Mazes Of Red

CHAPTER 33 : Worlds Do Collide

 He had hijacked a shipment of Kryptonite from Black Mask, aiming to cleanse the city of corruption.

"What do you know about Red Hood?" Batman asked me, his eyes narrowing.

I hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Just rumors. Nothing concrete."

Batman seemed to accept my answer, although the subtle tension in the air lingered

Batman studied the information on the screen, his gaze intense. 

"Lauren, I need you to dig deeper into Red Hood. Find anything you can, and contact Dick. See if he can get involved," he instructed, his voice commanding.

I nodded in acknowledgment, a sense of determination taking over. "I'll get on it," I replied, turning my attention back to the Batcomputer.

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Hours later, alone in my apartment, I hunched over my laptop, scrolling through information on Red Hood. 

The dim light of the room illuminated the stringboard I had created, connecting various pieces of intel, but the puzzle remained incomplete.

Frustration set in as the minutes turned into hours, and I couldn't find anything substantial.

 Just rumors, whispers, and speculations. 

I let out a sigh, rubbing my temples in weariness.

 The city seemed to keep its secrets well-hidden.

Suddenly, a loud crash from upstairs snapped me out of my research-induced trance. 

Irritation flared as I prepared to confront my noisy neighbor again. 

Heading upstairs, I approached the neighbor's apartment. 

The door was open ajar, swinging slightly. "Hey! Keep it down!" I called, expecting the usual lack of response.

Entering cautiously, I noticed the apartment was in disarray. 

The window was open ajar, and the place seemed empty, except for a sound emanating from the kitchen.

 My concern shifted to curiosity as I moved towards the source of the noise.

Entering the kitchen, I was met with an unexpected sight.

 Red Hood, usually the epitome of aggression, was on the floor, grimacing in pain. 

His hand clutched at a fresh stab wound on his side. 

He looked defensive almost expecting an attack.

"Whoa, easy there," I said cautiously, raising my hands in a non-threatening gesture. "I'm not here to fight. What happened to you?"

He eyed me warily but said nothing. 

It was clear he was in pain, struggling to maintain his composure.

"You need help," I stated, my initial fear giving way to a desire to assist. "Let me patch you up."

He scoffed, defensive and rude. "I don't need your help."

I hesitated, assessing the situation. "Fine, suit yourself," I replied, standing up to leave. 

However, as I reached the door, his grunt of pain caught my attention. 

It was then that I noticed he was still struggling with the wound.

My fear pushed aside, I decided to take a risk.

 "Look, I may not know who you are under that helmet, but it doesn't matter. No one deserves to suffer like this," I said, kneeling beside him. "Let me help you."

He shot me a skeptical look, but eventually, a nod signaled his reluctant acceptance.

 As I began to clean and stitch the wound, his defensive exterior softened.

In the hushed atmosphere of the chaotic kitchen, I continued to tend to Red Hood's wound.

 In the hushed atmosphere of the chaotic kitchen, I continued to tend to Red Hood's wound. 

The air was thick with tension, but as the minutes passed, an unspoken understanding seemed to develop. 

His defenses gradually crumbled and softened revealing vulnerability beneath the red helmet.

"Why are you helping me?" he finally muttered, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity mixed with a trace of suspicion.

I kept my focus on my task, choosing my words carefully.

 "Call it a momentary lapse in my judgment," I replied, the corner of my mouth twitching into a half-smile. "Or maybe I just have a soft spot for people who seem to be in over their heads."

He scoffed again, but this time, it lacked the harshness of his earlier remarks.

 As I worked, he relented, giving me glimpses of the person behind the Red Hood facade – a complex figure shrouded in mystery and pain.

Once I finished stitching the wound, he grunted his thanks, and the air in the room seemed to lighten. 

"I don't owe you anything," he muttered, attempting to regain some semblance of control.

I stood up, gathering my supplies. "You're right; you don't. But maybe one day you'll understand that sometimes, accepting help doesn't make you weak."

He didn't respond, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. I left the apartment, the door closing softly behind me, leaving Red Hood alone in his chaotic sanctuary.