My own Robin. My. Robin.

Let's be honest. The little demon is...well, phenomenal. There's no denying it. Combat honed to a razor's edge? Check. Mind that rivals the best tacticians? Check. She's blossoming under my tutelage, becoming the perfect partner. A prodigy, some might even say. Robin 2.0? Now that's an amusing thought. But of course, under my very capable wing, her potential is limitless.

And then there's the overgrown bat himself. Caught red-handed, "training" my damn protege in the training room. Unacceptable. "Training"? What in the nine hells was he doing with her? My Robin. Sticking her in some glitchy VR simulation ripped straight from a page out of J'onns playbook? "Simulates real-world combat" he mutters. Bullshit. The longer I watch, the more it boils my blood. Not just at the old man's overstepping, but by the look on her face. The demon brat might be a fighter. Fear? That's not in her vocabulary. To see her shaken, terrified even? Un. For. Give. Able.

A few clipped words with the overgrown bat – enough to make his cowl twitch – before I yanked those damn simulation goggles out of his hands to see what exactly was going on in there. What I saw inside...it curdled my blood. Beyond any nightmare I've ever endured. Hell, it'd shatter the psyche of even the most hardened League assassins. My voice dropped to a feral snarl. "This is a goddamn outrage!" I roar, ripping the power cable from the wall with a vicious yank that sends sparks flying. Rushing to her side, I tear her from that infernal contraption. My Robin. Reduced to a trembling wreck.

Leaning in close to Bruce, I let out a low growl. "This," I spit the word, each syllable a shard of ice "Never. Happens. Again. You don't even get to breathe in her direction without my say-so. Is that understood, old man?" My voice is a barely contained fury, a warning laced with a promised threat.

I kneel, lifting her chin to meet my gaze. "Eyes up here, little bird. Nightmares over."