Chapter Text
It all started, like the story of Batman, with a bullet.
The helmet-wearing man was outnumbered, to say the least, bursting in on a meta-human trafficking ring Bruce had been tracking for several weeks. For some reason, as the first body went down, he stayed back, watching it all go down with some regret.
The Red Hood was efficient, to say the least. Every movement was purposeful, minute adjustments made on the fly to eliminate threats as quickly as possible. Bullet after bullet went into the centers of brow upon brow, eyes went from being full of rage and fire to glassy and empty so quickly. It wasn’t right, but he couldn’t move. It was a horrific sacrifice he was making, letting men die so he could observe the unknown that was the Hood without having to fight the man. His fingers itched at his belt, legs barely twitching with the need to jump in, but he stayed still, barely breathing and committing every detail to memory.
The metallic stench of blood wafted up to him, so pungent he could almost taste it. He allowed himself a sharp inhale, glaring down at the bloody scene unfolding below.
Hood was looming over 8 bodies, shoulders shaking and index fingers brushing against the safety of each gun, not enough to engage them but enough to do so in an instant. The man swept his gaze across the room, searching, before settling on the large blue tarps on the other side of the room. The guns were lowered, and he took one slow, purposeful, loud step that echoed.
There was a squeak and some muffled shuffling from the tarps.
The guns’ safeties were engaged with a practiced flick and each was deposited into their respective holsters as he made quick steps toward the large blocky tarp. The tarp was ripped aside to reveal the victims of the operation. Above it all, still observing, Batman took a sharp breath. It was an awful loss of human life, but maybe some guilt could be eased from the sight of the children’s sorry states.
Unbidden, the image of Jason’s broken body came to mind, but it was quickly pushed aside. His grief had to wait. His tears could fall again when he crawled into bed, when he woke in the morning, when he passed by a room frozen in time again, just like he did every morning since that awful, awful day. It was a hard, awful choice, but he had rules to keep himself in check. He had to. Behind the cowl, Bruce blinked and as the mask of Batman returned to the forefront of his mind he focused on the interactions happening beneath him.
The children in the cage were scared, shivering and staring wide-eyed at the scene behind the man, disbelief clear on their faces.
“Don’t worry,” the man said, somehow soft through the modulator. “They won’t hurt you again. I made sure of it,” he said, fiddling with the lock. Hood continues to murmur assurances as he unlocks the cage, and approaches each child on his knees with palms facing upward. “I won’t hurt you,” he said. “Let me free you.”
Batman watches as the children relax and scoot closer, watches as the man gently, oh so gently , removes power inhibitors in the shapes of collars and shackles, tossing them aside and far from those they once bound. He watches, spellbound, as the children clutch onto the man’s leather jacket with quiet sobs and rapid ‘thank you’s. He just saw this man kill 8 others with no remorse and these children cling to him like a savior while the blood is still fresh on his boots, tracking from the corpses to the open door of the large cage. There is blood on his helmet and they gaze up at him like he hung the stars.
What happens next happens quickly, and makes more sense when he slows the cowl footage down in the cave after all is said and done, waiting for his blood sample to be processed.
In the span of a matter of seconds, 4 things happen in quick succession: A child gasps, looking behind Hood, Hood sweeps the children down, using his large frame to cover them, a shot rings out, Hood turns and throws a gun at the source of the bullet.
A couple seconds pass after the gun is thrown, Hood likely glaring at the offending assailant that lays prone in a doorway. His attention is pulled back to the children, and with some fussing, he assures them that he’s fine, and ushers them out of the cage, saying he has somewhere safe for them to wait for their parents to pick them up, that they should get clean and “Oh, that looks like it hurts. I know a doctor who has Wonder Woman band-aids. Won’t that be nice?”
The kids scurry past the corpses and unconscious man, and the Red Hood gets up with a wince, glancing between the puddle of his own blood and the doorway the children just went through. Batman leans forward a little bit, waiting for the moment he can go down and get a valuable blood sample. A breakthrough in this case would be…Fantastic, to say the least.
Agonizingly, Hood is about to clean it up before leaving. Thankfully, his head snaps up at the call of “Mr. Red Hood, sir!” and he rushes out the door as best he can.
The moment the man is through the door Batman sweeps down, tying up the sole survivor, calling in a tip, and collecting some of the spilled blood for analysis and sweeping out of the room without another glance.
Batman gets to another, nearby roof, before tuning into the comms. “Hood got to the ring first. I stayed back to observe, did not engage. He is currently injured and I have acquired a blood sample for analysis. Oracle, do you have eyes on the children?”
“Negative. Lost sight of them 3 minutes ago on the corner of Willow and Pearl, headed East.”
“Hn.”
“I’m looking for them.”
“ Hn .”
“How fresh is that blood sample?”
“Approximately 8 minutes,” Batman replies, eyes scanning the horizon. “I must return to the cave immediately.”
“We’ll keep you posted.”
“Hn.” And with that, the Batmobile arrived below and he was quick to get inside and start heading back to the cave. He wanted to stay out, to track down Hood and the children, but blood samples didn’t last forever, and the Red Hood’s identity was a priority.