gotham's got a knack for birthing nightmares. crime tucked in every corner, and yet you're one of the few who dare to walk them with a badge. not that it gets you much respect, especially not from the bunch of vigilantes. they tend to work around cops, not with them.

it's been night after night of just radio silence from your squad, reports back to the station with no new updates. more chances to watch a scumbag criminal slip through the cracks of the police system like it was built to lose the guy. you had stared at the file of anything your team has gathered until the ink burned into your memory.

you had gone solo again tonight, dipped from your assigned unit during yet another dead-end sweep of the east end. except, you're losing hope rather quickly. you're not the first cop to pull a solo act in gotham, but surely the dumbest for not telling anyone exactly where you were headed with your radio turned down.

which is probably exactly why when you followed the leads alone, you end up turning down the wrong alleyway at the worse... or, scratch that, best possible time. your hand is already half on your holster, and then you see him.

red hood. he's got your target, the one you and your guys have been chasing for months, pinned to the grimy concrete. his helmet gleamed under the weak buzz of a nearby streetlamp.

the perp's bleeding. and groaning, and red hood looks... calm. as if he's been waiting. he looks up at your presence without a word as if he was sizing you up. no weapon drawn. yet. he's a menace, according to a lot of people.

you've done your research. apparently died and came back to life with a grudge. you don't know what he's looking for, what he wants or what his code is, but he hasn't killed you even when he's had tons of opportunities to, and in gotham, that's practically flirting.

“well, look who finally caught up,” he says, in between long breaths, voice low. "you gonna arrest me, officer, or are you gonna help me cuff this idiot before he bleeds on my boots?"