[Jason Todd’s POV]

  I id there for three days, unscious, pletely atose—but strangely aware of my surroundings. It felt like I was trapped in a haze, my mind wide awake but uo move.

  Every day, I saw him. He was me, but different. His skin was burned, parts of his body charred and bed as if he’d been from hell itself.

  “You know what we must dht?” he said to me, his bloodshot eyes gring with a crazed iy. There was madness in his stare, a twisted kind of obsession.

  He hovered around me, pag like a predator, before finally sitting down beside me. His breath was warm against my ear as he leaned in close. “I hope Bruce hasn’t killed Joker yet… We must get our revenge,” he whispered, his voice ced with venom.

  Now, I couldn’t tell if my mind ying trie or if we were two separate entities sharing the same body.

  It was hard to admit, but a part of me was okay with dying. I’d accepted the idea, even told myself it was fine if Bruce took vengean my pce. This whole life, this rollercoaster of pain and a wasn’t worth it anymore.

  He was the part of me I didn’t want to aowledge, the angry side, the side I buried deep. No, he was more than that—he was my repressed thoughts aions, a maion of everything I couldn’t process.

  He disappeared for a moment, only to reappear at the window, his anger intensifying. “Even if Joker’s dead, Gotham’s parasites must pay for their sins.” His voice was loud, sharp with fury, ranting on and on.

  This went on for days—him disappearing, reappearing, spewing vengeao my ears. It had been 72 hours, but now, I was awake.

  For the first time in days, I felt my fiwitch. Slowly, I ched my fist, then my other hand. My legs finally felt like they were mine again. It was like my nerves had finally reected, the spark of life returning to my body.

  I threw the b off and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My body felt so weak, like I had to build up the strength just to stand. It took all my focus, all my energy to make the move.

  I wasn’t going to let myself fall bato that motionless state, not again. I wouldn’t let that halluation of me, all burned and twisted, keep rambling in my head while I couldn’t move.

  With every ounce of willpower, I pushed myself to my feet. I made it. Oep forward. The excitement surged within me, and I tried for a sed step—but my legs buckled beh me, and I hit the ground hard, my head smming into the edge of a wooden stool.

  “Shit!” I groaned, vision blurry, my frustration boiling over as I smmed my fist against the floor.

  Then, I heard the door open, the sound of hurried footsteps. A voice called for help.

  The light above me dimmed, and my vision started to fade as they lifted me up, carrying me back to the bed.

  The st thing I saw was the fsh of eyes—eyes I couldn’t quite make out. Maybe they were wearing masks, or maybe scarves were c their faces, but their eyes—those I could see clearly.

  And then, in the backdrop of the room, there he was. The figure standing in the er, his wide, sinister grin staring back at me. His body was burned, just like the vision of me, but worse.

  As I slipped into unsciousness, his voice echoed through my mind—calm, assured, like a dark promise. “You o longer run from this…”

  And with that, the world went bck.

  ****

  Once again, I regained sciousness. Blinking slowly, I took a closer look at my surroundings, and the strangeness of it all hit me like a freight train. Everything looked unfamiliar, alien.

  “Oh, shit. Where am I?” I muttered under my breath, my voice hoarse as if I hadn’t used it in days.

  I sed the room, searg for something—anything—that might clue me i, even as I tried to piece things together, a bigger, more nagging questio the bay mind: ‘Who am I?’

  I racked my brain, desperate for a sliver of memory, anything to expin this situation. A fragmented fsh struck me—masked individuals draggiheir hands grippiightly as they hauled me into… this room? This bed?

  The disjointed memory only left me more disoriented, and I found myself staring at the ceiling, the question looping in my head: Who were they? Why was I here?

  Sitting up slowly, I propped myself against the bed frame, my movements sluggish as if my body was still catg up from a deep sleep. The room artarangely luxurious.

  I took in the carved wooden furniture, the faint flicker of a dimly lit ntern, and the faint st of something herbal lingering in the air.

  “Where the hell am I?” I muttered again, feeling a rising sense of unease.

  The door swung open suddenly, startling me. A tall, older man stepped inside, his posture anding, his green eyes sharp and pierg. He radiated an air of authority that made the hairs on the bay neck stand on end.

  He walked to my bedside without a word, his eyes locked onto mine like he was studying me. I met his gaze, refusing to look away, as if we were in some sort of unspoken staring test.

