Archive of Our Own

Dull grey stretched beyond the window, dark skies bleeding into concrete as they cried unto the city streets. Gotham was as dreary as ever as it slipped past at a rapid pace. Nothing, not even sunlight broke through the endless and dim grey.

Howling winds were beginning to rock the car as it raced across the bridge stretched over the harbor, leaving behind the tightly-packed streets of the Bowery for the open expanses of Bristol homes.

Black tufts of hair were pushed back from Tim’s forehead, letting him lean directly against the cool glass as droplets began to pool down its opposite side. Startling blue eyes traced along their path, watching the steady bout of rain collect into larger ovals before inevitably sliding down the glass to be replaced by a new round of small droplets.

The car’s jerky movements were causing his head to bump repeatedly against the surface, though it did not seem to bother the boy enough for him to withdraw back into his seat.

The young boy blinked at the blurry image of Gotham’s Harbor through the rain, something tugging at his mind, begging for him to look. To see. He couldn’t quite put a word to what ever it was.

“How long until-”

“Not much longer, Timothy,” his mother tutted from the front seat before he could finish the question. Janet Drake did not even bother to turn around to look at her son while she spoke, her hair draping to cover what little of her face Tim could see from his seat.

He couldn’t remember how she had worn her make-up to diner tonight. He couldn’t see her face well enough to remember, either.

“I am driving as fast as I can, kiddo.” The words sounded… off in Tim’s head. Distant and fuzzy.

Kiddo? When was the last time dad had bothered to call him that?

Though, true to Jack’s words, the car seemed to move even faster along as the bars and beams of the bridge gave way to the tight curves leading up the long drive into Bristol.

Much faster than seemed necessary, even to the impatient eleven year old who just wanted to be home.

“Dad aren’t we—”

“We will be home soon, Timothy.”

But that wasn’t what he had wanted to ask… He had wanted to ask—

“Dad why are we moving so fast?”

“Timothy, I am going well within the speed limit, I assure you.” Jack sounded annoyed now. Tim couldn’t see if his face was pinched the way it usually got when he was frustrated over Tim’s constant stream of questions, though.

Tim lifted his head off the glass, really trying to look at both of his parents through the mirror.

He didn’t remember what came next, not really.

Even in his memories, Tim couldn’t so much as remember their faces that night. He was a little too preoccupied with the fallen tree the family was currently speeding towards.

Tim sat at a corner table, his back to the wall with decorated windows standing entirely uncovered at his side. Light, nearly icy blue, eyes peered out to the streets of Gotham’s Financial District, watching the afternoon’s rays as they peeked through dark clouds with just enough light to add a hint of color to the dull autumn beyond.

The looming thunderheads high above were still lamenting their sorrows, crying in thick, cold sheets. The sounds of gentle pattering on the windows had long given way to the pounding wails that now rang through his ears.

The thicker glass that accompanied most shop’s windows did little to keep out the noise of the storm, though the gentle music spilling from the mounted speakers alongside the general noise of the rather busy café certainly helped.

Shaking away his thoughts—and attempting to block out the rain pattering against the glass beside him—Tim returned his attention to the dozens of emails currently opened on his laptop, skimming through each paragraph in a bored daze. Each document seemed typical enough, but the words were a distraction; covering a hidden message beneath encoded phrases and formatting. It was done vaguely enough that the process of looking through the long messages was beginning to cause a headache to form in-between his eyes.

He only had a few more days the gather enough of a digital trail on his current mark, some Gotham social elite who made a misstep and walked with the wrong people for too long. Tim, as per usual, had been given little information about his mark, or what exactly he had stumbled upon to warrant Tim’s attention.

He still hadn’t quite figured out how to get past the fire wall between him and knowing just a little more on why he was having to do this.

Not that the information would help him. Mr. Reyes was going to receive quite the hefty email with its own layers of threats and promises regardless. There was nothing Tim could do to stall the process any more than he already had.

Clicking away to a new tab, Tim began searching back through an older email he had flagged between Mr Reyes and Mrs Knott. Something about it was bugging him, but he still couldn’t put his finger on it.

It was like something was poking and prodding gat him, telling him to just look. As if he hadn’t read over it hundreds of times already. Maybe if he kept coming back to it, the exchange would miraculously change.

Black hair was steadily drifting back across his forehead as he read, being brushed back as he ran his fingers through the short strands. His frustration was becoming palpable, twisting his lips downward as he narrowed his eyes on each individual sentence.

I sincerely hope this can be resolved in a timely manner, Mr Reyes. After all, it would be a shame for—

“This seat taken?”

Concentration effectively broken, Tim snapped his head up to watch blonde curls bounce in a high ponytail as Stephanie Brown approached his table, pulling out the chair opposite him and sitting down before he could even open his mouth to respond. Her own deep, cobalt blue eyes were shining as she sat, her lips pulled up enough to crinkle her eyes around a smile.

He merely stared at the girl as she slid a to-go cup his direction, her smile widening even further to reveal teeth. Had it been anyone else, the smile would have put him on edge, but this was Stephanie. She was as soft as a teddy bear… if a teddy bear had teeth.

Her smile broke only so she could take a long sip from what Tim could only assume to be the most vial concoction of sugar, milk, and coffee. He pulled his own offering towards himself, briefly looking at the side of the cup before drinking what had been marked as a warmed London fog.

“Still working through all those emails?” she asked vaguely, raising an eyebrow once she had set her drink down on the table.

Tim sighed loudly, shoulders slouching as he leaned back into his own chair. His eyes flicked down to look at the screen, the words already starting to blur together in one giant amalgamation of pain and misery. “I’ve hardly gotten anywhere since last week.” Though he knew it was unlikely anyone would be eavesdropping, he was still mindful to keep his voice low and his words vague.

Stephanies’s gaze narrowed down on his laptop before sliding back up to meet his eyes. “Still butt-hurt over the weekend’s shit-show?”

The question made Tim bristle, his cheeks puffing in indignation at the question. “Steph—”

“Don’t tell me you weren’t absolutely pissed when you found out?” She was sipping at her coffee again, not bothering to hide her giggling at his continued protest.

