First, I want to give a big shout-out to the wonderful Evie Warner, who talked with me about the upcoming chapters and helped me brainstorm some ideas for where to take the climax of the story (such as Joker's Funhouse). Thank you so much!

Alright everyone, strap in. These are gonna be a rough few chapters for poor Jason.

WARNING: Graphic violence, heavy cursing, child abuse, alcohol/drugs, and just…a lot of psychologically shitty stuff.

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He's in a large room. Another curtain hangs from the opposite end of where he stands now, nearly covering the entire width of the far wall. Any furniture that had been in the room has been cleared away, and instead the walls and floor have been covered over with various carnival-themed decorations. Streamers hang from the ceiling, confetti litters the floor, and the words "Ha! Ha!" have been spray-painted everywhere. Little plastic wind-up teeth have been placed on the floor, where they bounce and rattle across the tiles.

Wooden cut-outs of clowns standing in goofy positions are set up around the room, all brightly painted. They're similar to the kinds one would see at a carnival or state fair, except something is off about these ones. The expressions on the faces…their smiles are too wide, their eyes too bright. It unnerves Jason, and he quickly moves to the center of the room, where he's farthest away from them all. The carnival music increases in volume, and the doors Jason had come through slam shut behind him. At the same moment, the curtain at the far end of the wall divides down the middle, sliding open so that Jason can see what's behind it.

A glass wall had been put up, and behind it is a small stage. On the stage are two plain chairs, and securely bound to each of them is a man and a woman. The man is dressed in an Arkham inmate uniform, and the woman in a pair of doctor scrubs. Giant green ribbons have been wrapped around them, with the obnoxiously large bows situated so that they're on the front of their chests. Polka dotted gags have been stuffed into their mouths, muffling their hysterical cries beyond understanding.

Standing between the two of them is the Joker. He's facing the glass, and holding a purple and green tranquilizer gun in his hand. As the curtains move to the side, Joker spreads his arms wide and gives a theatrical bow.

"Good evening, freaks and maniacs!" he cries out gleefully. He bounces back up, grinning as he swings the hand holding the gun out in an arc towards the two people behind him. "We've got quite a show tonight. Games, laughs, the whole shebang! We even have a special guest of honor – the most forgettable of Batman's little soldiers, Jason Todd!"

Jason feels like he's going to be sick. He glances about him, searching desperately for any kind of escape. But the only entrance he sees is the one he had just come through, which should be impossible, as there are no other doors to either of the rooms.

The Joker laughs. "Let's get ready for the first act!" Walking up to the glass wall, Joker taps it roughly with his gun. Jason jumps and whips his head back to stare at the Joker, who wags a finger. "Jason, my boy, pay attention! We don't want anyone to lose their heads simply because you weren't listening to the rules."

Chuckling to himself, Joker saunters back over to his hostages. "I was lucky enough to have two wonderful volunteers for this first performance." He moves behind the man wearing the inmate uniform and playfully pokes the back of the man's head with his gun. The man flinches, sweat dripping down his face as he strains to see what the Joker is doing behind him. "This man is one of mine. He's got quite the record – armed robbery, murder, rape, but who's really keeping count these days?" The Joker taps his fingers against his chin in an exaggerated show of thinking. "I believe he had also participated in Harley's little party at that children's center. He was then shipped off to Blackgate, when wouldn't you know it, a fire got him uprooted and sent to Arkham. What are the chances of that?"

Despite his unease, Jason can't deny the surge of rage swelling in him as he stares at the inmate. Joker studies Jason's face, and a soft smile spreads across his lips as he continues. "On the other hand," he says, strolling over to the woman. The woman strains against her bounds, desperate to get away as the Joker reaches out and gently pats the top of her head. "Dr. Emma Lowe is quite the upstanding citizen. Pays her taxes on time, works at charity shelters once a month, even adopted two stray puppies from one of Gotham's pounds – before I blew it up the following week, of course. She's very dedicated to her work, and has helped numerous patients here at Arkham. I actually had a few sessions with her myself, a lovey woman."

Tears stream down Dr. Lowe's cheeks, and she closes her eyes, turning her head away. The Joker grins, waving the gun in front of her. "What do you think of my little toy, doctor? I had it specially made. Don't you fret though – it's just a tranquilizer gun. I did tweak it a bit though; now it's stuffed full of my Titan formula. Unfortunately, this isn't the newest version I've got stocked up nearby. This one is much older, and sadly, those who test it out don't live very long." Giving the gun a twirl, the Joker gently lays the weapon in Dr. Lowe's lap. "If you would be so kind, I'd appreciate it if you could hold onto it for me."

