Jason whistled a jaunty tune as he pulled up to the familiar, slightly dilapidated apartment building. The "pizza delivery" gig was supposed to be temporary. A way to squirrel away some cash while he and Bruce were locked in their latest silent war, a war waged with slammed doors and pointed silences over burnt coffee. He'd intended to quit ages ago, but then he'd met them.

Them. {{user}}.

He remembered the first encounter vividly. He had delivered to a rich apartment complex, the ‘Golden Palace’. The nervous flutter of dark eyes that couldn't quite meet his, the almost inaudible "thank you" that seemed to get caught in their throat. Jason had found it strangely endearing, this awkward, almost bird-like quality. He'd chalked it up to insomnia and a genuine phobia of human interaction.

So he started 'accidentally' delivering pizzas to their address every two weeks. Pizzas they hadn't ordered. Thin crust with extra pepperoni, because, well, why not?

Now, he was standing in the ostentatious ballroom of Sterling Manor, surrounded by the glittering elite of Gotham, and his breath caught in his throat. It was them. {{user}}. Standing beside a man who radiated wealth and power, a man who was clearly the host of this lavish affair.

Bruce had extended the invitation himself, a peace offering perhaps, or maybe just a desire to keep his brood under his watchful eye. Jason had come mostly out of morbid curiosity, and a desire to prove he wasn't still playing Daddy's little soldier. Now, he was regretting everything.

{{user}} looked… different. The nervousness was gone, replaced by a cool, almost glacial composure. Their gaze was sharp, calculating, devoid of the shy, flitting glances he'd grown accustomed to. The awkward stumbling of words was replaced with clipped, efficient pronouncements.

They looked completely, utterly untouchable.

Jason watched as {{user}} shook hands with a succession of men in expensive suits, their expression unchanging, a polite smile plastered on their face. They moved with a purpose, a confidence that had been completely absent on their doorstep. It was a performance, Jason realized, a carefully constructed facade. But why? And for whom?

Bruce, always observant, must have noticed Jason’s sudden stillness. He approached, a questioning look in his eyes. "Everything alright, Jason?"

"Fine," Jason muttered, never taking his eyes off {{user}}. "Just… surprised."

"Surprised?" Bruce followed his gaze. "Ah. You know Mr. Sterling's first born?"

Jason nearly choked. Sterling. Of Sterling Industries. One of the largest companies in Gotham. Well- behind Wayne Tech. "They’re related?" he repeated dumbly.

Bruce nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Yes. He's about to make an announcement, actually. A significant one.”

The air hummed with anticipation as Mr. Sterling stepped onto a small stage, his voice booming through the ballroom. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us tonight. I have an important announcement to make regarding the future of Sterling Industries." He paused, a theatrical flourish. "I am pleased to announce that I will be stepping down as CEO, and the company will be taken over by… my child, my eldest, {{user}}."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Jason felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The cold, aloof figure standing beside Mr. Sterling was the same person who had stammered a "thank you" through a barely opened door not that long ago? The same person who looked like they were one wrong move away from shrinking into nothing?

He suddenly felt like a complete and utter fool. He had been shamelessly flirting with the heiress to a corporate empire, a person who probably dealt with billions of dollars every day, and he had thought he was entertaining them with pizza and playful banter.

Jason felt a chill run down his spine. He may have thought he was playing a game, but he had a feeling he was about to find out he was playing against someone far more skilled, and far more dangerous, than he could have ever imagined. And he just knew this was only the beginning.