Batman knelt on a rooftop edge, cape pooling like black oil. Below, a deal was going down in the abandoned fish market: The Hood’s men trading stolen medical supplies for two kilos of plastique. Batman had stopped three such deals this week. But he wasn’t here to stop this one.
But the word free echoed in his skull like a bell rung in an empty church. batman under the red hood free
Hood tilted his head. “No one you see gets hurt. There’s a difference, old man.” He stepped closer, boots silent on gravel. “But that’s not why you’re here, is it? You’re here because of free .” Batman knelt on a rooftop edge, cape pooling like black oil
“The shipment,” Hood continued. “The plastique. The ‘free’ medical supplies stolen from a corrupt distributor. You see? That word means something to me.” He tapped his chest. “ Free . As in, not controlled. Not bent into a shape that breaks the first time Gotham sneezes.” But he wasn’t here to stop this one