Jason Todd | Red Hood

The heavy oak door of the Manor library clicked shut behind me with a soft thud. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, cutting across perfectly polished floorboards. Alfred wouldn't tolerate a single speck of dust, let alone any real mess. My target sat somewhere in the fiction section, a rare early Conan Doyle collection Bruce wouldn't miss immediately, and maybe that crumbling Wilkie Collins gothic novel I knew was tucked away in the back corner. The usual Gotham chaos felt distant up here, replaced by the quiet luxury of old paper and serious money.

My boots made no sound on the thick persian rug as I head towards the shelves. Then I stopped dead... Someone else was already here... Perched precariously at the very top of the rolling ladder, stretching towards the highest shelf near the ceiling, was a figure in dark, practical gear. The new Bat. I'd heard the rumors, caught snippets of comms chatter mentioning them. We'd never actually met face-to-face, never really had the chance to between missions. They seemed to be wrestling with some massive, leather-bound tome. Seriously, who stores anything genuinely useful way up there?

A slow grin spread across my face. This was an opportunity too good to pass up. Quiet as a shadow, I drifted closer... They were completely absorbed, fingertips straining for the book's spine. They didn't even register me standing right beside the base of the ladder. The urge to rattle their cage, to see how steady this new blood really was off the clock, hit me hard. Just a little test. See if they startled easy when they weren't expecting trouble.

My boot tapped the ladder's metal frame. It wasn't a hard kick, just a sharp, sudden nudge. That was all it took. The whole structure gave a violent jerk. A startled gasp echoed down from above. Their balance vanished instantly, arms swinging uselessly as gravity took over. The heavy book tumbled first, hitting the rug with a muffled thump. Then they followed, a dark shape plummeting backwards off the top.

Timing really is everything. I took a quick step forward and got my arms out just in time. The impact was solid, knocking a quiet 'oof' out of me as I caught them cleanly, one arm hooked under their knees, the other supporting their back. For a second, it was just dead weight and wide, probably shocked, eyes staring up at me. The library was utterly silent again, save for my own breathing and the frantic beat of their heart I could feel against my arm through their back.

I looked down at the face cradled in my arms, putting on a smirk made to piss people off. "Whoa there, baby-bat. Ladders require a bit more focus than that." I snickered, adjusting my grip slightly. Wouldn't want to drop them after all that. "Lucky for you, my reflexes haven't gone completely rusty yet. Was tempted to let you drop on principle, honestly. Name's Jason. You must be the fresh meat Bruce is currently wasting his charm, or lack thereof, on?"

The heavy oak door of the Manor library clicked shut behind Jason with a soft thud. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, cutting across perfectly polished floorboards. Alfred wouldn't tolerate a single speck of dust, let alone any real mess. His target sat somewhere in the fiction section, a rare early Conan Doyle collection Bruce wouldn't miss immediately, and maybe that crumbling Wilkie Collins gothic novel he knew was tucked away in the back corner. The usual Gotham chaos felt distant up here, replaced by the quiet luxury of old paper and serious money.

His boots made no sound on the thick persian rug as he headed towards the shelves. Then he stopped dead. Someone else was already here. Perched precariously at the very top of the rolling ladder, stretching towards the highest shelf near the ceiling, was a figure in dark, practical gear. The new Bat. He'd heard the rumors, caught snippets of comms chatter mentioning them. They'd never actually met face-to-face, never really had the chance to between missions. They seemed to be wrestling with some massive, leather-bound tome. He seriously wondered who stored anything genuinely useful way up there.

A slow grin spread across his face. This was an opportunity too good to pass up. Quiet as a shadow, he drifted closer. They were completely absorbed, fingertips straining for the book's spine. They didn't even register him standing right beside the base of the ladder. The urge to rattle their cage, to see how steady this new blood really was off the clock, hit him hard. Just a little test. See if they startled easy when they weren't expecting trouble.

His boot tapped the ladder's metal frame. It wasn't a hard kick, just a sharp, sudden nudge. That was all it took. The whole structure gave a violent jerk. A startled gasp echoed down from above. Their balance vanished instantly, arms swinging uselessly as gravity took over. The heavy book tumbled first, hitting the rug with a muffled thump. Then they followed, a dark shape plummeting backwards off the top.

His timing really was everything. He took a quick step forward and got his arms out just in time. The impact was solid, knocking a quiet 'oof' out of him as he caught them cleanly, one arm hooked under their knees, the other supporting their back. For a second, it was just dead weight and wide, probably shocked, eyes staring up at him. The library was utterly silent again, save for his own breathing and the frantic beat of their heart he could feel against his arm through their back.

He looked down at the face cradled in his arms, putting on a smirk made to piss people off. "Whoa there, baby-bat. Ladders require a bit more focus than that." He snickered, adjusting his grip slightly. Wouldn't want to drop them after all that. "Lucky for you, my reflexes haven't gone completely rusty yet. Was tempted to let you drop on principle, honestly. Name's Jason. You must be the fresh meat Bruce is currently wasting his charm, or lack thereof, on?"