Waiting. The god-awful waiting. Not exactly your specialty. The supposed meet-up wasn't for another week, which meant you had about seven days to figure things out and prepare yourself.
After a quick search to find out what the hell D15 meant, you discovered it was short for Dock 15. To make sure, you consulted a few fishermen, who confirmed your suspicion. Apparently, that's how they logged docking numbers whenever a shipment arrived at the harbor.
So that meant one of two things.
Either a shipment was scheduled to arrive on the date written on the card... Or someone was supposed to meet someone else there at that exact time.
Whatever it was, you'd find out in a week.
Until then, your newfound friends kept you busy.
Steph and Cass stopped by the bookstore several times throughout the week, usually in the afternoon, just around the time your shift started.
Unfortunately, that meant neither of them had the chance to meet Jason. Which also meant, to your disappointment, that you still hadn't managed to introduce Steph to him.
However, an opportunity presented itself when Steph mentioned a party she wanted to go to with Cass and you.
Naturally, you gladly accepted the invitation...
And immediately started planning how you were going to sneak Jason into the party as well.
Currently, it was a few minutes past seven, and you were standing outside Steph's apartment, knocking on her door.
Cass opened it a few seconds later.
"Oh, hey, Cass!" you beamed, pulling her into a quick side hug.
She smiled back, returned the hug, then stepped aside to let you in.
The apartment was cozy. The hallway led into the living room, which opened up to an American-style kitchen on the right. Another hallway stretched farther back, with two doors facing each otherโmost likely the girls' bedrooms.
Steph was sitting on a plush baby-pink rug. The moment she heard you come in, she jumped to her feet, ran over, and threw her arms around you.
"Finally!" she exclaimed. "We can finally start getting ready for the party!"
Then her eyes immediately dropped to your bags.
"You brought everything, right?"
"You mean the alcohol or my clothes?" you smiled.
She ushered you farther inside before pushing you down onto the couch.
"Obviously both." She smirked. "But honestly, if you didn't bring anything to wear, that's totally fine too. I can lend you something."
She immediately started rummaging through your bags.
"No need. I've got my own clothes," you said, politely declining her offer.
She pulled out the bottles of wine you had brought and handed them to Cass, who carried them into the kitchen to open one.
"Don't let Steph give you a makeover," Cass warned as she returned carrying three glasses filled with wine.
At that, Steph grabbed a white throw pillow from the couch and launched it at her.
You watched in horror, already preparing yourself to jump up and clean the inevitable mess that a flying pillow and three glasses of wine would create.
To your surprise, however, Cass effortlessly sidestepped the pillow. Without spilling a single drop, she calmly placed the glasses onto the coffee table.
"I'm not that bad," Steph pouted, showing absolutely no concern for the disaster that had almost happened.
"The last time you gave me a makeover, you made me wear a pink flower headband," Cass replied, not a hint of amusement in her voice.
"Not my fault you refuse to wear any color, Miss Professor Snape," Steph shot back with a dramatic eye roll.
"Oh, shit. No way you just said that." You burst out laughing.
At the same time, you watched in amused horror as Cass grabbed the very same pillow and threw it square into Steph's face.
"Hey!" Steph shrieked, jumping to her feet and preparing to retaliate.
Cass stood up as well, ready for battle.
You quickly stepped between them. Grabbing one of the wine glasses, you placed it into Cass's hands before handing another to Steph and keeping the last one for yourself.
"Before the two of you murder each other, we should drink," you announced. "That way, whoever wins can tell the police it wasn't intentional. They were just intoxicated."
You clinked your glass against Cass's and Steph's before taking a big sip. Steph and Cass couldn't help but laugh at your remark. They clinked their glasses against yours before each taking a sip as well.
"And besides..." you added, taking another sip while dodging Steph's playful shove, "...that headband is so 2016."
After the brief pillow fightโand a glass or two of wineโyou all started getting ready.
Steph dumped what looked like her entire wardrobe onto the floor, along with an impressive collection of makeup, and immediately began rummaging through everything.
She did your eyeshadow while Cass carefully drew a sharp cat eye with eyeliner.
The three of you styled each other's hair and made sure everyone looked perfect in their chosen outfits.
Steph wore a short lilac satin dress with thin straps, her hair falling in loose waves, complemented by silver jewelry and black boots.
Cass chose dark red leather pants paired with a long-sleeved black top with an open back. You helped style her hair into a half-up bun.
After trying on the outfit you had brought, Steph immediately vetoed it. She dug through both her own and Cass's wardrobes until she found something she deemed worthy of the night.
Somehow...
She actually convinced you to wear it.
It was different.
Not something you would've normally chosen.
You kept tugging at your sleeves, feeling strangely exposed.
You couldn't remember the last time you'd dressed for something other than work or patrol. But after another couple of glasses of wine, those worries slowly melted away.
You were ready for the night.
You knew you were going to a club where Jason had never mentioned working, so meeting him there by chance wasn't exactly an option.
You'd have to find another way to get him there.
What you didn't know, however... Was that Steph and Cass were quietly trying to do the exact same thing.
You arrived at the club just as people were beginning to line up outside. After waiting nearly twenty minutes, the three of you finally got inside.
Your first stop was the bar.
Each of you ordered a shot, along with a cocktail to take back to your table. You chatted, laughed, and drank until Steph suddenly declared that she wanted to dance.
Cass looked thoroughly unimpressed by the idea.
A couple more shots later...
She somehow found herself on the dance floor too.
And honestly?
You had a blast.
You had tried partying during university, but you had never truly felt like you belonged. You'd tried making friends, yet everyone always felt... distant.
Different.
After your kidnapping, you had withdrawn even further, turning down almost every invitation you received.
For the first time...
You felt accepted.
Steph and Cass were obviously close. They were roommates, after all. They had known each other much longer than they'd known you.
Yet somehow, they never made you feel like an outsider.
They danced with you. Made sure you were having fun. They didn't just talk to you. They talked with you. They listened. They asked questions. The conversation wasn't just about them.
By the end of the night, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
Eventually, however, your feet started aching from all the dancing, and your vision began to blur. You might've had...
A little too much to drink.
Your steps became increasingly unsteady, and ordering another shot required more concentration each time.
Thinking made your head hurt. Talking required even more effort.
You were absolutely wasted.
Everyone could see it.
Everyone except you.
You brushed off every concern the girls voiced.
You stumbled across the dance floor and laughed far harder than any of their jokes deserved. Eventually, Steph and Cass decided it was probably time to call it a night.
You insisted you were perfectly fine.
You refused to go home. Jason wasn't here. Steph still hadn't met him.
How were you supposed to be a good friend if you couldn't introduce them?
You weren't about to admit defeat.
So when Cass suggested heading home...
You gathered your last two functioning brain cells... And came up with what was, in your drunken mind, the greatest idea ever.
"Let's call Jason!" you yelled while sitting on the sidewalk, hugging your knees to your chest.
The girls exchanged confused glances.
"Who's Jason?" Cass asked.
"Our ride!" you yelled, trying to get to your feet, only to collapse right back onto your butt.
"Just sit down. We'll figure something out," Cass said as she and Steph stepped a few feet away to talk.
You couldn't let them call a taxi.
You needed Jason.
You needed him to come here.
You needed him to meet the girls.
You were doing this for both of them.
To be a good friend.
Summoning every ounce of willpower you had left, you pushed yourself to your feetโusing far more steps than should've been necessaryโstaggered over to them, and fished your phone out of your pocket.
"Call Jason."
You shoved your phone into Steph's hands before wandering toward the building, where you slowly slid down the wall until you were sitting on the pavement again.
You watched as the girls talked for another minute before Steph finally unlocked your phone, found Jason's number, and raised it to her ear.
Jason's POV:
It was almost four in the morning. The sun would be rising soon, and Jason was just finishing his patrol.He was making his final round when his phone suddenly rang.
Your name flashed across the screen.
He immediately stopped and answered, already preparing to lecture you for calling him this late...
Or this early.
"It's four in the morning. Do you have anyโ"
"Hey... um... it's Steph."
Jason froze.
That wasn't your voice.
Wait.
What the hell? Steph?
As in...
"Stephanie Brown," she clarified, as though he wouldn't already know who she was. "She asked me to call you."
Jason frowned.
You were with Steph?
And you had asked her to call him?
Was something wrong?
"She's wasted," Steph answered his unspoken question. "Like... completely drunk. She keeps insisting you're our ride or something."
"What the hell is this, Steph?" Jason asked, irritation creeping into his voice.
"Look, I know this is messed up." Steph sighed. "But she's really not doing great. Please come get her."
Before Jason could replyโor start scolding Steph for getting involved with you after he'd explicitly told them not toโhe heard shuffling on the other end of the line.
Then another familiar voice cut in.
"Hey. It's Cass."
"What's going on, Cass?" Jason asked, forcing himself to stay calm.
He heard footsteps and assumed Cass had stepped away from you so she could speak more freely.
"Look, we messed up," Cass said simply. "We became friends with her, and now we're out partying together."
Jason pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his helmet.
"She got completely wasted, and now she's demanding that we call you."
"Fucking hell..."
Jason dragged a hand down the front of his helmet.
"I told you not to get involved with her."
"And yet we did." Cass dismissed his frustration without missing a beat. "That doesn't matter right now."
A brief pause.
"She needs you. Are you coming or not?" Straight to the point.
Jason let out another long sigh.
"Ugh... Let me change and grab my bike. I'll be there in fifteen." With that, he ended the call and immediately headed off to change.
He was furious.
The entire ride there, he kept trying to calm himself down. He had told everyone to stay away from you.
To leave you alone.
Yet here they were anyway. He had known this would eventually happen. That didn't make it any less irritating.
Unfortunately for himโand fortunately for Steph and Cassโhe couldn't exactly yell at them while you were around. So when he finally arrived outside the club... He swallowed his anger and walked toward the small, chaotic group waiting near the entrance.
Currently, you were sitting on the pavement with your legs tucked underneath you, your head lolled to one side and your eyes closed. Steph was kneeling beside you, trying to convince you to drink from the bottle of water she was holding.
When Cass spotted Jason approaching, she walked over to meet him halfway, a few feet away from you.
"I gave her one of Bruce's pills," she informed him. "Steph's trying to get her to drink some water."
Jason nodded before continuing toward you.
He stopped right in front of you and cleared his throat to get your attention.
"I'm missing Gotham Storage Wars reruns because of you," he said, crossing his arms, an unmistakable hint of amusement in his voice.
You slowly opened your eyes and looked up at him.
Your pupils were huge, reflecting the streetlights above. Your eyes were glassy, your intoxication impossible to miss.
Then...
You smiled.
A full, genuine smile.
Like you were truly, ridiculously happy to see him.
Jason suddenly found himself at a loss for words.
He coughed awkwardly, glanced away for a second, then recovered.
"I heard you were completely wasted," he said with a shrug. "Had to come see it for myself."
"Jason!" you shrieked in delight, as though your brain had only just processed what your eyes were seeing.
"You're here!" You practically shouted the words, completely oblivious to how loud you were. "You can finally meet my friends!"
You tried to stand, immediately losing your balance.
Steph quickly caught you before you could face-plant into the pavement. Throwing an arm over her shoulder, you pointed dramatically at Jason.
"This is Jason!" you announced proudly. Then you pointed at Steph. "And this right here is Steph!"
You looked between the two of them expectantly, waiting for... something.
Playing along, they awkwardly shook hands as though they had never met before.
Cass walked over and glanced between all three of you.
"I called a taxi for us, Steph," she said before looking toward Jason. Then she offered Jason her hand. "I'm Cass."
Jason shook it.
"Jason."
Formal introductions complete, he was just about to steer you away from the girls whenโ
"NO!" You practically yelled, startling everyone. "Why would you call a taxi?" you demanded. "Jason is taking all of us home."
Nice.
Apparently drunk-you felt perfectly comfortable volunteering his services without asking him first.
Unfortunately...
He couldn't exactly make that happen.
"Can't," he replied simply with a shrug.
"What? Why?" You whipped your head toward him so quickly you probably gave yourself whiplash.
"These ladies are in need of a ride." You gently brushed Steph's hair behind her ear. "They're nice and pretty. You should give them a ride."
Jason looked at Steph with wide, slightly horrified eyes.
Steph merely shrugged helplessly.
"Unfortunately, we've already called ourselves a taxi," Cass explained. "And you have Jason to take you home."
"Cancel it." You pointed what Jason assumed was supposed to be a threatening finger at Cass.
"As much as I'd love to take all of you home..." Jason said, trying to salvage the situation, "...I can only take one person."
"Then you should take Steph." You shoved Steph toward Jason, making her stumble a little before she ended up standing awkwardly beside him.
What the hell was wrong with you?
You had insisted they call him to come pick you up...
And now you were trying to pawn Steph off on him instead?
What the fuck?
"I'll go with Cass." You looped your arm through Cass's. "You two go together."
To everyone's horror...
You winked at them.
Oh, God.
You weren't actually trying to do what he thought you were trying to do...
Before Jason could say anything, Cass gently slipped your arm off hers and stepped closer to Steph.
"Steph and I live together," she explained calmly. "It'll be easier if we take the taxi and you go home with Jason."
You blinked at them.
Your eyes slowly drifted from one person to the next as though trying to process the conversation through an ocean of alcohol.
Finally...
It seemed your last two functioning brain cells reached an agreement.
"Alright..." you mumbled, your voice dripping with disappointment. "But you all have to promise..." You slowly raised a very unsteady finger toward them. "...to come to the bookstore together."
All three of them raised their hands in surrender and promised. Only then did you reluctantly accept that you were going home with Jason while the girls would be taking the taxi.
After saying your goodbyes, you stumbled after him.
"So..." you asked. "Where's your car? ...Or are we walking?"
Jason glanced back over his shoulder, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.
Oh...
He was going to enjoy this.
Without answering, he simply kept walking toward his ride. A moment later, he heard your slow, uneven footsteps come to an abrupt stop.
