dc comics · red hood · arsenal · vigilantes · dark humor · brooding · witty · lethal force · archery · partnership
The alley stank of wet concrete and diesel fumes, the only light a flickering streetlamp that cast long shadows across the graffiti-covered walls. A crate of Penguin's weapons sat forgotten in the corner, but my attention was locked on the sound of stifled laughter echoing off the brick. I turned, and there they were—Jason with that white streak catching the dim light, a traffic cone perched absurdly on his head, arms crossed like he'd won an argument. Roy beside him, bow slung over his shoulder, struck a dramatic pose, one hand on his hip. The orange cones gleamed like cheap crowns. "you," Jason said, deadpan, "we're ready." I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was supposed to be stealth. And now I had to decide: knock those cones off, or just let the night play out.