“I was not pissed off! I would have to care enough to have even been upset about it in the first place.”

“Oh? Well you sound pissed to me,” The blond hummed, a pleased laugh slipping from her at Tim’s over-done eye roll and sigh. He crossed his arms over his chest, attempting to push down his own annoyance at the reminder of Jason’s stunt over the weekend.

“It is not my fault Jason chose the exact same night I wanted to publish my article to—” He paused at Stephanies raised eyebrow, his head falling back against the wall with a groan.

Leave it to her, truly, to remind him exactly why he needed to get this job done with sooner rather than later. Lest Jason one-up him, again.

“Do you know if it was actually a duffle bag? Because if he stuffed all those heads into—”

“Steph!”

“What? I’m curious! I’m not the one who can just pick up a phone and talk to ‘The Hood’.” Her air quotes were exaggerated with her now wiggling her fingers, the faux spooky tone doing nothing but pulling a derisive snort from Tim.

“I haven’t talked to him, so I wouldn’t know.” Which was true. In fact, Tim had been pointedly avoiding responding to Jason’s messages for the better part of the last two days. Sue him, but he wanted the other boy to suffer through hacking for his own intel for awhile. Proves him right for becoming the talk of the whole city, a myth slowly becoming more corporeal and completely taking away from Tim’s own public jab at the Cobblepot’s already crippling reputation.

Tim had been so proud of that article too. It even pointed the GCPD in the direction of several new leads for dead cases they had been ignoring for years. Now, he doubted they would bother looking into it until they found more proof of Red Hood, or what he wanted with Crime Alley and its local gangs.

“Oh, come on! You’re so lame!”

Most of their conversations went like this.

Not that Tim minded, in fact he preferred it. After his short disappearance from Gotham, any sense of normality was appreciated.

He hadn’t even expected to ever find Stephanie again, and yet she had waltzed right back into his life as though she had never left. Insisting that they still meet up for lunch or coffee, wanting to hear what he was up to in his own night life. In return, he got to hear all about hers.

“I know you don’t really leave your computer screen anymore,” Stephanie spoke matter-of-factly, even as Tim shook his head at the jab, “but you should avoid the Docks for the next few days.”

His eyebrows fell, furrowing down as he coked his head at the girl. “You planning on stopping by?”

She was stirring her drink with its straw, seemingly entirely enthralled with the motion of the ice through her cup as she did. The movement seemed casual enough, but Tim could already see the unease setting itself in her shoulders, or how her lips pressed together thinly. “Nah, Sionis is though.”

Tim blinked. Then blinked again.

Black Mask was always a coin toss. A mess waiting to spring itself through the Bowery, or wherever else he wanted to sink his claws into for the week.

Spoiler did not have the best track record with the man, even though the young vigilante had only been active through the streets for a little over a year.

“Sionis? What’s he want down by the docks?”

Stephanie shrugged, a sigh dragging itself from her lips. She didn’t look away from her cup. “No idea. Its gots B and the Comish sniffing around, though.”

What on earth was going on that he hadn’t heard even a whisper of it, yet Batman and the Commissioner were looking into it?

Tim was suddenly really hoping that whatever was going on wasn’t related to the uptick in phone calls he was avoiding from Jason. He also really hoped this wasn’t at all related to Nightwing’s inactivity in both Gotham and Blüdhaven the last two days. Maybe he needed to check-in on Dick Grayson…

“And you’re leaving it alone?”

He couldn’t help the question. Stephanie was smart, and knew plenty well how to take care of herself. It didn’t stop the concern from swelling in his belly over the thought of what could happen if she ended up in the middle of whatever Black Mask was planning.