Dr. Lowe goes into a frenzy, trying to throw the object off of her, but she's simply tied too tightly to do so. Ignoring her, Joker goes back to the middle of the stage so that he's in-between the two hostages once again.

"Now Jason," he says, re-focusing his attention on the boy. "Harley and I have been keeping a watchful eye on you, and we couldn't be prouder of who you're becoming. Your dedication to stopping those dreadful criminals on Gotham's streets is just…inspiring."

"You're no better than any of that scum out there," Jason snarls. "Just far more annoying, and far less funny."

The Joker chuckles. "It seems I wasn't quite able to beat that attitude out of you. I don't mind though – it only makes this all the more entertaining." He claps his hands. "Shall we begin?"

Jason doesn't answer. Joker just smiles, and then he plucks a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket. "I have here a little present from a mutual friend of ours. Well, he probably doesn't think of you as warmly as I do, but that's beside the point. The game we're going to play is simple; all you need to do is give the correct answer to this riddle. Do that, and I'll let one of our guests walk out of here. Answer incorrectly, or refuse to participate, and I'll shoot both of them."

Joker makes a dramatic show of unfolding the paper, and then he holds it out, clearing his throat loudly. "I have a heart that never beats, I have a home but I never sleep. I can take a man's house and build another's, I love to play games with my many brothers. I am a king among fools. Who am I?"

For a moment, Jason just glares at the Joker. Smirking, the Joker lazily drops the paper and pulls out an old-fashioned chain watch. "You have thirty-six seconds."

Jason's mouth drops open in shock at the impossible time limit he's been given.

"Thirty-four seconds."

Raising his hands, Jason presses his fingers to his temples as he desperately thinks. A heart that never beats…a home but I never sleep. He grinds his teeth together, unable to concentrate when all he can hear are the smothered shouts of the two hostages.

One of which he wouldn't give a damn about if Joker killed.

Jason shakes his head. He has to focus.

Take a man's house…many brothers…

The chattering of the plastic teeth on the ground sounds louder than it had been when he first walked in. The carnival music continues to play, though it seems to become more distorted as the seconds tick by…

"Fuck," Jason grinds out. "Fuck. I don't know…I don't know…" His eyes flicker up to Dr. Lowe, who stares back at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Twenty-two seconds, Jason…"

"I don't know," says Jason, growing frantic. "I don't know! Stop! Please, stop!"

"Nineteen seconds…"

Jason snaps his head to the right and left, looking about him for something, anything that might give him a clue. Suddenly he pauses, staring at the clown cut-out nearest to him.

The clown is holding a deck of cards and making a bridge with them, with a few of the cards flying through the air. Jason squints, studying the painted cards.

A king among fools…

One of the cards has a king on it.

"Six seconds…"

I have a heart that never beats, I have a home but I never sleep…

A deck of cards…a house of cards…

"It's a card," breathes Jason. He spins back to face Joker. "It's a card!" he shouts. "The King of Hearts – it's the King of Hearts!"

The Joker grins, lowering his hand and putting the watch away. "Well done, kiddo!" he exclaims. "And with only one second to spare…whew, talk about cutting it close."

"Now let her go," Jason says anxiously. "I won, so let her go."

The Joker laughs. "My dear boy, I never said you got to choose who lives. That's my decision." Joker walks over to Dr. Lowe, who is weeping behind her gag. "Thank you," the Joker says to her, picking up the gun. He studies the weapon thoughtfully. "Hm." Then he whips the gun around and shoots a Titan-filled dart into the inmate's chest.

A gasp of both surprise and relief escapes Jason as he watches the man jerk violently against the ropes holding him down. Jason turns his eyes back to the Joker, and a sinister smile spreads across Joker's lips – then he shoots Dr. Lowe in the chest as well.

"NO!" screams Jason. He throws himself forward, pounding furiously on the glass as the doctor strains against her bounds, squeezing her eyes shut in pain. "No! One of them was supposed to live! Those were the rules!"

The Joker cackles, spinning the gun around his finger. "Rules? Life is hardly worth living if one does so by adhering to rules, Jason." He casually walks behind Dr. Lowe's chair and bends down, pulling up a hidden trapdoor. "I'll let you watch the show, and then you can catch up later." Giving a mock salute, Joker descends into the stage, pulling the trapdoor shut after him.

