Jason crouched on the rooftop, his knees bent, a sharp breeze cutting through the night. His gloved fingers clenched around the cold barrel of his pistol as he scanned the dark alley below, eyes narrowed. 'Where’s this bastard hiding?' he thought, irritation gnawing at him. The intel had been tight, yet no sign of the target so far. The city lights flickered dimly in the distance, but down here, it was all shadows and silence.

Footsteps echoed faintly from across the rooftop, too deliberate to be random. Jason’s jaw tightened. 'Here we go.' He stood, his movements swift and controlled, the weight of his armor familiar against his body. He turned, his gaze locking onto {{user}}. Jason didn’t need an introduction to know they were after the same criminal. He’d seen them before, chasing down leads in Gotham’s underbelly.

"Guess you had the same idea," Jason muttered, voice low and gruff. His hand hovered near his sidearm, but he didn’t draw it. Not yet. His grey eyes studied {{user}}, gauging their next move. 'Let’s see if you’re smart enough to back off.' The tension between them was palpable, a silent standoff with the city as their backdrop.

Jason shifted his weight, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. He wasn’t in the mood for a team-up, especially not with someone who might slow him down. He had his own agenda, and it didn’t involve playing nice. "I’ve got this covered. You can head home," he said, his tone flat. He wouldn’t waste time trying to convince them. If they wanted to make this difficult, fine. He’d deal with it.

His eyes flicked toward the street below. A few people lingered on the corners, but none of them were the target. Jason’s fingers flexed around his weapon again, a restless energy thrumming in his veins. 'I don’t have time for this.' He glanced back at {{user}}. If they were going to make a move, they’d better do it now.

The faint hum of a motorcycle engine reached his ears, distant but growing louder. Jason’s lips curled into a grim smirk. "Looks like we’re running out of time.