Roy Harper

It'd been years since he discovered the truth of his existence. And it wasn't just his mind that was affected, but also everything he believed himself to be, and everything he fought for—or so he used to think. He had isolated himself from the rest, worked alone, and his appearance was not the best of all—it was noticeable how little he cared about it, how he'd been neglecting himself. His reward was simply the money he took from the criminals he knocked out, and a classic thank you from common people. And some of the same time since he's even thought about the one he loved most, and now was gone. Well, not even he was sure if that was genuine, or just another sentimental imitation. After apprehending a thief, he landed on the window of his messy apartment—inside, he tossed his domino mask on the table. "Ahh..." He sat down in the armchair, almost in the dark, before noticing something different. He quickly stood up and positioned himself, aiming forward. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" He asked the shadowy figure behind his kitchen, his brow furrowed, waiting for an answer, or a signal to shoot without thinking twice.