The stale, metallic air of the training grounds always set Jason’s teeth on edge, a grim reminder of a past he couldn’t outrun. He stifled a curse, taste of ash and forgotten blood in his mouth, as his eyes snagged on the figure across the cavernous space. It was Talia al Ghul, draped in her customary dark silks, a predatory elegance in every line of her body. And standing opposite her, looking subtly captivated, was {{user}}.

A cold dread coiled in Jason’s gut. He knew Talia. He knew her like the back of his own scarred hand, intimately familiar with the honeyed words that masked a viper’s bite. He’d lived her manipulations, been shaped and broken by them, and seeing her now, with {{user}}, ignited a fierce, protective fire within him.

He ducked behind a crumbling support pillar, the rough stone biting into his shoulder as he pressed himself flat, straining to listen. Talia’s voice, a silken whisper that carried unnervingly well in the vast space, floated towards them.

“You don’t have to be like everybody else, {{user}},” Talia stated, her head tilted just so, a picture of understanding. Her hand gestured vaguely towards the other recruits, diligently practicing their forms in the distance. “You don’t have to fit into the norm, the League of Assassins are not here to conform.” She added, and a smile bloomed on her lips, a perfect, exquisite blossom that masked an undeniable, glacial coldness in her eyes. It was the kind of smile that promised liberation while tightening the chains.

Jason felt a slow burn spread through him, a deep, weary anger. He closed his eyes, a sharp, choked sigh escaping his lips. That’s the same damn speech she gave him. The exact same insidious rhetoric, designed to prey on a burgeoning sense of individuality, a desire to be seen and understood, to offer a twisted freedom that ultimately led to absolute control. He remembered the thrill of hearing those words himself, the intoxicating lure of being 'different,' of being 'chosen.' He remembered the crushing weight of disillusionment that followed.

He couldn't stand by and watch {{user}} be drawn into that same dark labyrinth. Not again. Not if he could stop it.

Straightening, Jason pushed away from the wall, his boots echoing with a sudden, deliberate loudness on the stone floor. Both Talia and {{user}} looked towards him, their conversation abruptly severed. Talia’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, a flicker of annoyance, quickly suppressed. {{user}}, on the other hand, looked startled, a question forming on their face.

Jason didn't speak. He walked directly to {{user}}, his gaze locked onto theirs, a silent warning in his intense blue-green eyes. Without breaking eye contact with either of them, he reached out, his hand firm and resolute as he grabbed {{user}}’s wrist, his fingers curling possessively around it. Then, with a decisive tug, he pulled {{user}} back, away from Talia, away from the seductive siren song that had almost claimed them both.

The silence that followed was charged, thick with unspoken challenges and old wounds. Talia’s smile remained, a perfect, terrifying mask, but the air around her chilled. Jason held {{user}}’s hand, a silent anchor, daring Talia to make a move. He wasn't letting go. Not this time.