Chapter Text
Renee Montoya kneeled in the doorway and picked up a bullet casing from the doorway. The room was a mess of newspaper clippings from various articles across the country that were hung from the ceiling with red yarn, smudges of blood and brain matter clung seemingly at random to the papers.
"This one is different than the rest, Jim. Is it him?"
The Gotham city police commissioner stories his mustache in thought.
"Nah," said Harvey bullock with a skeptical chuckle. "Red Hood hasn't been seen in Gotham in months. Our mutual winged friend scared him off. Yeah, that's it."
Jim Gordon frowned and grimaced. "Look again, Harv."
As he pointed, the papers shifted slightly with a draft of air so that each article, each one about the same vigilante, and it formed a giant red 'X'.
Harvey Bullock gasped and even Renee Montoya frowned at what she saw.
Jim was the only one who looked vaguely unsuprised.
"Red X has come home to Gotham and he left us a message."
Harv struggled to maintain his veneer of cynicism. "Please don't tell me what I think it means..."
Jim half shrugged. "He going to 'clean up' crime, it seems. We just need to do it quicker than him. We need to get Red X off the street and fast."
Elsewhere In Gotham...
Victor Thomas Isley pushed a button on the side of his stylized owl-like cowl helmet combo and it carefully folded and compressed back to resemble a collar and screeched to a halt on the slippery rooftop.
"I fucking had it, Jason!"
Jason Todd wheeled on his brother, took off his helmet and casually tossed it at Victor's feet. Jason strode over to look his brother in the eyes. They met each other's gaze, and even though the ripped twenty something Jason towered over the lithe sixteen year old Victor, they eyed each other as equals.
"You were fucking toying with him Victor. I saved your ass and cleaned up your mess with one precise clean shot. Didn't Slade teach you anything? You're always bragging that he taught you everything you know."
Victor opened his mouth to speak but Jason cut him off.
"Oh, I wasn't finished Screechowl. If you're going to do this tall, dark, and vigilante, infringing upon my schtick, then you're going to have to do it right."
"Who the hell are you, to lecture me, Pretender?" Victor sneered. "I didn't need your help back there. I. Had. It. Handled."
Jason rolled his eyes. "Really? My thing wasn't good enough for you? You had to steal Damian's stupid Pretender line, too? Shut the fuck up and listen for once in your dumb life, kid, ok? So, here's the deal. I get you need to let off some steam. Fine. But back there, either you were showing off and just fucking with him and you need to cut that shit out. Or you can't shoot worth a damn and needed my help. Either way, you need my help. And contrary to what you think, Dad would kill me if you were to end up dead for being a dumbass. So which is it? Do you need help to blow off some steam? Or are you another psychopath with a crowbar that I need to put down?"
Victor picked up the helmet with a huff and slammed it into Jason's chest. He turned away and crossed his arms.
"Good." Jason said, his harshness becoming a little bit more playful. "See? Progress. Now with that settled, I know where to start next. What'd you say? You in?"
Victor activated his helmet and turned back around, the odd owl-like visage had a big red X across the front, giving the white face mask an almost skull like appearance. When he spoke, his voice had a slight electrical warble, as though he had a modulator to mask his voice. "...Call me kid again and you'll see just how good of a shot I actually am."
Jason Todd grinned and put on his helmet, his own voice having a slight electronic trill to it. "Then let's crack some skulls."