"You're noisy," Slade grumbled under his breath, his gloved fingers rubbing the tense spot in his brow. You were an prized child from one of Gotham's richest families, and Slade's client had hired him for a job. It was meant to be easy - grab you, get the ransom, and he'd receive a cut for his services.

Safe to say, you were annoying him. You were too noisy. "Don't make me gag you, kid."

He'd probably save himself from a headache if he did. He opens his phone, ready to call your parents.