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Curiously, she watched as he swung the steel blade. He seemed more like a gun person than a sword person. Shrugging up her shoulders, she shook her head in confusion. This man was a complete mystery, but Barbara loved a challenge.

He had to have an angle, had to have a reason. This Red Hood had a reputation. He was brutal, violent. Yet he had helped her out of a tough spot, laughed at her, and hadn’t tried to kill her after she pushed him off a building. So either he had an ulterior motive for helping her or the media portrayal was horribly skewed.

Maybe this was one puzzle she couldn’t crack.

Barbara pursed her lips together in frustration as she followed him toward the exit, her mind spinning with questions that would likely never receive answers. Even if he had helped her, she had to keep her guard up. Rescue or not, he was a stranger and trust was hard earned.

Princess. Barbara scowled, shaking her head as she stepped through the alley door. “I’m definitely not a princess.” Once in the passageway, Barbara snapped her head left and right, satisfied that the area was clear, she waved him over. “Look, I appreciate the help, Darth, but I think I might be able to safely make it back to my bike.” Just a moment after she spoke, the sound of a helicopter rotor interrupted her. Looking up, she spied one of the GCPD’s Bell helicopters buzzing overhead. Letting out a heavy sigh, arms crossed over her chest.

“Want to give me a lift?”

The helicopters were close, and by the looks of it, angry. High powered spotlights raked the streets, and the whine of sirens echoed oddly off the dark alleyways. Jason turned to Batgirl.

“We’ll never make it in this mess.” He gestured without looking at the choppers. “I have an idea, though. Follow me?” Breaking into a jog, he ran south, following the alley for several buildings. Grabbing hold of a fire escape on High Street, he pulled himself up, extending a hand for Batgirl to do the same. After nearly twelve stories of careful climbing, they reached a walkway that stretched over 14th. 

“After you?” He held out a hand, ignoring the scowl she gave him as she swept past his outstretched arm. Across and down they went, coming out just a short walk from Perl Street. The sirens and lights were far away from them now; their detour had shaken them. “Now all we have to do is wait for them to move on, and get our bikes and split up. Are you hungry?” She stared at him. He repeated his question, slower this time. “Are. You. Hungry?” Still nothing. He sighed, crossing the alley to knock on a decrepit looking metal door. 

Forty seconds later, a portly Asian man emerged, looking tentative. Upon seeing the Red Hood leaning against his doorway, he smiled broadly, jabbering enthusiastically in Mandarin Chinese. Jason replied likewise, gesturing at Batgirl. The man nodded furiously, then yelled something at the open door. “Hey. Batsie. Order up. My treat.” He grinned under his helmet, knowing how this had to be freaking her out.

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If she could have rolled her eyes harder, she would have. “Have you actually seen Star Wars, Hood? Bad reference. Poor form.” She shook her head back and forth with mock disappointment. Barbara slowed her pace as they reached the end of the walkway. Looking left and right, she turned back to her companion, arms crossed over her chest. All she wanted to do was get out of this building, get back to her bike, and forget this night ever happened. It had been a disaster from start to finish and more than that, she was frustrated with herself. Everything had been an elaborate string of rookie mistakes. Slip-ups that should have never happened.

When the Red Hood had turned away from her, just slightly, Barbara saw her chance and took it. Without a second thought, she approached him and with one swift movement her leg was up and pushing him up and over the ledge. There was a split second of remorse, one moment of regret before she reminded herself not only would he be fine – he deserved it. Peeking over the edge, Barbara smirked before somersaulting off, looking like a cross between a ballerina and an Olympic diver. Her descent was tight and it wasn’t until the last moment that she slowed herself, landing like a feather on the ground below.

Waltzing over casually, Barbara rapped on his helmet with her knuckles. “First rule to becoming a Jedi Knight, young Padawan, never piss off the redhead.” Her lips upturned into a taut smile before she spun around to take in their environment.  The air was thick and humid to accommodate the abundant plant life surrounding them. It was breathtaking. Like being somewhere tropical, somewhere far from Gotham.

The echo of police footsteps had stopped minutes ago and she took that as a good sign. Inhaling deeply, she relaxed her posture.  It looked like they maybe, just maybe, they would be able to make a clean getaway. That was all she could hope for, that and the retreat of Gotham’s finest; she really didn’t want to fight with the police. In fact, she was almost positive she recognized at least one out of the group of uniforms that had been chasing them.

