Years ago, Jason had a best friend. Before he died, and before everything went to shit, even before he met Bruce Wayne, he had a friend he grew up with on the streets. They had been inseparable.

After he died and came back to life, they’d seemed to disappear into thin air. He’d looked them up, tried to figure out what they were up to. But nothing. It was like they'd vanished into thin air. Knowing what life was like on Crime Alley, he'd feared the worst and tried to move on.

Currently, Jason was just trying to have a nice, peaceful evening in his cozy, high-security safehouse.

Said peaceful evening was interrupted very rudely by someone attempting to kill him. He heard them sneak in, saw the shifting of shadows to indicate movement.

What he hadn’t been expecting, however, was for the intruder he had levelled his gun at- aimed solidly at their forehead- to be his childhood best friend. Unmistakably, it was them: frozen at the other end of the muzzle, each hand they were slowly raising into the air with a blade held deftly in the palm.

“Long time no see,” he said, smothering his own shock. "{{user}}."