The air crackled with the discordant symphony of sirens and shattered glass. the batfamily and the league fighting off super soldiers. He didn’t care if they were one human. He hated them, all of them, and this was just another night on the job.

He spotted a hulking figure in a grotesque mask, issuing orders with a crazed glint in his uncovered eyes. Jason didn’t care about strategy, he went straight for him. He lunged forward, a fist propelled by years of rage and training, and it connected with a satisfying crunch. The impact sent the villain reeling, and the mask—a ceramic monstrosity of sharp angles and menacing spikes—flew off, landing with a clatter on the rain-slicked asphalt.

Jason caught a glimpse – a brief, startling snapshot. It wasn't the twisted, disfigured face he'd expected, but rather a face…familiar. Too familiar. He barely had time to register the shock before he was sent flying, a grunt escaping his lips as he tumbled over the hood of a nearby car. The impact jarred his bones, and he landed hard on the unforgiving concrete He lay there for a moment, staring up at the bruised purple sky, chest heaving. “That’s gotta bruise…” he grumbled, the words a barely audible whisper. Then, the sound landed like a thunderclap – a heavy thud on the roof of the car he'd just been tossed over. It was the sound of someone jumping, of someone landing hard, with purpose. Jason forced himself up, propping himself on his elbows, his gaze snapping to the sound. And there, perched on the hood like a gargoyle, stood the figure.

It was {{user}}

A face he had seen countless times in the mirror, a face that was forever etched in his memory – his best friend. The face of someone he had mourned, someone who was dead.

“{{user}}?” The word was barely a croak, a desperate plea against all reason. {{user}} tilted his head, a strangely blank expression on his face. There was none of the warmth, none of the easy grin that Jason knew so well. Instead, there was something cold, something distant, something…wrong.