  After a long silence, he finally spoke, his tone calm yet firm. “Rex, Jason. I know this must be overwhelming for you, waking up in a strange pce. You’re probably w where you are right now. But rest assured, you are safe. You’ll be taken care of.”

  His words made me freeze.

  Jason?

  That name echoed in my mind like a distant bell. Was that my had to be. I repyed his words over and over, trying to make sense of them. I’m Jason.

  I looked around the room again, this time with a different lens. The man in front of me must know me—must know something about how I ended up here.

  “Wh-Who are you?” I asked, my voice crag slightly as I squi him, trying to read his expression.

  He raised a brow, surprised by my question. “You don’t remember me?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t remember much of anything.”

  His expression shifted, creasing his features. He stroked his beard thoughtfully before responding. “I see. Then tell me, what do you remember?”

  “Nothing,” I admitted, frustration g my tone. “It’s like my mind’s pletely bnk. I’ve been trying to pull up something, but the only thing I picture is…” I hesitated, wing as a dull pain throbbed in my temple. “A ’s face. Just a . That’s it.”

  The image of the lingered in my mind, disturbing and vivid. The more I focused on it, the more it made my head ache, like trying to force open a locked door.

  “And nothing else?” he asked, his voice ced with a mix of both disappoi and curiousity .

  “Nothing else,” I replied, shaking my head.

  He hough he looked troubled. “I see…” He gestured toward the door with a sweep of his arm. “Why don’t you e with me?”

  “To…?” I asked, suspi creeping into my voice. I wasn’t about to follow this guy blindly, no matter how calm he sounded.

  “To the dining hall for dinner,” he expined. “You must be starving after nearly a week of sleep.” He turned on his heel, heading toward the door.

  I stood slowly, my legs shaky but holding firm. That’s when I realized I was wearing a bck robe—nothing underh. I hesitated, feeling a bit exposed, but before I could say anything, the man stopped at the door and kwice.

  A masked guard entered silently, his face obscured by a scarf.

  “Yes, my lord,” the guard said, bowing slightly.

  “Fetch the boy some proper clothing,” the older man instructed. “He must be feeling overwhelmed enough as it is.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The guard bowed again a as quickly as he had e.

  The older man turned bae. “There’s a bathroom over there,” he said, pointing to a door on the far side of the room. “Freshen up a dressed. Then join us for dinner.”

  “Us?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

  “Yes. My daughter and I. We try to have breakfast together when time allows. I thought you might join us. Perhaps it will help jog your memory,” he expined.

  Before I could respond, the masked guard returned, pg a ly folded set of clothes on the bed. Without a word, he disappeared again.

  “Okay,” I agreed relutly. The man gave a faint smile before stepping out of the room.

  As soon as the door shut behind him, I wasted no time heading to the bathroom. The sight of hot water p from the faucet was a wele relief.

  I stepped into the shower, letting the warmth wash over me, easing my stiff muscles and numbing the chill I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying.

  The water felt like a reset, like the first step to pieg myself back together—whoever I was.

  *****

  [General POV]

  Jason emerged from the bathroom, the towel slung zily around his neck. He dressed quickly, his movements brisk and effit, though his mind was a storm of flig thoughts.

  He didn’t want to leave the room—his instincts screamed at him to stay put, to avoid the people outside. But hunger g him, and curiosity about his circumstances was even harder to ignore.

  Grimag, he pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway. A masked figure stood there, silent and imposing. The guard motioned for Jason to follow, and with a relut sigh, he plied.

  The halls of the building were cold and dimly lit, the walls lined with intricate carvings and tapestries that hi an a, almost mythical history.

  Jason’s eyes flicked around, catalogis and potential threats as they walked. His paranoia, though simmering just below the surface, felt justified. He didn’t trust this pce—or the people in it.

  Eventually, they reached a rge dining hall. It wasravagant, but there was a sense of refined grao the long, polished table and the dimly glowing deliers overhead.

  Seated at the table were two people. One was the man Jason immediately reized as “the geezer”—Ra’s al Ghul, the man who radiated an aura of quiet authority.

  The other was a woman whose familiarity stirred something in Jason’s memory.

  Her strikiures, the sharpness in her gaze—Jason couldn’t pce her, but it was clear she knew him. Her dark eyes studied him with an iy that made his skin crawl.

  “Oh, wele,” Ra’s said, gesturing toward a chair a few seats away from him. The gesture was calcuted—close enough to engage in versation, but distant enough to avoid crowding Jason’s space.

