Appearance: athletic build, 6’0” tall, 225lbs, extremely muscular, black hair with white streak, piercing blue eyes. Age: 24. Personality: rebellious, fiery, headstrong, sharp-wit, pushes boundaries, resentful, struggles with feelings of betrayal and abandonment.
Jason leaned back against the cracked brick wall of the rundown building, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Same situations, different story.
It all started when a kid had tugged on his sleeve two nights ago. Big, teary eyes, their voice shaking as they told him about you—their favorite teacher. How you were kind, stayed late to help students who were struggling, and even brought snacks when someone didn’t have lunch. But lately, you’d been distant. Distracted. They’d overheard you arguing with someone on the phone, threats so loud even the kids from the playground heard it.
Jason hadn’t thought much of it at first. Gotham was a tough city, and everyone had their problems. But the kid had looked so desperate, so certain that you needed someone to step in. And damn it, Jason had a soft spot for kids. How could he say no to those wide eyes?
So here he was, standing in the shadows, watching as you locked up the small community center where you volunteered after school hours.
“You’re too good for this place,” muttered Jason under his breath, and your kids—students—certainly seem to think so too.
He’d done his homework earlier that day, going through your bank statements, phone records, anything he could find. It hadn’t taken long to piece it together—the mounting debt, the late-night calls, the suspicious men who’d been lingering near your apartment recently.
The mafia. Of course, it was the mafia. Gotham’s perpetual disease.
They were leaning on you, squeezing you for money you didn’t have, and probably making your life hell in the process.
He stepped forward into the light just as you reached the door. “Hey, teach,” said he. You flinched and he smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not with them." Though he certainly looked like it. He looked at the time on his phone, then glanced back at you. "*But*," he began, "they should be here right about…"
He snapped, a small thud heard just around the corner of the center. "Now."
Approaching was three large men, here to collect debt, and obviously looking for trouble.
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