"Yeah, go on Justin, kick his ass!" Rex encouraged. Wow, Rex must really hate this guy, he hardly ever encourage violence.

As I walked away, I heard Valiant whisper, "Fifteen bucks on the other kid, you want it?"

I didn't hear Rex's reply, but if he wouldn't take the bet, I seriously needed new civilian friends. Or maybe just check back in with DR? I wonder how Raph is doing. I kinda feel bad about breaking up with him. But it's not really my fault he couldn't handle my family.

"Hey, asshole." I snapped, crossing my arms at Tripp.

He looked up, raising an eyebrow at me, "What?"

"You're sitting at our table." I snapped, "I don't know what hick town you come from, but I'm sure, wherever you were, you were the scary bad ass there. No one messed with you, because they had never seen a punk before. But this is New York, and we're the bad kids in this school."

He leaned back, closing his leather notebook. "You're a bad kid, huh?"

"Yep."

"Ha, I grew up in a cult. They were always trying to cram the 'clean humanity by baptizing Gotham in its own blood' safety net down my throat every day."

I glared at him, "I was raised by cut throat assassins. They would beat me, slash me, shoot me, and then leave me to heal."

"Cultists kept telling me I was meant to be the Anti-Christ."

"Assassins kept telling me I was a born killer, destined to serve death itself."

We stared each other down for a few moments, until he stood up, looked me right in the eyes, and hand out his hand, "Tripp. Known in some circles as the Anti-Christ."

I took it, "Justin. Known in some circles as Justine."

He sat back down, and I sat down next to him, "So what's in the notebook anyways?"

He opened it up, "Take a look, but be careful what you read out loud."

"Are you Wiccan?"

"No."

"Just checking." I leafed through the book, and to my surprise, yes there was a lot of weird writing in that that practically screamed cult, but there was also pretty damn good pictures.

There was a dragon, curled over the spoils of war, which were not gold coins and precious stones, but thousands upon thousands of bodies.

A scene that looked like old time London, with a figure in the shadows, stalking a young girl. Jack The Ripper?

A boy and girl, kneeling on the ground facing each other, surrounded by a whirlwind of ravens. Romance and horror, in one sketch.

Silhouette of a person, standing at the beginning of what seemed to be a never ending hallways, lined with lockers. It conveyed hopelessness, particularly around high school outcasts.

Two wolves, locked in a battle of teeth and claws. That one was about being born to kill, living with your nature every day, and hating yourself for it, but not being able to stop. Or maybe just two wolves. I should probably lighten up.

A horse, rearing back, about to trample over it's clearly abusive rider. Rebellion.

One picture stood out from the others. This one had a black hoodie on, she was facing the front, but the face area under the hood had been shaded, so there were no facial features. The black hoodie ended at the waist, where a simple pair of sketched jeans and a belt with a lot of utility pockets took over. Her shoes were red converse, and she held a large scythe, the end touching the ground, the blade held high above her head.

"You drew a female version of the grim reaper?"

He checked out the picture I was viewing, "That's not the Grim Reaper. That's a girl I met."

"The scythe makes her look totally bad ass."

"In real life she doesn't have a scythe." He said, "Her name is Black Hood."

I looked up at him, "You know Black Hood? As in, the vigilante Black Hood?"

He nodded, "She saved my life a few months ago. Growing up in a cult, they told us all that outsiders would hate us. That they would take one look at us, and want us to die. Black Hood wasn't like that."

I remember him!

Patrol was usually boring in this part of Gotham, all that was out here was mostly empty warehouses. Some of them might have smuggled drugs or guns, but there was no gang activity, and no residency that we knew of. I was looking forward to a long and very boring patrol.

"Let go of me!"

Or not.

I took off across roof tops, stopping to stare down into an alley. There was a boy, about my age, with a big, dirty, red t-shirt and baggy jeans. He was being manhandles by two big, older men. "Let go of me!"

"Just shut up and take it like a man." One of them hissed while trying to lick his ear.

"This ends now!" I shouted, jumping down onto the fire escape, and firing a shot into his head. He fell with a thud the other man let go of the teenager, stumbling away from where I perched.

"Oh no, your Batman!"

"No you idiot, I'm Black Hood!"

"The Red Hood!?"

"Black Hood! I'm the Red Hood's sidekick!" I jumped down into the alley, pointing my gun at him, "And you're going to be an example."

I shot him three times, twice in one leg, and one in the stomach. His screamed echoes off the alley walls, filling my ears like sweet music. This was vengeance. This is what monsters deserved. "Now bleed out you bastard."

I turned back to the teenager, and he back up from me, but only succeeded in tripping over his own feet and falling on his ass. "You alright kid?"

He nodded slowly, "Uh yeah. You're… Black Hood?"

"Yes I am. You want and autograph? I can do an autograph."

Have I really been that much of an ass? Dude nearly got raped, and I ask him if he wants an autograph?

"Uh, no that's okay. But, why did you-"

"Kill him?"

"Help me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're human, I'm human, mankind sticks together and all that."

"No, I mean, really. Why would you help me? You don't know me."

I looked him in the eyes, surprised to see they were red. He must be one of those goth kids that were contacts. "Because, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't. I would have nightmares myself about what these men would have done to you."

"That's the thing about Black Hood." Tripp continued, "She is no one, and everyone. No one could be her, and yet everyone could be her. She didn't care what I was, or who I was. All she saw was someone who needed her help, and she helped me."

"You aren't appalled by the fact she kills criminals instead of arresting them?"

He laughed, "That's why I drew her with the scythe. She's different from Batman and Robin. She serves as cop, judge, jury, and executioner. She has the right to make that choice to kill, because no one else will. Even in the American Constitution, it states that we have to right to defend ourselves and our property, if law enforcement can't. And law enforcement sure as hell wasn't there to help me. She was."

He took his notebook back, and then his eyes met mine. He smirked, "And I remember her voice very well."

"Good for you."

I got up to walk away, but he stopped me, grabbing my arm.

"Unless you want to lose that hand, I suggest you let go."

He let go, "Can I walk you to class?"

"What?"

He stood up, smiling. "Can I walk you to your next class?"

"I can walk myself."

"It's not because you can't walk, it's more for me getting the pleasure of your company."

I bit my tongue, and then slowly pulled it away from my teeth, letting the taste buds scrape against my incisors. "Fine."

He walked with me out of the lunch room, past a gaping Valiant and Rex. I gave them a shrug, but didn't say anything.

Is that what Black Hood really was to civilians? A hero, so golden, she shone like diamonds? That was the farthest thing from what I was. I wasn't a hero, but I wasn't an assassin anymore either. I'm not sure what I am.

But I really wanted to be someone who deserved the praise Tripp had given me.

Tripp left me at my classroom, and Valiant eventually caught up. "What the hell Justin! You were supposed to kick his ass, not bro zone him!"

"Bro zone?"

"It's like friend zone, but less… friendly." She explained, "I mean, what could he have possibly done in five minutes to turn you into a passive aggressive hoe!"

"The hell did you just call me!?"

She rolled her eyes, "I saw the way you were staring at him, you like him! Enough to not kick his ass. Hoe! Five minutes, that's all it takes with you!?"

"You're one to talk." I snapped.

"Hey, I don't hook up with a guy after five minutes. If I did that, I would be a whore. Right now, I'm just easy. And I like it that way!"

"Shut up, slut."

"You're the red head."

"What?"

"Look up what that means online. I guarantee you'll want to die your hair, immediately."

"… I'd rather not."