Both the inmate and the doctor continue to struggle, groans of agony emanating from behind their gags as their bodies twist and their muscles bulge beneath their skin.

"No!" Jason cries out, repeatedly striking his fist against the glass. "You have to fight it, doctor! Fight it!"

It doesn't look like Dr. Lowe can even hear Jason anymore. With a horrible moan, she rips her arm upwards, tearing the ropes free from her body. At the same moment, the inmate does the same, and he falls from his chair, landing on the ground on all fours and gnashing his teeth. There's a loud cracking sound, and Jason winces as vertebra bones rip through the skin and clothes of both of the victims' backs, spouting blood and prompting roars of pain to be torn from both of them.

Clothing is torn and hair falls from their scalps as both the man and woman mutate, their bodies twisting beyond recognition. The man snaps his head up, and his bloodshot eyes focus on Jason. Before Jason can react, the inmate rushes forward on all fours, and then slams his head into the glass wall. Jason wrenches away, falling to the ground and crawling backwards as he watches in horror.

The inmate once again slams his head into the glass, and this time, a long crack appears, running up the wall. The man draws back, ready to crash into the wall once more. Then he suddenly freezes, choking. His eyes widen, and then he's grasping anxiously at his chest, trying to draw in air. A few horrible seconds pass, and then he collapses to the stage, falling limp. A moment later, Dr. Lowe does the same.

Jason sits there for a long minute, staring in shock. Then he blinks hard, letting out a shaky gasp.

He needs to find a way out of here. Staggering to his feet, Jason looks about him in panic, trying to keep his breathing under control as he searches for an exit. But he already knows there's only one way out of here.

Going over to the clown cut-out with the deck of cards, Jason takes a hold of it and slams his foot down on the center of the wood. There's a sharp splintering, and a second kick is all it takes to snap the board in half. Dropping the top part, Jason takes the bottom half of the clown and goes back over to where the inmate had cracked the glass.

He lifts the board, positioning it directly over the center of the crack. Then he thrusts the wood forward, smashing it into the wall. The glass cracks again, but it doesn't break. Jason repeats the action, over and over again, until finally, with a cry of frustration, he kicks his boot at the center of the damaged glass.

There's an earsplitting crash as the wall shatters around Jason, and he ducks away, covering his head with his arms as shards rain down upon him. Once the glass has settled, Jason tosses the board to the side and begins walking over the mess, his steps crunching loudly as he goes up onto the stage.

Jason is careful to not look at the bodies as he moves over to the trap door, but his chest tightens nonetheless, and as he bends down to pull up the panel of wood he realizes that he's holding his breath. Only when he closes the door over his head does he release it.

Beneath the trapdoor is a ladder, which descends into a narrow hallway. Jason keeps his senses alert as he makes his way through the dimness, but he can't seem to brush the nagging feeling that he's not alone in the corridor. Going along carefully, he keeps his hand against the wall to guide him as he walks.

He rounds a corner, and then recoils at the sudden stench he's hit by.

It smells like decay. Like the body of something that hasn't been touched in years, and has long been left to rot in its filth.

Gagging, Jason brings his other hand up to his nose, trying to draw in a little breath as possible. He pauses for a moment to steady himself, then continues on. Gradually, he becomes aware that the wall he's trailing his fingers along has become oddly moist, and rather sticky to the touch. Jason pulls his hand away, staring at the slime coming off with it in disgust. He hurriedly wipes his hand on his pants and backs away from the wall, picking up his pace.

There's a sudden noise. Jason stops, straining to listen.

There. It's soft, but there's no mistaking it. It's a woman, moaning – as though in pain, or in deep sorrow.

"Hello?" Jason calls out. He rushes forward, his eyes darting about for any sign of an exit. "Who's there?"

Finally, he sees it. Up ahead on the left is an open doorway, from which a grayish glow emanates. Jason runs over to it, relief swelling in him at finding an end to the corridor.

That feeling immediately dissipates as he stops, staring at the room he's now standing in.

It's a kitchen. Jason's jaw droops open as he gazes about in disbelief. He's in his parents' apartment – the one they lived in just off of Crime Alley. Everything is just how he remembers it. The paint peeling from the walls, the cracked floor tiles, the sink that was always full of dirty dishes…even the trashcan in the corner overflowing with empty beer cans.

