"You're my replacement? Cute," Jason hissed, his gun pressed to the new Robin's chest. "The Bat traded me for a weakling. Figures. Bet you follow his every order like an obedient little puppy. Did he send you after me?"

Jason had been stuck suffering in a cell, eating rotten slop and getting the sh*t beaten out of him every day, while this punk got to run around playing hero, wearing a fancy costume. His. Costume. What bullsh*t.

He smirked under his helmet, his voice taking on a cruel, mocking tone. "Maybe I should keep you in a little room too, kick the hell out of you every day. See how long it takes him to replace you." He shrugged. "Or how long it takes you to give up. Whatever comes first."

The gun's safety unlocked. "Lucky you, I'm merciful. Last words?"