"Is that a fucking extendable BBQ fork?!" Jason practically yelled when he saw Stray spinning what appeared to be a cooking utensil.
"OMG! That is awesome!" Roy exclaimed and ran over to Stray to take a closer look at her โweapon of choiceโ.
They were currently getting ready to head to the lab. Everyone had brought their own gear and was prepared to leave when Jason laid eyes on those abominations.
"Hell yeah, they are!" Stray shrieked excitedly. "I sharpened the edges, so if I poke someone with one, they'll probably end up with a hole!" she announced proudly.
Jason couldn't help but run a hand down his face.
This woman is impossible.
She was literally planning on running around Gotham with two BBQ forks.
God help him.
So, like any other sane person would do, he stepped up to Stray and snatched them out of her hands.
"Hey!" she protested, but it quickly died down as Jason shoved a pair of iron brass knuckles into her hands.
"What the hell?" she asked.
"Can't let you run around looking like a fool." Jason shrugged. "People might think we're a team."
He also handed her a knife.
"Batman might forbid them, but I won't."
"Haha." Stray fake-laughed.
Meanwhile, Roy stood there looking smug. He watched Jason the entire time he handed Stray the weapons.
Of course that motherfucker winked at him.
Ever since he had shown up, he'd been throwing little jabs at Jason involving Stray. Roy kept winking left and right and openly flirting with her.
Jason didn't know why he even bothered paying attention. Hell, these thoughts shouldn't even register in his brain.
No.
They shouldn't.
Yet somehow, he noted every little interaction between Roy and Stray and quietly filed it away in the back of his mind.
He felt peachy.
Or, at least, that was one way to put it.
"So... I'm not getting those back?" Stray pointed toward the BBQ forks.
In response, Jason simply flung them out the open kitchen window.
โ โฆ โ
You were all in position.
Red Arrow would enter through the windows, while Red Hood would sneak in through the back door.
You?
You were currently crawling through the dusty-ass vents.
You coughed for what felt like the hundredth time before speaking into the communicator Red Arrow had given you.
"You guys sure it was necessary for me to enter through the vents?" you asked. "Because to me, this feels more like a punishment than a tactical decision."
You continued crawling farther inside.
"This way we'll be attacking them from two fronts," Red Hood answered. "You try to scare them, and we'll cut off their escape route."
"I love how you said โtryโ, as if I couldn't wreak havoc in there," you replied.
"Wreak havoc? Yeah, that I'm sure of," Red Hood said. "You can definitely make a mess. But scaring them badly enough to make them run? That, I don't believe."
"Good thing we based the whole plan on it then," you shot back sarcastically as you reached the end of the vent.
"You guys need couples therapy," Red Arrow declared.
"I'm at the end of the vent," you said, completely ignoring Red Arrow's comment.
"What do you see?" Red Arrow asked.
You looked through the slats and saw...
Nothing.
Or rather, the absence of people.
The lights were all turned off, and you could barely make out the other side of the room. Still, it was obvious that no one was inside. Nobody was working. Nobody was doing anything.
"That's odd." You frowned. "I'm not seeing anyone inside."
"That can't be right," Red Hood replied immediately. "Open your eyes."
"Fuck you," you shot back.
"You sure nobody's in there?" Red Arrow asked.
"Positive," you answered.
"Then we're going in," Red Arrow declared. "Stick to the plan."
With that, you pushed the vent cover open and dropped to the floor.
Nobody.
Not a single soul.
You were about to look around when suddenly every light in the room flicked on. The sudden brightness blinded you, forcing you to squint until your eyes adjusted.
Once you could finally see again, Red Hood entered through the back door, followed moments later by Red Arrow dropping from the ceiling. Before any of you could say a word, movement caught your attention on the other side of the room.
Red Hood reacted instantly, firing his grappling hook. The cable wrapped around the fleeing figure's ankle.
Before they could cut the line and escape, Red Arrow fired an arrow that split apart midair, releasing a net that dropped over the target.
"Oh my," the woman you had just captured purred. "All this for me?" she teased as she sliced through the net with a casual flick of her wrist.
Wait a minute...
She looks exactly like...
"Catwoman," Red Hood announced. "What are you doing here?"
Catwoman stood up and dusted herself off.
"I believe the same thing as all of you," she replied, looking each of you up and down.
When her eyes landed on you, though, she stopped.
Then she smirked.
With catlike grace, she approached you and slowly circled around you.
"I don't believe we've met," she purred before stopping right in front of you and holding out her hand.
You took it and shook it.
"I'm Gotham's newest vigilante," you declared proudly. "Stray."
"Don't mind her." Red Hood stepped between the two of you, forcing Catwoman to take a step back.
She looked between the two of you before smirking again.
"A fellow stray of the streets," she teased as she walked over to Red Arrow. "How did you end up with these street dogs?" she asked, absentmindedly playing with one of the arrows in his quiver.
"We don't have time to play games, Catwoman," Red Hood answered for you.
"We're here to gather information about the new drug on the streets," Red Arrow added.
"Then you're in the wrong place," Catwoman announced. "They're not manufacturing any drugs here."
"Then what are they doing here?" you asked.
Catwoman wandered around the lab, casually knocking equipment off the tables and shelves.
"They're trying to develop a medicine for asthma," she said matter-of-factly as she continued her destruction. "Unfortunately, they're testing it on animals, and I can't have that."
"They're making medicine from jimsonweed?" you asked.
Catwoman stopped and looked back at you.
"Isn't that highly poisonous?" Red Arrow asked, voicing the exact same question that had crossed your mind.
"It is," Red Hood replied. He seemed to know more than he was letting on, as the discovery didn't appear to faze him in the slightest.
"The plant itself is poisonous, yet there could be a way to extract its medicinal properties," Catwoman explained.
"So all of this means we were at the wrong place?" you asked in disbelief.
"Or we've been following the wrong lead this whole time," Red Hood said.
Fucking hell.
Not again.
You were sure this was it.
Your chance to prove everyone wrong and catch the bad guy.
But all of this...
For nothing.
Another fucking dead end.
"So jimsonweed isn't the key." Red Arrow scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Then what is?"
Before anyone could answer, an alarm suddenly blared throughout the building.
"What the fuck?" you yelled, trying to make yourself heard over the noise.
"You didn't disable the alarms?" Red Hood looked toward the spot where Catwoman had been standing only a second earlier.
Empty.
He looked up, and you followed his gaze.
There she was, perched on top of a pipe, ready to slip out through the skylight.
"Sorry, lovelies," she purred. "My bad." She held up a stack of papers. "Guess the safe had an alarm system. Oops."
With a playful smirk and one final wink at the three of you, she disappeared into the night.
"Fucking hell," Red Hood muttered.
"I've always been more of a dog person," Red Arrow declared as he sprinted toward the back exit.
Running away again.
Without any clues.
Sure brought back memories.
Wonderful.
By the time you looked back, Red Hood and Red Arrow were already outside. The alarms were still blaring, making your ears feel like they were about to burst.
You took one last look at the mess Catwoman had left behind.
"All of this for nothing," you whispered, shaking your head as you turned to leave.
Then something caught your eye.
A small piece of paper.
A business card, perhaps?
It must've fallen out of the pocket of the lab coat lying on the floor.
You picked it up.
On the front was the lab's logo, its name, and a phone number. But when you turned it over...
You found what looked like handwritten text.
07/08 โ D15 โ 04:00
Your brows furrowed.
If this was what you thought it was...
This could change everything.
You should tell them.
You knew you should.
...
But what if you were right? What if this was the lead that finally belonged to you?
Not Red Hood.
Not Red Arrow.
You.
For the first time in weeks...
You had something they didn't. Something that was yours. You weren't about to hand it over.
Not yet.
This was your chance to prove to everyone that you were in control. That you were no longer helpless. That you were finally Stray...
Gotham's newestโand very capableโvigilante.
Without another thought, you slipped the card into your pocket... and walked away.
After your encounter on the rooftop with the duo of red vigilantesโRed Arrow and Red HoodโRed Arrow offered up his safe house in town as a meeting point.
It felt good that he had included you. For the first time, you felt appreciated by a fellow vigilante.
Seen, even.
Of course, Red Hood voiced his objections, but Red Arrow quickly shut him down. He praised your theory about the activator and made it clear that you were part of this investigation whether Red Hood liked it or not.
You were already starting to like this guy.
Finally, someone else who wasn't afraid to put Red Hood in his place.
After agreeing on a meeting point, you divided Gotham into three separate sectors. Each of you was assigned one, and the plan was simple: investigate your area. Find anything resembling a laboratory, overhear suspicious conversations, or get a lead from local thugs. Once one of you found something promising, you'd regroup and infiltrate the site together.
For the next week, the three of you roamed Gotham's grimy streets.
After seven days of searching, you finally received an encrypted message telling you to meet at the safe house.
It was an apartment building located in Crime Alley.
An evacuation notice had been posted on the front entrance. Apparently, the entire building was scheduled to be demolished in two weeks, making Red Arrow's safe house only a temporary solution.
Hopefully, you'd finish all of this before then.
The building had mostly been cleared out. Most of the tenants had already moved away, while a few of the remaining apartments had been taken over by squatters.
Red Arrow's apartment had been stripped bare as well.
There wasn't a single piece of furniture left. Only the kitchen cabinets...
And a table.
Hell, there wasn't even a damn chair.
The three of you stood around the table, discussing everything you had uncovered over the past week.
Red Arrow started.
He had spent the week digging deeper into the connection between Gotham and Star City, tracking down every influencer who had attended Gotham's parties before returning home.
He questioned every single one of them.
Nothing.
None of them knew who was behind the operation, where the drugs came from, or why they had been chosen.
Every story was identical.
Black Mask's goons approached them, handed them the drugs along with a stack of cash, and instructed them to distribute as many doses as possible.
Most of the influencers had been too afraid to try the drug themselves, so they simply handed it out without ever knowing what it actually did.
No leads on the laboratories, though.
Your investigation hadn't gone much better.
At first, you thought you had found something. One night, you overheard a group of people whispering about a new drug in an alley behind a nightclub.
Naturally, you listened in.
After interrogating one of them, he gave you the name of a shop. The next morning, you visited it in civilian clothes and were surprised to discover it was nothing more than a chemistry equipment store.
You casually asked whether anyone had made an unusually large purchase recently.
After bribing the woman behind the counter, she gave you a name.
Tracking him down wasn't difficult.
You created a fake Tinder profile, matched with him, and a few nights later went on what he believed was a date.
You questioned him about the drugs.
Unfortunately, you soon discovered he was just a university chemistry student trying to make some extra money by selling what he proudly called "enhancement boosters"... Which turned out to be nothing more than Viagra painted red.
Red Hood, on the other hand, had been considerably more successful.
He already knew the locations of most of Black Mask's hideouts and laboratories, so finding a lead hadn't been particularly difficult.
While searching one of the locations, he found a stack of paperwork listing the same ingredient over and over again.
Jimsonweed.
A plant capable of causing terrifying hallucinations and severe paranoid delusions.
He knew he had stumbled onto something important. Later, he tracked down the supplier. There, he found a shipment log.
Most of the deliveries had gone to known Black Mask laboratories or smaller independent labs.
Except for one.
The one you were currently discussing infiltrating.
"I gotta say... I respect the dedication," Red Arrow said as he walked over to the two of you, carrying a cup of coffee in each hand.
He handed one to you before continuing.
"Making a fake Tinder profile and going on a date just to follow a lead?"
You accepted the coffee with a quiet thank-you.
"That's commitment." he smiled before taking a sip of his own coffee.
You set yours down on the table.
"It seemed like the most logical thing to do," you said with a shrug.
"The most irrational, more like," Red Hood scoffed.
"Oh, come on, man!" Red Arrow said, patting Red Hood on the back. "Just because your ugly mug needs a helmet doesn't mean she shouldn't weaponize that lethal face card of hers."
Red Hood shoved Red Arrow aside, making him spill some of his coffee.
"Hey, dude! Watch it!" Red Arrow exclaimed, though he couldn't stop smirking.
"Why?" Red Hood shrugged, glancing around the room. "This place is already a dump. I'm pretty sure somebody took a shit in here. It smells."
"No..." You lifted your cup and sniffed it through your mask. "I'm pretty sure that's just the coffee."
"You two don't appreciate my hospitality," Red Arrow said with mock offense.
Despite the awful smell, you discreetly turned away from the others, lowered your mask just enough, and took a cautious sip.
Yep.
It tasted exactly as awful as it smelled.
You quickly pulled your mask back into place before turning to face the two vigilantes, who seemed to be silently communicating with nothing more than eye contact.
"Well, Tinder date aside, it turned out to be a dead end anyway," you continued. "All I found was red Viagra and nothing else."
"You did good." Red Arrow smiled warmly at you. "Granted, Viagra isn't exactly a drug..." He winked. "And personally, I don't need it..." That earned him an annoyed grunt from Red Hood. "...but you still shut down an illegal operation."
"Thanks."
You scratched the back of your neck, suddenly feeling a little shy.
You were pretty sure your face was bright red beneath your mask. The compliment left you buzzing with excitement.
Finally.
Someone appreciated your work.
And right in front of Red Hood.
Take that, Red Hood.
Someone gets it.
"It was still a stupid idea." Red Hood crossed his arms and looked away.
Yep.
There it was.
Of course.
He just had to ruin the moment. Honestly, you should've expected it. No way in hell was a genuine compliment ever going to leave his mouth.
Balance restored.
If he wasn't going to play nice, then neither were you.
With a simple flick of your wrist, you flipped him off.
"Ah, don't bother." Red Arrow dismissed it with a wave. "That was his way of saying it worked."
"By being a bitch?" you scoffed. "Excellent communication skills." You snorted. "Like a whiny little child."
You noticed the slow rise and fall of Red Hood's chest.
Then...
His head twitched ever so slightly. Like the last thread of his patience had finally snapped.
In three quick strides, he closed the distance between you.
He stopped directly in front of you.
He was tall.
Fucking huge.
You had to crane your neck just to meet his eyes.
