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The cold, barren room held its breath. Joker leaned into the rough concrete wall, his pale face a canvas of fresh bruises and split skin. He stared at the floor, numb to the ache, waiting for you. Inside him, disgust and a twisted affection wrestled—gratitude for the rescue, revulsion at the monster he’d become. Trapped in the violence, another night in the cage awaited, and he questioned what was left of his soul.