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A figure was crouched on top of the old building, just another gargoyle silently studying the streets below. Gotham never changed. And Crime Alley was still the best place to find the lowest of the low: drug dealers, muggers and rapists - they all looked the same to him. They were a plague of rats infesting the city, with no one willing to cure the disease that they spread.
Batman and his crew may have claimed to be cleaning up the streets, but all they ever did was delay the filth for a while. Blackgate, Arkham, the Hospital… It didn't matter where they put them. They were all back on the streets in no time, but not any more. He was making sure of that.
He was what Gotham needed: a vigilante who wasn't afraid to spill some blood. The 'Dark Knight' had got one thing right though, controlling the lowlifes through fear. Still, what about the ones who weren't afraid?
That was why the city needed him. He was there to get rid of the scum that couldn't be threatened or bullied, the ones that Batman couldn't stop.
Of course, everyone just saw the new Red Hood as another villain - the next big 'crime lord'. That suited him just fine. It was impossible to destroy the crime in this city, but if he could control it, that would be better for Gotham than what its so-called superheroes were doing.
As it happened, tonight had been a quiet night. He'd only had to deal with a couple of muggings, and both had survived his assault, although they might have trouble moving for a few months. They were cowards and wouldn't dare strike in his territory again after that.
He tilted his head slightly. He'd heard a noise. It was a very soft sound and probably a few buildings behind him, but in the silence of the night it was unmistakable. That is, it was unmistakable if you'd been trained to detect such things as an inevitable ambush - which he had been from a very young age. But instead of moving out of harm's way, he hardly moved at all - save for the slight shifting of his weight that allowed him to reach his guns -and now-infamous knife- more easily. He gave no indication that he was aware of his would-be assailant.
Fighting his claustrophobia towards the back of his mind in favour of improving his senses, he forced his eyes closed behind his helmet, blocking out his vision to concentrate on his hearing.
Had he not been specifically listening out for it, he would have missed the soft, muffled sound of his mystery attacker landing on the roof, mere metres away from the shadows where he was crouched. He could sense, rather than hear, the other person walking closer to him.
Jason's eyes flashed open as he launched himself into a backwards somersault, easily grabbing his knife and cutting deeply into his surprised assailant's shoulder as he sailed overhead.
"Shit! You haven't lost your touch, that's for sure."
Jason glared at the older man; he had been expecting this reunion since he'd revealed his identity to Batman, but that didn't mean he'd been looking forward to it.
He'd known the true identity of the 'hero' in front of him for a long time - but had he not discovered that secret, Jason would not have recognized the boy who he'd once considered his brother.
The first Robin had indeed grown into a handsome young man. Even through his grimace as he tightened his grip on his arm, trying to stop it from bleeding, the younger man couldn't deny his elder's good looks. He'd let his black hair grow longer, and donned a black domino mask to match his black and blue attire, now broken only by the bloodstained tear near his left shoulder.
"Did you expect anything less?" Jason smirked beneath his helmet. Out of the whole 'bat family', Jason had always been close to his predecessor and they had trained regularly together. Therefore Dick had always been one of the only people not to underestimate him.
"Just to clarify, next time a simple 'hello' would be fine." Nightwing glared, wiping the excess blood from his arm and gazing critically at the red stains the action left on his shoulder and hand.
"You're the one who snuck up on me, Dicky-boy. You should know better than that." Jason shrugged, reaching up to remove his helmet. There was only so much he could wear it while staying still before his claustrophobia started to take hold.
The second Robin did not look as good as his 'brother'. His hair was greasy and not as well kept. He'd long since stopped dying it, and his light strawberry-blond roots now covered the top of his head, giving the appearance that it had been tipped with black oil. A shock of white - gained during his 'rebirth' in the Lazarus Pit - ran through the one side of his hair, which he pushed away from the red domino mask that hid his bright blue eyes. His outfit was nowhere near as flashy as the rest of his so-called family, but just as loaded with hidden gadgets.
"You look awful." Dick gave Jason a sympathetic smile.
"Sorry if vanity isn't very high on my list of priorities at the moment." Jason rolled his eyes. "Besides…" A wicked smile spread across his face. "If you were beaten to death with a crowbar, blown up, and had gone though as much as I have, you wouldn't be this good-looking."
Dick Grayson shuddered, partly due to the thought of all the crap that Jason had had to face throughout his life, but mostly because of the way he'd said it. The way the shadows fell across his face matched with his insane grin. How could he remind him so much of the same man who'd beat the young Robin to death? How could even remotely resemble…the Joker?
"Did you track me down for a reason? Or did you just fancy a chat?"
"I just found out my little brother's still alive. Do I need a reason to find him?" Dick smiled sadly.
"We're not brothers." Jason grunted. "And I thought I made it perfectly clear that I'm done with your so-called 'family'. For as long you guys let my murderer live, I fly solo."
"No matter what happens, you'll always be a part of this family, Jay. Once a Robin, always a Robin." Dick's smile faded. "But we never kill. No matter how much we hate that damn clown for what he did to you. Killing him would never be enough, and I'd become the very thing I'm trying to stop. You may have let yourself turn into a murderer like the Joker but…"
Jason cut him off by suddenly leaping at the older man, tackling him to the ground and pinning him to the floor with his knife positioned dangerously over the other's throat. "Don't you dare compare me to that maniac!" He growled, pushing the blade against the soft skin of his brother's neck.
"I guess Bruce was right; you really have lost your mind." Dick hissed, the blade cutting into his neck slightly as he spoke.
"Is that what he told you?" Jason chuckled. "For the first time since I got this gig, everything finally makes sense. You can't stop crime, Dick. You can lock up the criminals, until they escape, and then you watch them carry on like always. But crime has dropped in the time that I've been in charge of the criminal underworld."
"You've become one of them, Jay. You're no better." The knife bit further into Dick's neck, Jason's eyes narrowed in fury, and for a moment Dick thought that Jason was going to slit his throat there and then.
"I didn't expect Batman's golden boy to understand." Jason spat, removing the blade and standing up, looking down at his 'brother' and the thin line of blood he'd left on the other man's throat.
Gunshots suddenly shattered the silence, echoing throughout Crime Alley, and Jason walked to the edge of the roof to look at the scene below.
A full-blown gang fight had started. A few innocents lay dead on the floor between the opposing sides, obviously having been caught in the crossfire.
Jason grinned at the sight; he needed an excuse to let off some steam. Wiping his brothers blood off his knife and onto the sleeve of his jacket, he sheathed the blade in favour of two handguns before turning his head back to the man on the floor.
"I'd like to say I enjoyed our chat, but I've got work to do."
Dick watched as his younger brother jumped off the roof to join the fight below.
As he stood up, he could hear the fight halt when the younger man's voice addressed the two rival gangs. Footsteps echoed as people tried to run from the young crime-lord, and the gunshots followed them.
By the time Dick had got to the edge of the roof, the fight was over. Jason was stood amongst the dead bodies of the gangs, replacing his still-smoking guns into his pockets before lighting a cigarette.
"Catch you later, 'golden boy'." He called to Dick as he walked out of the alley; casually stepping over the dead bodies as if killing a dozen or so gang members was nothing to him.
Dick Grayson sighed, jumping down from the building to see if there were any survivors.
There weren't. The Red Hood had left no one alive.
Jason Todd was truly lost.