2014-02-21 - The Awakening: ...From the Shadows...

It is just another night in Gotham City, or so it seems at 1:30 AM. A call is made that there are some thugs strung up outside of a Meth Lab in the West Side. That means calling in a lot of staff. To make matters more complicated, it looks like they were hug up via a corded batarang. A gift the GCPD would assume.

As the cops spill out into the street and into the building, there is a shadow up on a nearby roof top for those trained to look 'up'. It is the shadow of Batman's cape.

Gordon's out to supervise, and has been at this too long to not look up. Nearly 10 years of costumed heroes using the rooftops to transit, and, well, you pay attention. He looks up, and sees the familiar outline. He grunts, and pops a chiclet of nicotine gum out of it's plastic and foil case with it's brethren, a row already missing. He puts the gum in, and, chewing it, he walks towards the alley where a fire escape is most likely to be.

When Gordon moves toward the direction of the shadow, the shadow moves as well, disappearing toward the back. Which means, he will be down there.

As Gordon enters the alleyway, the area seems to darken as the narrow space doesn't have any lamps. There is a sound of fabric moving, and then the floating of the cape down to the ground near Gordon's feet. On the edge of the fire escape when Gordon looks up is none other than Red Hood, least he fits the description.

A skull-like helmet with white eyes, a brown leather jacket, black uniform, with a red bat symbol slashing across his chest. As he perches on the railing without fear, his knees are bent and his forearms rest atop his thighs in a relaxed manner. "Hello Commish. It is good to see you again," which honestly won't make any real sense to Gordon. The voice is slightly 'off' as if something is perhaps vibrating the voice to throw it off.

The cape fluttering down is enough for Gordon to realize it's a trap of some sort. His hand is immediately to the shoulder holster under his coat, and though no quick-draw expert, it does not take him long at all to have a gun in his hand. He trains the gun on the figure, but doesn't fire. He watches, carefully. "You should know, he doesn't like impersonators." He looks the figure over, confirming something to himself. "Son, you picked a hell of a mantle to pick up."

"I'm better, not that difficult," Red Hood states, sounding almost vaguely amused. "In either case, only here to talk Gordon. Hurting you was never in my plans." He then starts to move a gloved hand for his jacket, but he moves slowly so not to spook the cop. He moves to pull out a brown cylinder with white caps on both ends. He holds it out toward you and waves it a bit as if he is going to give it a light toss toward you if you put the gun down. "A gift. And as I promised, I'll answer one question under the 'conditions'." A pause. "The Bat Family did forewarn you, didn't they?" There is almost laughter in his tone.

Gordon switches the gun to one hand. It's not a shooting stance, but it's a silent promise he could move back to one immediately. "Must have lost the newsletter." He watches Red Hood, sizing him up. It's a scrutiny the Bat Family has not gotten for a very, very long time. "If this is one of those 'first question I ask, and you're gone,' deals, I might just shoot you myself," he grumbles, the threat not serious.

Red Hood actually laughs, "No, I give a couple tries to get it right if need be, as long as you aren't just buying time for backup." He then gives the tube a light toss. If Gordon catches it and opens it, he will find a piece of artwork inside it.



"The basic rule is you can't ask 'who are you' or a question associated with that. I'd just answer 'Red Hood' or something lame anyway, so don't waste your breath on it. Hell, if you have a few minutes, I wouldn't mind asking you a question or two back," Red Hood states.

Gordon pops one end off the canister with his thumb, and, hesitating, puts the gun away to take a look at the contents. He frowns at it a bit, and looks up. "Well, it's an original gimmick, I guess." He considers the figure again, putting the artwork away, and finding where the other cap rolled to for later notice. The way he sizes up the figure, if Gordon had X-ray vision, it's a safe bet he'd be using it. "You mentioned the bats. I assume you've already met with them?"

"Oh, one at a time, I'm getting to it. Dates to set, props to do, a clown to find. This takes energy and effort. You were my second stop Commish. After all, other than Batman, you are the glue that keeps the legacy alive. Batman choose you for a reason all those years ago, even if I don't fully understand the reasons yet. Can't dispute there is something about you though, and it's likely not even something you even want," Red Hood states.

"Well, before I piss you off with my question, why don't you ask yours Detective? I'll even be nice and say if it was already asked so there isn't repeats, or I'll answer it in a different illuminating manner or some bullshit." Red Hood waves one black gloved hand vaguely, dismissively anyway.

Gordon squints, considering that gesture. Hood has managed to drive the Commissioner into full detective mode, filing away everything. He takes a moment, figuring out what the vigilante has already revealed. "Why?" he asks, simply. "Motive. This isn't the thing you wake up one morning and dedicate the time you have to it."

"You know, your daughter is a lot like you," purposely bringing Babs into this, but he leaves it vague to why. "But I'll answer your question, different than I answered it before." He is quiet for a few moments as he seems to collect his thoughts. "It's complicated, it isn't something I just woke up with. When I woke up...there was just darkness, shadows. I reacted instinctively. I was more insane beast than human. As my skills honed, so did my mind, coming back into focus. The memories, the emotions, they began to return. Even then, I waited and watched. For years, I only searched. Finally, I broke off, I ran. I traveled the world, killed some bad guys, and tired to figure out what it all meant. Sometimes though, there really isn't any meaning, just a choice. You can do good or you can do evil with the power you have. I choose to do good."