"Say one more word," he warned quietly. "And see what happens."
"Don't threaten me with a good time, asshole." You shoved a hand against his chest.
He didn't budge an inch.
Not even half a step.
You watched his fists clench.
Ready.
You took a slow breath yourself. Ready to throw the first punch if necessary.
"Alright! Alright!" Red Arrow hurried between the two of you, using both hands to push you apart. "As much as I'd absolutely love to watch you two beat the crap out of each other..." He looked at Red Hood before turning back to you. "...and maybe kiss afterward..." He winked. "We've got a laboratory to infiltrate."
You scoffed and crossed your arms.
Red Hood merely grumbled something under his breath before turning away.
"Okay!" Red Arrow clapped his hands together. "Now that everyone is all hot and bothered, let's figure out a strategy."
Neither you nor Red Hood made any attempt to speak.
"Fine." Roy sighed dramatically. "I guess I'll be making the plan."
You were the first to break the silence.
"There are three entry points." You stepped up to the table and pointed at the blueprint.
"Four, actually." Red Hood walked over and tapped the ventilation shaft.
"That's not an entry point." you looked up from the map. "It's too small."
"Perfect size for one small person." he shrugged as if it were obvious.
"And who exactly would that be?" you looked between the three of you.
Both men slowly turned their heads toward you.
Staring directly into your eyes.
"Oh, fuck me."
"Trust me..." Red Arrow muttered under his breath. "He's trying."
That earned him a hard slap between the shoulder blades from Red Hood, making him stumble forward.
You were too busy staring at the blueprintโand mentally mourning your life expectancyโto catch what Red Arrow had whispered.
After another half hour of discussion, the three of you finally settled on a plan that satisfied everyone. You agreed on a date and decided to meet back at the safe house to prepare.
Red Hood jumped off the building, landing beside Stray.
Before she could utter a single word, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her firmly against his chest. Wrapping one arm tightly around her, he fired his grapple with the other, sending them both soaring back up to the rooftop he had come from.
A frightened scream escaped her lips.
Red Hood couldn't help but grin beneath his helmet.
The moment their feet touched the rooftop, she shoved him away.
"What the hell, man?! Are you crazy?!" she yelled, taking quick, panicked breaths.
She kept shouting while Red Hood simply stood there, completely unbothered, waiting for her to finish.
Once she finally seemed to calm down, he merely shrugged.
"It was the quickest way to get you up here and away from the goons you just beat up," he explained. "We weren't about to wait for you to climb up here on your own."
Her eyebrows furrowed.
"We?" she repeated.
Right on cue, Red Arrow stepped out of the shadows behind her.
"Those roller skates aren't exactly ideal for climbing, sugar," he joked. "Though I've gotta say, they're one hell of a transportation choice. Kudos for that." He laughed.
Stray turned and looked him up and down, sizing him up. Then she glanced back at Red Hood and continued her rant as though the newcomer didn't even exist.
"If this is your way of getting rid of me, then you're even lower than I thought." she pointed accusingly at Red Hood. "I at least thought you'd be man enough to take me one-on-one without needing help from a fellow red-themed enthusiast."
"Ouch." Red Arrow clutched his chest in fake pain while chuckling. "You never told me she was this feisty."
"I'm not trying to get rid of you." Red Hood paused. "Yet." He folded his arms. "Honestly, I don't even know why we're bringing you into this mess."
He looked her dead in the eye.
"You're utterly useless."
"Hey!" Stray protested.
"We have a lead on the Black Mask case," Red Arrow interrupted. "Sorry, Hood, but let's cut to the chase. Though I've gotta say, I'm loving whatever this is between you two." he gestured between them. "But we've got a case to solve and a bad guy to put behind bars."
At that, Stray's ears practically perked up.
"What do you know about the Black Mask case?" she asked.
"Well, sugar, his new drug has made its way into the party scene in Star City." Red Arrow smiled slyly at her.
For reasons Red Hood couldn't quite explain, he suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to punch Roy in the face.
"Figured." Stray shrugged nonchalantly. "After all, the influencers at the party came from all over the country."
"So you already knew the drug had made it to Star City." Roy looked at Red Hood with a raised eyebrow. "And you didn't bother telling me?"
"I've been kinda busy." Red Hood spoke quietly before shrugging and looking away.
"So you're from Star City, right?" Stray continued. "And I'm guessing you followed the trail back here to Gotham?"
"Yup," Roy answered.
"So, what else do you know?" she asked, immediately slipping into interrogation mode.
"Straight to the point. I like it." Roy winked at her. "So far, we've run lab tests on the drug, and nothing seems out of the ordinary."
"Yeah, we figured that out too." Red Hood turned back toward them, crossing his arms.
"But have you looked at the outcome?" Roy asked.
"What do you mean by 'the outcome'?" Stray questioned.
"The drug itself seems normal," Roy explained. "But we've seen a huge increase in violent attacks. Every single offender was either under the influence or had taken the drug beforehand."
"So you're saying the drug made them violent?" Red Hood tilted his head.
Meanwhile, Stray had started pacing across the rooftop, clearly deep in thought.
"That's the thing." Roy sighed. "The lab results don't suggest that should be possible. Yet we can't find any other explanation for the sudden violent outbursts."
"Unless there's an activator," Stray blurted out.
โ โฆ โ
The moment Red Hood pulled you onto the rooftop, fury surged through you. You were ready to crack his head open...
If only Red Arrow hadn't shown up.
The second he uttered the words Black Mask, however, your attention snapped toward him. Every ounce of your focus shifted to the new information he was giving you, slowly pushing your anger aside.
What he had just described made no sense.
The drug contained no compounds that should cause violent behavior, yet somehow it did exactly that.
There was no way.
For something like that to happen...
Something else had to be involved.
...
Nuclear.
Fucking nuclear.
"Unless there's an activator," you blurted out excitedly.
"What?" both men asked, looking at you in confusion.
"An activator," you repeated, as though that explained everything.
It clearly didn't.
They simply continued staring at you. You let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Ugh. Did either of you even go to school?"
"I finished high school," Red Arrow said proudly.
"I refuse to answer that question," Red Hood growled, crossing his arms.
Well... That was a surprisingly suspicious answer. You quickly filed that information away before continuing.
"An activator is a substance that speeds up a chemical reaction," you explained. "Like in an atomic bomb."
"Two atoms fuse together, creating a fusion, which triggers a rapid chain reaction and then..."
You threw both hands into the air.
"BOOM!"
"That's... not exactly how that works," they both replied to your enthusiastic explanation.
"Does it matter?" you asked. "You're focusing on the wrong part."
"The point is that something happens that wasn't happening before. Something activates it. That's all I'm trying to say," you continued.
"The wrong part?" Red Hood asked in disbelief.
"Yes! The science isn't the point. The point is that something turns it on. That's what we're looking for."
The two of them turned toward each other.
They exchanged a long look before seemingly arriving at the same conclusion.
"So you're saying the drug itself isn't the problem?" Red Arrow asked. "That there's something else causing those people to become violent."
"FUCK YES!" you shouted, delighted that they had finally understood what you were trying to say.
"But what could it be?" Red Arrow rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Drugs amplify emotions," Red Hood added.
"Anything could be an activator if you're high enough," you shrugged.
"Joy, excitement, satisfaction, anger, sadness, fear..." You began counting them off on your fingers.
"Fight or flight," Red Hood said. "Violence is often a response to a perceived threat. A response to fear."
Oh.
That actually made sense.
"So you're saying those people felt threatened before they turned violent?" You looked toward Red Arrow.
He suddenly stopped pacing.
"That could be one possibility," Red Hood shrugged.
"Because it is," Red Arrow finally said.
"What do you mean?"
"Most of them were at parties. Some had been pulled over by the police while driving. Others were arguing with their loved ones." He paused. "But they all had one thing in common."
"They suddenly became violent out of nowhere. And every single one of them attacked the first person they came into contact with."
Could it be?
Could physical contact be the trigger?
Or was it simply the feeling of being threatened?
Fuck.
This was getting more confusing by the second.
"Black Mask couldn't have done this," Red Hood said matter-of-factly.
You and Red Arrow both turned toward him at the same time, tilting your heads in confusion.
"What do you mean by that?" Red Arrow asked.
"He doesn't have the facilities." Red Hood folded his arms. "He doesn't have scientists. He doesn't deal in biological warfare."
"Maybe he's working with someone else!" you blurted out.
Yeah.
That would explain everything.
The person you'd been looking for.
The third party.
The real mastermind hiding behind the faรงade. The one who had actually created the drug.
That explained why you hadn't found anything. Why every lead had come up empty. You hadn't been chasing the wrong clues. You'd been chasing the wrong person.
One month ago, you and Red Hood parted ways. It's not like you had ever been partners or anything. He had simply decided to show up one night and start bothering you. And then you put an end to that.
An end to the bickering. The constant yelling. The fighting.
Neither of you was getting anywhere with the investigation.
So it had to end.
Ever since that night, you had been trying to get your shit together.
Things were actually getting better. You were growing closer to Jason, and you had also become friends with Steph and her university friend, Cass. They were an odd duo. One was energetic and bubbly, while the other was quiet yet gentle. Somehow, they both had a way of making you feel seen and understood.
Meanwhile, for the past month, you had been quietly investigating on your own.
You beat up goons and dealers. Hell, you even beat up a guy for looking at you the wrong way. (In your defense, he did turn out to be a drug dealer.)
Eventually, however, your month-long investigation came up dry. None of your questions had been answered.
You had known from the beginning that Black Mask was behind the new drug. You also knew he had gone to great lengths to stay anonymous.
Why?
Because no sane person would knowingly buy drugs from Black Mask. So he came up with a surprisingly effective marketing strategy.
He gave influencers the drug and instructed them to hand it out to their followers. The drug spread through the streets like wildfire.
It became a trend.
But there was still one thing bothering you.
Why was he giving it away for free?
After all, like any other business, a drug empire had to be profitable. Giving it away for free earned him neither money nor loyalty. Then there was the overdose problem.
The drug made it incredibly easy for people to overdose, and many would likely end up dead.
He was killing his own customers. It made no sense.
Businesses that sold condoms were technically preventing future generations of customers as well. Yet they still made money. That was the difference.
Money.
Black Mask's plan, however, didn't seem to make him a single dime.
So why would he do it?
That was the question you had spent the past month trying to answer. You had a gut feeling there was something much bigger hiding behind the faรงade.
The parties. The influencers. The drug. They all felt like a smokescreen. A mask hiding the real monster pulling the strings.
And that was who you wanted to find.
Who you wanted to defeat.
Who you needed to stop.
Unfortunately, that meant throwing away everything you had spent the past month rebuilding.
A month of getting your life back on track. Making friends. Finding some semblance of normalcy.
All of it had to be thrown out the window. Along with one more thing.
Your pride.
The pride of figuring everything out on your own.
So when you heard the familiar swoosh of air above you...
When you saw the unmistakable red helmet...
When you felt his very real hand land on your waist...
It felt as though everything you had worked so hard to rebuild crumbled into dust. And just like that...
You were back at square one.
Jason's POV:
Jason had lived a rough life.
He had been through more than most people ever should, yet despite everything, there were still certain things he couldn't make sense of.
His feelings were one of them.
The word please. It had been such a simple word.
Yet the moment Stray whispered it, something had stung deep inside his chest, as though a needle had pierced straight through his heart.
He didn't understand why.
He didn't care about her.
Hell, he should've just left her at the party.
If she wanted to get herself killed, then so be it.
Yet for some reasonโone he couldn't nameโhe couldn't leave her behind. Maybe it was because he knew exactly what it was like to fall into the hands of a criminal. He knew Black Mask wouldn't simply kill an intruder asking too many questions.
A quick death would've been mercy. She would've suffered.
Just like he had.
Or maybe it was because Stray had shown up on his streets.
In a way, she had become his responsibility. His job had been to get her off the streets before she got herself killed.
Only... he never did.
Instead, somewhere along the way, they had fallen into the rhythm of partners. Neither of them would've ever admitted it.
Yet countless encounters had proven it true.
They always chased the same leads. Always ended up in the same place. Always worked toward the same goal.
Fate?
Maybe.
Jason didn't believe in fate.
He knew they were bound to clash eventually, so he wasn't surprised when she ended up on top of him, trying to beat the shit out of him.
He understood exactly what she was feeling.
He had felt it once himself.
So lowering his hands was instinct. But not the instinct to fight or protect. It was the instinct to show her that he understood her and to give her the space she needed.
Life had given Jason plenty of scars.
It had also taught him how to recognize them in others.
Stray carried the same kind.
But life hadn't only made him observant. It had also made him stubborn. Painfully stubborn.
So despite understanding Stray... He couldn't help but resent her.
Maybe he resented her because she held up a mirror he wasn't ready to look into. Maybe what he hated wasn't Stray. Maybe it was the reflection she forced him to face.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone landing behind him.
He stood on the edge of a rooftop, watching. Or at least pretending to. His eyes were fixed on the streets below, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
"Jaybird!" a familiar voice called cheerfully.
Jason didn't answer.
He merely glanced over his shoulder before returning his attention to the scene below.
In the dimly lit parking lot behind an abandoned building, Stray was fighting a group of goons.
Black Mask's men, he assumed.
Two were already unconscious. Three more were still standing.
For now.
The newcomer stepped beside him and looked down.
Roy.
Or rather...
Red Arrow.
After nearly two minutes of silent observationโduring which Stray managed to knock out yet another goonโRoy finally spoke.
"Is she your new nemesis?" he asked, nodding toward the fight below. "Because honestly, she doesn't seem like the kind that requires this much preparation. We could just drop down there, knock her out, then have a proper chat."
"She's Gotham's newest vigilante," Red Hood replied simply.
"Oh." Roy watched the fight for another second. "So you're evaluating her." He tilted his head. "She fights like a rabid dog."
"Stray," Red Hood corrected.
"What?"
"Her name is Stray."
Jason never looked away from the fight.
"That's what Gotham started calling her."
