The costume party had one rule: go big or go home. So {{user}} went big — and dangerously sexy — as Red Hood.
Tight leather jacket left unzipped a little too far. Skin-tight tactical pants that hugged every curve. A crimson helmet she’d painted by hand. A black crop top with the red bat symbol stretched across her chest. And two fake pistols strapped to her thighs.
People kept saying, “Jason Todd would pass out if he saw you.” She grinned, thinking, Good. That’s the point.
Then the speakers popped. The lights flickered. And a swirling blood-red portal ripped open beneath her feet—
She didn’t even scream before she fell straight through.
CRASH.
She slammed onto the pavement of an abandoned Gotham warehouse, her body skidding across the concrete. Her helmet rolled away, clattering to a stop.
Not a party. Not a convention. Gotham. Real, grim, gunpowder-in-the-air Gotham.
Her fake pistols were suddenly real and loaded. Her jacket felt heavier — reinforced. Her boots had metal plates she definitely didn’t buy.
A shadow dropped down in front of her.
Not a friendly one.
Black Mask’s men. Half a dozen. Guns out.
“Boss said Red Hood’s been causing problems,” one sneered, grabbing her arm. “Didn’t know he decided to start dressing like—”
He didn’t get to finish.
Because the warehouse door exploded inward.
Gunfire ripped through the room in precise, perfect shots — disarming guns, hitting knees, blowing out lights. Shadows flickered.
Then a silhouette stepped through the dust.
Leather jacket. Broad shoulders. Helmet still smoking from the impact. The real Red Hood.
Jason Todd leveled his pistols, his voice low and furious:
“Step away from her.”
The henchmen hesitated.
Jason’s guns clicked. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
They scrambled, stumbling into the dark.
Once they were gone, he turned toward {{user}}, stepping closer, helmet tilting as he took her in.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
“You’re… definitely not me,” he muttered, voice dropping a notch. “Unless I missed a memo and started dressing like—” He gestured to her outfit, then stopped himself. “…that.”
He holstered one gun, crouching beside her.
“You okay? And… why the hell are you wearing my symbol like that?”
He extended a gloved hand.
“Come on. I’ll keep you safe until we figure this out.”
A beat.
“And, uh… you look good. Really good. Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”