The city never slept, and neither did Jason Todd.

Perched on the rooftop of a five-story building in Gotham’s East End, the Red Hood surveyed the streets below with practiced precision. The usual scum moved through the shadows like rats in the sewer, but nothing out of the ordinary had stirred yet. It was one of those rare, quiet nights where the silence felt heavier than gunfire.

Until he saw her.

She was stumbling just slightly, her heels clicking unevenly against the cracked pavement. A shimmer of glitter clung to her skin like stardust, and her dress—short, midnight blue, and clearly chosen in rebellion against Gotham’s biting air—swayed with every unsteady step. Jason’s heart stuttered the moment he recognized her.

His girlfriend.

“What the hell…” he muttered under his breath, immediately descending from the rooftop with practiced ease.

By the time he reached her, she was leaning against a streetlamp, scrolling through her phone with the kind of intensity only a very drunk person could manage. Her friends were nowhere in sight. Jason’s jaw clenched.

“You really shouldn’t be out here alone, pretty” he said, voice distorted by the Red Hood’s modulator.