Awkward. 

Crouching down, Barbara slid a gloved finger over the waxy, two toned leaves of a clump of bromeliads. This little oasis reminded her of the botanical garden back in Cleveland. Once a month she used to cut out of her archive class early and hang out there. Her favorite exhibit had always been the tropical greenhouse with the giant Amazon waterlillies. She would find a neighboring bench, spread out her books, study among the silence of the flora, trying to imagine the fantastic adventures in other countries that surely she would have one day.

Barbara’s smile bowed, forming a small frown at the memory. She had hoped to be a million miles away by now, in some other country with some other life. Instead, she was here. Barbara just hoped all this sacrifice would amount to something, that it would mean something. Someday.

He followed her to the ground, landing as easily as she had. Before he looked up from his three point landing, she knocked on his helmet, making her another Star Wars reference. He rolled his eyes. Unsheathing his sword from the scabbard on his back, he stepped past her, cutting through a particularly thick tangle of vines and ivy. The cold metal cut clean through it, opening up a clearing from which the pair could see the vast expanse of green surrounding them. 

It only then dawned on Jason where their mad dash had taken them; they were in the Monte Carlo casino, a renovation project that had been weeks away from completion before the owner had been found missing. No one had purchased the lot, and so it had sat for almost a year now. Apparently, ground floor security was much tighter than upper level stuff. The interior was plush, decorated for a crowd that had more money than sense, and it showed. Gold inlay, red carpet, and elaborate columns supported the walls. 

Jason located the rear exit, and motioned for Batgirl to follow him. “So, Batsie. If you’re such a wise Jedi Master, where’s your blade? I don’t see one, and everyone knows that a real Jedi has a sword.” He stopped, turning his head to cut off her immediate reply. “And yes, I know it’s not a lightsaber. Shut it.” With a hard kick, he forced the alley door open, breaking the chain that held it shut. “After you, Princess.”

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“It’s fine.” Barbara yanked her hand back sternly, eyes narrowed. She didn’t know who this guy was, but thus far she was not impressed. Sure, he may have technically saved her, but she probably could have gotten out of the building safely.

Probably.

This hood was something of legend around Gotham. She’d seen blurry images in the papers and reports on the evening news. Some sort of violent vigilante giving people like her a bad name. As he held her hand, examining it, she questioned everything she thought she knew. He was gentle, careful. Maybe he had saved her, although she wasn’t thanking him. She was much too stubborn for that.

“Why do what they expect?”

Barbara hesitated to answer his question. Because she wasn’t thinking straight? She was scared and her brain was going a mile a minute and the roof seemed the only logical way of escape? Because maybe she didn’t know Gotham as well as she thought or as well as she should? She wasn’t going to say any of those things out loud, though. She would seem foolhardy, frail, and she wouldn’t show this stranger an ounce of weakness

Letting out a sigh, Barbara shook her head and shrugged up her shoulders. What was he expecting her to say? He’d done nothing but scold her since they met just minutes prior, like every other authority figure in her life. It was getting old.

Replacing the glove on her right hand, Barbara turned her head towards the sound of the swiftly approaching voices. So much for the temporary reprieve of the chase. Gesturing for the helmeted man to move, she followed closely behind, picking up speed as she heard the muffled shouts behind them.

“So, why the helmet?” Barbara called ahead. Maybe not the best conversation starter, but she was curious. The voice behind the red apparatus had a slight mechanical sound, reminding her just a little bit of Darth Vader. The thought made her chuckle as she continued a few paces behind. “Anyone ever call you Darth?” She pursed her lips together tightly to avoid laughing, but couldn’t help it. A deep belly laugh escaped her mouth. “I’m sorry, sorry.” Barbara tried to stifle her giggles.

As the pair tore through conduits, leaping over boxes and machines, Jason stole a glance backwards to see Batgirl barely a half step behind him. He was impressed with her speed, yes, but it was the grace with which she moved that really struck him. She nearly floated next to him, feet barely seeming to hit the ground. He stumbled slightly as he forgot to look ahead, catching himself roughly against an overhead pipe. 

Playing it off as an excuse to check their position, he scanned the building plans Henri had overlaid onto his HUD. “We need to hang a left on the other side of this walkway. Then, there’s an Atrium with floor level access. We can grapple down and get out there.” She nodded, and took off ahead of him. 