Red Hood shrugs slightly, "Still doesn't quite answer your question. Anyway, after all that hell, I finally decided it was time to settle some old debts. You and the others? They are just caught in the cross-fire. This is between me and Batman. Perhaps it is payback for his screw ups, or perhaps I'm still just trying to find meaning beyond doing good or doing evil. Maybe, I'll end up dead at the end of this. It doesn't matter, as long as their is an ending. Tired of the circles, tired of being disappointed, tired of not only me, but others suffering from /HIS/ mistake. So it has come to bite him in the ass finally, and I got one nasty bite when riled."

Red Hood sounds...depressed, angry, frustrated...hurt? It is a mixture of complicated emotions through his words. It's easier to pretend he's a monster to the Replacement, or even taunt the demon kid, but to Commish? Commish was something else...he was a trusted confidant in many ways, he was an ally, and in a way a friend to Batman and Robin. Red Hood, can only pretend so far with Gordon.

"I can think of some people who'd disagree with your definition of 'good,' son," Jim remarks, watching the figure. "Batman among them." He considers the figure, something like understanding in his eyes. "Only reason we haven't gone after him is the rules you don't seem to have. Not going to bother calling my men. I'm not as young as I used to be, and if you can antagonize Batman, I'm not starting a fight with you I can avoid, and you'll be gone before they get here." It's not a question, it's a statement, one he's sure of. He's quiet for a moment. "Ask your question, son, I want to get your present to analysis."

A chuckle, "Basic store bought supplies anyone can stop by and get at countless stores from Wally-Marts to art supply places. No fingerprints, no hair samples, no skin flakes. I'm good Commish," Red Hood states. "And honestly, going this far specifically to piss off Batman, to prove a point. It's not like I enjoy killing people, I'm not some sociopath nutcase. Well, I WAS, but I'm better now. Ah hell, what am I saying? I'm still nuts and unstable," a bit of humor entering his tone at the self-question.

"In either case, why? Why didn't you kill him after what he did to your daughter? What he did to you? You could have finished him," the statement ending in a darker note. "Instead he's out there again, hurting more innocent people. What about the next girl that may not end up as lucky as Babs and only in a wheelchair? How can you excuse just tossing him back in Arkham that he constantly escapes from as 'doing Justice'?"

"I didn't know the whole thing at the time, but then his reasons were explained to me, afterwards. Do you know /why/ he selected me? My family?" Gordon asks, not even bothering to ask why the Hood knows what happened, just filing it away with the other evidence, some of his earlier understanding fading.

It means Red Hood got ahold of confidential police records, most likely anyway. Babs likely would have never told him, right? "No," Red Hood states. "I guessed it was because you are part of Batman's backbone. If you were dead or broken, Batman would be weakened."

"He wanted to prove I was like him, that everyone is like him," Gordon says. "He wanted to show that all it took to turn someone like me, someone like Batman, or any other good man into a monster like him was a bad day. I knew before it happened that's not the case. You want to know why he's not dead? Why I keep trying the system? That's why. We're better than him. You talk about mistakes. Yes, if Joker had died that day, a lot less people would have been hurt, but I can't consider that a mistake. A decision made for the right reasons is a good decision. I'm a law man. I can't go taking it into my own hands, or tolerating it when others do the same. If Batman did what you do? Killing people? He'd be right there in Blackgate or Arkham with the rest of the costumed freaks."

"That is....stupid," Red Hood states. "Killing one man, one /single/ man doesn't make you a monster. Even killing multiple men doesn't make you a monster. Soldiers do it, government spies, so many people in the world have an imaginary tally counting up. It's the reason it is done, the motivation, and who the victim is. A man beats his wife and children; the wife finally has enough and pulls the trigger. It doesn't make her a monster, it makes her a victim fighting back. This is Gotham City, nothing is cut and dry, and the Joker is full of shit. He can't bend nobody the way they aren't meant to bend. Not me, not anyone." Even when his mom betrayed him, he still did everything he could to protect her even at the sacrifice of his own life. He...would do it again, he thinks, maybe. "The world isn't black and white Commish, it's full of a lot of grey. Grey I was forced to see after stepping through the mirror. It isn't a happy place to be, but the world makes sense finally."

Red Hood falls quiet. It isn't that he doesn't listen to Jim, he's just fighting against agreeing and trying to convince Jim something else. But it's more than that. He honestly doesn't want to fight Jim. But he finally reaches up to tap his metal red mask. "This mask, it isn't to protect me Commish. It's to protect others." He doesn't explain why, but he does soon free a grapple line that was hanging from his belt loops. "Then this is farewell. Perhaps we will meet again, perhaps not." A pause, and then, "I'm not your enemy though Commish; and should you need me, I'll brave hell again for someone like you."

The grapple gun is lifted and host, and soon he is pulled quickly to the rooftop which he lands on expertly before he starts to run. Or so it seems. In reality he lingers just past Gordon's vision, actually wishing for final words that...he isn't sure what he wishes for.

"I'm not the one that gets to decide that. That's why we have the system," Gordon says, "and those who support it." He watches the young man grapple away, and considers. He kneels, grabbing the lid to the container, frowning as he realizes it rolled into a puddle. He pockets it, and goes to get the canister to analysis. Cleanup is almost finished, so he gets the canister in a evidence bag, and sits down, jotting down notes. 6 feet tall, athletic build, high degree of training, connection to Joker and Batman...