God, this guy's a jerk.
I mean it, he's just got nothing going on inside of that big red helmet. I've tried to make this interesting for the both of us, but he won't have any of it. He just grunts and presses on like I'm not even here. And the worst part is that it's beginning to annoy me. I mean, we've been stuck in eachother's path for the last hour on a stakeout of the Eastern Shipping Yards, both unwilling to move out of the way so that the other can break apart from the path that's blindly leading us both down the same narrow row of docking warehouses, and what does he say to me? Absolutely nothing. We ran into a couple of idiots trying to score big and drive away with a couple of abandoned freighter trucks hauling some serious cargo, but Red Hood's "strategies" proved to be difficult to manuever around. He doesn't just go in and hit the guys one at a time, he has to keep them all stunned at once and work them down. I tried to go in for a hit and we nearly tripped over eachother. I think he's still silently holding a grudge.
I wish he'd just go away. But no, he insists on being my little guardian angel for the evening, following me wherever I go and refusing to take no for an answer. Part of him might actually be going out of his way to keep me on edge, or maybe he's just out to make sure I don't
steal anything again. Which, to be fair, I've briefly considered. But even if I was using tonight as an excuse to make a couple of extra bucks, I don't need a parole officer tagging along to make sure I'm being a good girl. Especially when it's a guy who doesn't even realize motorcycle fetishists left with the 90's.
"You know, I know it's been mentioned a couple of times now, but we might be able to cover more ground if we split up."
Nothing. He simply stands there, perched on the edge of the building like a gargoyle and waiting for me to make the next move. I silently mutter something to myself that's so foul that I feel like apologizing in advance, just incase I accidentally verbalize it. There's nothing going on in this viscinity, and I wouldn't even know where to look for anything else. So until something happens, we're stuck. Adding to the already thirty-five minutes of complete silence. From a guy I don't even want near me.
I massage the bridge of my nose and lean against a concrete wall on the opposite side. Gotta be an easier way to do this.
"Or, you know. You could just keep following. That works too."
He tilts his head over, as if he's giving me a look. All I see is that blank expression etched into the helmet. I furrow my brow and cross my arms, choosing to focus my irritation back towards the docks. Which, as I mentioned, are completely deserted by now. Most of the workers caught wind of the chaos and fled, and the only people that have shown up since are now tied up on the street and waiting a police escort back into Gotham. Nothing's going to happen here, but I know that the second we move, Red Hood's going to follow and throw off my sense of focus. I need to figure out how to lose him here, and now, before he sabatoges everything.
"It's because of him, you know."
I genuinely jump after hearing him speak up, barely collecting myself fast enough to retort before he can notice.
"Oh, so the cat hasn't got his tongue after all? It's a little late for the idle chitchat routine, jerk."
"Will you just shut up and listen?"
He places an arm over his knee and stares out at the city.
"He's the reason all of this is happening. I can feel it in the air."
"Who are you talking about?"
"Batman."
Oh, great.
Him again. You know, I'd give anything to have the so-called Dark Knight working this instead of me, but that doesn't mean I have to hear his name pop up every five minutes while I'm picking up his slack.
"A little hard to believe, don't you think?"
"Why do you think that?"
"Well, for one, that rumor that the Bat's been taken out of commission for good was just that, a rumor. No one has any reason to believe otherwise. Everyone on the street's been whispering this-or-that about him since he arrived, and it's all been about as true as everything else. This is no different."
"No."
With as much conviction in his voice as someone who would know better than anyone, he points out at the burning embers of the East End as firefighters rush to put out the flames. I never noticed it until now, but there really is something weirdly different about tonight. Like a crime spree just up and appeared out of nowhere, taking a chunk of Gotham with it.
"This is different. They know he's gone. I don't know how, but they just know it. And they're celebrating."
I walk up next to him and look him dead in the eye.
"Come on. This city doesn't thrive on the livelihood of one man. That's absurd."
"You think? Look around you. Cops are nowhere to be seen, even though they've been 'on their way' for hours. Corrupt politicians, bought and paid for. The second that the order was given, this was all deliberately set up to send a message. And who is the recipient supposed to be?"
It's not hard to guess who he's implying, but I think he's wrong. This couldn't have all been for Batman.
"You don't know that for sure. It could easily be a power play, or an intimidation tactic. We don't even know if anything about this was really made to be deliberate."
