Batman staggered through the crumbling gates of Amusement Mile Funland, his breath ragged and muscles screaming beneath the weight of exhaustion. Every step was a painful echo of memories best left buried—memories of laughter, light, and the boy he had lost to darkness. The rusted skeletons of rides groaned in the wind, their faded paint peeling away like the layers of Bruce's own fractured past.
The gauntlet had pushed him to the edge, but tonight, it all led here.
A faint pulse on his communicator—a hidden tracker embedded within the Red Hood's gear—pulled him forward. The signal came from the heart of the abandoned funhouse, the very place where Jason Todd had been "killed," swallowed by chaos and the Joker's madness.
Inside, the stale air was thick with the scent of dust and decay. Flickering lights cast twisted shadows on cracked mirrors, fragmenting the darkness into shards of memory. Somewhere in the shadows, something awaited him—something that would shatter everything he thought he knew.
In the center of the chamber, under a single swinging bulb that buzzed with intermittent life, sat Victor Raines—a man whose corruption had poisoned Gotham from the inside out. Bound to a wooden chair, his tailored suit was torn, face pale and slick with sweat. Fear glistened in his eyes, reflecting the dim light like a dying flame.
Standing over him was the Red Hood. The helmet gleamed blood-red, smooth and impenetrable—a perfect mask of vengeance and cold authority.
Jason's voice was a razor's edge.
"This is your test, Batman."
He pressed a gun to Raines's temple, steady and unyielding.
"This man is a parasite, feeding off Gotham's decay. You won't touch him—not because you lack power, but because you won't break your rules."
He turned, the visor catching the dim light as he faced Bruce.
"But I will."
The room tensed like a held breath.
Jason's finger hovered over the trigger.
"Let me kill him. End the rot. Save this city."
"Or break your sacred code—kill me—and spare this parasite."
Bruce's mind thundered with conflicting emotions.
If I let him kill...
I betray everything I stand for.
But if I kill him...
I lose the boy I swore to protect.
The silence shattered as Jason fired—a shot ringing out, embedding itself inches from Batman's head. The deadly game had begun.
Fists slammed, bodies collided in the eerie light of rust and ruin. Batman grappled with the figure who had once been family—now the embodiment of everything broken and betrayed.
Bruce's hands found the edge of the Red Hood's helmet, fingers curling with desperate strength. With a heave, he yanked the mask free.
The helmet clattered against the cracked floor, silence swallowing the sound.
Bruce stared, breath catching.
Beneath the crimson shell was a face he thought buried beneath years of grief and shadows.
Jason.
"Jason?" The name escaped like a broken whisper—shock, grief, and disbelief tangled in the sound.
Jason's eyes met Bruce's—fierce, haunted, and raw with pain.
For a heartbeat, the battle ceased. The lines between hero and villain blurred into fragile humanity.
"You left me," Jason spat, voice trembling with rage and betrayal.
"You sent me to die."
"I'm no one's weapon."
Bruce stepped closer, voice low, heavy with regret.
"I never stopped fighting for you."
"I never stopped believing."
"But this path... it will destroy you."
For a fleeting moment, the fire in Jason's eyes dimmed, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the armor.
Hope.
But the red helmet lay between them—a barrier of pain and silence.
Jason shoved Bruce back, voice bitter and broken.
"Your rules failed me."
"Your mercy condemned me."
"And now I follow my own path."
"My own rules."