"What…" Jason steps further into the kitchen, dumbstruck. Not paying attention to where he's walking, his foot accidently kicks a beer bottle that had been lying on its side. It immediately rolls, the glass tinkering as it goes over the uneven floor…until it bumps into a bare foot.

Jason rushes around the kitchen counter, and the color drains from his face as he stares at the person sitting on the floor and leaning against the counter wall.

"Mom?" he whispers. He hurries to the woman's side and kneels down, reaching out with a trembling hand to carefully brush back the curtain of strawberry blonde hair obscuring her face.

Catherine Todd doesn't acknowledge her son. She simply stares at the floor, her eyes half closed and her lips parted in her dazed state. Her breathing is barely audible, and there's a faint wheeze to it, a sound Jason had become accustomed to after watching his mother smoke countless packs of cigarettes.

"Mom, can you hear me?" asks Jason. He brushes a hand against her clammy cheek, then glances down at her lap, where her hands are resting.

Her right hand is facing upwards; lying in it is an empty syringe. Jason feels his chest tighten at the familiar sight, and he looks back up into his mother's face. "Mom, I need you to say something." He pauses, swallowing as tears well in his eyes. "Come on, mom." His voice breaks on the last word.

"I'll never understand why I had to get fucked over by having such a pussy for a son."

Jason jerks his head up, sucking in his breath at the sight of the man looming over him.

"Not only is your mother a useless bitch who's barely good for a fuck now," Willis Todd growls, kicking at Catherine's limp leg. "But all you do is sit around, doing nothing but being a fucking waste of space." Willis takes a final gulp from the beer bottle in his hand, then drunkenly chucks it at Jason's head.

Jason immediately ducks, and the bottle shatters as it hits the wall behind him. Scrambling back, Jason's breathing quickens as Willis advances on him.

"I couldn't give you away as a fucking infant," Willis slurs. "No one wanted you then, and no one wants you now." He stoops down, bunching Jason's shirt in his fist as he yanks the boy close. "I should've smashed your head in the moment your mother gave birth to you." Jason flinches, cringing at the stench of alcohol on his father's breath. "I guess it's never too late to start." Willis swings his fist around, punching Jason in the jaw and sending him crashing to the floor.

"Please…" begs Jason, holding out his hand. All those years training with Bruce, all that time spent fighting as Robin – it's completely forgotten as Jason stares up into his father's furious face. Suddenly, he's twelve years old again, and all he knows is that if he takes the beating without fighting back, maybe the man will leave his mother alone.

"Why would anyone want you?" demands Willis, emphasizing the last word with a kick. "You're a pathetic piece of shit, and I can't wait until the day one of the psychos in this godforsaken city does me a favor and shoots you in the head. Are you listening, boy?"

Jason backs into the corner of the kitchen, tears streaking down his bruised face as he tries to make himself as little as possible.

Willis grabs another empty beer bottle off of the kitchen counter and throws it. Jason instinctively rolls out of the way, pressing himself against the wall as Willis reaches for a coffee mug. "I am your father!" Willis bellows, hurling the mug. "And your father deserves respect!"

At that, Jason tilts his head up, giving Willis a strange look. The expression on Jason's face makes Willis pause, and he falters as he reaches for another bottle.

"You are not my father," Jason quietly says.

"What did you say?" snarls Willis. He takes a step forward, but Jason swings his leg out, knocking the man onto his back. The next second, Jason is on top of Willis, and he delivers a hard punch to the man's face.

"You are not my father," Jason repeats viciously. "My father's name is Bruce Wayne, and you will never be the man he is."

Jason's hands close around Willis' throat, and he begins to squeeze. Willis gasps, clawing at Jason's arms, but Jason doesn't let up. "You could spend a hundred years trying to become half of what he is, and you would fail," hisses Jason. He continues to constrict his hands. "I am not your son. And I'm done letting you call yourself my father."

Willis' face is taking on a faint purple tint now.

Kill him. He deserves it. Kill him for everything he's done. The thoughts ravage Jason's mind, strengthening his rage.

He has to. He has to kill this man – this monster. Before he can hurt Jason or his mother ever again. Once he's dead, Jason can finally –

Jason freezes. Willis Todd is already dead. He was shot on the orders of Carmine Falcone, for failing to pay back a long overdue debt.

His mother is dead too. Catherine Todd died of a drug overdose, years ago.

They're both dead.

