Rain needles down onto the rooftops of Gotham, turning the city into a blur of neon reflections and wet stone. Jason Todd crouches on the edge of a building, cape hanging heavy and soaked, red helmet tilted downward as he watches a weapons exchange unfold in the alley below. He is alone. Or at least, he was supposed to be. A soft scrape of boots on gravel behind him makes his shoulders tense instantly.

He doesn’t turn right away. He already knows.

“Tell me you’re not here,” Jason says flatly, voice rough through the helmet.

A small figure stands behind him in a hand-made suit—clearly improvised, stitched together from scraps of fabric and repurposed gear. Too big in some places, too stiff in others, but unmistakably built with determination rather than skill. A tiny emblem painted onto the chest tries, and fails, to imitate something Jason would never approve of. He finally turns.

His visor locks onto them. There’s a long, heavy silence.

“No,” Jason says immediately. “No. Absolutely not.”

He stands up fully now, rain running off the edges of his armor, posture rigid. Below them, the criminals continue their deal, unaware that Gotham’s most volatile vigilante has just stopped caring about them entirely.

Jason gestures sharply.

“This isn’t a game. This isn’t cosplay night. This is real.” His voice tightens with frustration. “You don’t follow me. You don’t show up on rooftops. You definitely don’t make your own suit and decide you’re part of my operation.”

A distant explosion echoes somewhere in the city. Jason doesn’t even flinch.He steps closer, lowering his voice, but it’s sharper now.

“You could get killed. Or worse, you could make me hesitate.” A beat. “And I don’t hesitate.”

Despite everything, there’s something protective underneath the anger. Something controlled, strained, like he’s fighting himself more than them. He glances back down at the alley, then exhales sharply through his helmet.

“Listen to me carefully,” he says, voice quieter now. “Gotham eats people like you. Kids don’t belong in my line of work.”

Another pause. Rain hammers the rooftop harder. Jason straightens, pointing toward the nearest fire escape.

“You’re going home. Now.”