Stephanie finally looked up, disgust covering up whatever worry had previously been there as she gave him a look akin to her saying, ‘what the hell do you think?’. “I want nothing to do with any of them. If B wants to handle it, I’ll let him. Gives me more room in the Bowery while he’s out, anyway.”

~~~~~

The rain had settled to a light drizzle in the last few hours of daylight, grey clouds finally pulling away to reveal pockets of a dreary night sky. There were no visible stars through the thick Gotham smog, and even less moon light to guide one through the twists of tightly packed streets and alleyways. Instead, colored neon lit up the streets of Park Row, painting the blank canvases of concrete and stone with bright hues of pink, red, and blue.

High above that, where even the tall street lamps could not chase away shadow, a splash of blood red stained the rooftops. A bulky frame hidden under a black shirt and the cut sleeves of a red hood moved with the wind, thick-soled boots near silent as they jumped between roofs with smaller gaps between them.

Despite the rush of air spilling into the open fabric of it, the hood didn’t budge. The edges of it wreathed the figure, hiding any discernible features that were not already covered by a wide set mask of contorted metal covering the bottom half of their face or the crimson domino pasted across white lensed eyes.

“Seriously? A duffle-bag? Jay-”

Crime Alley’s Red Hood had come to a slow stop at the top of a small bakery. He pulled a small device out of his utility belt, fiddling with the gadget that held an uncanny resemblance to one of his pistols.

“This isn’t the most secure line, Cardinal.” His whole head tilted and turned with an over dramatic eye roll as he interrupted the name-slip, even if Tim couldn’t see it.

The device gave a short huffing sound, some inner mechanic clicking into place and sending a quaint quiver through the metal.

“Hood. Whatever. A duffle-bag? Really?”

“How the hell else was I supposed to get them there?” Even with the gravelly, robotic tone that distorted his natural voice through his masks modulator, the snark was all Jason Todd. He slapped the side of the device twice until that short huff gave way to a sharper click. Jerking the device up, he aimed a gloved hand toward the ledge of one of the nearby high rises. “Braid their hair together and carry them on the end like a rope? Ya, I’m sure all the grandma’s on 6 ^th woulda really appreciated it.” The sarcasm was layered so thickly is practically dripped from his lips. A quiet whoosh filled his ears as the grapple gun shot its line. He tugged at it, making sure the line went taunt.

A mere second was all he gave himself before the streak of crimson was flying into the abyss. The wide smile already swallowing his face was, thankfully, entirely hidden underneath his mask.

Chill night air rippled across his clothes as he slipped between the tall apartment buildings, aiming for the top of the old precinct just beyond them. Jason would never admit it to the boys face, but he was quietly impressed with Tim’s adhesive concoction he had created only a few weeks ago. Before then, Jason’s hood and domino had been an annoyance. He was constantly having to grab at both to make sure they stayed where he had wanted them. Now, he could go his entire patrol and then some without having to worry about either slipping out of place, even when he was falling from some of the tallest buildings in Gotham.

“Maybe don’t carry around heads in the first place? You could have done anything else, but no. Heads. In a duffle-bag.” A faint, almost distant rustling accompanied the repeated words. In Jason’s horribly long experience, this meant Tim was probably shaking his head despite Jason’s inability to see him. He’d call him out on it if he hadn’t basically done the same thing not even a minute ago.

Jason may be a little morally askew, but he wasn’t a hypocrite… Sometimes.

Despite all this, it was hardly 9 and he already wanted to disconnect his comm line. If he had known Tim would be bugging him about his success last week he wouldn’t have connected at all, regardless of Jason wanting to pass a hacking job off to the computer whizz. Not that Tim had happily accepted the job when he first hopped on. No, Jason couldn’t even get that marked off his check list of things for the night, instead he had to add, ‘Listen to Tim bitch and complain about his totally valid actions toward Crime Alley’s drug dealer heads’ to his list of things.

Crime Alley was alight with activity as he pulled himself up and over the ledge of the precinct, gaining the best view of the Bowery in an instant. The usual midnight crowd had already begun to pour through the streets even as the last dregs of sunlight dipped below the distant horizon. In fact, everywhere seemed busy. More so than was usual for a Wednesday, but, last he had checked, nothing of note was happening tonight. It wasn’t too out of nowhere to assume that Joe’s could have a special tonight he didn’t know about. It had been awhile since he had stopped by. Maybe he’d peek in when he passed the parlor in a few hours.

“I was making a point, jackass.” There was little bite to the insult as he straightened to look over his domain. “I needed the street dealers to listen to my offer. No better way to get their attention on me than giving them a show of their very probable future.”

Even after having been on the streets and interrupting plan after plan of the many high profile faces of the Gotham underground for well over a year, he had yet to garner the solid reputation he had wanted as the Red Hood. His hits had been too far and few in-between what with all the extra missions the Court had been sending him on. Too many people had thought he was a myth, or had thought the name was just something a local gang was tacking onto their misfortune for the week.

Now that he was in Crime Alley full-time even the False Facers were beginning to whisper his name through the streets. Even better, it was usually followed by squealing fear at the thought of possibly running into him.

“You certainly got some attention…” Tim said with obvious distaste and a click of his tongue.

This was where they always seemed to meet at a stand-still. Jason was all for keeping his identity hidden and locked away, but he wanted the reputation of his name. Needed the fear and uncertainty that came with it. Tim much preferred to do his work from the shadows, hardly even stepping into the streets at night as is. It had caused more than one argument even as recent as two weeks prior. It was a wonder the Court was still sticking the two of them together despite their reluctance to give in to the others methods.

Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Jason was half ready to reach up and click off his ear piece for the night before he heard Tim take a breath, as if he was going to say something else before he paused again, seemingly debating something.

“You haven’t heard anything down by the docks have you?”

“I haven’t heard shit beyond the rumors of some idiotic lieutenants and their heads rollin.” He stepped up to the other side of the precinct as he spoke, toeing at the edge. So what if he sounded smug about the rumors? Tim hadn’t said it directly, but Jason just knew his little display was bugging the crap out of him for more reasons than seemingly ‘unnecessary’ deaths. Tim’s avoiding his calls and messages all week had spoken enough to prove that the kid was mad he was gettin upstaged this time around.

“Oh.”

Jason thought he would leave it at that, honestly. It wouldn’t be a surprise. Avoiding giving Jason credit where credit was due, and piquing his curiosity enough to make him look into something on his own? Classic behavior for the brat.

He was crouching at the ledge, debating if he should just continue with his patrol as usual, or take a detour to check up on whatever Tim was refusing to share with him when Tim finally spoke up again.

“Well… Spoiler mentioned it.”

He cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips in thought beneath his mask. “Spoiler?”

That… was not a name he had heard before. Who the hell was going around and calling themselves Spoiler? Some new rouge?

“Ya, Spoiler.” Because that explained his question at all.

Jason straightened back up, a sigh forcing itself from his lungs as he did. He was really trying not to roll his eyes again at the boy. “Cardinal, who the hell is Spoiler?”

“Another vigilant.”

“And I haven’t heard of him? I may not know everything, but I’m sure I would hear about a whole ass new vigilante in Gotham.”

“Actually, she is a ‘her’. Sexist, much?”

“Cardinal—”

“She stays pretty underground.” Tim seemed to rush to answer to avoid Jason’s continued probing. “Does a lot of the little things, like cats in trees.” Tim sounded suddenly distracted, and Jason could hear the keys clicking from the kids computer. He was so distracted by the sudden rushed clicks that he almost didn’t even catch Tim’s quiet, “And sometimes follows Cluemaster around.”

Jason knew he probably looked ridiculous, talking to himself as his head physically fell forward, a gloved hand reaching up to pinch the small space on the bridge of his nose not covered by his mask.

“Cluemaster ain’t exactly little, Cardinal.”

“He is for her?”  A nervous undertone had drawn out Tim’s voice, making it sound higher and like he was asking instead of telling Jason this wasn’t a big deal.

Jason was just silently praying that it wasn’t some other kid beat down on their luck who had taken to the streets. Last thing he needed was to feel bad if he ran into her and ruined her night, too. How old even was she that Tim seemed to know her? When did Tim even leave that small apartment of his to be meeting another vigilante that didn’t even have her name spreading through Gotham yet? Jason didn’t really want to have to try and find Tim’s new apartment to set up cameras to keep an eye on him if he didn’t have to, but Tim practically made it his life’s goal to inconvenience Jason at every turn.