He paused.
"She's incompetent."
Roy looked back down just as Stray knocked out the last remaining goon before immediately crouching down to search their pockets. Then he continued speaking.
"Ehhh... I don't know about that. To me, she looks like she's using the 'if you don't know what you're doing, your enemy can't possibly predict your next move' fighting style." He chuckled.
"And somehow..." Roy continued. "...it's working."
"Don't encourage her," Red Hood snapped.
"Alright, alright!" Roy laughed, raising both hands in surrender.
"Why are you here anyway?"
"Good to see you too, buddy." Roy nudged him in the shoulder.
"Fuck off." Jason shoved him away without much force.
"Ugh, alright, fine." Roy stepped back and looked down at the parking lot once more. "Let's skip the small talk. I've been following a lead."
That got Jason's attention.
"A new drug showed up in Star City. It first started circulating through local parties. Then I started digging, and every trail eventually led back here."
"Gotham?"
Roy nodded.
"Every supplier either came from Gotham or got their product from someone in Gotham."
Jason nodded, silently urging him to continue.
"This shit is no joke, man." Roy's tone became noticeably more serious. "We ran it through a lab, and chemically it looks... normal. Like any other drug." He frowned. "But for God knows what reason... something about it just isn't right."
"Yeah." Jason folded his arms. "We came to the same conclusion."
"We?" Roy raised an eyebrow. "The Batfamily's working the case too?"
"No." Jason pointed toward the woman still rummaging through unconscious criminals' pockets. "Me... and that rabid raccoon down there."
"You're working with her?" Roy asked, genuinely surprised.
"'Working' is a strong word." Jason stepped closer to the edge of the rooftop. "We've just been following the same lead."
"And we keep ending up in the same places."
Roy looked down at Stray again.
"So... should we tell her what I found?"
Jason stood with the tips of his boots hanging over the edge of the building.
His eyes never left Stray. He had watched her all night.
Just like every other night.
Silently keeping an eye on her. Following her from rooftop to rooftop.
Why?
He honestly didn't know. Maybe he had hoped she'd uncover something he had missed. Instead, she'd reached the same dead end he had.
Maybe...
Maybe Roy could give her the push she needed.
After all, it was obvious she wasn't going to back down. She never surrendered.
He'd watched her make one reckless decision after another simply because giving up wasn't an option in her mind.
Maybe if he helped her this once...
He could point her in the right direction. Without another word...
It's been over a week since you went on your friendly movie night with Jason.
You'd been texting ever since. Mostly, you were the one starting the conversations. Honestly, though, you didn't mind. You quickly learned that Jason was a busy person. He was usually active in the evenings, often staying up until the late hours that eventually turned into early mornings. According to him, it was because of his job.
You knew he worked as a bouncer. However, he had yet to mention where. You assumed he worked at different clubs rather than just one in particular. Or maybe he simply didn't want you showing up unannounced at his workplace, which would explain why he kept it to himself.
Whatever the reason, you'd already categorized your relationship as a friendship. After all, you were getting to know each other. You had already hung out together, and now you even texted outside of your usual bookstore encounters.
Although he hadn't been back to the bookstore since the movie night, you didn't take it personally. You knew how busy life could get. So when you told him you'd bring his jacket to work so you could return it, he simply told you to bring it another time.
So you left the jacket at home and went to work like any other day.
Usually, most customers who came into the bookstore already knew what they wanted to purchase. Many had even ordered their books online and were only stopping by to pick up their packages. Others had a general idea of what they liked, so they headed straight for their favorite section and browsed on their own.
Then there were the rare customers who had absolutely no idea what they wanted.
Those were your favorites.
As a bookstore employee, it became your mission to guide them on their quest to find something worth reading.
This was one of those quests.
A young blonde woman had walked into the store about an hour earlier. She had wandered through nearly every section but had come up empty-handed. At first, you gave her space. Most people preferred browsing on their own. If they needed help, they'd eventually come find you.
This time, however, you decided to approach her first.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but it looks like you might be searching for something we don't have," you said, interrupting her search. "If you'd like, I can look it up on the computer."
"That's not necessary, thank you," she replied with a smile. "Actually, I'm just looking around."
"That you have," you smiled back at her.
"Yeah, I know. I've been here for quite a while now." She rubbed the back of her neck. "If you wanna kick me out, that's alright. I'd understand."
"What? No! Not at all. Nothing like that," you chuckled. "I just assumed you were struggling, so I came over to help. It is my job, after all."
That earned another chuckle from her.
"Well, if you're offering help..." she began. "Can I be weird and ask for a recommendation?"
"Sure, although I make no promises," you replied. "We don't accept returns just because you didn't like the book I picked out."
"That's such a weird policy," she smirked.
You couldn't help but laugh at her sly reply.
"Alright, alright! What kind of books do you usually like?"
"Perhaps romance?" she shrugged.
"Good choice," you complimented. "Any particular type?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well... what kind of romance? Dark romance, fantasy, historical..." you listed.
"Honestly, I don't really have a preference."
"Alright, then how about a type of love interest?" you asked.
"Are you asking if I'm straight?" she tilted her head. "Wait... are you asking me out?!" she gasped dramatically.
"NO! No, I'm not," you laughed awkwardly. "Not that you aren't pretty or anything..." you quickly added, trying to save yourself. "I'm just asking so I know what kind of romance book to recommend!"
"Oh!" She smiled awkwardly. "Well... I'm a sucker for masked men."
"Girl... don't we all."
The two of you burst into laughter.
While she was still chuckling, you turned toward the nearby shelf and pulled out a book.
"Good thing we're already in the romance section," you said, handing it to her. "This one's a bit darker, but it's really popular."
"It has a mysterious masked man with serious stalker vibes..." you continued. "...and a few spicy scenes."
"Is that something you're into?" she asked nonchalantly.
"Umm... I guess?" you answered, your voice uncertain.
"Sorry if that made you uncomfortable." She raised her hands in surrender. "I just assumed you probably liked that kind of thing since you talked about it with so much enthusiasm."
"Oh, don't worry." You chuckled. "Honestly, I don't really have a preference in that department. I'm pretty open-minded." You shrugged. "Besides, it's kind of my job as a bookseller to sell you a book."
That made her lower her hands and laugh along with you.
"I'm glad I didn't offend you," she said with obvious relief. "I'm starting to like you. So you'll probably be seeing a lot more of me around here."
"Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment to my sales skills."
"Yeah, that's definitely the only reason I said it," she replied sarcastically. "Not because you walked up to me and immediately asked what kind of men I like."
"Oh, believe me," you grinned. "Next time I'm asking about your entire love life so I can find the perfect book for you."
"Oof..." she winced. "Then it'd just be a blank book."
Oh.
She was single.
That got you thinking.
She'd been nice so far. Funny, even. She had just the right amount of wit, she was gorgeous, and she seemed to enjoy romance books.
Those were all qualities that reminded you of someone else.
A dark-haired, tired-eyed giant.
Maybe they'd get along.
As far as you knew, Jason was single too. He had never mentioned having a girlfriend.
Without really thinking about it, your brain had already filed him under single and available.
She liked masked men.
Jason wasn't masked.
But he certainly had the same mysterious, brooding energy.
...
Wait.
Maybe she'd actually be a perfect match for him.
If you played your cards right, you could be the perfect wingwoman.
After all... wasn't that what friends were for?
"If you don't mind me asking, since you seem to like me so much..." you said. "What's your name?"
"It's Stephanie, but everyone just calls me Steph."
"It's nice to meet you, Steph." You held out your hand, and she shook it before you introduced yourself as well.
"Well, now that you know my name, you'll have to come back," you joked.
"Oh, definitely." She beamed. "And thank you for the recommendation."
"I'm glad I could help." You smiled back at her. "But I have to remind youโno returns."
"Yeah, yeah. The weird policy." She waved dismissively.
"See you soon?" you asked hopefully.
"Sure!" she answered brightly. "But... don't I have to pay first?"
"Oh, fuck, right!" You clapped a hand over your mouth. "Sorry! Yeah... please pay first. And don't run away with it."
You pointed her toward the register, where she paid for the book before saying goodbye.
You genuinely hoped she'd keep her word and come back.
It would be even better if she happened to visit while Jason was around. Otherwise, your matchmaking mission might prove a little difficult.
But you weren't about to give up.
It had only just begun.
Just like your friendship with Jason.
You wanted to be a good friend. And if that meant helping him find a girlfriend...
He shouldn't have been surprised that the Batfamily found out about his movie night so quickly. Jason knew it was going to happen one way or another, but he had hoped he had more time to prepare.
Unfortunately, he had miscalculated.
The very next morningโhell, it wasn't even morning for him yetโDamian, who woke up at the crack of dawn, decided to bless the family group chat with a picture.
A picture of Jason and you standing in front of the outdoor cinema with Ace.
Please, God, give him the strength and patience to deal with them.
Of course, his phone had blown up with messages, all asking about you.
Dickie Bird (Dick): JASON. PETER. TODD. WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL US YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND? ๐ญ
Waffle Queen (Steph): Jay has a GF?! NO WAY! ๐ฑ๐ฑ
The Scary One (Cass): gj J.
Dickie Bird (Dick): I seriously feel offended. ๐ฅบ
Waffle Queen (Steph): Cass, we gotta meet her. I wanna know all the details.
The Scary One (Cass): okay.
Sunny D (Duke): Man, I just woke up and you're telling me the edgy overlord has a girlfriend? Am I still dreaming? ๐
Timbers (Tim): Imma run a check to see if the picture is AI-generated.
Dickie Bird (Dick): I'M COMING HOME FROM BLรDHAVEN RIGHT NOW. I. HAVE. TO. MEET. HER.
Mr. Grumpy (Jason): No. Not happening. ๐
At that, Jason's phone suddenly started ringing.
Clearly, they weren't happy with his answer.
It was a group video call.
He had half a mind not to answer, but he knew that if he didn't say anything, they would just keep making assumptions.
So he accepted.
"There he is!" Dick beamed at the camera.
"Mazel tov," Damian said in a flat voice.
"We wanna know everything!" Steph and Duke started chanting together.
All Jason could do was pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration until the chanting stopped, giving him the opportunity to ask his question.
"Where did you get this picture, Damian?"
"The park," he simply answered. "Saw you while I was walking Titus." He shrugged.
"You took her to an outdoor cinema?" Dick asked. "I didn't know you were such a romantic."
"Jason has a heart?" Duke asked, flabbergasted.
"And he also has taste!" Steph chirped. "She's really pretty."
"She seems nice," Cass added.
"Well, she's a friend, so all of that doesn't matter," Jason cut right to the point.
That brought a variety of reactions from the group.
Dick and Duke laughed in disbelief, clearly not believing a single word he said.
Damian still seemed uninterested.
Cass and Steph were exchanging mysterious glances, clearly having an entire conversation without saying a word.
Even Tim had stopped working and was now smiling smugly at Jason through the camera.
Shit.
They weren't believing him.
If only they knew he was actually telling the truth for once.
"Yeah, sure, Little Wing. A friend," Dick said, amused.
"Friends don't go on romantic dates together," Duke stated matter-of-factly.
"And friends don't give each other their jackets," Damian dropped the bomb.
"YOU GAVE HER YOUR JACKET?!" Steph and Dick screamed at the camera at the same time.
"I'm gonna murder you, Damian," Jason said.
"I would like to see you try, Todd," Damian challenged him.
Well, there it was.
Doom.
The one thing he had wished to keep private.
He had finally found a moment of peace and quiet.
A place where he could be himself.
The bookstore.
And in it, he had found an unexpected friend.
He had never understood why having a friend was important.
But now that he was hearing Steph and Cass planning with Tim to visit the store and destroy his little sanctuary, he was beyond pissed.
They couldn't take this away from him.
Not after what had happened with Stray.
He needed this.
So he did the only thing he knew.
Threatening people.
His joking tone disappeared.
"I'm serious," Jason said quietly.
"If I see any of you anywhere near her, I swear to God, I'll murder every single one of you."
"You can't hide her away from us, Little Wing," Dick pouted.
"Yes, I fucking can. And I will." Jason furrowed his brows in anger. "She's just a friend. She doesn't need all of you sniffing around her."
"If she is 'just a friend'..." Duke made air quotes with one hand. "...then why were you on a date with her?"
"A romantic date, no less," Steph added.
Jason took a deep breath to calm himself down.
He needed a clear and truthful explanation for them to finally drop the topic.
"She invited me after her coworkers canceled on her. I asked if I could bring someone else, and she actually seemed relieved that I hadn't misunderstood the invitation as a date."
"Wait. Who did you invite?" Tim asked curiously.
"I took Ace." Jason shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.
"You took the dog?!" Dick gaped at the screen.
"Well, clearly I had no other choice. It's not like I could take any of you out," Jason deadpanned.
"AUGH! YOU WOUND ME, BROTHER!" Dick gasped dramatically.
"So she didn't want this to be a date, based on her reaction to you bringing a plus one," Tim stated. "But that doesn't mean you didn't want it to be one."
"OMG. Jason has a crush!" Steph lit up.
"What I have is a Glock and a list of all your addresses," Jason threatened.
"We all live at the same place, dumbass," Duke pointed out.
Yeah.
No way.
He wasn't doing this.
He shouldn't have even picked up.
They weren't going to take him seriously.
He had been doomed from the beginning.
"Alright. If you guys keep bothering me about this, or if I see any of you around her, I won't visit the Manor ever again." Jason shrugged nonchalantly. "And I'll tell Alfred it was all your fault."
Now that was a threat they seemed to take seriously.
They quickly apologized and promised not to go anywhere near you while he was around.
They promised to drop the subject.
However, Jason knew better.
He knew this only bought him time and nothing more.
He just hoped that time would be enough to prepare you for the Batfamily.
You had asked him out to a movie night, and he was certain he had somehow been sending the wrong signals.
Not that there was anything wrong with you.
He liked you.
You were funny, sarcastic, and overall a fun person to be around. That was likely why he had gravitated toward you in the first place.
