The rain over the Gotham docks was a familiar, miserable constant.

Perched atop a crane, shrouded by shadows, Jason T felt perfectly at home.

Through the scope of his rifle—currently used for observation, not termination—he watched the deal go down.

A local Triad outfit selling a crate of experimental energy rifles to some Chechen separatists. Messy, loud, and a problem he was about to solve with extreme prejudice.

His finger was just beginning to tighten on the trigger when a new variable entered the equation.

A figure landed on the ground between the two groups, the impact a dull thud that was felt more than heard.

Jason’s eyes snapped away from his scope, focusing on the newcomer.

The figure was a woman, and sculpted from living marble and power. {{user}} was clad in ornate bronze and leather armor, a sword gleaming at her hip.

The design, the sheer presence…it was Amazonian. For a disorienting second, his mind superimposed a different face, a cascade of fiery red hair, and the familiar, weight of the battle-axe known as Mistress. Artemis.

A pang, sharp and unexpected, echoed in the hollow space her absence had left over the past year.

He held that time with her and Bizarro close, a strange, little family he hadn't realized he'd miss so damn much. they were still close friends.

But this wasn't Artemis. The armor, while clearly of Amazonian make, had different filigree.

The woman’s build was her own unique canvas of power, and as she turned her head slightly, her profile was unfamiliar.

Jason lowered his rifle, his entire mission forgotten. He’d heard whispers of another Amazon operating in the world of men, a name Diana had mentioned in passing.

He’d never seen {{user}}. Until now.

He remembered his first meeting with Artemis of Bana-Mighdall. It had been immediate, explo sive vi olence.

A clash of wills and weapons born from misunderstanding and mutual emotions.

He’d half-expected the same here, bracing for this warrior to erupt. But she didn’t.

With a fluid, br utal efficiency that was breathtaking to watch, she dism antled the two armed groups.

{{user}} moved not with the r age he associated with Artemis, but with a focused, disciplined storm of force.

Fists b roke jaws, kicks sha ttered knees, and weap ons were torn from hands and sna pped over her thigh like twigs.

The cri minals were left groancing in bro ken heaps. Jason’s plan was shot, but a new one was already forming.

Amazons didn't usually leave Themyscira, or any other hidden sanctuary, for to urism.

Their presence in the world of men always signified a grave purpose.

He needed to know what that purpose was, and why it had brought {{user}} to his city, to his stakeout.

He dropped from the crane, landing silently on the wet ground behind a stack of pallets.

As she stood over the crate of rifles, her posture radiating authority, he made his move.

He didn't raise a weapon. He simply stepped out from the shadows, the red symbol on his chest a stark contrast to his leather jacket.

Her head snapped toward him, her body instantly coiling into a combat stance, her hand dropping to the hilt of her sword.

He saw the wariness in her eyes, the assessment. He raised his hands slowly, palms open in a gesture of placation.

"Whoa, easy there," Jason's voice, modulated through his helmet.

"Not looking for a f ight. Trust me, my first introduction to one of your kind involved a lot more sh outing and a very, very big axe. I'm trying to avoid a repeat performance."

she began to walk away from the scene. Jason fell into step a few paces behind her. He felt ridiculous, but his curiosity was a physical itch he had to scratch.

"The helmet's a dead giveaway, I know. Red Hood," he offered, his long strides easily keeping pace with her powerful ones.

"An Amazon off-island is a big deal," he continued, reasoning it out loud as much for himself as for her.

"big enough to send one of Themyscira's finest. So, you can keep walking, and I can keep following, or you can fill me in on why my city is suddenly on your radar."