“So… Spoiler mentioned something at the docks?”

“Black Mask is planning something. She didn’t know what. Just heard his name getting tossed around. She thinks he has a shipment of something coming in from Metropolis though.”

Tim hadn’t even gotten past Black Mask’s name before Jason was straightening up on the precinct’s roof and turning on his heels.

Even without the Court having Tim and Jason keep a close eye on Black Mask, the gang leader was at the top of Jason’s priority list. Roman Sionis was too involved with all the wrong things, and his influence spread too far into what Jason had staked his protection onto. He hadn’t liked the man when he was younger, and he certainly didn’t like him or his methods now.

He couldn’t even stand Sionis on a good day, and now the man was expecting some unknown shipment publicly enough that another apparent vigilante had heard about it. He didn’t like any of this one bit.

His grappling line was already shooting out to connect to a new building, the Red Hood flying through the air and in between buildings. He was heading in the direction of the docks. It would take him at least 15 minutes if nothing held him up from here…

Jason had never wished he had pushed harder to get that motorcycle made until this moment. It certainly would make moving easier nearer the docks where there weren’t enough building sitting on top of one another to grapple from.

“Hood, maybe you shouldn’t head down there.” Tim’s voice had rocked up an octave, the speed of keys clanking in the background getting even faster as he spoke. Jason was certain he was the only ‘muscle’ that Tim had to swing around,  otherwise the boy would care a lot less about him rushing off to what was most likely an incredibly dangerous situation.

“What the hell do you mean? If Mask is involved we need to—”

“Batman and Nightwing are already on it,” Tim insisted, speaking with a rush that betrayed his nerves. After all, though the two weren’t close by any means, Red Hood was the best connection to Cardinal the bats would be able to find. Putting Jason too close to them could spell disaster for them both. “Ste- Spoiler said they’d been going down to the dock on patrol for the last few days.”

Completely ignoring the near slip up—honestly, you’d think Tim would be better about that by now—Jason stalled on some sort of convince store roof, still jumping across the rooftops even if he wasn’t swinging with the grapple anymore.

“I don’t trust them to get the job done.”

Jason was fully aware how dangerous going to the docks could potentially be. If Black Mask was expecting a shipment, he would have the place absolutely crawling with False Facers. They’d all be ready to defend the shipment, and Jason wouldn’t know where any of them were stationed. Not mentioned the red on his back would make him an immediate and easy target.

“Trust them or not, it’s probably best the Red Hood doesn’t suddenly appear outside Crime Alley.” Jason finally came to a full stop where he was, fighting the urge to huff into his comm. “You’d just be inviting Batman to start tailing you again, especially after last weekend.”

Kid had a point there. Giving the Bat more of a reason to stick around wasn’t really something he wanted to do. He had already had to completely abandon one of his safe houses on the west end when Nightwing had followed him too closely a few weeks ago, earning a shoulder full of lead for his efforts. Jason didn’t want either of the capes anywhere near him, especially not if they were going to renew their efforts in unmasking him all over again.

Despite the obvious conclusion, Jason still sighed loudly.

“This has been going on for a few days? How did neither of us hear about it?”

Slowly turning back to his original route, his boots scraped quietly against the gravel as he looked back the way he came. When Tim didn’t immediately answer him, he was left to think up the possibilities on his own.

Jason had obviously been a little distracted with his own meeting over the weekend, and had pretty much only been hearing rumors about that on the streets. Especially when he was in his civvies. Tim… Usually had an ear much closer to the ground for these kinds of things. What on earth was Spoiler doing that neither of them had managed? Maybe Black Mask was using Red Hoods sudden appearance and threat as a cover for his own schemes?

Deciding to interrupt his own thoughts before they spiraled too far, Jason decided it’d be best to move on with his usually patrol. Get more information after, maybe do some stake-out work in his civvies tomorrow morning. “Do you have any eyes down by the docks? I’ll leave it for now, but—”

A loud crash sounded ahead of him, forcing Jason to snap his head up in attention. Loud cursing filled the air, a far too familiar voice squeaking its offense at whatever had caused the crash.

Jason was already moving, the grapple gun being replaced with two pistols stocked with bullets and the safety already thrown off.

As sudden as the intrusion, Red Hood was facing the still cursing cape’s general direction, pistols aimed where he imagined the others head would pop up at any second.

“Hood? What was that?” For someone who was opposed to Jason’s success, Tim sounded awfully worried through his ear piece.

“I’m fine, O. I’m fine! Just slipped on the last grapple.” Nightwing’s voice filled the empty air, sounding more than a little winded and rushed.The man was clearly shaking off his apparent miss.

“Was that Nightwing? I thought you were still in the Alley? What is he doing there?”

Despite him being on the edges of the Bowery, nearly to the bridge that could take him through Tricorner and down to Southside, Jason was asking himself the same damn question. Nightwing hadn’t set foot near the Bowery since there last run-in. Why the hell was he here now?

The clanking of keys had returned on Tim’s end only for a brief few seconds before a loud ping from the kids computer followed.

“I have eyes on Nightwing. Maybe it’d be better to try and get away and hide? I really don’t think the all out brawl you are gunning for is a great idea.”

Jason fought back the retort already on the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t like he had an infinite amount of options on the otherwise very open rooftop.

Besides, Red Hood had made his point very clear the last time he had seen the cape. The Bowery was off-limits, good intentions or not. Not that he or Batman ever had good intentions when it came to Red Hood.

Right when he had decided to avoid seeing the bats down by the docks, to. What the hell was his luck?

“Really, I just banged my knee— No, Oracle, don’t tell B!” Nightwing sounded panicked, Jason could almost imagine him hold up his hands in a placating gesture. “He already didn’t want me out tonight in the first place.” The groan that followed the sentence was long-suffering, as though this was a reoccurring thing.

Out of everything the words gave him, the name was what gave Jason the most pause. Oracle? He hadn’t heard about an ‘Oracle’ before.

Great, tonight was just turning into a night of finding out about all the new capes on the loose, it seemed.

“I’m meeting him down by the docks. Something about Black Mask and Hood?” A short pause before, “You would think, wouldn’t you? I swear, if anything, he has gotten worse with telling me what’s going on. Glad he isn’t telling you either— No I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”

Ironic, considering Red Hood wouldn’t even be down by the docks tonight. Was the rumor that Red Hood was involved though? Because that alone was insulting. Jason would never stoop to working with Black Mask. Not unless it would somehow fuck over the other crime lord.

“I’m not finding anything on an Oracle… Have you heard of them?”

So he wasn’t the only one, at least. Though he didn’t like that someone seemed to be working with Batman and Nightwing that neither Tim nor Jason seemed to know anything about.

This sudden trend of them not being in the know was not one Jason was beginning to prefer. In fact, he was actively already loathing it. Not that he spoke up to tell Tim any of this.

The gravel that had previously been crunching under Nightwings feet as he made his way across the rooftop a level below Jason stopped, leaving a dead silence to fill the air. Red Hood had been making his slow, quiet way across the rooftop as Nightwing spoke with whoever this ‘Oracle’ was, but the sudden quiet had a chill running down his spine.

The silence seemed to stretch for minutes before Tim spoke up again.

“Shit. Hood, I really think you should run—”

Tim couldn’t finish whatever his warning was before Nightwing popped up further to the right than Red Hood had anticipated, earning a string of swear words as he took a few hasty steps back to keep distance between him and the blue cape. Nightwing was as graceful as ever, landing on silent feet and crouching, already wound tight and ready to spring into the fight he was clearly looking for.

A hazy, green film was beginning to crowd in the edges of Red Hood’s vision, and oh man was he not prepared to deal with that tonight, too.

The green was already fully set on taking over his sight. Red Hood didn’t get the chance to hesitate before readjusting his aim, sending a bullet careening for Nightwing’s thigh.

Nightwing was already a blur of motion running toward him, completely avoiding the shot and jumping off to the side before getting up and into Red Hood’s personal space.

Shit.