Red Hood doesn't say anything at first. I want to believe he legitimately considers that he's wrong, but it doesn't come across that way. It's almost as if - I don't know, it's almost as if he's convinced himself that this was all by some grand design.
"Think about a few weeks ago, when he was still active. Think about the crime rate. In Gotham, it's always going to be rough to navigate through the streets. But when he was around? There was a difference. The thought of Batman could make some of them want to coil up and die just be spared his wrath."
Now I know he's just full of himself. People seriously thought that way about him? I hardly believe that. Especially when so much scum like the Falcones and the Maronis, Chechen, The Dragon, and Yuri Dimitrov have all ran free in the midst of his prescence. Don't get me wrong, I admire what Wayne did with what he could. But to say that he legitimately put the fear into every piece of filth in town...
Waving off his assertions, I smirk wide and step onto the ledge.
"It sounds to me like you're just sad that your big idol is missing in action. Tell me, what's your real connection to Batman? Are you two close? Is he your roomie or something?"
"You're not listening!"
He grabs my arm hard and forces me close to him. At first, I want to kick him in the groin for ever thinking he could touch me this way. But something about the way he speaks. Something in his voice. It honestly makes me want to reconsider such thinking. This guy isn't someone that I should want to mess with.
"I didn't want to admit it before, but this has all made me realize it was true. Without him, there is no Gotham. He is Gotham. He's been the one thing holding it together for these past couple of years. Batman is everything to this city, and now that he's gone, I..."
He realizes what he's doing and releases me.
"I just don't know if it can survive."
Rubbing my wrist to soothe it, I almost feel like telling him off. But the way he speaks about Wayne is so passionate that it gives me pause. What
is their real relationship? He talks about Batman the way that some people talk about God. Like without him around to save us, we're all doomed to darkness. Which is completely insane to even consider, let alone acknowledge. I've met Batman, and aside from a few skills that I wouldn't mind having, he's just an ordinary man with alot of toys.
Red Hood obviously doesn't agree.
"Look, I don't know what any of this has to do with anything, but you've got to get a grip. The guy was only one man, and even if he was this... hero, or whatever you make him out to be... Gotham doesn't live or die by his actions. I think even he'd agree with that."
He looks away.
"And furthermore, even if this was some message intended for him - which I still say it's not - that doesn't change what we have to do tonight. If Batman is really gone,"
And he isn't. He's momentarily out-of-action, provided how fast that Wayne makes it through the coma.
"Then we have even more of a reason to pick up where he left off. This city is counting on us, and while you're up here wallowing about the fate of one guy, people are suffering. He wouldn't want that. He'd---"
Suddenly, Red Hood's body language seems to perk up. He taps the side of his dome and turns around, leaving me to speak to his back.
"Quiet. I'm getting something."
A few moments pass and a few whispers are exchanged. What the hell is he doing?
"It's Batgirl. She and The Question are on 35th and Winnick."
He turns towards me and pulls out one of those grapnel-guns that I unfortunately don't have.
"I'm going to see if they need backup. You coming?"
Before I can even answer, he's off, leaving me with an unfinished sentence and a considerably perplexed expression. Followed by a sneer, as I mutter several other horrible words and phrases under my breath, producing the whip and letting it strike out into the air.
And just when things were starting to get interesting...
"Ha! Score one for the Q-Man."
Minutes later, and we both arrive just in time to see Question take a seriously well-timed punch to the face that could have very well knocked him unconcious. Red Hood continues to survey the area as the fight continues, keeping special attention to Batgirl and her progress. That's odd, I didn't know they had a connection. And furthermore, that has to be one of the strangest coincidences I've come across tonight.
"To your left!"
Realizing he doesn't hear her as the goon approaches from behind, Hood clenches his fists and leaps down to engage her would-be attacker himself. Leaving me to stare back down at Question, just as the guy that knocked him off of his feet grabs him and pulls him off of the ground.
Men. Always needing to be saved, in this town...
*CRACK!*
The whip slices the skin right between his eyes, allowing him to drop Question just before he can make bruises on the lack-of-a-face. The whip comes back to me, and I somersault onto the ground myself, waving my finger in fair warning.
"Naughty, naughty. Mommy might have to spank."
The goon comes lunging after me and I smile.
I guess amidst all of the horror and chaos, there is one positive about tonight. I still get to hit things.
