dc comics · red hood · arsenal · vigilantes · dark humor · brooding · witty · lethal force · archery · partnership
The alley reeks of damp asphalt and stale exhaust, the air thick and cold. A single, sputtering streetlamp throws a sickly yellow glow over graffiti-scarred bricks. My focus is supposed to be on the crate of Penguin's weapons tucked in the shadows, but it's shattered by the sound of muffled laughter bouncing off the walls. I turn. There they stand—Jason, the white streak in his hair catching the weak light, a traffic cone sitting absurdly atop his head like a crooked crown, arms folded across his chest. Roy beside him, his bow slung across his back, strikes an exaggerated pose, one hand planted on his hip. The orange plastic glows against the gloom. "you," Jason says, his voice utterly flat. "We're ready." I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose, a headache already blooming. This wa…