~~~~~

God damn it all to hell.

Two hours later found the Red Hood slipping in and out of alley ways on the other side of the Bowery, a hand pressed tightly to his side as Cardinal still yapped away in his ear.

“Take a left—”

“Believe it or not, I do know where to find the damn clinic, C.” Jason gritted through his teeth, his breathing more than labored from the constant running that had only finally stopped a few minutes ago.

“Nightwing is still scouring through all the alleys trying to find you, and it seems like Oracle has access to the city cameras and is watching out for you-”

“I know where the cameras are, dipshit,” Jason practically growled the words, annoyance running loud and clear. “You aren’t the only one who pays attention to that shit.”

“I know, but—”

“Just shut up. I’ve got it. I know what spots to avoid, same as you.” His irritation was still getting the better of him, even though the green haze had started retreating to the edges of his vision. Pushing himself forward, Jason peered around the next corner to the, currently, very empty street.

The shoddy building that housed the clinic’s lights were still on, illuminating the side-walk out front with sickly yellow slits through the turned blinds. Even though Jason had never personally been, he had heard plenty about the free clinic bordering Otisberg and the Bowery.

Something about a family tradition in helping people, and wanting to make the ad parts of Gotham just a little more habitable. Red Hood sent the homeless kids of the Alley here all the time, or the young moms who just couldn’t get theirs child’s fever down. Red Hood himself had only really heard stories of Dr. Leslie Tompkins.

Normally, based on his information alone, he would never risk this. He would go to one of his safe houses, and figure something out there. Tim had talked and talked until he agreed to head here after he slipped away from Nightwing.

He gave it a few more seconds, scanning the rooftops before he moved, sliding out of the alleyway and making his way towards the door. He was hunching his shoulders, bending over his hand, trying to keep any and all of his blood from spilling onto the pavement. The last thing he wanted was to leave some sort of trail for rightwing or this Oracle to catch a hold of.

“I’ll message you later. I’m hopping off for the night.” Jason’s free hand was already reaching up to click off his ear piece, only just catching Tim’s, “Jason—” before the buzzing in his ear went abruptly silent.

The last thing he needed was the kid yapping and making his irritation spike even more. Despite popular belief, Red Hood didn’t maim unnecessarily, and the workers at a free walk-in clinic in the most crime ridden city in the states were definitely not on his list of necessary victims. Tim, however, just barely scrapped by without Jason wanting to throw him into the Gotham Harbor.

Without bothering to knock, or giving himself a second to think through what he was about to do, the Red Hood pushed through the unlocked doors, tall form curled in on himself even more at the abrupt change in light filtering through his eyes.

Blinking back the spots lining his vision, he wasn’t entirely sure if those were from the light or the pain still pulling at his side, he turned toward the desk.

“Is Tompkins in?” The poor girl sitting behind the receptionist desk froze like a deer in headlights, her mouth agape as she stared at the domino and metal mask. Startled green eyes flicked up to the hood still hanging over his forehead, and Jason got a front row seat to watch as tanned skin turned pale, all the color suddenly draining from her face when she recognized who, exactly, was standing at the door.

“I- Well she’s…”

“I’m here. Is there something I could help you with?” Jason’s attention snapped to a now opened door on the opposite end of the room, his whole body going taunt. An older lady with a shock of white hair pulled back into a tight bun stared him down. Her whole face was pinched, a stern look in her eyes that didn’t fade in the slightest as she gazed upon the vigilante at her doorstep.

He hadn’t even heard the door so much as creak, nor had he heard whenever she had stepped into the room. Who knew old ladies could be stealthy?

“If ya’d be able stitch up an annoying cut, that’d be really nice.” Jason really did try to keep the snark from his voice, though the notoriously thick Crime Alley accent was suddenly a lot thicker through his modulator, his nerves suddenly hitting him like a freight train.

Just what had Tim talked him into now?

Tompkins didn’t so much as blink, motioning him forward with a quick tilt of her head. “Be swift then. I haven’t got all night to be dealing with the likes of you, Hood.”