“So, why the helmet?”, she asked. 

He started to answer, something about “Why the cowl?” or “Why do you wear a mask?” but before he could work out a reply, she spoke again. From the air in front of him, he heard the remark about Vader, and was unable to stop the grin that flicked across his face. It was true; the mask gave his voice a distinctive metallic tinge. It also featured a fortune’s worth of technology, and could stop a bullet at point blank. He was a little fond of it. 

Without missing a beat, he shot back at her “I’ll be Anakin if you’ll be Padme, Batsie.” It rang out with an echo, as he had reached the end of the shaft as he spoke. To the left and right, curving as far as the eye could see, was a hallway with a balcony facing inward. Having reached her side, he looked over the edge, taking in the manmade rainforest below. Enormous palms, giant redwoods, and swamplands covered the floor. The air was even humid, with a sickly sweet odor that smelled of decaying plant life. Jason turned to Batgirl, intending to make a remark about Endor, when he found himself tumbling off the edge, caught off guard by a foot to the chin. As he spun wildly, his only thought was:

“That really shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.”

He barely had time to dwell on his odd thought before he was shooting a grapple, slowing his fall to a manageable speed before alighting on top of the surprisingly real pal tree. Looking up, he saw her glide gracefully down past him, grinning madly. He dove after her.

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Barbara didn’t have time to think, didn’t have time to move. Within mere seconds of entering the roof, she was falling off it. She could feel her throat tighten, her belly fill with apprehension as wind gusted through her hair, forming tiny knots in her red tresses. Eyes were wide with fear but she had little time to consider what exactly was happening. Heart pounded rapidly in her chest and she felt like at any moment it was going to burst from her chest.

Then he was below her and everything stopped.

A tremor pulsed through her body as she tried desperately to catch her breath. Lips parted as a few shallow gasps escaped from her mouth. The red helmeted man was talking to her, there was anger and question in his tone but she couldn’t make out the words. Just as she was piecing together what he asked, anger rushed over her in waves, cascading through her veins.

Barbara’s gloved hands balled into tight fists and before she could say anything she connected with the man’s shoulders and then an open palm moved towards his head in attempt to slap him. It wasn’t until she hit the helmet did she realize how hard it truly was. “Shit!” Barbara yelped.  Recoiling, she cradled her right hand, holding it close to her body. Lips pursed together as her hand began throbbing. “What is that thing made of?!”  

With her left hand, she removed the glove from her right as she examined it, the pale skin growing pink. She could already see the beginning of a bruise forming on her palm. After another moment, her alleviated heart rate began to calm and she felt like she might be able to think a little more clearly.

“What was I thinking?” Barbara nodded her head dismissively. “I really hope that was rhetorical. I was thinking I had half a dozen armed cops on my ass and I needed an out.” She let out an annoyed scoff before turning away. Despite her current circumstances, it was a beautiful night in Gotham. Clear with just a whisper of chill. The cool air hit her red-hot cheeks, still burning with irritation.

Lips pursed tautly together, Barbara scanned the area. “How about instead of scolding me, you think of a way down, hot shot.”

They were under the walkway, in an access tunnel that contained a buzzing assortment of wires and motors. The shaft wasn’t lit, and the only source of light came from the pale moon. Red Hood had no sooner set Batgirl down when she started attacking him, fists bouncing off leather and armor. Then, an open slap to the helmet. Jason winced. She’d hit him hard, and his helmet was near indestructible. 

“It’s a tungsten and graphene alloy. Is your hand okay?” He reached out and took her hand, examining it in the silver moonlight. He could feel the warmth through his gloves, it was so flushed. He scanned it with various vision modes until he was satisfied there wouldn’t be any long term damage. Bringing his gaze back to her face, he let her hand finally drop.

“You should be fine, Batsie. Next time, toss one of your boomerangs at me. You might actually do some damage.”
She explained her reasoning for the mad dash to the roof, and bore her biting tone without complaint. 

“They were headed to the roof regardless. Why do what they expect? Cops here are dumb at best. Stay on the floor I found you on, hide, then head down to this walkway from the eighth floor. Escape out the building adjacent.”