However, he had only meant to make a friend and not imply anything more. Although, he noted somewhere in the back of his mind that you were, in fact, pretty.
But that wasn't the point.
He needed friends.
Even though this wasn't something he would ever say out loud or admit to anyone, he knew he needed someone he could rely on.
Sure, he had Roy and the others. Even his family was there for him.
But all of them were...
Well, how could he put it nicely?
Fucking insane.
They were heroes and vigilantes, for God's sake. None of them were in their right minds.
So he needed at least one person who wasn't involved in the vigilante business. Even Alfred was out of the picture, considering he was far too close to the Big Bat himself.
In his moment of panic, however, Jason had blurted out that he wanted to bring someone along. It had been his way of making sure you didn't get the wrong idea.
And the moment he saw relief on your face, his fear of hurting your feelings vanished.
He couldn't have dealt with seeing you sad because he didn't want to go on a date with you.
Hell, he probably would've never visited the bookstore again if that had happened. But seeing you beam at him when he mentioned bringing someone else had brought him peace of mind.
That was, until he realized he had absolutely no idea who to bring.
He thought about Dick.
But that charismatic idiot would immediately get the wrong idea and start making fun of him for not being brave enough to go on a date with you alone.
But it wasn't even a date.
He would tell him that.
Which would only result in even more annoying suggestions and jokes.
So Dick was out.
He could bring Roy.
It had been a while since they had last seen each other. Roy had apparently been busy with some case, and the two of them had only spoken over the phone a handful of times.
Besides, Roy constantly spammed him with memes, so based solely on their shared interests, he would probably get along with you just fine.
Unfortunately, Roy, just like Dick, would probably make the wrong assumption, and the nice outdoor movie night would quickly turn into a game of Let's Fuck With Jason.
Which left him with only one option.
โ โฆ โ
"A dog?" you asked in disbelief. "Your friend is a dog?"
"Is that your way of saying you don't like dogs?" Jason asked.
"No! It's my way of saying that you don't need a ticket for a dog," you deadpanned. "So I still have two more tickets that won't be used."
At that, Jason leaned down and patted the dog's head.
"He counts as a person," he simply shrugged.
"Well, he better not eat my popcorn," you stated before approaching the two of them. "What's his name anyway?"
"His name is Ace." Jason looked at you. "You can pet him if you'd like."
You turned toward the dog and offered him your hand to sniff. Ace, who was a German Shepherd, sniffed your fingers and, apparently approving of you, lowered his head so you could pet him.
You reached behind his ears and scratched.
"I hope it's not a problem that I brought him along." Jason crouched down to adjust Ace's collar. "The others already had plans, so nobody could make it." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I promised I'd bring someone, so I had no other choice but to bring him."
You stopped scratching Ace's ears, and for a second he looked genuinely offended by the loss of attention, only to receive pets from Jason instead.
"It's alright," you said softly. "I like dogs. I was just surprised, that's all."
For a second, neither of you spoke.
People kept streaming toward the outdoor cinema. The movie would start soon, and you still had to find the perfect place to lay down your blanket.
Yet neither of you felt the need to rush inside.
The laughter of a group of teenagers brought you back to reality.
"But I was serious about the popcorn," you stated firmly.
Jason laughed.
"Don't worry. We'll buy him his own."
At that, both of you chuckled and finally headed inside.
You had bought enough popcorn for an entire family, ensuring nobody would be left snackless.
With practiced precision, you found the perfect spot for the blanket. Jason joked that this clearly wasn't your first time at an outdoor cinema, considering how easily you navigated the crowd.
You explained that you had loved both movies and the outdoors ever since you were a kid, so it wasn't surprising that combining the two had become one of your favorite things.
You spread out the blanket while Jason prepared a bowl of water for Ace.
Then you settled down.
For a moment, you noticed some hesitation on Jason's face as he prepared to sit beside you.
Only for it to vanish the second Ace decided to snuggle up next to you instead, leaving Jason to sit beside him.
And so there you were.
Sitting on a blanket with Jason, with Ace stretched out between the two of you.
"He seems to like you," Jason said while absentmindedly scratching Ace's back.
"He's a good judge of character," you replied proudly, scratching behind Ace's ears.
You continued your light conversation about dogs and animals until the movie finally started.
Throughout the movie, the two of you snacked on your popcorn. You even offered some to Ace, who happily munched on a few pieces. You made sure not to give him too much. Not because you were greedy, but because you didn't want him to end up with stomach issues.
As the night grew colder and a chilly breeze swept through the outdoor cinema, Jason kindly offered you his jacket.
He certainly was a gentleman.
However, you had no idea how to feel about that.
It was sweet of him, and you accepted it with a smile, but you worried the gesture might imply something more than two friends having a movie night.
So you made sure to keep a healthy distance between the two of you.
Jason didn't seem to mind.
Besides, you didn't think he saw this as a date. He had made that perfectly clear when he'd insisted on bringing someone else along. Clearly, he hadn't wanted to be alone with you the way people usually were on dates.
Yet somehow, even without trying, the evening had become far more romantic than you'd realized.
The moon hung high above you.
The two of you sat on a blanket, munching on popcorn while watching an undeniably romantic movie.
Both of you were petting Ace, and more than once your hands brushed against each other while scratching his fur.
Each time, you both apologized and quickly turned your attention back to the movie.
Back to watching a romantic movie.
Where people kissed.
Which made concentrating rather difficult.
Still, by the end, a few tears had escaped your eyes.
You quickly wiped them away before Jason could notice.
"So, what did you think?" you asked, turning toward him.
"It was nice," he said after thinking for a moment.
"Just nice? Oh God, right, I forgot. You're a book snob." You nudged him with your shoulder. "Of course you wouldn't enjoy the movie adaptation of your favorite book."
"Hey! I didn't say I didn't enjoy it!" he nudged you back. "It's just not the same experience."
"Or maybe you just don't watch enough movies to appreciate a good one," you pointed out. "But I'll fix that."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Hell yeah!"
The two of you burst out laughing, waking up the sleeping Ace.
The dog stood up and circled the two of you before eventually nudging Jason's leg with his nose.
"It seems even Ace didn't like it and wants to go," you teased. "I can't put up with you book nerds."
Jason offered to walk you home, and you gladly accepted. It was safer with him and Ace by your side. Once you reached your apartment building, the two of you said your goodbyes.
Jason thanked you for inviting him and even admitted that he had actually enjoyed the movie. Overall, he seemed genuinely grateful that you'd thought of him.
Then you headed upstairs, your mind filled with memories from the evening rather than the disaster at the club.
Finally, you were going to have a peaceful night.
Jason's POV:
After saying goodbye, Jason and Ace lingered outside your building for another minute. Even if he couldn't see you enter your apartment, he wanted to make sure you got home safely.
He rubbed Ace's head, praising him for being such a good boy all night.
Turning away, he began walking home when his phone pinged.
A new message from you.
It was a list of movies.
Some were book adaptations.
Others were listed as absolute classics.
And at the end was a threatening message.
'Watch all of these or we can't be friends anymore.'
Jason couldn't help but smile at his phone.
He was about to put it away when another message popped up.
'Sorry I stole your jacket. I'll give it back to you at the bookstore! Good night.'
With a small smile still on his face, he sent a quick good night in return and continued walking home.
After saying goodnight, Jason slipped his phone back into his pocket. He was currently on patrol, though of course he couldn't tell you that.
Not being in front of a TV wasn't the only thing he had lied about tonight. He had also lied when he said he wouldn't answer the next time you texted him something ridiculous.
Because he would.
He absolutely would.
And for once, he was grateful for the helmet hiding the small smile currently tugging at the corner of his lips.
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this little experiment! If you liked it, I might make more in the future.
I don't really plan these out, so I'll probably just write and post them whenever I have a good enough idea.
Who knows? Maybe a Batfamily group chat. Maybe some Stray memes. Maybe Gotham Storage Wars becomes a recurring problem in Jason's life. ๐
We'll see. Stay tuned! โค๏ธโค๏ธ
You often had a hard time deciphering your feelings. Understanding them was one thing, but making sense of them was another.
You felt betrayed.
Disrespected.
Or at least, that's what you believed those feelings to be.
More often than not, you chose to ignore them. Dealing with them was hard and required tedious work, so opting for the easier method was understandable.
So ignoring them and stepping away from the situation seemed like the best course of action.
You went back to work pretending your feelings weren't hurt. You covered up your scars and put on a smile.
You felt conflicted.
Because, on one hand, you were actually happy, so your smile wasn't entirely fake.
After all, you were a vigilante.
Deep down, you knew investigations and crime-fighting came with their ups and downs. You knew leads often led nowhere.
Yet whenever your smile faded and turned into a frown, your thoughts drifted back to him.
You had no idea he had such an impact on your emotions until he dragged you out of the party.
Before that night, you had only ever met him with his helmet on. You had never seen his emotions on display. You had simply filed away his anger as frustration at the situations the two of you found yourselves in.
However, that night at the party, his entire demeanor had been on display.
His domino mask hid only one thing.
His identity.
His emotions, however, were impossible to miss.
He had looked disappointed.
Angry.
Furious.
Like you were a problem.
Oh well.
Whatever.
Nevermind.
You thought as you returned to work.
You tried to drown yourself in work and other distractions.
One of which was doomscrolling on the internet.
You were currently doing exactly that when a familiar figure approached.
"You know you shouldn't be on your phone during work hours," Jason pointed out. "And what are you laughing at anyway?"
You looked up from your phone, glanced around the empty bookstore, then back at him.
"There is literally nobody in the store but you."
"Me, aka a customer," he deadpanned.
Rolling your eyes, you held up your phone for him to see.
"I'm looking at Stray memes. They're hilarious."
"Stray?" he asked, surprised.
"Yeah! Gotham's new vigilante! She's a total badass!"
You searched his face for any sign of disapproval.
Finding only a concerning amount of confusion, you continued.
"What's your phone number? I could send you some of the memes."
"You know there are better ways to ask a guy for his number, right?"
"Pfft... as if!" you shrugged. "Besides, I can just look you up in the system."
You dramatically turned toward the computer.
"That would be a crime against personal information. A breach of data privacy and confidentiality."
"Wow, someone knows some big words," you teased sarcastically.
"Ugh, alright, fine."
He held out his hand and took your phone, typing in his number.
"But if you start spamming me with memes, I'll block you."
"Yay!" you clapped excitedly like a fool. "Don't worry! I'll also send you reality TV recommendations."
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Jason sighed.
"Actually, now that I've mentioned TV shows, you know how I talked about the Pride and Prejudice movie before, right?" you asked.
"The one you cried over?" Jason asked.
"Spot on!" you laughed. "Anyway, there's an outdoor cinema in the city and they're screening Pride and Prejudice this Sunday."
You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly.
"I know this is kind of out of the blue, but some of my coworkers and I were planning on going, and then they all bailed on me last minute. So now I'm stuck with three tickets I don't need..."
Jason raised an eyebrow.
"Are you trying to sell me those tickets?"
"No, dumbass," you snorted. "I'm trying to offer you one so I don't have to go alone like some loser. And now that I have your number, I know you're not a serial killer, so..."
"The bar is extremely low, I see." He gave you a one-sided, shy smile.
"It's hard to make friends in Gotham, so I had to lower the bar," you smiled brightly at him. "After all, most people are either crazy fools or criminals with PhDs."
"So having a phone and giving away my number is proof that I'm decent enough?"
"You also walked me home once. So you already know where I live, so there's really no reason for me to hide anymore," you recalled.
He chuckled at that, then rubbed the back of his neck.
"You mentioned three tickets. Do you mind if I bring others?"
Oh thank God.
For a second, you thought he was going to get the wrong idea and think it was a date.
It wasn't.
After all, you guys were friends.
Just friends.
You weren't anything more.
Why would you be?
Hell, were you even friends?
He was a customer at the bookstore you worked at.
You talked and joked around, but it wasn't like you knew anything important about him.
Except his taste in books.
And he knew where you lived.
And you knew what he did for a living.
Maybe you were friends.
But most definitely nothing more than that.
"The more the merrier," you laughed awkwardly, trying to hide your thoughts. "After all, it's just a friendly get-together. And if you bring others, I'll have the chance to make more friends!" you beamed.
You saw his demeanor shift at that.
Suddenly, he no longer rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and his shoulders seemed to relax.
"Good," he answered. "Text me the details, and I'll let you know if something comes up."
He smiled at you before turning around, ready to leave.
"And please don't spam me with memes, or I'm blocking you!" he warned, pointing a finger your way.
"I'm not making promises I can't keep!" you raised your hands and smiled mischievously.
Maybe this was the kind of distraction you needed.
Maybe finding a connection with someone else would finally get that red-helmeted ass out of your head.
Jason was nice.
Witty.
Interesting.
The complete opposite of that asshole.
No wonder things worked so well between you and Jason and escalated so badly with Red Hood.
If only the two of you could work together half as well as you and Jason did.
Maybe then you'd actually get somewhere instead of arguing all the time.
One perfect word to describe the absolute shitshow you currently found yourself in?
Chaos.
Disguise blown? Check.
Red Hood yelling? Check. (Though honestly, when wasn't he yelling?)
Angry guards approaching you? Double check.
No exit strategy? Check.
Shit hitting the fan? Absolutely fucking check.
So it was safe to say things hadn't exactly gone according to plan.
How could they?
You hadn't exactly accounted for the red-helmeted ass showing up. Not that it was his fault the influencer had recognized you. But it certainly didn't help that you had to look at his stupid smug face when your cover was blown.
It also didn't help that he was currently yelling at you for God knows what.
"Why exactly did you steal the guy's ticket?" he shouted while knocking a guy out and dodging a punch.
"I had to get in somehow!" you shouted back over your shoulder while smashing a bottle of champagne over the head of a guard trying to jump over the bar counter.
"So you openly stole his fucking ticket?!" Red Hood shouted back, clearly angry.