Despite banking on her taking him in, he was still more than shocked at the ease with which she seemingly accepted the budding crime lord standing in her lobby, bleeding into the torn leather gloves covering his hands.

After pushing past the feeling of being frozen to the floor, Jason finally began to move, forcing one foot in front of the other slowly despite the look the older lady was currently leveling at him. His bulky frame slid past her, only momentarily noticing and noting the sheer difference in their sizes before he was being steered into one of the side rooms.

“Don’t bother, Marie.” The words tore him from the concentration he was putting into walking, making him pause half way to the examination table in the middle of the room to turn back. “It’ll be alright. Why don’t you go and check the stock in the back while I handle this?” Leslie was looking back at the receptionist from the doorway, her face softening for just a second before she turned to face Jason again, any softness melting away in an instant.

If he wasn’t certain it would ruin his reputation, he would have thanked the women for clearly stopping her receptionist from calling… someone to come in after him. Probably the commissioner. Probably followed soon after by a certain bat he was more than pissed at right now.

“Damage?” The bluntness with which she asked was absolutely not what knocked his ass right onto the table.

Jason only let himself hesitate for a second, trying to piece together how exactly he had ended up in this situation in the first place. “One of Nightwings little toys landed in my stomach.” Tim had been sure he would be alright coming here. Something about Tompkins not minding helping the names in the streets that had some what reasonable intentions. Not that she really had anyway of discerning Hoods intentions.

Not that she had turned him away either.

It was this very moment that really told him that maybe Tim had been right, because the blood loss was really getting to his head if he was so easily accepting help from a stranger. Help that could just as easily get him killed as it could help him, too. Yet here he was, deliriously accepting his fate on a random Thursday night.

The older women raised white brow, pursing her lips in thought. On the same silent feet she had entered the front in, she moved around the room. She was placing all sorts of sterile equipment that was still packed away in their plastic wrappings, grabbing a pair of vinyl gloves and sliding them over her hands with a quiet snap.

“Will Nightwing be getting his ‘little toy’ back any time soon?” The older women paused in her task to look up at him, seemingly assessing the damage visually seeing as Jason hadn’t really given her much to go off of.

“If he can find it again, sure. Doubt it though.” Jason was more than happy that the shitty little blade had flown off the side of a building when it had pulled itself loose from its new sheath in his stomach. He just hoped the blade stayed hidden.

Even if he was still legally dead, the last thing he wanted was Batman or Nightwing knowing where they could look for him. Finding that blade could very well mean an extra stepping stone for them.

That thought alone should have made Jason far more alert, more worried. But honestly? He was exhausted from the game of cat and mouse. Not mentioning the blood lose that was already starting to tug at the edges of his consciousness, beckoning him closer and closer to the sweet release of sleep.

“Was this another one of your chases? Or did you go out of your way to bother him on patrol tonight?”

If he had been more awake he would have wondered more at why she knew about his occasional games of rooftop tag with a side of violence when they never made public news. Instead, he was more offended on his own behalf.

“I didn’t go out of my way to do anything! Nightwing’s the one that showed up on my rooftop and came at me first!”

Dr. Tompkins didn’t even look slightly moved at the statement, merely making a sweeping motion with her hands towards his own.

Jason slowly straightened, fighting off and failing to hide the hiss that slide between his teeth at the pain that swept across his stomach as the cut skin stretched taunt with the movement. The hand currently covering the wound moved to reveal the still sluggishly bleeding wound.

In all fairness, it wasn’t even that bad. Not too deep, it hadn’t hit anything vital… It just also hadn’t stopped bleeding. It had also been at least an hour and a half since the blade had stopped acting as a make-shift plug to keep his blood precisely where it needed to stay.

Seemingly uncaring, Dr. Tompkins tutted, clicking her tongue in thought before she was moving towards him, pulling the table along with her.

“Lay down, unless you want to make my job more difficult?” It wasn’t really phrased like a question, so Jason slowly fell backward with a grunt, trying to ignore how the new position pulled ever more at the aggravated flesh.

“Why are you picking fights with other vigilante’s if you don’t have the equipment to handle the backlash, Hood?”

She was making her movements clear where he could see them, not bothering to use any sort of numbing to the area before she got to work. Supposed a part of him did deserve that.

She lifted the part of his shirt that would reveal the wound in its entirety, making him feel the sudden overwhelming urge to cower away and hide.

It was still a struggle to not flinch away from the cold metal suddenly poking at flesh.

“I have plenty of equipment to handle myself,” the gruffness in his voice didn’t quite come out the way he wanted it too. He sounded a lot more like an indignant child than the crime lord he was supposed to be right now. “I just don’t usually swing on this side of town.” Which was true. All of his safe houses were situated closer to and around Park Row specifically. Unfortunately for him, with his wound and inability to grapple with the strain it put on him right now, it would have taken him at least an hour to reach the nearest one while sticking to the blindspots of any of the cameras in the city.

One hour he did not have the time for.

She made a humming sound, a sharp and sudden pinch making Jason gasp sharply, the cold air filling his lungs doing nothing to stop the pain.

Dr. Tompkins gave him a sharp look, her hand pushing down on his stomach above the sore spot in warning. “If you would refrain from moving, please.”

Uncaring. This little old women was uncaring and sadistic at the very least—

“What gave you the idea that I would help you now?” The doctor asked, seemingly at random. It was the first time she had sounded genuinely curious, instead of outright bored or bluntly disdainful.

“You are helping me now, aren’t you?” Even as he said it, another sharp pinch shocked his senses. Helping, sure. Helping make him feel like Nightwing was repeatedly shoving his fancy little blades into the same damned spot.

She remained quiet, giving him a look as she worked. It was minutes of silence before Jason felt compelled to speak up again, unsure what about this women it was that had his tongue loosening. Or maybe the blood loss was beginning to get to his head.

“A friend told me too… didn’t trust me to make it back.” He did not hold back the eye roll that she inevitably wouldn’t even see, nor did he hide the clear annoyance in his voice.

“Cardinal is a good friend then, seeing as any longer and you certainly would have been found in a damp alley contracting goodness knows how many diseased infections.” The older women’s nose wrinkled, making her look only slightly younger than her general appearance marked her out to be.

