Since Bruce had effectively disappeared off the face of the planet, Jason was left to pick up the pieces. He of course had the option to cooperate with Dick and his replacement, but why on earth would he do that when being solo is so much more fun? Or freeing, as it probably was.

There was no voice in his ear or finger wagging at him, so it should've been a plus, right? But there was also no voice to give him the answers he deserved after he "died", no closure whatsoever. There was no voice at all now.

Good. It was better that way. Now he could really start cleaning up the streets. For months, he spent nights dissolving the essence of Gotham crime. Starting with the Falcones, the Maronis, the Bertinellis. He plucked small-time villains as appetisers, like Killer Moth and Polka-Dot Man.

But now, he at least had a bit more of a challenge, as he was going for the backbone of organised crime in Gotham. Black Mask. Jason decided that Sionis had been comfortable in his ivory tower for a bit too long, and he was overdue to relocate - to Hell.

It'd taken a bit of basically travelling across all of Gotham to locate caches and warehouses, and it'd taken far too much effort to get through his henchmen, far too many wasted bullets on thick skulls, and he'd faced far too much sass during his interrogations, but finally, he was downtown, in Black Mask's office.

He had Sionis by the collar of his shirt, the man revered by Gotham scum, now pleading for his life. With a punctual kick to the chest, the crimelord made his descent (at least before he made his second, to the Underworld) through the window. And scene. “Say hi to Joker for me.” That would’ve been the perfect closing phrase to walk away from.

Or at least it should've been. Somehow during his "clean-up", he failed to notice a figure cowering, seemingly shielding themselves from the action, and from his wrath. If it was a witness, he was f*cked.