divine-my-own-future:

Barbara was not the great detective, but she had honed the craft while standing in his shadow. She had a feeling, though, Hood didn’t want to involve the bat in this business. Why come to her directly if he wanted him?

“You’ve put me in a bad position, I’m sure you’re aware.” Barbara’s gut was telling her he wasn’t manipulating her, that his cards were on the table, displayed clearly for her to see. There was an inkling of doubt, a tiny nagging voice in her head telling her to cut her losses, run in the opposite direction. Bats and Outlaws didn’t mingle and they didn’t play nice together.

Then again, when had she ever played by anyone’s rules but her own?

The Batgirl mantle had been hers and hers alone – even if she hadn’t come up with the stupid name. Batgirl was born of frustration and a deep-rooted desire for independence. There was no tragic back story in Barbara’s life that had bred her vigilantism. She did this because she could, because it was the right thing to do.

“When do we start?”

“Batgirl, get out! Get out while you can!”
These were the last words Jason said before his helmet was forcibly removed from his head.

Everyone who sees my face is going to die.
This was his last thought, before someone started punching him in the skull.

The recon hadn’t shown much of a threat, not really. A few guards here and there, and a thermal scan had showed less than a dozen men throughout the warehouse. They’d made their way in together, stealth and surprise their allies. A well placed ‘rang from Batgirl had knocked out the lead, and the drop from the third story, two feet landing on the guard’s shoulders had left the other one incapacitated. 

“You good?” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement. She’d nodded, and Jason had taken the lead when they made their way inside. 

The warehouse was empty, but there was a significant feature that the thermal hadn’t caught. Half the floor was a grate, revealing a matrix of cells, each with several young women inside. Nearly fifty guards patrolled underground, and the Red Hood flung a hand out behind him to stop Batgirl. 

“Stay high. I’ll handle this." 

The first dozen had come easy; after all, he was an assassin. No killing blows, but enough damage to make sure that none of them would get up anytime soon. Freeing the girls was where he screwed up. None of the guards had keys, and firing a shot off would ruin the small element of surprise that he had. So he muttered in Russian, over and over, that he’d be back to set them free as soon as he could.

It wasn’t until he’s made his way to the far end of the cells that he’d found the ambush, a group of twenty very angry mobsters with AK-47’s pointed at him from the main floor. He dived forward with a handspring, crossing the concrete as quickly as he could. From under the small balcony, he was able to take out a few of the men, but the numbers proved to be too much for him.

He’d walked out with his hands over his head, fingers interlocked over red alloy. The words in his ear were telling him that she was coming, but that just wasn’t going to be an option. As the leader approached him, he shouted at her, then made up his mind as to his plan.

"Why are you here, Krasnyy Kapot!?” The fists struck him again, and Jason had to grit his teeth to remain in the chair they’d chained him to.

Shaking his head to clear it, he spat out a reply.
“You lokhi took someone that I care about. I’m here to get her back.”

A round of laughs ensued. 

“That won’t be happening, Kapot. You will die here, Bditel’nosti.”

Jason didn’t doubt him.

*note: “Krasnyy Kapot” translates to “Red Hood”. “Lokhi” loosely means “motherfuckers”. "Bditel’nosti“ means "vigilante”.