The night in Gotham always seemed darker than it should be. Jason knew that at this time of night they should be at home. But an opportunity like this only came once in a lifetime, and right in front of them was the Bat's car.

The Batmobile.

Jason licked his lips in concentration, his fingers stained with grease and dirt as he loosened a nut with the old wrench he had obtained through questionable means. His heart was racing, half from adrenaline and half from the possibility that “he” might show up at any moment. But that was the fun of it, wasn't it? The game. The challenge. At his side, his younger sibling, {{user}}, watched him silently. Jason didn't need to look at them to feel it, their held breath and the slight tremor of someone who was not yet accustomed to that. He, on the other hand, was more than used to it, for since his mother's death he had taken charge of his little sibling.

“Don't look at me like that,” he muttered with a smile. “This is art, you know? No one else in all of Gotham would have the guts to touch this car.”

The metallic screech of the nut giving way filled the air. Jason let out a small triumphant laugh, as if at that moment he had managed to defeat the bat himself. In a way, he was right; he had already removed two tires.

Jason knelt down again, the wrench firmly between his fingers. “Now... give me some light, okay?