@reddestrobin
Another night, another criminal to stop, Hood thought with a small smirk hidden behind his helmet. Nothing new for him, same gig as before he’d died and un-died, just new clothes and new methods. Well, there were several other changes to his life post zombification, but those were the main changes to the job, he figured. Things changed, Jason had always known that; if you were going to survive in the real world, especially in this shadow world, you had to accept that, learn to roll with the punches. Or dodge the bullets, in this case.
A quiet grunt escaped him as Hood dropped and rolled, narrowly avoiding some lovely gunfire. At least this guy’s aim was better than the average criminal’s, Hood tired of playing with people who weren’t good at the game. This one though, this one had promise as a baddie, had already made good on several threats, partaken in despicable acts, yet continued to elude both GCPD, and hadn’t yet been noticed by the birds and bat. Unsurprising with the random rise in shitty people doing shitty things, not that the numbers were ever really low here. This one though? Drugs, forced prostitution, murder, you name it, he had probably done it or gotten someone to do it for him. He deserved Red Hood’s special brand of justice.
Playing chase continued for a short time, Hood fine with their little game of cat and mouse but also unable to get a good jump on the man just yet– only for him to catch sight of a familiar costume lurking ahead. “No way, he’s not taking this one,” Hood grunted under his breath, narrowing his eyes behind the domino mask concealed by his red helmet. In the second it took for Hood to glare ahead at Red Robin however, his mark escaped into a warehouse, drawing a growl from Hood. It took only a moment to know there were only two exits, one blocked by old debris from construction equipment, so Jason had time to go tell the bird to back the fuck off before he went in for a standoff.
“What are you doing here?” Hood demanded after getting to Red Robin’s position, his displeased expression hidden behind his hood, though it showed through in his tone. “I’ve been casing this guy out, I made the connection, he’s mine. Run back home to the Bat, little bird,” Hood said, but a smirk was clear in his voice now, replacing the earlier glower. Standing there with his arms crossed in front of him, smirking with a shit-eating grin [though it was hidden, dammit], Hood waited to see if Red Robin would do as he was told, though he figured Timmy wouldn’t want to back off without a fight. Fine by him, he never said no to a good time. He’d just take care of his target before Tim could, then come back for his so-called brother.
In Gotham, a quiet night existed only in abstract; the distant shrill of the siren acting like a child’s lullaby. While crime had no sense of time, there were those who seemed to prefer to work under the shroud of darkness. It was at the late hour when the particularly crazy and the demented would come out at night to terrorize the innocent. And if the night did not grant them enough of anonymity, the decay that ate away what was known as the Gotham Police Department took care of the job. This was a city where crime fighting was a constant uphill battle for the honest cop, such that there was a need for the masked hero.
The police sirens were only the signal indicating that their work just started.
The static rumble of the police buzzed in his ear piece, Tim held up a gloved finger to his ear. Observing from his perch, he watched as the target approached the door, pacing back and forth until he was joined by who he could only assume were his fellow conspirators. He had never seen them before. A frown formed on his lips as he scanned the surroundings, trying to decide if it was the minimalistic lines of the wharf-side warehouse that possessed a charm that attracted criminals or if it was the waterside view. Though he mused that they selected this place because of the high resale value, the tinted windows of their ride and the briefcases they carried suggested otherwise.
