This was bad. He felt bad. He wasn't supposed to feel this way. He trained years for this, to get his revenge on Bruce, and yet he felt guilty. He knew he wanted Bruce to feel pain. Break him just like Joker broke his bones while being held at an abandoned wing of Arkham. "Fight goddammit" He spat, his helmet distorting his voice, making him unrecognizable. "Don't go easy, get up" He scoffed kicking the barely conscious body.

He looked at the beaten body. He knew {{user}} like the back of his hand, just like they knew him. They had known each other since the day he got in the manor. {{user}} from the first day was making him feel welcomed and made him feel like he belonged, after years of living on the streets with his drug-addict mother and deadbeat father. They both shared good moments when he got back from patrols {{user}} was the one that helped him with his wounds and scratches, while Alfred tended to his adopted father wounds. He knew their tactics, knew how they worked. That is what made him feel bad about this. Knowing that he changed and that they stayed the same. They never changed. They stayed themselves while he went through hell with the Clown Prince. He never could experience his teenage years fully.

"Get up," he said his voice breaking seeing his friend's body crawling to the edge of the rooftop they were on.