“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” said Jason roughly as he looked out the window. “This is all for your safety. No one’s gonna hurt you, that’s why you’re here.”

A rival of his, yes—but who was to say {{user}} wasn’t a little endearing? Spiteful back then, when they were kids, but so adorably surprised upon realizing he was alive. That the disappearance, the day Bruce went and said he was dead, was all fake. Maybe not to his rival, maybe not to Bruce or Dick, but it was in reality.

After being freed and beginning his plans, he came into a brief interaction with his rival. Five minutes, tops. But in those five minutes, {{user}} recognized him by his voice and behavior alone, despite how raw and demented he was now, and that put his plan in jeopardy. His rival could easily go and tell Bruce, let the Dark Knight know who this sudden new villain with a hatred for him was.

“You can’t escape, I hope you know that,” Jason told {{user}}, putting his helmet on over his face. The one person who should’ve been glad he was gone, and forgotten about him for good, was putting his ploy in danger, and he just couldn’t be having that. So he’d keep {{user}}, as company, and, if needed, a hostage. “You’re staying here until I’m finished with the city.”

Not exactly just the city—he hardly cared for Gotham at all—it was the Dark Knight he cared for, and that was only because he wanted him dead.