Jason blinked behind his domino.

“I never mentioned Cardinal.”

The women merely raised an eyebrow at him before stabbing at his flesh again.

“You didn’t need to. It is rather obvious the two of you work together.”

“I can’t even stand the guy—” he would not out Tim as a kid, because even delirious with blood loss he wasn’t a fucking idiot unlike someone, “— Why would you assume we work together?”

“You certainly haven’t denied it.”

… Touche.

Completely avoided his question, but still pinned him nonetheless.

He didn’t even have time to question how she knew who Cardinal, a behind the scene’s anti-hero who didn’t have a public name, was. The sound of scissors snipping brought his attention downward, looking on as bloodied gloved hands snipped the excess string off his stitches.

The women was stepping away, peeling off the gloves only to replaced them with clean ones a moment later. The used ones, were placed haphazardly onto the metal table.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay for observation throughout the night?” Her tone was still as blunt as ever, even as it edged on a bored sort of acceptance.

Even without the accent that labeled her as a Gothamite born and raised, Jason would have never doubted she was contrived from the city with how unaffected she seemed to be by the going ons in her own clinic, crime lord or not.

“Not a chance.” Especially not when Jason could already feel himself wanting to slip back into the welcome darkness trying to cloud his vision.

It was going to be one hell of a walk back.

~~~~~

“Anything?”

“Nope,” Barbara popped her ‘p’ as she spoke, clear irritation in her voice. “He was there one second, and gone the next. Slipped right back into all my blind spots.”

Dick grunted his acknowledgement, finally coming to a complete stop on a rooftop near Leslie’s.

He had lost sight of Hood about half an hour ago, and Babs had hardly seen him even when Dick had given chase. It was just as impressive as it had been during their first encounter, the way Hood moved with such a natural ease through the Bowery. The way he would suddenly change his direction in a split second, skimming by the edges of any of camera spots Babs had access to would have been something awe inspiring if it was also so terribly annoying.

Impressive as it was, it made his search for any kind of info on the crime lord all the much harder to accomplish.

“I don’t think we’re gonna find him again, Wing.”  The annoyance still lined her tone like a spiky barb.

Dick sighed heavily, dejectedly kicked a small rock across the rooftop. “I don’t know why he was so dead set on running. He was the one who found me.”

The following scoff was more than dramatic, and he was sure in any other situation it would have pulled at least an amused huff from Barbara.

“I mean, come on! He was aiming for me before we even knew he was there! Why come at me, guns blazing, but not stick around to finish off whatever fight he was looking for?” Dick was most definitely not pouting. Nor was he crossing his arms like a petulant child. He was an adult, and he most certainly acted like it.

“What if he has some freaky meta ability that lets him know whenever we enter the Bowery?” Dick continued on despite Barbara’s silence on the line, filling the air with his sporadicly linked thoughts and wild hand gestures to display his crazed thought process.

“I hadn’t even been there a few minutes!” Truly, Dick had only just crossed into the Bowery from Otisberg, planning to take the bridge down to Southside from there instead. He hadn’t even known Hood was still in the Bowery until Babs caught a gleam off the barrel of his pistols in a camera angled right towards Dick himself.

“Last time I ever use a shortcut again.” He huffed, nose scrunching up in distaste as he glanced towards Leslie’s. It was a late hour, nearly midnight, and yet her lights were still on. He off handily wondered if a patient had come in to keep her open so late, but waved it off as soon as his mind snagged back on his current Red Hood case.

In the two hour chase, neither he nor Barbara had come up with any sort of answers to their questions growing list of questions. Barbara’s scanning through camera’s all over the streets of Gotham and Dick’s constant stream of questions and jibs hoping to get something out of the man had ended up leading them absolutely no where.

For the first time since his initial appearance, Red Hood has seemed to be able to match Dick’s snarky comments almost one for one, a huge change from the usual grunts or growling at Dick and telling him to ‘fuck right off to whatever hole he popped out of.’ Dick had an unfortunate feeling Hood had just been in a chatty mood, because nothing slipped through that linked them to anything. Just a load of quick remarks or jokes to counter Dick’s own.

~

“ Come on, I thought you were Gotham’s protector! You’re supposed to know the streets, and you can’t even keep up with little ol’ me?” Another shot rang through his heads, practically vibrating through his skull and in between his ear drums.

Nightwing flinched to the side, narrowly avoiding the racing bullet. He, unfortunately, couldn’t avoid the loud sound that was still distantly ringing in his ears, nor could he ignore the sound of a bullet shattering the side of an already crumbling concrete wall.

Red Hood had disappeared around another corner while Nightwing had avoided being hit point-blank. The vigilante was already swinging around, trying to catch sight of crimson before it could disappear again.

“I’m keeping up just fine! Though in that line of thinking, aren’t you supposed to be doing a better job of keeping me out of Crime Alley? Thought us Bats weren’t allowed in your cool kids club?” A bark of laughter sounded from an alleyway off to his right. Nightwing threw himself in that direction, exchanging an escrima stick in his right hand  for a wingding from his utility belt.

If he could just land it in Hood’s shoulder, or maybe a thigh he could slow him down enough. To do what, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead yet. But Oracle was in his ears, trying to give him tips on where he could corner the crime lord, and he didn’t have enough time to think about it now.

When he finally flew into the alleyway, he caught sight of crimson just long enough to throw.

Something seemed to tip him off though, and Hood was turning around, moving out of the way—

Not fast enough though.

~

Dick would be a lot more entertained by it if the crime lord hadn’t taken off with one of his wingdings. He worked hard for those! Hours spent begging B to spend the money to add them into his beatarang budget, down the drain!

He had plenty more, but that wasn’t the point! Red Hood now had one of them, and that was like the ultimate betrayal.

“B wants you back at the cave.” Barbara interrupted his thoughts, making him groan all over again.

“Tell him I’m busy, and I’ll take his call later.”

“You are standing with your arms crossed on a rooftop in the Bowery. You are not busy, Wing.”

“O…” He dragged the vowel out for a long breath, trying to find the location of whatever camera it was she was watching him from, but couldn’t find a single one in that moment. How the hell Hood did it consistently was beyond him.

“Don’t ‘O’ me. I’m not gonna be on the receiving ends of one of his lectures because you thought going through Crime Alley was a good idea, especially after last time.”

That was precisely why Dick had tried his hardest to avoid going too far into the Bowery. He had skimmed the edge, sure, but he was really trying not to step on toes! He didn’t want to be benched all over again because of another gunshot wound.

Though, he had a feeling Bruce was going to try and bench him again, uninjured and all.

“You didn’t even try to stop me.”

“Am I your babysitter now? Thought you were past needing one?” Barbara was more teasing him than chiding him at this point, a poorly concealed laugh hiding just underneath her jib. At least she was moving past her earlier frustration with this case.

It was a short moment of silence that consisted of Dick tossing an idea back and fourth through his head, his mind replaying scenes of tonight over and over like a broken record player. “Do you think Hood was heading to the docks when he spotted me?”

Barbara was silent for her own moment of thought.

“I mean… I would think so. He caught you near the bridge, didn’t he? So he had to have been heading there too. Why?”

Dick frowned, facing off in the direction he had initially been heading for the night. It wasn’t like anything was glaringly staring at him from the minimal amount of information they had on the guy… and yet that inkling of a feeling persisted in his gut.

It was familiar, but he couldn’t quite pin why. The feeling was spreading through his head, clouding across his thoughts in an oddly thick blanket, altering his point of view, if only slightly.

“Something feels off. I don’t think Hood is involved in whatever Mask is doing down at the docks.”

“Ivy said he was, remember? She wasn’t the only one either. I mean, if the rumors about what he pulled last week are true, I wouldn’t put it past him to be working with Mask. Besides, Ivy has been doing better, I really do think we can trust her on this.”

“But can we trust who she got the intel from? Or anyone else, for that matter” Dick countered contemplatively, sighing as he pulled his grappling hook from his belt. His newly electric escrima sticks having long been reattached to their spots on the back of his suit.

“I can always—”

“Nightwing, return to the cave. Now.” Bruce voice interrupted whatever offer Barbara had come up with, making Dick tense, only for a second.

“Relax, I was already heading back that way,” He, in fact, was absolutely not planning on heading that way. He was actually about to try and bribe Barbara into covering for him so he could slip off to find… well to find anything he could for the night.

Something about Red Hood had bugged him since he first started appearing in the streets, rarely drawing too much attention to himself, but still leaving behind a trail of beaten up and near-dead bodies. The recent rumors circling the Gotham underground only drew at Dick’s attention even more.

Not even Dick knew why he was more curious over the Red Hood’s case than he was wary.

“I’m sending your bike to you. If you aren’t back in 15, I’m coming after you myself.”

“Didn’t we talk about this B? I’m a grown adult who can take care of—”

Bruce, in all his Batman glory, interrupted Dick this time.

“Leslie sent a file to the cave. I’m forwarding the content to Oracle so she can compare it to her data bases. I want you back in the cave while Hood is still unaccounted for.” Bruce spoke with such a finality in his tone that Dick was rolling his eyes even as he shot his grapple, working his way back down to the street.

“What’d Leslie send you anyway that’s so important?”

“And why am I having to look at it now instead of tomorrow morning?” Barbara huffed, though the tell-tale clicking of keys told Dick she was already pulling up whatever file Bruce had forwarded to her.

“It’s a blood sample. She thinks it should be uncontaminated for a DNA search, though she could only send the bio data from the clinic.”

Dick paused, lookin back behind him towards the distant glow of the clinic’s lights. Barbara had seemed to have stopped whatever she was doing on her end, the ambient sound stilling.

“Who’s blood sample?”

