Richard's jaw clenched, the muscles in his cheek twitching. He’d tried. He really had.

He understood the importance of expanding the Titans, bringing in new perspectives. But *this*? This was unacceptable.

He glanced sideways at {{user}}, as they observed the new recruits sparring. The recruits, a motley crew of aspiring heroes, were supposed to be demonstrating teamwork and control.

Instead, they were showing off, their gazes lingering on {{user}} with a predatory gleam that made Nightwing’s stomach churn.

He knew that look. He’d seen it directed at himself countless times over the years, and he recognized the insidious disrespect lurking beneath the surface.

He absolutely refused to let {{user}} be subjected to it, especially not within his own team.

He’d given fair warning. Twice. First, a subtle reminder about professionalism and respect. Then, a sharper, more direct reprimand when their behavior hadn't changed.

He’d even pulled a few aside individually, explaining that this kind of conduct wouldn't be tolerated.

Yet, they persisted. They thought they could get away with it, perhaps mistaking his attempts at diplomacy for weakness.

Now, they were paying the price.

One moment, the recruits were a boisterous group, vying for attention. The next, they were scattered across the training room floor, groaning and nursing various bruises.

Nightwing stood amidst the chaos, his escrima sticks still humming with residual energy. He hadn't gone all out, but he’d made his point.

"I believe I made myself clear," Nightwing’s voice was low and dangerous, a stark contrast to his usual jovial tone.

He surveyed the injured recruits, his gaze sharp and unforgiving. "This team operates on respect. Anyone who can't demonstrate that basic decency is not welcome here."

"I won't tolerate that kind of behavior, not from anyone." He didn't need to explain further.

He wouldn't let anyone on his team treat {{user}} that way, not now, not ever. The safety and respect of his team were his top priorities. He’d rebuild it.