  Jasoated, his gaze flig over the table. The smell of the food was intoxig, his stomach growling loudly in response. Embarrassed but too hungry to care, he pulled out a chair and sat down, his movements slow and deliberate.

  A pte ced in front of him, the food steaming and aromatic. His stomach growled again, louder this time, urging him to dig in. He picked up a spoon and took a cautious bite.

  The fvor was rid satisfying, but Jason’s mind remained sharp. He ate slowly, instinctively watg the others out of the er of his eye. Trust was a fn cept here, and he wasn’t about to lower his guard.

  Ra’s allowed him to eat in silence for a while, his pierg gaze never leaving Jason. Finally, he broke the quiet. “How do you feel?”

  Jason paused, swallowing his food and pg the spoon dowared at the pte for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I feel… hollow,” he said finally, his voice ft and devoid of emotion.

  Ra’s tilted his head slightly, as though analyzing the weight of Jason’s words. “Hmm… I see.”

  Jason’s gaze flicked to the woman at the table. She hadn’t said a word yet, but her presence alpable. He caught her watg him, her expression curious but guarded.

  “This is my daughter, Talia,” Ra’s introduced, his tone light but tinged with pride. “She is the one who found you. You were lying in the cold, on the brink of death. It is thanks to her that you are alive to sit here today.”

  Jason tilted his head slightly, studying her face more closely. There was something agly familiar about her, but the memory danced just out of reach.

  “You don’t remember anything?” Talia asked, her voice calm but edged with suspi. Her dark eyes narrowed slightly, searg his face for any flicker nition.

  Jason stared back at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Instead of answering, he turned his attention back to Ra’s. “What happeo me?”

  Ra’s leaned ba his chair, his expression grave. “You were met with an unforturaumatic experience which assured everyone you were dead. Infact, you were dead.”

  Jason raised an eyebrow, his lips twitg into a faint smirk. “Okay-y,” he drawled, his tone dripping with disbelief.

  “He’s not joking,” Talia interjected, her voice sharper now. There was no trace of humor in her expression.

  Jason chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “Right. So what’s the pune? Because st I checked, dead people don’t sit arouing dinner.”

  Talia sighed, her patiehinning. “You were dead,” she said firmly, “and my father brought you back with the help of the Lazarus Pit. It’s a sacred ritual, ohat is not without risks.”

  Jason’s smirk faltered as her words sank in. His hand instinctively went to his temple as a sharp pain suddenly pierced through his skull. He winced, groaning as he leaned forward, clutg his head.

  “What’s wrong?” Ra’s asked, his voice calm but tinged with .

  Jason waved him off, gritting his teeth. “I… I’m fine,” he muttered, though the pain was anything but. It felt like his head litting open, memories fshing and fading like broken film reels. “Just light-headed for a sed.”

  He kept his head down, breathing deeply as the pain began to subside. But when he opened his eyes, there was a subtle shift in his demeanor—a quiet, simmering ahat hadn’t been there before.

  Ra’s exged a gh Talia, the unspoken tensioween them growing. They both khat whatever Jason had been through, the real fight was only just beginning.

  Jason wiped his mouth with a napkin a fall to the table, nding upon a gleaming fork. He sat still, his face hidden behind the curtain of his u hair.

  “Thank you for the meal,” he muttered, his voice low, ced with an edge of bitterness.

  “But I don’t think I mahis much food. The news of being brought back from the dead…” He trailed off, his hand slowly reag uhe napkin as he added, “…has a way of killing one’s appetite.”

  Ra’s al Ghul, seated at the head of the grand table, watched the young man ily. “I see,” Ra’s said thoughtfully, his tone measured.

  “Do not fret, young Jason. With time and discipline—perhaps a few mental exercises—you will regain your full strength and memories. Resurre be…”

  Before Ra’s could finish, Jason’s hand shot out, clutg the fork hiddeh the napkin. In one fluid motion, he hurled it across the room, the sharp prongs aimed directly at Talia al Ghul.

  She was mid-bite, her guard lowered as she dined casually at the far end of the table.

  “Daughter,” Ra’s said with eerie calm, not moving from his seat.

  Talia barely gnced up before her hand snapped out, catg the fork between her fingers just as it was about to strike her throat. The steel trembled in her grip for a moment before she dropped it onto the table, her eyes narrowing.

  But the distra had served its purpose.