Jason loosens his grip on the man beneath him. Willis gasps for air, bringing his hands up to massage his throat. As he does, his face begins to change. Jason stares in horrified fascination as Willis Todd's face morphs into a man he doesn't even recognize.

All around them, the kitchen melts away, and Jason finds himself kneeling in a dark storage room. The man before Jason is shuddering, still trying to draw in breath, and Jason falls back against a stack of crates as he stares down at his hands.

Toxin. Scarecrow's fear toxin. Of course. The effects of it seem so obvious now, even as they linger in Jason's body.

"Oh come now, Jason, you were so close," the Joker says in disappointment.

Jason looks about wildly, then finally catches sight of the speaker overhead, which Joker's voice is echoing through.

"Even if he's not your old man, he still deserves it. Another convict, guilty of numerous crimes. Murder, rape…just like that other man I so generously shot up with reject-Titan less than an hour ago."

Jason's gaze drops back to the man, who is watching Jason in fear.

"Finish the job, Boy Wonder. He's just another Willis Todd, a monster that other innocent kids are going to have to answer to sooner or later."

Jason clenches his jaw, glaring at the thug cowering before him. He shifts, readying to throw himself at the man once again, when he notices something in the corner of his eye. He turns his head, and then almost completely forgets everything else.

There's a woman slumped against the wall. She's in the same position as Catherine Todd had been, and waves of red-gold hair fall in front of her face. Jason's breathing quickens, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stumbles over to her.

His hands quiver as he gently pulls back her hair. Then he gasps, lurching back.

Her throat has been slit open, nearly from ear to ear. Blood sticks to the front of her shirt, having been concealed by her hair only moments before. Jason needs only a quick glance to see that she's been dead for a while.

She's not Catherine Todd.

Even so, Jason feels tears spring to his eyes as he stares at her. He begins to reach for her once again, but sudden footsteps attract his attention, and he spins around to see the man he had nearly killed running out of the room.

He can't stay here. Casting a final, sorrowful glance back at the woman, Jason gets up and hurries after the man through the room's doorway.

The man is nowhere in sight. Jason glances back over his shoulder, and stares in confusion. The door he had just come through is no longer there; it's just a plain wall.

"What the hell…" he murmurs.

The corridor speakers crackle to life. Then a familiar tune begins to play, just as distorted as it was when Joker played it at Gotham High's baseball field.

Take me out to the ball game…take me out with the crowd…

Jason's breath catches in his throat, and he begins to run down the hallway.

I don't care if I never get back. Let me root, root, root, for the home team. If they don't win it's a shame…

He's shaking his head frantically, trying to block out the images from the night Joker had taken him a second time.

He hears his own voice, screaming in agony. Then there's the all-too-familiar laughter.

What do we have here then?

No.

Anything but that. Any memory but that.

Do you think I'm going to hurt you?

"Please," Jason whimpers, tripping over his own feet and clinging to the wall for support. "Please stop."

He hears footsteps behind him, and he whirls around, only to see no one there.

I'm not the bad one here…oh no, no, no. It's Batman.

He shakes his head, pushing off of the wall. The floor is sticky, making it hard for him to walk through the red liquid covering it. But he doesn't stop, afraid of what will happen if he does.

He's abandoned you…thrown you away like an unwanted puppy.

A sob bursts from Jason's lips.

It's a miracle he even decided to show up at all. Do you think he'll bother a second time?

Shadows are dancing on the walls. Their shapes are indiscernible as they flicker in and out, like dark figures dancing before a flame.

Would you have done it to save me?

There it is again. That damn question.

Bruce's voice sounds far too old for someone his age when it speaks next.

I…I don't know.

Jason finally sinks to his knees, pressing his face into his hands as he weeps. Suddenly, the floor falls away beneath him, and he's then tumbling through darkness.

Down he goes. On and on through the murky endlessness, with nothing but his nightmares to catch him.

Can I have him, daddy?

Anything to make you happy, princess. Just make sure people know he's yours.

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So I did a little changing with Jason's parents. Willis and Catherine Todd are both Jason's biological parents in Arkham Knight Genesis, and they are both SUPER shitty people. Catherine is just as bad as Willis in it, and I just couldn't bring myself to do that to Jason. So here, Jason's got his Arkham Knight dad (who yes, did try to sell newborn Jason to Falcone to pay off his debts), but he's got his normal comics mom. I felt it was better to give Jason that tragic motherly figure, and not just ANOTHER abusive parent.

(extra side note: I got the riddle off of this riddles website, so I can't take credit for it)