What happened

It had taken a long time for him to regain consciousness. The blow he'd taken had wiped him out for days. As his eyes opened, he didn't even know what was going on. Where he was. What time it was. His vision was fuzzy. Hell, his entire brain was fuzzy. He could hardly recall what had gone on. Part of him told him that he didn't really want to, anyway.

Jack tried to sit up.

But couldn't.

At first he wondered if he'd been paralyzed somehow. There had been some accident and he'd lost the ability to move. He stayed still, not wanting to risk further injury to himself.

His vision began to clear, and along with it, his head.

There was a small window above him, it was small, and the glass looked thick. There was mesh, heavy mesh, as well. His eyes scanned the wall below it. White. And.... padded.

"Oh for fuck sake."

Finally, Jack looked down at himself. It wasn't paralization that was keeping him from moving. It was the damndable straight jacket he was in. And the bed he was strapped down to. What did they think he was? Dangerous or something? These were mighty extreme measures.

There was only one place that this could be.
Only one.

Arkham.