He ignored her scowl, noticing for the first time just how pretty she was. Pale skin, tinged with freckles on her lips and jawline. Her lips, full and pink, formed a tight line as she frowned at him. Her nose crinkled in annoyance, a feature Jason found especially endearing. He realized he was staring, and quickly looked back above the walkway, scanning for the cops. From the roof, he heard shouts of confusion and anger, accompanied with beams of light that danced wildly on the night sky. 

“Across the walkway. Hurry. They may know about this tunnel." 
Behind them, the shouts ceased as the police reentered the building. 

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Two weeks.

She’d been back in Gotham less than two weeks and already she was fatigued. Muscles she didn’t even know she had were screaming. Feet throbbed, tendons felt overstretched. Dark circles were forming on the delicate area surrounding her eyes and there was not enough coffee in the entire city to keep her up another twenty-four hours. Yet, somehow, she plowed through. Pushed through the pain, the exhaustion, the discomfort.

Barbara knew going in this wasn’t going to be easy. This had never been an egotistical hero’s journey. It would be a long road paved with thankless effort and precious little sleep. She was well aware. However, as she bounded up flight after flight of never ending stairs, she was beginning to rethink this whole thing. Her heart pounded in her chest, every breath of air from her lungs burning.

This was too much and she was just not enough.

Sucking back tears, she could hear the officers just a few paces behind her and she felt real fear. What if this was already over just as it had begun? All she had wanted to do was help and now she was being chased by half a dozen of Gotham’s finest through an abandoned building.

Why did she ever think in a million years that this would work?

The garbled radio transceiver barked from one of the officers behind her, something about pursuit of the ‘Batgirl’ and Barbara couldn’t help but scoff.Batgirl? The name made her cringe. Who came up with that codename? Although, at the moment nothing exactly better was coming to mind. She figured, though, if she put her mind to it she could have some up with something a lot better than Batgirl.

Taking the steps two at a time, Barbara climbed higher, her destination the rooftop. From there, she wasn’t quite sure. Stupidly she hadn’t planned that far in advance. She should have known better – always have an out. Always, always, have an escape plan. Truthfully, she hadn’t expected to be trailed by the police. That had thrown quite the wrench in her plan. Her mind was going a mile a minute; once on the roof, grapple a few buildings over and climb down and then….then…

Damn.

Her bike was a half a mile in the opposite direction. By the sound of it, there was a helicopter approaching from the south. And quickly.

Damn, damn.

Focusing, the streets of Gotham opened in her mind. Every alley, every side street. She would make this work, she would find herself an exit – or make one.  Just as she was calculating the fastest trajectory back to her wheels, from out of nowhere a hand. Her momentum was just too quick and she hurtled into the man with the mysterious red colored helmet.

Breathless she half listened to what he was saying, most of her attention at the approaching pack of armed men on her heels. Without a second thought, she nodded and followed him. It wasn’t until the pair were on the roof she realized who this man was.

He was just a myth, though, right?

“Alright, Mr. Mysterious Hood, where to?” Barbara squeaked out, her voice hoarse and cracking.

The girl was shorter than Jason, but far more lithe; her copper hair tumbled to her shoulders in waves as she sprinted in front of him towards the roof. Even in his haste, he couldn’t help but notice just how good she looked in costume, how fluidly she moved, how damn long her legs were. How light her steps were, even though her armor and cape must have weighed a good forty pounds. 

She broke through the open door, cape flapping behind her. He was a half second behind her, already scanning the rooftop when she addressed him. “Alright, Mr. Mysterious Hood, where to?” Her voice wavered slightly as she spoke, the fear and apprehension pushing through false bravado.

“Down.” And like that, Red Hood pushed her off the roof.

Without sparing a second, the Red Hood fired all six shots of his revolver at the door, not waiting to see what the cops would do. The rounds were explosive silicone putty rounds, designed to incapacitate without fatal injury. Jason didn’t know if they would expand enough to block the door; all he wanted was to buy some time.

He vaulted off the roof after Batgirl, locating her some fifteen feet below him. They were headed towards a connected walkway, some eight stories below. With a deft grapple, he altered his descent, swinging below the female vigilante just before she struck the covered bridge. With a second shot, he stopped their fall completely, bringing them both flush against the underside of the metal catwalk. Jason clipped his belt onto the steel grate, fastening Batgirl likewise. 

“There. We should be safe until they move on. What the hell were you thinking, going to the roof alone?” He scowled, although she could not see it. “Bats don’t do well in captivity, I’m told.”

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.