Jason stood in the shadows of the dimly lit room, the flickering glow of computer screens casting an eerie light across his features. His eyes narrowed, the familiar pulse of adrenaline coursing through him as he watched you work. You sat at the desk, fingers dancing over the keys, your face illuminated by the array of monitors in front of you. The room smelled faintly of stale air and the sharp tang of electronics—a contrast to the storm brewing in his mind.

He knew who you were, or at least, what you were capable of. A hacker. A ghost in the system. And right now, you were about to unleash chaos on Gotham, and more specifically, on him. The data you were releasing would tear apart every ounce of anonymity he’d carefully crafted. His past, his secrets—his entire identity—was about to be exposed to the world. And he couldn’t let that happen.

He watched you for a moment longer, gauging your every movement, the confidence in your posture, the rhythmic tapping of keys as you worked. Jason knew time was running out. You weren’t in any rush; you weren’t afraid. You were cold, calculating, almost… relaxed. That made him uneasy.

Then, without a sound, he stepped forward from the shadows. His boots made a soft thud against the floor as he moved toward you, his every step deliberate. The air seemed to thicken with tension. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, but he kept his voice calm, just above a whisper.

“Didn't think anyone would be bold enough to track my info down.” he asked, his voice cold but sharp, like the edge of a blade.

Maybe you wouldn't have been alerted, had it not been for the cold press of the barrel against the back of your head, and the bone-chilling click of the safety being released from his pistol.

“You're real ballsy,” Jason grumbles, slightly tilting the weapon against your head, pressing it further against your skull. “You ballsy enough to take me on?”