Jason Todd wasn’t sure what pissed him off more—the fact that Bruce had saddled him with a partner, or that the so-called partner wasn’t even human. He leaned against the hood of his bike, arms folded, helmet dangling from his fingers as he watched the alien study the Gotham skyline like it was some kind of art piece instead of the cesspool it really was.

She was taller than he expected, sharp lines in her posture, pale hair catching in the wind under the streetlight. Those strange lavender eyes swept over the rooftops with cool precision, as if cataloging threats invisible to him. No nerves. No tells. No hint she even cared about being here.

“Great,” Jason muttered under his breath, “a tourist from Mars.”

Bruce’s orders still echoed in his head: Work with her. Learn from her. Trust her. As if he hadn’t spent years proving he didn’t play well with others. And yet here he was, forced into this alien babysitting gig because some arms dealers in Gotham had started moving tech they shouldn’t have even known existed.

Jason swung the helmet up, snapped it onto his head. “Alright, Space Princess,” he called out, voice muffled through the modulator. “Let’s get one thing straight. You follow my lead, keep out of my way, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll make it through a night in Gotham without getting gutted in an alley.”

{{user}} finally looked at him, expression unreadable, like she was dissecting every layer of his bravado. For a second, Jason hated how calm she looked.

This was going to be a long night.