~~~~~

“Last I checked, old man,” Dick earned an eye roll for the effort, “I don’t take orders from you. I am a fully grown man.”

Bruce was waiting with him down in the cave while Barbara finished putting the DNA sequence in the system. Dick was trying to fill the time with any sort of conversation.

“Oh really? Is that what you are now?” Bruce droned from where he sat at the batcomputer, failing miserably with distracting himself by filling out a case report. “Because last I checked, most ‘grown men’ don’t make the same mistake twice of entering territory they have been explicitly banned from-”

Dick, actually, was trying to have any other conversation other than this one.

He tried his best to ignore the lecture as Bruce continued to drone on, leaning his head back against a screen from where he currently perched on the edge of the console for the batcomputer. Even if it had only been a few years, he was far too used to Bruce acting like a concerned mother-hen to actually be too phased from the mans berating.

“If I an indeed correct, you are a fully grown man who recklessly went after a known crime lord suspected of having just cut off the heads of several people he had found lacking, Master Richard.” It was then that Alfred walked back into the room, a tray of food and drinks in hand.

Alfred piping in on the lecture was what finally made Dick wilt a bit.

“Oh not you too! Alfred, come on, I’m alive, and uninjured! I really don’t think Hood is out to kill us.”

“How do you know that, Dick? He has made it fairly clear that he stands entirely opposed to the work we do.” Bruce turned in his chair to look directly at Dick this time, a frown still tugging down on the mans face.

“Don’t frown so much, you’ll make your early set wrinkles worse, you know?”

Bruce only sighed deeply, his eyes closing as he tilted his head back, praying got whatever gods deemed to bless him with the literal 22 year-old child. “Dick-”

“Gut instinct.” The was a pause between them all as Alfred gave Dick a rather appraising look, offering the tray to him while he did. Dick snagged a cucumber sandwich with a mild pout.

“I’ll be sure to weigh in on your ‘gut instinct’ when it can provide me with solid proof.” Bruce finally said, shaking his head as he turned back to the computer.

“It lead me here, didn’t it?” Dick shot both Bruce and Alfred a classic Grayson smile, fully of goofy teeth and crinkled eyes.

Alfred seemed about to add on, white eyebrows raised before Barbara’s voice echoed through the speakers and around the vast cave.

“I got the results.”