A/N: Yeah, I'm going to be seriously screwing with the post-UTH timeline in this. And the mid-UTH. And the pre-UTH- especially DITF. Long story short, if the characters start going on about events that never happened and/or directly contradict canon, I'm probably retconning to suit my personal fanon. Also, I may play it a little fast and loose with the timeline, pushing events and storylines off until later, since I'm seriously considering bringing Black Mask in. You have been warned.

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Like a knife, the footsteps cut through the still air, echoing hollowly against the concrete structure.

The figure staggered slowly, painfully across the expanse, one hand clutching his stomach, the other the wall. His shirt was torn, his jacket and customary helmet both missing, and blood trickled between his fingers, oozing down from the ragged wound in his stomach. Heavily, he leaned against the concrete, his breathing shallow and irregular, both from the shock of his injury and the all-too-familiar scene currently playing out behind his eyes.

It flashes through the air, crimson and silver.

He didn't even notice as his knees gave out under him, his body collapsing against the wall with a dull thud. He shook, muscles quivering as he clutched his knees to his chest, trying feebly to push away the phantasms.

Back, down. Back, down. Again and again and again and again.

The concrete was cold through the remnants of his body armor, the wall rough against the side of his face. Jason barely noticed.

Weakly, he raises his arm, trying desperately to block the blow.

But no, it's not real, not real-

Like glass, it shatters, exploding with pain.

Not real.

His skull is next. Fireworks burst behind his eyes as the crowbar smashes into his forehead, snapping his nose and splintering the bone. The noise is distorted as it echoes through his head, seeming almost to come from a distance. He can hardly hear it over the agony.

Not real!

He can't think. He can't move. He just lies there, no longer trying to hold back the tears as he breaks, the warehouse echoing with the crack of his bones and laughter.

Footsteps- someone else's. Briefly, he surfaced from the hallucination, fighting to throw off the cobwebs of delusions, but to little avail- he was weak now, enervated by pain, confusion and the shock steadily seizing his body, and the flashback tore through his mind with ease, violently ripped him from reality. His head fell against the concrete as he at last succumbed completely and the world slipped from his grasp, fading to a dull haze.

Pain.

He didn't notice as the arrival knelt by him, didn't feel it as the man shook him, oblivious to the hands pulling him upright, taking his pulse, turning his head.

"Jason." The voice was faint, echoed through his head from far away, barely brushing his consciousness, hardly distracting him from the delusions playing through his mind.

He can't move; he can barely breathe. His whole body is on fire with pain. Dimly, he realizes that the blows have stopped, and for a moment, he's thinks it's over.

"Jason, can you hear me?" The voice was even fainter now.

For a moment.

"Now, Birdboy, you should know- this is nothing personal." Jason shudders and squeezes his eyes shut as he hears the voice by his ear, turning away as best he can. "But you see, that Daddy of yours- nothing would cheese him off quite like bashing your brains in here."

"Damn it!" he didn't hear. "Jason, you need to stay with me."

He can't even scream as the clown straightens, bringing the crowbar back for another swing. "No hard feelings?" Shuddering, Jason closes his eyes, tears trickling down his face behind the mask, and braces for the inevitable.

"Jason!"

"Bruce..."

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A/N: Bear with me; I'm going somewhere with this. Next chapter should take us back about 2 months.