"No! I'm smarter than that," you continued while kicking the guard approaching from your right in the stomach. "I pretended to be his fling and kissed him in front of his girlfriend, then stole his ticket."
That made Red Hood freeze for a second.
Only to get knocked off his feet by a guard jumping on him.
"You kissed him?" he shouted, struggling as he wrestled with the guard pinning him to the floor.
"I kissed him on the cheek! But who gives a shit about that?" you said while slashing a guard's arm with a broken bottle. That was definitely going to leave a mark. "What matters is that we have to find Black Mask, or someone who can answer our questions."
Red Hood finally got the guy off him and stood up just in time for another guard to charge at him. He sidestepped the attack and launched his own series of hits.
"No way. We're leaving!" he stated before looking back at you, as though his glare alone could make you change your mind.
"I ain't fucking leaving," you spat at him before grabbing another bottle off the shelf and throwing it at one of the guards running your way.
The bottle completely missed its target and shattered against the dance stage.
"What the fuck were you aiming at?" Red Hood looked from the shattered glass to where you were currently getting tackled by an angry guard.
The guard grabbed you by the shoulder, picked you up, and slammed you onto the bar counter.
You struggled against his hold while continuing to furiously shout at Red Hood.
"I can't see shit in these glasses!" You managed to free one of your hands from the guard's grip. "These are freaking diffraction glasses!"
The guard's hand wrapped around your throat, slowly cutting off your air supply, making it rather impossible to continue your conversation with Red Hood.
You reached out across the counter, desperately searching for anything you could use as a weapon.
Your hand landed on a cocktail glass and knocked it out of reach.
Shit.
You kept searching the counter while your air supply slowly dwindled. You started to feel lightheaded, and for a second, you were sure this was the end.
A small yelp escaped your lips.
Maybe it was your mind finally abandoning its cockiness and asking for help.
Maybe it was simply the last of the air leaving your lungs.
Either way, your hand finally landed on a small plastic straw.
You grabbed it, placing your thumb over the opening, and with your last coherent thought, you stabbed it straight into the guard's eye.
The man stumbled back in pain, releasing your throat and finally giving you room to breathe.
You quickly knocked his hand away and, with one smooth motion, kicked him in the face, forcing him off you completely. He stumbled backwards and hit his head against the shelf behind him, knocking himself out cold.
You turned back to where you had last seen Red Hood, only to find him running your way.
"I'm seeing fucking hearts everywhere," you coughed out in a raspy voice.
"What?" he asked as soon as he reached you, his eyebrows furrowing.
He helped you off the counter, and for once, you let him. He looked you up and down. For a second, you thought you saw concern in his eyes, but the moment passed as soon as he resumed belittling you.
"What were you thinking? You shouldn't even be here!"
"Fuck you!" you shot back, pushing him away and reaching for another bottle. Once again, you tried to throw it at an approaching guard.
Completely missing.
Red Hood still stood in front of you, looking upset as usual. Without warning, he grabbed your hand and started dragging you toward the exit.
"What the hell are you doing?" you struggled against his grip.
Trying to pry yourself free was pointless.
He was a fucking tank.
And he moved like one too.
"I'm making sure we leave here in one piece," he stated as he continued dragging you toward the door.
You grabbed another bottle and were ready to smash it over Red Hood's head when he looked back at you with a cold stare.
Anger was evident on his face.
And so was disappointment.
But why?
Was he disappointed in you?
Or just angry that the mission had gone sideways?
He couldn't possibly be furious at you.
And even if he was, why should you give a crap?
Hell, you should just smash the bottle over his head and leave. Run while you still could. Find the room where they were hiding all the secrets and be the hero who uncovered the truth.
But for whatever reasonโone you had no words forโyou lowered your hand.
You looked away from his disappointed eyes and let him drag you out the door.
But before the door could completely shut behind the two of you, you caught a glimpse of something you'd never seen before.
Or rather, someone.
Someone you had been looking for all this time.
It was him.
Black Mask himself.
Standing at the entrance to the VIP area, watching you leave.
Dozens of guards and goons surrounded him while the VIP guests fled in panic.
You were far away, yet you were sure he had looked you straight in the eye.
Your mind screamed in protest, but the words never reached your lips.
You froze, all the while being dragged away like a doll.
There he was.
And yet you were running away with Red Hood.
Defeated.
If only you had waited one more minute.
If only he had left you alone.
If he hadn't dragged you away from the fight, you could've met him.
You could've asked your questions right at the source.
But this red-helmeted bastard had to get in your way.
So the moment he stopped and deemed your position a safe distance away from the party, your shock melted away and was replaced by fury.
"You fucking piece of shit!" you shouted, shoving him in the chest with both hands. He stumbled back a step in surprise. "He was there! Black Mask was right fucking there, I saw him! But you had to be an asshole and drag me away!"
"Be an asshole? I fucking saved you!" he shot back. "You were almost choked to death by one of those guards. God knows if I hadn't dragged you away, you'd be lying dead on the dance floor."
"How fucking dare you say that," you spat, swinging at his smug face.
Unfortunately, he sidestepped, causing you to stumble forward. You caught yourself against the nearby wall.
"I had everything under control. I had a plan and you messed it up."
"You were getting your ass kicked and I saved you," he replied. "You're an amateur. You shouldn't even be here."
Ouch.
That finally hit the nerve he was aiming for.
You pushed yourself off the wall and launched yourself at him.
Apparently, you'd caught him off guard, because he stumbled backwards and the two of you crashed onto the pavement.
You ended up on top of him, so you raised your fist, ready to strike, only for him to catch your wrist.
You struggled against his grip, still spitting curses his way.
Eventually, you managed to wrench your hand free and raised your fist once again.
For a second, it seemed like he was going to stop you.
Instead, he didn't move.
He wasn't defending himself anymore.
He was just looking at you.
Waiting.
Letting you hit him.
Like he didn't think you could beat him any other way.
Like he had already decided the outcome.
The disrespect.
Fine.
You could beat some sense into him, but what would that accomplish?
He wasn't going to respect you.
You had to find another way.
So, without another word, you got off him and climbed to your feet.
Parting ways was probably for the best.
You had started this alone, after all. If he was only going to show up and ruin everything, then you didn't need him.
Why were you even thinking about him?
When had you started expecting him to be there?
Why was he on your mind in the first place?
Fuck him.
Before disappearing into the night, you looked back one last time.
"Please, just fuck off," you whispered, your voice low and filled with hurt.
Jason was clearly one step ahead. He had asked Oracle to run through all the names on the list he and Stray had found in the warehouse. Within minutes, she had run thorough background checks on everyone.
Connecting the dots after that had been simple.
All influencers.
All with a certain type of follower base.
Influenceable.
They needed a trend. A new form of entertainment. A lead to follow.
And Black Mask had given them one.
Some of the influencers were from neighboring cities, some from elsewhere. He had half a mind to call Roy when he had seen Star City on the list. However, he put that thought on hold when he saw Stray in that alley with the guy named David.
She had asked a question he hadn't thought of yet.
After all, he already knew the target audience. He knew who the drugs were meant for. But how and where they were distributing them was still a work in progress.
She had been right on the money when she asked about parties.
If she was any more competent, she would probably search up one of those parties and most likely attend one as well.
Only he had hoped that wouldn't be the case.
He didn't have the patience to deal with her at a party, with civilians around to watch.
If only he had known how quickly shit was going to hit the fan.
And lo and behold, there she stood.
Not in her usual getup, but most definitely her. No wig in existence was enough to hide that ridiculous face of hers. There she stood, her eyes bugging out from beneath those fucking heart-shaped glasses.
Heart-shaped, for God's sake.
Who even let her in looking like that?
He planned things beforehand.
Checked schedules.
Picked a guy whose outfit would fit him well enough. Knocked the poor bastard out and took his position as a VIP bartender.
As intended.
As planned.
But apparently they let anyone in, because there she stood in the most ridiculous outfit he had ever seen.
Clearly a disguise.
Yet nobody else seemed to be questioning her poor choice of clothing except him.
Fucking unbelievable.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
He looked around as though the answer were written all over him.
It was.
After all, he was wearing bartender clothes and a domino mask.
"I didn't realize you were cosplaying a blind woman," he deadpanned.
"Relax, dude, I was just trying to make light conversation," she replied, clearly taken aback by his rudeness. "After all, my mission is to blend in."
"Looking like that?" he asked.
And before he could continue and comment on her poor sense of fashion, a guy burst through the door with two guards following close behind.
"There she is! At the bar! She stole my VIP ticket!" the man shouted, pointing at Stray.
Red Hood turned toward her, looking down at the woman.
"Blending in, huh?" he asked, trying to hold back his frustration. "It clearly worked."
"Shut up!" she shot back before turning to face the approaching guards.
"I'm sure there's been a misunderstanding!" she said, raising both hands in an attempt to appear less threatening.
As if she was any threat, Red Hood thought.
Stray was frantically looking around, clearly searching for an escape route.
This was going to get messy.
Red Hood took a second to look her over from behind. He hadn't seen a weapon on her when she'd approached him at the bar. He had known the moment this walking disaster entered the room that it was her, and the moment she spoke, she had confirmed all of his fears.
But now that he had seen her whole outfit, it became painfully obvious.
She had no weapon on her at all.
She had entered like a normal partygoer.
Shit.
No.
No way in hell was he going to blow his cover just to help her out.
Not when he had finally made it to where he needed to be. Where the secrets were being exchanged.
"You bitch stole my ticket and made my girlfriend break up with me!" the man shouted as he approached Stray, anger burning in his eyes.
"'Made' is a strong word. I merely pointed her in the right direction," she chuckled at her own joke.
At that, Red Hood shook his head and ran a hand down his face.
This woman was going to get herself killed with her own mouth.
One of the guards reached for Stray's arm, but she sidestepped the grab while continuing the conversation with the enraged man.
"After all, you would've used the VIP ticket as your getaway ticket from her," she accused. "You were gonna cheat on her."
"Fuck you, I wasn't!" the guy spat. "I'm here for work."
"Which is?" she asked, trying to bait him into revealing more.
Clever?
No fucking way.
Suicidal?
Most definitely.
The two guards looked at each other and nodded.
A signal.
They were going to grab Stray at the same time.
If she kept asking suspicious questions like that, they wouldn't just throw her out.
They'd probably kill her. Black Mask didn't take kindly to people sniffing around his business.
"You're an influencer, aren't you? Handing out drugs to your followers, isn't that right?"
There she went.
Spoiling the party.
All of her cards laid bare.
Fantastic.
At that, the two guards lunged at her.
Stray was quick enough to dodge one of them, but the other managed to grab her. Meanwhile, the guy just stood there in shock.
Fucking hell.
Red Hood had asked for one easy night. One night without having to babysit anyone.
But apparently, the universe had other plans.
He grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the shelf and hurled it at the guard holding Stray.
Direct hit.
The bottle smashed against the man's head, giving Stray enough of an opening to slip free.
Only for the second guard to grab her.
Red Hood sighed and shook his head. He made sure his sleeves stayed rolled up before smoothly vaulting over the counter.
He grabbed the shoulder of the guard he'd just hit and spun him around.
One right hook later, the man was out cold.
Meanwhile, Stray was still trying to get out of the other guard's hold while the influencer kept ranting about his broken relationship.
Chaos erupted.
Now everyone was watching.
Even the people who hadn't paid attention when the man and the guards had first burst into the room were now involved.
Shouts for more security rang out.
Fuck.
Stray finally managed to break free. Immediately, she turned toward the guard and knocked him out cold.
Then she spun around toward the man who had been yelling at her. He took an instinctive step back when she pointed an accusing finger at him.
"Are you working for Black Mask or not?" she fired question after question. "What does he want? What are his intentions with the drug? Why is he giving it away for free?"
The man stared at her with wide eyes.
For all of one second.
Because the commotion at the door snapped him out of his daze.
"We gotta go," Red Hood said, glancing toward the entrance where a dozen guards were currently pouring into the room.
Then, as if he hadn't heard a single word Stray had asked, the guy continued with his accusations.
"You made her break up with me!" he shouted. "I'm a nice guy, and you made herโ"
At that, Stray rolled her eyes and threw a right hook straight into the man's nose. A loud crack echoed through the room, clearly breaking it.
The guy cried out in pain and collapsed to the floor.
"Seriously?" Red Hood asked, annoyed.
"He was pissing me off," she replied with a shrug.
Then both of them looked at the approaching guards.
"There's a back door that leads outside," Red Hood said, pointing to the right side of the bar.
"I'm not leaving without answers," Stray replied.
Then she vaulted over the bar, grabbed a bottle, smashed it against the counter, and took up a fighting stance.
No.
No fucking way.
This woman was insane.
She wasn't just going to get herself killed. She was going to get him killed too.
"Unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head.
Then he turned toward the approaching guards and raised his fists.
Deep bass music shook the floors of the club. Neon lights danced across the mirrored ceiling, bathing the room in shifting colors. A DJ booth stood in the center while people circled around it, dancing as though enchanted by the music. Surrounding the dance floor were plush sofas and glass tables. Peopleโmostly influencersโsat around them, drinking colorful cocktails, laughing, and taking pictures. The bar itself was packed, everyone waiting for tonight's poison of choice.
If you hadn't been working, you probably would've grabbed a drink yourself and enjoyed the party.
But you were here on business.
No time for slacking.
You wandered around the club, trying to appear nonchalant. Like you were an influencer as well. An alt girl with her own specific audience and followers. Fans approached people left and right, asking for selfies. Conversations and alcohol flowed easily between them.
And something else.
Drugs.
Exchanged between dramatic laughter, secret hugs, and elaborate handshakes.
Passed around like a secret you whispered to a friend.
Your eyes caught a glimpse of the upper floor.
Leaning against the railing and looking down at the dance floor stood a woman in a shimmering designer dress. Even from this distance, you could tell she wasn't one of the lower-tier influencers.
She was big league.
And she acted like it.
Bingo.
If anyone knew what was going on, it was probably her.
