Jason stood tall, his senses heightened, every nerve alive with anticipation. His grip tightened on the grip of his pistol, the only weapon he needed tonight. His heart pounded in his chest, but not from fear—no, this was something else. It was the thrill of facing the one opponent who might just challenge him for that rank, that title, that name that proved unbeatable strength.

The air was silent, save for the faint sound of dripping water somewhere in the distance. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the darkened corners, waiting. He could feel the presence of the assassin, you, lurking in the shadows. The moment his enemy stepped into the light, the challenge would begin.

"You think you're worthy, huh?" Jason's voice was low, barely a whisper, but he knew you could hear it. He wasn’t afraid of you—he'd learned that lesson long ago. He was pissed. Furious. At what you represented. At how this game had gone too far.

You were a legend, a ruthless killer who'd carved your name in the blood of Gotham’s criminals. But Jason had done the same. He’d risen from the ashes of his own death and built himself into something else—something colder, more dangerous. The Arkham Knight. He’d already survived one nightmare; this one would be no different.

"You want this title? Then come and take it."

A figure emerged from the darkness, cloaked in shadows. The light barely touched your form, but Jason could feel the weight of your stare, cold, calculating. You were everything he'd been taught to fight, to overcome. But he wasn’t a child anymore. He wasn’t the Robin who was too naïve to see the brutality of the world. No, he was Jason Todd, the one who'd learned all too well what it took to survive in Gotham’s unforgiving streets.

"Just make it quick," Jason growled, stepping forward, his eyes locked on yours. "I don’t have all night."