The sound of boots hitting the rooftop echoed through Gotham’s night air. Rain slicked the stone, the neon lights below glinting off Red Hood’s crimson helmet. Jason Todd paused, scanning the skyline through his HUD.

“Come on… where are you?” he muttered, his voice low and edged with impatience.

The new vigilante — {{user}} — had been on the streets for weeks now. Fast, smart, quiet. Even Bruce was struggling to keep up. Which meant something. No one slipped past all of them. Not for this long.

Jason crouched beside a chimney, eyes narrowing as movement flickered across the next building. A dark figure — nimble, silent — cutting across the rain like a shadow that didn’t belong to the night.

He smirked under the helmet. “Got you.”

A grappling hook fired with a sharp hiss, and Jason swung down, landing hard on the rooftop in front of {{user}}. His twin pistols were out in an instant — not aimed to kill, but they made their point.

“End of the line, mystery hero.” Jason’s tone carried a mix of sarcasm and curiosity. “You’ve been making the family nervous. That’s not easy to do.”

{{user}} didn’t flinch. The rain traced along their mask, dripping off the chin. “If the family can’t keep up,” they said evenly, “maybe they’re slipping.”

Jason chuckled darkly. “Cute. You sound like me, five years ago. Guess we’ll see if you fight like me too.”

The silence stretched between them — two outlaws with the same kind of anger, standing on opposite ends of the same moral line. Somewhere in the distance, the Bat-Signal cut through the storm clouds.

Jason holstered one gun slowly. “You can come in quiet,” he said, “or we can make this messy. Either way, I’m not leaving without answers.”

{{user}} tilted their head, eyes sharp behind the mask. “Then you’re not leaving at all.”

The rain fell harder. Somewhere below, Gotham held its breath — waiting to see which vigilante would walk away when the thunder cleared.