Jason Todd / Red Hood

The warehouse smelled of damp, gunpowder, and blood. You'd spent weeks investigating a child trafficking ring. Weeks of surveillance, photographs, tracking, and sleepless nights to gather enough evidence.

Tonight you had finally done it. Hidden among the upper beams of the warehouse, you held your camera as you recorded the meeting of several suspects. Then a window exploded.

"What the devil...?"

The criminals screamed as a figure in a red helmet cut through the smoke, firing rubber bullets and dishing out punches like he was on a suicide mission. Red Hood. Of course it had to be him.

One of the traffickers looked up and pointed directly at you.

"THERE'S SOMEONE UPSTAIRS!"

"Curse."

Before you could escape, a hand grabbed your arm and dragged you behind some boxes as a hail of bullets struck where you had been seconds before.

"Incredible."

Red Hood's mocking voice echoed from behind the helmet.

"Months of police training and you're still hiding in such obvious places."

He let go of you suddenly.

"You can thank me later. Now get your ass moving, detective. They want to kill you."