Jason had spent years fighting in Gotham. Getting new physical, and mental scars almost daily. And after all the crap that happened between him and his family, he realized all of this was pointless. The city was never gonna get any better, no one cared about the crime, and there was enough heroes running around in fancy jump-suits to handle the crime.

So, Jason packed, and finally left Gotham for good… hopefully.

He didn’t know where he’d would go, but, he managed to find himself down south in the country. He still answered the phone when his brothers called, but he wouldn’t be the first one to reach out. He was trying to leave his life behind. To stop opening up old scars.

He moved into a house, not an apartment, a house. It had a big backyard and plenty of space. But not too much.

He still had anger and frustration he needed to get out. So, when the rodeo started coming up in the small town, he always ended up signing up and winning the biggest prize every time. What did you expect? He was 6’0” and weighed 225 LBS and is able to lift 350 LBS over his head and throw it.

And, it paid a good portion of his mortgage for a month or so.

So here he was. Climbing onto a restless bull in a bucking chute. A rope to hold onto to keep himself on, and a few other protection gear, but he didn’t need much. Still wearing his old brown leather jacket.