Consequences

Another day, another scumbag who would be needing a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Normally, Red Hood would have stopped there, but this guy, this guy was special. Noah Hobbes is charming. He could talk his way out of any situation with little more than a handful of words and a smile. So, Red Hood pulled out his knife. "Hold still. You wouldn't want me to miss."

The knife alighted on the man's throat and any thrashing he was capable of doing (waist up only) stopped. Carefully, Red Hood moved his knife and a glistening crimson smile appeared on the man's throat. Deep. But it missed both the jugular and the carotid, and the larynx was intact. But not the vocal cords. With a satisfied smile, Red Hood put a compress bandage on it. Hobbes would live, so he wasn't a martyr for his stupid cult, but this would break him. Make him more human.

He had just finished texting the cops when his phone rang. He picked up as fast as he always did, but before he could say a greeting, a child's voice came over the line, small and panicked. "Red, help. There's men here and-" The boy cut off.

Jason was already tracing the call. "I'm on my way."

It was surprisingly close. Five minutes swinging later and he was sitting on top of a warehouse, peering down through the skylight. There were a few guards milling about, all armed with machine guns. If he just jumped down there, the guards might panic and hurt the kid. So he needed to find the kid first, but there was no where he could be! The warehouse was strangely empty of crates and shelves, and there weren't any tarps that they could hide a kid under. Had they moved the kid? But then why would there be guards here still? Maybe there was a back room...

He shifted over a foot just as a gunshot sounded. The bullet lodged in his shoulder – not his chest like it probably should have – and he turned to face the shooter, using a nearby vent as cover, guns in hand. He fired where he thought the bullet might have come from, pleased when he heard a grunt of pain. Carefully poking his head out of his cover, he had to jump back when another sniper started taking pot shots. A curse escaped his mouth. This cover wasn't the best if he wanted to take out the second sniper. He'd get hit before he could get his guns up.

Hm. That air conditioning unit would probably do. Slapping a quick compress bandage onto his shoulder while he had a moment, he dived for it, rolling to safety just in time. Peeking around the side of the AC, he spotted the shooter. With a smirk, he took his shot.

The gunfire stopped. Maybe if he was lucky, the noise would attract the guards inside the warehouse. Then there would be less standing around the kid. Red Hood started making his way back to the skylight.

And staggered.

His head started getting fuzzy. How...? He'd gotten shot before, he was used to it, couldn't possibly be going into shock.

No, not shock. Horse tranquilizers. Horse tranquilizers? Yeah, definitely. Sad fact of his childhood, he could identify which kind of sedative was being used on him by its effects. Horse tranqs in a hollow point bullet.

The guards from downstairs were suddenly surrounding him. Fighting them would make the tranq circulate faster, but he didn't really have much of a choice. He wouldn't get far if he ran and besides, the kid needed him. So he pushed himself off of the AC he was using as support and punched the first guard stupid enough to get close in the face. The second was felled with a kick to the groin. The third to fall was Red Hood, and no one even had to touch him.

HallowRed: and that's how my sister lost her first tooth

SeventeenOranges: Hey! something's going down. sniper fire near my house.

ChocolateOverRoses: here too! Warehouse 17 by the docks.

ReportCars: Saw RH goin that way. looked like he wuz in a hurry.

Lincoln: what's going on? anyone kno?

LadyPrada: can see frm my window.

LadyPrada: RH down.

GangRelated: on my way. Any1 with combat experience can help. Every1 else, stay home.

Martial_Kid: I have experience!

GangRelated: sixteen and up. srry.

The first thing he noticed was the ache in his neck from the muscles being forcibly stretched. From the feel of it, someone had tried to pull his helmet off without releasing the catches. Which hadn't worked. At all.

Which made it a hell of a lot easier to hide that he was awake.

The second thing he noticed was that he was seated in an incredibly uncomfortable wooden chair with his hands cuffed behind him and his ankles secured to the legs. Not anything to worry about. More troubling was the lack of the familiar weight of his belt around his waist. Whoever had captured him was smart enough to take it.

A fierce grin spread across his face. Whoever had captured him was stupid enough to leave him his gloves. Gloves with lock picks built into the fingers. He flicked them out and got to work, covering the movement with a groan and a twitch.

"Hey Boss! He's awake!"

Clomping footsteps approached, the kind made by someone who doesn't know how to wear his Armani shoes properly. Rich thug, built himself up by dragging others down. That was good. That meant this was personal to him. So whoever this guy was, he had his gang with him, and not half the city.

Red Hood allowed his head to roll, as if he was shaking off the tranq. That small movement gave him a good view of most of the warehouse. Armani Thug was still a good five feet in front of him. Twelve other guys, armed to the teeth, but relaxed. And why not? Their prisoner was tied up. No getting out of those bonds.

His belt was draped on a crate twenty feet to his left, guns and knives out. The other pockets were closed. They probably couldn't get past the security. His jacket was on the crate next to it, all the little items he kept for the kids out in the open. The stuffed hippo three year old Jace had given him that he used to cheer up other small kids. All six packs of gummi bears and sour worms. Some pieces of paper that he folded into birds when he had time. A deck of cards for rooftop Go Fish, a small bottle of bubble liquid, a few bubble wands, and a yoyo.