You looked around the club, searching for a way to reach the second floor, only to discover that the stairs were guarded. And after witnessing a failed bribery attempt, it became painfully obvious that you weren't buying your way up there.
Invitation only.
So that was what you needed.
You started wandering around again, hoping to find an invitation lying on the floor somewhere, only to overhear an unexpected conversation as you passed a couple.
"You didn't get me VIP?" the woman shrieked.
"Baby, I'm sorry. It was hard enough getting one for myself," the man tried to defend himself.
"Oh, so what? You're just going to leave me down here?!" the woman asked in disbelief.
The man stood there quietly, clearly caught off guard and having no idea what to say. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked around as though someone might magically provide him with an answer.
"ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS, MATTHEW?!" the woman screamed over the music. "YOU WERE GONNA LEAVE ME ALL ALONE WHILE YOU PARTIED UPSTAIRS?!"
"Look, baby, I was gonna come back down for you, I swear!" the man tried to calm her down.
Interesting.
So the man had a VIP ticket and was planning on leaving her behind.
Maybe he didn't deserve that VIP ticket for being an asshole.
You could certainly make better use of it.
The only question was: how were you going to get it?
"You probably want to go up there and cheat on me!" the woman continued shouting.
Oh.
That could be useful information.
And with that, you had already come up with a plan.
A brilliant plan.
You took off your mask and grabbed two glasses from a nearby table. Quickly, you tied up your shirt, making sure your stomach was on display, while your leather jacket hung loosely off your shoulders.
Then you marched toward the arguing couple and approached the man with clear intent.
With one swift motionโand a little bit of stumblingโyou threw your arm around the man's neck.
"MATTHEW!" you shouted happily. "BABY! CAN WE GO UP TO THE VIP NOW?!"
Matthew instantly froze.
The woman's eyes widened.
You could practically see the exact moment her expression shifted from disbelief to pure fury.
And then the fight began.
Matthew desperately tried to explain the situation.
Mayaโthe womanโwas trying to scream Matthew's head off, with several curse words aimed in your direction as well. She had absolutely no intention of listening to him, and Matthew himself still seemed completely confused as to who the fuck you were.
To really sell the act, you kissed Matthew on the cheek.
That finally caused Maya to start throwing hands.
While she was busy trying to rip his face off, you slipped your hand into Matthew's jacket pocket, where he had hidden the VIP ticket.
Carefully pulling it out, you announced with a needy, overly flirtatious whine that you'd be waiting for him upstairs in the VIP area.
Then you went merrily on your way toward the stairs, leaving the arguing couple behind.
You showed the bouncer your ticket and, without any further questions, he let you through.
You were starting to get far too good at this.
Smirking to yourself, you put your mask back on and climbed the stairs.
Looking around the balcony, you realized the woman in the sparkling dress was no longer there.
You started searching the upper floor until you finally spotted a massive door.
Two guards stood at the entrance, practically screaming VIP area.
You approached the guards nonchalantly and flashed your VIP ticket between two fingers, acting like you were somehow above them.
The two men looked you up and down for a second.
Then they simply shrugged and opened the door, letting you inside.
The room was enormous.
A giant circle with a circular stage in the middle.
Around it stood dozens of round tables surrounded by circular leather sofas.
Fucking circles.
Everywhere.
Crystal beads hung from the ceiling around each table, separating one area from another. The lighting was dim. Gone were the colorful beams and flashing lights of the dance floor downstairs.
The whole place screamed secrecy.
Low lights.
Hushed voices.
Champagne-filled glasses.
Quiet conversations.
Secrets exchanged in whispers.
Straight across from the entrance stood a bar.
Behind it, a lone bartender was shaking an expensive-looking cocktail. The low light made him appear like a shadow moving with effortless grace.
You decided to approach the bar, hoping to squeeze some information out of the bartender.
Workers often hated their bosses.
And bartenders possessed the supernatural ability to talk people into revealing their deepest secrets.
You walked over and leaned against the counter with your back to it, both arms resting behind you. You faced the stage, glancing over your shoulder to speak to the bartender.
He stepped up to you.
"What can I get you, miss?"
The bartender was a young guy.
He wore a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A black domino mask covered his eyes, which made absolutely no sense, but you assumed it was some weird rich people kink.
The dim lighting hid most of his features, leaving only one thing immediately noticeable.
The white streaks at the front of his hair.
Interesting.
If you had been here for any reason other than work, maybe you would've flirted with him.
After all, he was good-looking.
Built like a tank.
And his forearms were littered with scars, somehow making him even hotter.
You coughed away those dangerous thoughts when you realized he'd asked you a question.
"Information," you replied, getting straight to the point.
You turned around fully to face him, hoping eye contact would make him more willing to talk.
What came next, however, was certainly not something you had expected.
"No fucking way," the bartender said in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."
His voice rose slightly before he quickly lowered it again, whisper-shouting.
"What are you doing here, Stray?"
That caught you completely off guard.
He knew you?
How?
You took off your glasses to get a better look at the man.
After going out and meeting up with one of the names on the list you had found during the warehouse raid, your investigation came to a sudden halt. Unfortunately, you had no follow-up lead to pursue, which normally wouldn't have bothered you. What did bother you, however, was the fact that Red Hood clearly knew what the next step was, and he was probably already moving on. Not to mention his smug attitude about the whole thing. Like he believed he was better, and the results had proven him right.
Well, you weren't going to accept that as fact.
You were going to prove him wrong.
So after showering off the dirt of the city, you laid down on your couch in your fluffy bathrobe and decided to continue your search on social media.
The idea was simple.
You had a list of names. Most of them were probably influencers, just like David. Maybe one of them had accidentally shared something online that would point you in the right direction.
So you started with David's Instagram.
He was only a few followers short of four thousand. The man was chronically online and constantly posting his life. You were fairly certain one of the pictures had been taken while he was sitting on the toilet.
You started scrolling through his short videos.
Him promoting an "alpha male" training camp.
Him dancing at a club.
Him singing karaoke with a Batman impersonator.
Him sitting inside expensive cars, desperately trying to look like he owned them.
He didn't.
Eventually, the videos turned into other snippets of Gotham's nightlife. Your algorithm was working overtime, trying to figure out what to throw your way next.
Before you knew it, you had fallen far too deep into doomscrolling.
Suddenly, a blurry video popped up on your feed.
At first, you were ready to swipe away, but a quick glance at the person's attire made you freeze.
A black hoodie.
A very familiar vest.
Messy hair.
And the undeniable roller skates.
Fucking hell.
Was that...?
Was that you?
You continued watching the video, in which you, in your vigilante outfit, were currently fishing an unidentified object out of a garbage can.
The caption below the video read:
Gotham's newest vigilante is thrifting again. This time from a trash bin. #SomebodySponsorThisPoorWoman
What in the bloody hell was this?
Seriously! Someone had taken a video of you and uploaded it to the internet?
The video made you look bad, when you had in fact been working and searching for evidence. Instead, they had framed you as some homeless woman digging through the trash.
Horrified, you opened the comments, only to find even more remarks like the caption.
'She is finally living up to her name.' ๐
'DO NOT SCARE AWAY MY PRECIOUS RACCOON THEY ARE JUST LOOKING FOR THEIR NEW HOMEEE.' ๐ค๐ฆ๐ฆ
'I'm dressing up as Stray for Halloween. Should I start looking through trash cans for my costume?' ๐ฆ
What the hell?
Were they making fun of you?
Or laughing with you?
And who the hell was Stray?
You had heard people call you names before. Hell, you even remembered someone calling you Stray once. But you had taken it as an insult, not as a name given to you by the people.
You opened another social media app and searched for '#Stray'.
Dozens of posts popped up.
No way.
People knew you.
Recognized you.
There were blurry videos, candid photos, and even meme templates featuring you in full costume.
Memes.
Memes everywhere.
And the people were fucking loving them.
For a second, you were sure your brain had malfunctioned as you continued down the rabbit hole. You weren't quite sure how to feel about all of this until you found another picture of yourself.
This time, the comments weren't holding back.
It was you in full costume, bent over and trying to balance on one leg while holding the other up. With your free hand, you were attempting to remove a piece of gum stuck between your roller skates.
The comments read:
'Stray's newest arch-nemesis: a piece of gum.'
'Stray looked at the state of Gotham's streets and decided, yeah, rollerblades are perfect.' #FillUpGothamsPotholes ๐ฅฒ
'I saw her fight off four guys, then lose to a puddle. The gum might be the death of her.' ๐๐
These comments were fucking...
Hilarious.
You burst out laughing, rolling sideways on the couch. You almost rolled off completely before catching yourself against the backrest.
You had no idea people liked you this much.
You had no idea people approved of you and your methods.
Until now, the only feedback you'd ever gotten came from the criminals you beat up and that annoying bastard Red Hood. And all of them had a rather colorful vocabulary when it came to describing you.
So seeing thousands of people on the internet genuinely loving you felt phenomenal.
A seasoned vigilante would have probably sat down and thought things through. What all of this meant. The responsibility that came with becoming something of a role model.
You, however, were far too fucking overjoyed to give a single shit about any of that.
To celebrate, you opened the only bottle of liquor you had at homeโa questionable brown liquid of unknown origin.
People had finally recognized your efforts.
They knew you.
They supported you.
You weren't just some nameless vigilante anymore.
You were Stray.
And you had a fan base, just like every other hero.
Gotham's very own Stray.
The thought alone made you grin like an idiot.
Who cared if the name had originated from a bunch of internet memes?
Batman had bats.
Superman had an S.
And you had people posting pictures with captions such as:
'Drop a like to adopt Stray.' #GothamsNewestVigilante #SheIsMySpiritAnimal #IWannaAdoptHer
Honestly?
Close enough.
The next morning, you woke up on your couch with a well-deserved hangover.
But you didn't care.
You were still over the moon about last night's discovery.
Apparently, you were also a genius while drunk.
Dozens of sticky notes littered the coffee table. You had even printed out pictures using the printer downstairs at reception. You were fairly certain the man behind the desk thought you were an idiot, considering half the pages had been memes.
But some of them were pictures of clubs.
Pictures taken outside.
Pictures taken inside.
An entire layout of one of the buildings lay spread out on the table in front of you. It was a terrible hand-drawn map, but it clearly represented the different rooms and floors based on the photos you'd printed.
You had figured out an entire plan thanks to the mysterious liquid sitting in your cupboard.
Maybe you should become an alcoholic.
Maybe that was your superpower.
Competent drinking.
Before work, you made a small detour to buy everything you needed for the night. Then you headed to the bookstore, where you endured an agonizing eight-hour shift before night finally arrived.
Your plan had been simple.
After going through David's social mediaโand some of the other names on your listโyou had found a connection.
A club.
Most likely owned by Black Mask himself.
Flyers advertising tonight's party were plastered all over the internet. According to the posts, all of the influencers would be attending, making it a major event.
Unfortunately, you hadn't managed to get a last-minute ticket.
But you were sure you'd find a way inside.
If necessary, you'd use force.
Hopefully, a bribe would be enough.
So currently, you were standing in line, waiting to enter the already packed party. Quite a few people were being turned away by the bouncer for God knows what reason.
For a tiny moment, you had hoped the bouncer was Jason.
That certainly would've made your job easier.
Though he probably wouldn't recognize you in your current attire.
You had decided to leave your costume behind. People would recognize you immediately, and you doubted they'd let Gotham's newest vigilante into a criminal-run party.
So you'd gone with something else instead.
Something that concealed your identity while still looking casual enough for a party.
Or at least, that had been the goal.
In reality, you looked like a mismatched Barbie doll.
You wore a long plastic blonde wig beneath a bedazzled black baseball cap with the words 'FOR THE STREETS' written across the front. A simple black surgical mask decorated with flames covered the lower half of your face.
You wore high platform boots with spikes, baggy black pants, and a band T-shirt dedicated to Gotham's local rock band, Nightfall. To complete the ensemble, you wore the leather jacket you had stolen from David the previous night.
And to top it all off, you had brought along a pair of pink heart-shaped sunglasses.
Or rather, what you had believed were sunglasses.
Only after putting them on had you discovered they were diffraction glasses. Every light in the room turned into tiny hearts.
It was like being on drugs.
The two people ahead of you were both turned away by the bouncer. Then finally, it was your turn. You stepped up to the massive man and stared him straight in the eye through your ridiculous glasses.
"ID and invitation," he said, his voice dripping with boredom.
You handed him your ID with two hundred-dollar bills tucked underneath it. There went two weeks' worth of groceries.
Hopefully, infiltrating the party would be worth surviving on instant noodles.
The bouncer examined your IDโwhich was fake and had been printed at the local library, because apparently forgery was frowned upon, meaning you had to be sneaky about it.
He clearly felt the money underneath.
Taking a quick peek at the amount, he looked back at you.
Then he looked you up and down.
Twice.
"And what exactly are you supposed to be?" he asked casually.
"What? You never seen an alt girl before?" you replied.
Then, matching his stance, you looked him up and down as though you were sizing him up in return. Folding your arms in what you hoped was a nonchalant manner, you held eye contact with him while your glasses slowly slid down your nose.
The two of you stared at one another for a brief moment.
Then, with one smooth motion, the bouncer pocketed the money and handed your ID back.
"Enjoy the party, doll," he said with a smirk, giving you one final once-over.
Oh.
Was he...?
Clearly he wasn't.
You stepped past him and made your way inside, only to glance back over your shoulder.
He was still looking.
You pushed your glasses farther up your nose and turned away with a dramatic flick of your hair.
Everyone had their type, you supposed.
Maybe next time you wouldn't even need to bribe the bouncer.
Maybe all you had to do was act like a brat.
Anyway.
You had made it inside.
And you were ready to move on to the next step of your plan.
A branded watch. A dark leather jacket paired with a dress shirt and mismatched pants. Expensive-looking shoes.
All fake.
All knockoffs.
Worn by a man with way too much hair gel and the confidence of a wannabe superstar.
Your target for the night.
His shitty Honda Civic was parked two buildings away from the club. Currently, he was trying to get in through the side entrance in the alley after being turned away by the bouncer.
