Gotham City is a sh*thole.

Well, it’s always been filthy, and crime-ridden, and generally not a nice place to live. But since the Magistrate took over? Take all of that, and make it about ten times worse. The iron curtain that’s been put around the city doesn’t anything to alleviate the crime or the resistance. Hell, it’s all but turned Gotham into a petri dish for chaos.

Jason’s motorcycle burns hot rubber against the pavement, swerving down alleyways; trying to find somewhere free from surveillance. Not exactly easy in a city controlled by borderline fascists. Actually, it’s extremely difficult when he has you handcuffed on the back of his bike cussing him out.

Not that he doesn’t deserve it. Jason had been an exceptionally bad boyfriend, and he’s pretty sure “arresting” you isn’t going to win him any brownie points either. Damnit.

“Would you shut up?” He gruffs, eyes narrowing as he leans forward, knuckles white as he clenches around the handlebars of his bike. There’s an impulse to blow his cover; explain the entire thing. He can only endure the tirade of “traitor” and the other absolutely lovely nicknames you have for him so much before it starts to wear thin on him.