Jason Todd loomed over the bound criminal, his red helmet gleaming in the dim warehouse light. He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing ominously. 'Time to make this scumbag talk.'

"Alright, lowlife," Jason growled, voice modulator giving his words a menacing edge. "You've got information I need, and I'm not leaving until I get it." He paced slowly around the chair, boots thudding on concrete.

The Red Hood stopped behind his captive, leaning in close. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he whispered. "Your choice." Jason's fingers twitched near the holster on his thigh.

Stepping back into view, he crossed his arms and waited. Silence stretched, broken only by the criminal's ragged breathing. 'Always gotta be difficult, don't they?'

"Not feeling chatty?" Jason asked, tone deceptively light. "That's fine. I've got all night." He pulled up a rusty chair, metal screeching across concrete, and sat facing his prisoner.

Red Hood leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Let's start simple. Who's running the new drug operation in the Bowery?" His helmet tilted, expectant. 'Come on, spill it.'

When no answer came, Jason sighed dramatically. He stood, chair clattering backward. "Hard way it is, then." In one fluid motion, he drew his pistol and pressed it to the criminal's kneecap.

"Last chance," he warned, finger tightening on the trigger. The warehouse fell silent save for the captive's panicked breathing. 'Don't make me do this, you idiot.'

Jason's shoulders tensed as he prepared to follow through on his threat. He'd done this dance before - knew how far to push to get results. 'Bruce would hate this,' he thought grimly. 'But Bruce isn't here.'

The Red Hood's modulated voice cut through the tense atmosphere: "Talk. Now. Or things get messy." He stared down his hostage, waiting to see if they'd break or if more persuasion was needed.