For a second, you wondered if the bouncer had been Jason.
Would he have let the guy in if he had known what his intentions were?
The man quickly pulled out his phone and took a selfie.
Perfect. A clear sign of distraction.
You entered the alley, making sure no one had followed you, and approached the man.
"Mark Smith!" you announced dramatically, pointing at the startled man.
"You have wronged this city!"
The man blinked.
"My name isn't Mark."
You froze.
"Shit."
Quickly, you glanced down at the piece of paper in your hand.
"Right. Peter."
"No."
"Thomas?"
"Nope."
"Jessica?"
The man stared at you.
"Do I look like a Jessica?"
"Look, give me a break, man. Are you selling drugs or not?"
"Selling drugs?" the man repeated in horror. "God, no. I'm an influencer."
You blinked.
"You influence people."
"Exactly!"
"With drugs?"
"With whatever my sponsors give me."
"..."
"..."
"Oh." You lowered your finger. "So you're a prostitute."
"What?!" the man shrieked.
"No, I'm a content creator!"
"That's what I said."
"No, that's notโ"
"Wait, hold on." You pulled out the paper again. "You're David Hernandez."
"YES!"
"Oh thank God."
The man sighed in relief.
"Finally."
You pointed at him again.
"David Hernandez!"
"Yes?"
"You have wronged this city."
"Oh, for fuck's sake."
You took a few steps toward the man, preparing to begin your interrogation. He clearly felt threatened by your approach, because he immediately threw his hands into the air.
"Don't shoot, man! I'll tell you everything!"
Shoot?
You didn't even have a gun on you. What the hell was he talking about? Then you felt a presence behind you.
Shit.
If it was the person you thought it was, you were going to throw a tantrum right then and there.
Without much ceremony, you spun around with a curse already on your lips.
"You again?" you spat.
"Fucking things up again?" Red Hood asked sarcastically.
"I'm clearly having the upper hand here," you replied while looking down at the gun currently pointed at your head.
"Clearly," Red Hood answered flatly.
"Look, guys, I'm sensing some weird-ass vibes between you two, and I really don't want to be involved, so I'm just gonna leave."
"No!" both of you shouted at the same time.
"You stay right there," you commanded.
Red Hood tilted his head slightly, clearly expecting you to continue.
However, you weren't about to give him whatever he wanted, so you simply turned back toward Mark.
No.
David.
Yes.
David.
"So Black Mask gave you pills so you could influence people with them?" you asked, completely unbothered by the weapon pointed at the back of your head.
"I don't know who it was," the man shrugged. "A bunch of big dudes approached me, gave me some money, and told me to go to parties and hand some of the pills out."
"Why would Black Mask want you to give away pills for free?" you continued the questioning.
"Because they're highly addictive," Red Hood answered for him.
He stepped forward and stopped beside you, lowering his gun.
His eyes remained fixed on the guy as he continued.
"Black Mask clearly wants to stay anonymous. This way, people would trust the drug more. Nobody would willingly take an addictive pill from a crime lord. But from a shitty influencer? Why not?" he theorized.
"Hey! I'm not a shitty influencer! I have four thousand followers!" the man protested.
"My statement still stands," Red Hood deadpanned.
"Wait, so basically Black Mask is giving drugs away to popular people so they'll spread them and get everyone addicted?" you finally pieced it together. "So all those names on the list are just influencers?"
"I see you didn't do your homework," Red Hood remarked sarcastically.
In response, you pulled down the skin beneath one eye and stuck your tongue out at him in a childish gesture. The mask completely hid the latter, rendering the effort utterly pointless, but you didn't give a crap about that. Then you turned back to the man.
"Surely there's more to it," you said. "People don't get addicted after just one use."
"Don't look at me!" the man replied defensively. "I'm just an influencer."
You looked back at Red Hood, waiting for him to jump into the questioning, but he simply stood there quietly, waiting for you to continue.
Shit.
That bastard had probably already figured out the next step.
You had to find the next lead, otherwise he'd think you were incompetent.
"Did the men give you any instructions? Which parties to go to? Who to give the drugs to? Maybe a target audience?" you asked, searching for any clues.
"No, man! They just told me to do what I usually do and post as many pictures as possible."
If anyone here was incompetent, this guy was clearly winning.
He had accepted a bag of pills from some scary-looking men without asking a single question and simply gone on his merry way.
Posting selfies.
Taking pictures.
Getting his small follower base hooked.
And preferably hooked on the drugs he'd been given.
You needed to go home and do some research.
There had to be more to this than what this guy knew. No drug got people addicted that quickly.
Despite taking one of the pills home with you, you had no lab to analyze it. Nor did you possess any knowledge that would help.
Red Hood, however, seemed to know exactly what you were only beginning to suspect.
And that bothered you far more than the fact that this interrogation was leading nowhere.
That smug fucker was probably only here to babysit you, not to actually uncover any new information.
Fuck him.
So you decided to do what any responsible vigilante would do in order to prove that you were capable after all.
"Give me all the pills you have," you ordered. "And the leather jacket," you added.
You felt Red Hood shift beside you, but you didn't bother looking.
"No way, man! They're gonna kill me!" the man whined.
"Just tell them you've already handed out the drugs," you offered simply.
"And what about my leather jacket?" the man continued whining. "It's vintage. Real leather."
"It's clearly a knockoff," you deadpanned.
The man put on an expression of fake shock.
You noticed his eyes briefly dart toward Red Hood.
Then, with a defeated sigh, he shrugged off the jacket and handed it to you.
"The pills are inside. That's all I have, I swear."
You accepted the jacket and turned away, ready to leave.
"If I were you, I'd influence somewhere else," you called over your shoulder. "Preferably somewhere east."
You continued down the alley, not at all bothered by the fact that Red Hood wasn't following you.
"And this was a threat," you stated matter-of-factly. "Goodbye, Mark!"
Smiling over your shoulder, you disappeared into the night.
โ โฆ โ
Long after you were gone, Red Hood realized he was still standing there with David. He wasn't sure which part disturbed him more.
The fact that she had accidentally stumbled onto the right lead.
Or the fact that she had just robbed an influencer.
Again.
He was still trying to make sense of what had just happened when David suddenly spoke beside him.
"So... am I good to go, or are you gonna take my watch too?" he asked quietly.
Red Hood looked down at the guy.
Then looked away.
"Just fuck off already," he spat.
"Crazy vigilantes," David muttered to himself as he hurried out of the alley, leaving Red Hood alone with his thoughts.
Jason's mind kept replaying last night's encounter over and over again. He was frustrated and irritated. A shit ton of questions and what-ifs kept running through his head. He didn't know what to do about the whole situation.
He needed a distraction. Something to clear his head.
So he decided to visit the bookstore.
Unfortunately, with his mind occupied elsewhere, he hadn't realized what time it was, and by the time he arrived, the bookstore's shutters were already closed. Everything inside was dark.
Before he could turn around and leave, the door suddenly opened and a figure emerged. She fumbled with her keys for a moment before locking the door behind her.
It was her.
Probably just closing up for the night.
โ โฆ โ
You were practically buzzing with excitement. You had been giddy throughout your entire shift today. You finally had a solid lead and wanted to make a move. So the minute the store closed, you ushered everyone out and hurried through the closing routine.
You were currently fumbling with your keys when you suddenly felt eyes on you.
Shit.
Again?
Were you seriously about to get kidnapped again? After so long?
You had practically spent the last few years preparing yourself for this exact scenario, yet your body immediately went rigid.
Move, bitch.
You desperately tried to will yourself to move.
Nothing.
Fuck.
You still felt the eyes on you while also catching sight of a shadow approaching from the corner of your eye.
No.
No-no-no.
This couldn't be happening.
You had come so close to getting over all of this. You were becoming a capable vigilante.
So why the hell weren't you moving?
The figure came to a halt beside you, and before they could act out their undoubtedly evil plan, you threw your keys at them and prepared to sprint.
Unfortunately, the keys landed squarely on the target's chest instead of their faceโwhich had been your original targetโand you gracefully managed to trip over your own feet.
Landing directly on your ass.
Fantastic.
You had basically defeated yourself with your amazing vigilante skills.
That's it.
Either you go out like a champ, or you disappoint yourself once again.
Fuck this.
You started swinging.
"Hey, hey! What are you doing?" the figure asked. "It's just me, Jason! No need to start a fistfight!"
He paused.
"Or you could. But I thought we were on better terms."
You cautiously opened your eyes and looked up at the threat.
And to your surprise, it really was Jason.
"What are you doing here?" you asked suspiciously. "Are you here to rob the store?"
"I think I've spent way too much money here already. If I wanted to rob it, I would've done it sooner."
Jason raised both hands in surrender to show that he wasn't a threat. Only then did you realize that you were currently sitting on the pavement like a startled raccoon.
Deciding to preserve what little dignity you had left, you quickly got up.
"Although, if I were going to rob the place, you're making it pretty easy. You practically gave me the keys."
He offered you a hand.
"Thanks."
You took it and got to your feet.
"And for your information, I didn't give you the keys."
You dusted yourself off.
"I threw them."
"And then you landed on your ass," he simply stated.
"The plan was to throw the keys at you, distract you, and run away." You rubbed your aching backside from the fall.
"Now I finally believe your stories about being clumsy," he snorted.
"You ever doubted me?" you asked in mock offense. "My bruises are trophies. They remind me that I'm clumsy, but still alive."
At that, both of you laughed.
If only he knew how true your words really were.
"So, I assume the store's closed for the day?" he asked, circling back to what you assumed had been his original reason for coming.
You glanced at the dark store, then back at him, and finally down at the keys in his hands.
Following your gaze, Jason looked down as well.
"Oh."
With an apologetic look, he handed the keys back and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Unfortunately, yeah. So if you desperately need your Jane Austen books, you'll either have to wait until tomorrow or break in."
"I think I already ruined my opportunity by giving you the keys back, so I'd rather wait," he smirked.
You smiled back.
A not-so-awkward silence settled between the two of you.
Neither of you really knew what to say.
You had only ever met inside the bookstore, where you had been an employee and he had been a customer. But now, standing outside, no longer a bookseller but merely a very clumsy pedestrian, you suddenly felt like strangers.
Or were you?
Should being outside the store really change anything?
"Are you heading home?" he asked out of the blue.
"Yeah, that's the plan," you answered awkwardly.
"You really don't have the best plans."
The moment he noticed the slight hurt in your expression, he immediately rushed to explain.
"What I meant was, walking home alone at night isn't exactly the best idea."
He was right.
In general.
What he didn't know was that you were perfectly capable of defending yourself.
Or at least, you were supposed to be.
But how could he know that?
You had just proven yourself wrong the second someone had approached you. Every bit of self-defense knowledge you possessed had gone straight out the window simply because the situation had brought back an old memory.
Lost in your thoughts, you almost missed his offer.
"I know it's weird," he said, looking away almost shyly, "but I could walk you home."
He scratched the back of his neck.
"We've talked before. You know my name, so that practically means you know everything about me already."
He paused.
"So walking with a customer is better than walking alone, right?"
Walking with him?
You weren't quite sure how to feel about that.
Still, he had a point. Walking with him was better than walking alone. You liked talking to him, and this would give you a chance to have a conversation with him outside the bookstore.
Besides, you desperately needed friends.
Ever since moving to Gotham, your friend group had shrunk to zero. Sure, you had friendly coworkers, but those friendships mostly existed within the walls of the bookstore and nowhere else.
"If it's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate it," you said with a smile, meeting his eyes.
And so the two of you started walking toward your apartment.
Usually, you took the metro. It was much faster. Walking should've been optional considering the distance between your home and the bookstore. But because you lived in Gothamโand because of previous experiencesโyou had long since forbidden yourself from walking home alone.
But walking beside a man over six feet tall, built like a brick wall, with shoulders wider than some doorframes, you felt safe.
Not that you needed him to keep you safe.
You were perfectly capable of defending yourself.
At least, that's what you kept repeating to yourself.
You were a vigilante, for God's sake.
Act like it.
Along the way, the two of you made small talk. He asked about your day and whether the bookstore had finally gotten a TV. Stuff like that. You asked him what book he'd wanted to buy and why he'd been late, only for him to mumble a vague response.
Deciding to give him an easy out, you answered the question for him.
"Busy day at work, huh?" you asked, nudging him.
"Sort of, yeah," he replied.
"So what do you actually do for work, Jason? If you don't mind me asking." You followed up. "Because you're clearly not a secret shopper, otherwise I would've been fired already."
Jason snorted.
"You can't be sure. Maybe you're exactly what that bookstore needs. They can't fire their greatest asset." He paused dramatically. "You're way too enthusiastic."
"Clearly..." you deadpanned.
The two of you continued walking quietly for a few minutes.
He hadn't answered your question. Most likely, he simply didn't want to. Maybe he wasn't proud of what he did. Maybe he was unemployed.
Either way, you weren't going to pry if it made him uncomfortable.
So it came as a surprise when he finally answered.
"I'm a bouncer," he replied, finally answering your previous question.
You blinked.
Oh.
Well, that explained a lot.
So that's why he was huge and intimidating. That's why he always looked exhausted. He had to deal with drunk idiots all night.
"So you throw drunk people out of clubs?" you asked.
"Basically, yeah."
"That explains a lot," you murmured.
"I mostly tell people to fuck off," he deadpanned.
"You seem to be good at it," you joked, giggling at your own comment.
At that, he turned toward you, raising an eyebrow.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" he asked incredulously.
You looked him up and down, as if the joke itself was written all over him. Jason glanced down at himself and then back at you, still completely lost.
"Well, now I know who to ask if I need someone to throw out a customer for dog-earing a book."
You patted him on the shoulder.
With those final words, you arrived at your building.
The two of you exchanged your quick, awkward goodbyes before you headed inside. For the first time in a long while, you didn't feel completely alone. And that thought stayed with you all the way up the stairs.
Anyway.
You practically barged into your apartment and quickly changed clothes, preparing for the night ahead.