But he didn't see the kid. Where was he? If he busted out of here without knowing, then the henchmen could kill him before Red Hood could get there.

Oop, no time to wonder. Armani Thug grabbed the crown of his helmet, fingers slipping on the slick surface for a moment before finding purchase and forcing Red Hood to look at him. "Hello. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Can't say the same." He put a bit of slur into his words. The more they underestimated him, the smoother this would go. "Considering I have no idea who you are." Click. These were really easy cuffs.

Armani Thug's face twisted in rage and his fist rocketed forward, slamming into Red Hood's chest. The chair jumped back but managed to stay upright. So it wasn't bolted to the floor. Huh. What kind of idiot cuffs ankles to an unbolted chair?

But the boss-man was talking. Well, yelling. Hood should probably pay attention. "After you've busted up sixteen of my operations?! Burned eight warehouses?! And you have the balls to say you have no idea who I am?!" He stopped yelling, took a step back, and pushed his hair back into place. "Fine. I am Malcolm East. And you are going to pay for everything you've done. Right after my men take their copious frustrations out on you." And with that, the man turned, raising his hand in the most obvious signal Red Hood had ever seen.

Seriously, even the lowest crime boss in Gotham could mobilize his flunkies with a twitch. But a whole arm movement? "Can't even bring yourself to do your own torture, huh?"

Armani Thug – yeah, yeah, his name was East. He still didn't know how to wear that suit – settled in for the show. His goons picked up their preferred tools, ranging from two-by-fours to tire irons. Jason shuddered a bit when one picked up a crow bar. "Oh, I'll get mine. Don't you worry Hood. But I'm a generous boss. I'll let them have a go at you first."

And so they did. Honestly, the chair was a little helpful. Sure, his chest, abdomen and legs got a beating, but his back and arms were fine. And while the parts taking hits were pretty vital, standing was nearly impossible without back muscles, and he couldn't throw a punch if his arms were broken.

More than a few blows landed on his helmet and while most of the shock was absorbed, enough of it got through to give him a ringing headache. A headache that was not helped when his chair finally crashed to the floor. Armani Thug laughed. "Don't go passing out on me Hood! I need you awake for my turn!"

Red Hood let out a laugh, ignoring the way blood ran down his chin. "Well don't worry. I'm not going anywhere until I know the kid is safe." A bit clumsy, but hopefully that line would get him his fish. And if not, well, he could always blame it on the still-bleeding shoulder wound.

Luckily, Armani Thug took the bait. "Don't you get it yet Hood? There was no kid! Just an audio recording sent through a cell phone!"

"Oooh." Smiling, Red Hood rolled his uninjured shoulder. "Isn't that interesting." He was halfway through that last word when he pulled the cuffs off completely, slipping the ankle cuffs off of the chair legs. Surging forward, he grabbed one thug's tire iron and used it to clock another over the head. Using another as a springboard, he covered the distance to his belt and grabbed both of his guns. His aim was a little off, just a touch woozy from the pain and blood loss and broken ribs, but still, within ten seconds, all of the thugs were dead or dying on the concrete floor.

All except for Armani Thug who was once again showcasing his intelligence and running. Red Hood shot him in the leg. Then, when he crashed to the ground, shot him in the shoulder. Slowly, he stalked up to his opponent. "How did you know my number?"

Armani Thug laughed. "You're an idiot Hood! Keeping a website like that up! And you honestly thought no one would use it against you?" Like every crazy that had to have his master plan known before the end.

Hrn. Great.

Question answered, there was nothing between Armani Thug and a bullet in his brain pan.

Red Hood limped out of the warehouse, stopping to pick up all his stuff and double tap anyone still breathing. And was surprised to encounter a small horde of kids. Six of them, all in their late teens, holding baseball bats and a gun or two that had "general household defense gun" written all over them. "Uh. Hi?"

The teens turned from what was probably a whispered strategy meeting, startled, to face him. Addy looked vaguely disappointed. "Damn. I wanted to be your knight in shining armor..." Ok, ignoring Addy.

"What are you guys doing here? It's not exactly safe."

Trey, eighteen, works as a mechanic, stepped up. "Some people on the site saw you go down! What happened?"

Jason pulled his helmet off and smiled. "Nothing. I just made a mistake. Those happen. But I'm fine and," he reached around to grab Logan's arm when the seventeen year old tried to walk past him, "you really don't want to go into that warehouse. Thanks for the save guys. Now head home."

Dejected, the kids did as he asked, after he bribed them with all the snacks he had. Before he left, Kyle turned around and asked, "Red, are you sure it was something you did?"

"Positive."

Once he was sure the kids were well on their way home, he put his helmet back on and headed towards Malcolm East's head quarters.

Time to stop the spread of information. The website was the kids' sanctuary. And there was no way he was going to let a bunch of lowlifes ruin it for them.

AN: Phew. That worked out well. Hopefully. Eh, it's Red Hood. He probably got everyone who knew stuff.

Working on a few request chapters right now. So those should be up pretty soon-ish. I'm going to give up on having a posting schedule for this one because liiiife. But don't worry, I won't abandon it.

Read and enjoy people, and thanks for tuning in!