helmet desperately trying to remove the suffocating dread that wrapped around me. Suddenly, it overwhelmed me. My thoughts spiraled into chaos, and I was drowning in memories of the Joker's twisted games. I shook involuntarily, trembling as shadows from my past clawed at my mind. The laughter, the pain, the betrayal—it was all there.

Nightwing hesitantly watched me crumple to the ground, "What the hell . . .?"

But the more he spoke, the more the memories surged. I was back in that dark place, paralyzed by fear of what would happen if I failed my mission. Everything the Joker did to me, every cut, every scar, every tear. From the corner of my eye, I saw it—the Bat symbol, glowing faintly in the darkness. It was an instant trigger, a reminder of everything I had lost and the man who took it from me. The people in his suit who spent hours tormenting me. Panic surged through me, my body was shaking uncontrollably. The memories flooded back, and I felt vulnerable, terrified of being trapped once again. "No! No, no, no!" I gasped, struggling to push away the green water that surrounded me. Something inside snapped. Anger surged, boiling away the panic. I wouldn't let them take me down like this. I couldn't let Batman win. I shot back to my feet, fists clenched tight. "You think you can stop me?" I snarled, my voice dripping with defiance.

The fight escalated, fists flying in a blur of chaos. Nightwing was skilled—better than before—but I refused to back down. I needed to prove I was stronger, that I wasn't just a pawn in someone else's game.

"You're not just another thug for the Joker!" he shouted as if it'd make me stop. "Who are you really?" I couldn't let him figure it out. In a blur of motion, I grabbed him and kicked him down, but he quickly shot back up, pinning me against the batter cage. "I didn't want to do this," he said, pulling out his Escrima sticks. I screamed as he struck me. Pain shot through my suit, my body buzzing with electric shock. My knees buckled, but he held me up, determined not to let me fall. "But no one comes after my family." With one final strike, he hit me across the face. My helmet cracked under the pressure. A surge of adrenaline hit him square in the stomach, forcing him to bend over. My helmet splintered into pieces, the world spun, and I fell to the ground, my hands flying to cover my face. In the fragmented shards of my helmet, I caught a glimpse of myself—a scarred J looked back at me reminding me who owns me and what I've done. Nightwing lunged forward getting on top of me. He grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back with a grip that felt like iron. "I won't let you hurt anyone else!" he shouted, wrestling me to the ground. Panic was rising in my chest. I fought against him, but his weight held me firmly. "Why are you doing this?" He angrily yanked me up and looked over me. Then it hit him. His eyes widened in realization, disbelief washing over him. "Wha–J-Jason. . ?" The shock in his voice pierced through the chaos.