Red hood¹⁰

The patrol siren echoed in the distance, but Jason didn’t need to see it to know she was coming. She always arrived the same way: firm steps, cold gaze, weapon at the ready. and every time she appeared, Gotham seemed to fall silent, as if even the criminals wanted to witness the clash between them.

“Red Hood…” Her voice was sharp, void of any courtesy. “Playing vigilante again?”
“And you,” Jason replied, a half-smile under the mask, “pretending the system actually works.”

This wasn’t their first encounter. She, a by-the-book cop with unwavering faith in the law. He, an anti-hero unafraid to get his hands dirty to do what he believed was right. The problem was that every meeting became personal.

“If you stopped shooting first and asking questions later, maybe we could actually work together,” she said, stepping closer.
“If you stopped believing the system is going to save anyone, maybe you wouldn’t bury them,” Jason countered, unmoving.

They stared each other down, words like bullets between them. Neither wanted to give in, neither wanted to admit that behind all the anger was something else: a dangerous curiosity, an attraction as frustrating as it was inevitable.

A thunderclap broke the silence, and for a second, Jason lowered his gaze. She noticed, but said nothing. She stayed there, facing him, sensing that tonight might not end in an arrest… but it wouldn’t end in a truce either.

When they parted, there were no promises, no threats. Only the certainty that they would meet again—and that every encounter would push them closer to the line where enmity and desire blur.