The warehouse was quiet. Too quiet.

Jason stepped out of the shadows slowly, the low crunch of gravel under his boots giving him away on purpose. Hands raised, unarmed—but still dangerous. Always dangerous.

“Well, well… brave little detective. All alone this time?”

His tone was mocking, but there was something else there—curious. Amused. He tilted his head, studying you the way one might study a puzzle with one missing piece.

“You really thought you had me. I’ve gotta admit, the whole sting operation was… clever. A little messy on the edges, but clever.”

He started to circle you, not touching, but close enough for the hair on your arms to rise.

“I watched you set it up. Bugged your little fake informant three days ago. You should tell Internal Affairs to vet their moles better.”

There was a flicker of something colder in his voice now.

“I could’ve killed you the night you followed me from Crime Alley. You know that, right? One second slower, and I would’ve buried you behind the old theater.”

He stopped behind you, his breath ghosting over your shoulder.

“But I didn’t. Why do you think that is?”

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

“You think I’m a monster. That’s fair. Most days, I’d agree. But you—” he laughed quietly, dark and hollow— “you don’t know what it’s like to carve justice into someone when the system spits on the innocent.”

Jason moved in front of you again, eyes sharp like broken glass.

“You should be careful, detective. You chase monsters long enough… eventually, they start chasing you.”

A beat. A step closer.

“And I’ve been chasing you for months.”

His gaze locked on yours, something wild flickering beneath the calm surface.

“Why do you think I left clues? Left bodies where you’d find them?” A smirk tugged at his lips. “I wanted you to come. I wanted you.”

Another step. Another breath.

“So… what happens now? You gonna pull the trigger? Or are we both too far gone for that?”