After the Occupation, the GCPD went on a bit of a witch hunt for the ever increasing horde of masked criminals and vigilantes that filled Gotham’s streets. Several were caught; one man, Alan Scott, was eventually tried and sentenced to fifteen years jailtime for damages stemming from his disastrous run as the vigilante Green Guardsman.
Knowing that both the criminal underground and the police department wanted you gone was not a damper for Jason; quite the opposite, in fact. The Red Hood thrived off the admiration of the citizens of the Narrows, the people whom he’d shed blood for time and time again while Bane’s men ran rampant over the city. He felt safe there, because no cop was stupid enough to go into the Narrows looking for a vigilante. Not even Bullock.
The cops were dumb enough to go after the Bats, however. The new guy had done himself no favors, almost immediately making a reputation for inadequacy. Whether it was crashing the Batmobile into the side of the Major Crimes building or accidentally blowing up fire stations, this new Batman was wanted, dead or alive. Jason didn’t much care; the kid was useless. It was the other one he worried about, the one that he’d only heard rumors of.
Batgirl.
Tall, willowy, and breathtakingly beautiful-according to the rumor mill, at least-she’d operated in Ohio before staking her claim in Gotham. Just two nights past, she’d been spotted at ACE Chemicals, where she left a small posse of would-be thieves tied up neatly for the police. Unfortunately for her, tonight wasn’t going as well.
The Ducati roared angrily as the Red Hood sped down Fisher Street in Midtown, following the barked commands he was intercepting on his helmet radio.
“507 in pursuit on Montgomery, we’ve got Batgirl on foot. Requesting a chopper, she’s headed to the rooftop.”
Jason cursed as he gunned the motor, peeling into the parking garage of Redstone Security. His offices were only a few blocks from the call, and he needed stealth more than he needed speed. The bike safely parked, he sprinted out across Chambers, shooting a grapple up to the nearest building with a connected walkway. Within three minutes, he was looking at the factory building the scanner had mentioned, noting with displeasure the helicopters that were rapidly approaching.
Another grapple took him to the rooftop, where he kicked down the closest door to the inside. Infrared vision filled his helmet, and he scanned the building. There! Floor seventeen. A heat signature, moving quickly. Four more blurry forms followed her, several floors down. With a quick glance in night vision mode, Jason found the stairwell, taking them five at a time as he rushed towards the girl.
He found her on floor twenty, with the cops barely two flights of steps away. As she rounded the corner, he held his hands out in a gesture that was impossible to misread. Stop. He spoke up as she barreled his direction, his deep voice tinged metallic in the helmet.
“Come with me, Batsie. I know just the place to hide a wanted fugitive.” He extended a hand towards her.
and all of this will never be the same again 