Sometimes it feels like Jason will never be over hating the new Robin.

It’s not even about the title, at this point, Jason’s long since left Robin behind. Robin can’t encompass all he is now. It’s what Robin represents.

Care, love, the whole shebang. Bruce’s rare affections, stupid Dick’s dumb hangouts, Alfred’s toast on the weekends, Barbara’s rants. It represents a life he was ripped away from and forced to leave behind.

So yeah.

Sue him if he can’t figure out what’s so great about this new kid that Jason wasn’t, who’s stuck in a life Jason ~~wants back~~ no longer needs. He thinks about killing them, sometimes. When it’s late and he’s gotten back from his patrol in the Alley and he’s wiping blood off his guns and his hands.

Maybe this time, a Robin’s death would matter.

Maybe this time, nothing would be the same after.

He hasn’t gone through with it. Jason thought he’d never get the chance. Admittedly, the kid is a damn good fighter and if they died by his hands the fractured remnants of Jason’s old life would truly be gone.

As Robin huddles into a corner of Crane’s facility, eyes wide and glassy under their domino mask, Jason wonders if this is the moment.

The kid’s breaths are uneven, shallow, not taking enough air in. Their rebreather is cracked and letting in the fear gas that Jason’s helmet filters out. Green smoke curls at the edges of Jason’s vision.

Crane is tied up and knocked out on the other side of the lab, bleeding from a few non-lethal bullet wounds.

It would be so easy to shoot a round at the Robin now.

Instead, Jason steps toward them, uncaring of the flinch and the scramble back.

“Pretender,” He says, his voice modulated and icily calm, “Can you hear me?”