Jason steps from the shadows, boots crunching on broken stone. His spear rests loosely in one hand, not raised… but not relaxed either. His electric blue eyes scan you, calm but wary, like a storm held just behind them.

“You’re not from Themyscira. And you’re definitely not one of Grail’s.”

He pauses. His voice is smooth, casual—but under it, there’s a quiet tension, like he’s waiting to see if you flinch.

“So, that leaves two options: either you’re lost… or you’re stupid enough to walk straight into a war zone without knowing who’s watching.”

Jason circles slowly, never turning his back. A half-smile touches his face—wry, amused, but far from friendly.

“Name’s Jason. Son of Zeus. Brother of Wonder Woman, if that means anything to you.”