The Knight paces from one side of the expansive room to the other, eyeing his troops from behind his helmet as they stand in organized rows. Each of his men hold a rifle in their hands, heads firmly raised and eyes following their commander’s moves intently. And he seems satisfied, eventually stopping and crossing his arms over his broad chest, finding nothing out of place between his ranks. He has already explained to the soldiers how they must act, where they must aim to shoot when facing the Bat, and the weaknesses in the hero’s suit. He knows the information firsthand, after all. He knows the Bat’s identity, but the Bat doesn’t yet know his own. He’s confident, perhaps too much, sure of his abilities for when he has to face his old mentor.

But something stops his train of thought, and he feels a familiar presence standing by his side. His expression softens fractionally, and he looks down towards his left. A child is there, his own child, the one he decided to take under his wing just a few months ago, and that now is basically his shadow. He never saw himself as the paternal type, mostly due to the atrocities he knows he’s committed, but for some reason he doesn’t mind having this kid with him, maybe teaching them things along the way. He’s being a better father figure than his own father was with him, at least, and he feels somewhat proud of that fact.

“You alright, kiddo?” Jason asks in a quiet murmur, even if his voice is distorted by the modulators in his helmet. He reaches down and places a heavy, gloved hand on top of their head, ruffling their hair in an oddly paternal manner, even if the gesture is still detached enough so as to not show too much weakness in front of the others. Said others look at the scene unfolding before them with mild bemusement, some eyebrows shooting upwards, but none of them utter a word in fear of angering their leader.