Something was wrong.

With his gaze concentrated on the ground—that jarring distance from his feet and the edge of the rooftop—he moved his fingers urgently against the side of his helmet. The controls responded to his rapid touch, but…

Still nothing. What was going on? The Red Hood knew for certain that the bug he'd placed on Connor had location tracking capabilities. He had kept it off until now—the ping it gave off made the bug far more detectable than the simple audio capture he had been using it for. And until now, he'd seen no need to use the tracker. It would've only told him something he'd rather not have known.

The Red Hood moved his hand away from the side of his head, now tapping at the controls on the back of his left gauntlet. Still nothing. He couldn't get a hold of the bug's tracker. Normally that meant it had been discovered and destroyed, but the Red Hood's audio feed was still coming in with the soft shuffling that told him the bug hadn't moved from when he had pinned it to the inner hem of Connor's jacket.

With an irate huff, the Red Hood gave up and lifted his head up to the dimming skyline. If something was interfering with the bug's tracker, that meant that Connor was someplace where he didn't want to be found. And that meant Jo was in danger.

'I can't just wait around. If audio is coming in, there's still a way to find them.' He touched the side of his helmet again, setting up a new channel. "Barb," he said aloud. "I need you to track a signal for me."

"Jason, what is going on?" came the demand from the other side.

"I know I left in a hurry, but I'm running out of time. Can you track it or not?"

"You saw the message—he wants you to come to him. I don't want you running to your death."

"He made a mistake when he taunted me, and I'm going over there to make him realize that."

"Jason, if he has Jo with him like you say he does, then he has leverage over you."

At that, the Red Hood hesitated. As much as he hated it, Barbara's words had some truth to them. "I know," he finally responded. "Which is why I'm not going to barge into there headfirst. But I need to know where he is."

There was a responding sigh over the channel. "Okay," Barbara remitted. "Give me a minute, and… just be careful."

"Sure thing." Jason cut the channel. He perched on the side of the building, his eyes returning to the skyline. The glow of the sunset shot out from behind the buildings like celestial fire. This was going to be the longest minute ever.

Then, against his better judgment once again, the Red Hood turned the tracking bug back on. Audio flooded his earpiece once more, the rustling of clothes and footsteps. Someone—likely Connor—was walking in fast, wide strides. Then followed the curt rattling of a doorknob and creak of hinges.

"Connor?" It was Jo's voice. The Red Hood's hand tightened over his knee. "Is something wrong? Did the trap not work?"

He heard Connor take a deep breath before replying, "The trap worked just fine, Spec." Normally, hearing Connor call Jo by that name irked Jason. But this time, he hardly heard it. He was preoccupied by something else—something terribly, terribly wrong. It was a feeling that was festering in his gut, snaking through his bloodstream to his heart where it quickened his pulse. The Red Hood rose.

Through the earpiece, he heard a rattle. Then came another, this time more forcefully. "Connor," Jocelyn said. The urgency in her voice compelled the Red Hood forward. Lifting his arm, he grappled to the next rooftop and flipped over its edge. No sooner had his feet touched concrete, they were racing across it. "These restraints—they won't—I thought—."

"The trap wasn't for them." No, no, no, no, no! "Listen, I'm sorry."

Another leap—the grapple shot hissed as it shot through the rain. It latched onto the bars of a motionless construction crane. The Red Hood flew to it, and used the momentum to pull himself up and over the crane to perch on its sloped top. But the metal was slick with rain, and he was too engrossed in what was coming through the bug. The sole of his boot slipped and threw the entirety of his weight off. The Red Hood's ribs struck the bars of the crane, eliciting a strained cry from him. He felt himself tumble over the edge of the crane and—

—Managed to grip one of the lower bars just before he could plummet into the twinkling streets of the city below. His shoulder was on fire and his side was in agony, but the Red Hood hardly felt either as he struggled to catch his breath. Below him, his feet dangled, and below those, the city streets beckoned menacingly.

"What do you mean? What are you doing?" The hit to the ribs suddenly paled into comparison to the way Jo sounded to the Red Hood—afraid. It triggered something deep inside him.

Suddenly, the Red Hood swung his other arm around and gripped the crane. A grunt escaped his gritted teeth as he pulled himself up. Meticulously, he climbed the bars of the crane until he came to the top again. There, he perched, one hand pressed tightly over his throbbing side as he continued to listen.

"Spec, when I said I had been tracking the Overseer to no success, I…" Connor's voice faltered, growing soft. Desperation touched the undertones of his words. "I was lying. I found the Overseer. And god, I wish I hadn't. The Overseer gets its way, Spec, and it knows exactly who to pull in to make damn sure of that."

"Connor, please listen to me. Put that down, please. Whatever he did, I know we can—."

Heart racing, the Red Hood looked around. From atop the crane, he had the perfect vantage point above almost every building. But what use was it? "Barb, tell me you have the location!"

"Almost there, hang on!" In the background, Jason heard the computer chime. "There! They're in the abandoned Hargrove Tower." The location was pinged to the Red Hood. It wasn't too far. Immediately, the grapple was in his hand.

"He has Allie… my little girl. Do you know what the Overseer will do to her if I don't do this? I'm so sorry, Spec, but I can't lose her too. I just… I just need you to understand before—."

The grapple wire shrieked through the air. Three hundred meters.

"Connor, there's still time!"

"No. There isn't."

Jocelyn let out a shaky breath. "Oh god… Jason." Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, yet it hit him like a piercing scream. Two hundred meters.

"He's not coming," Connor replied gravely. "And if he wants to live, he'll stay away."

"Jason, I'm sor—."

A gunshot blared. A loud crash.

The Red Hood couldn't stop himself as he screamed out, "JO!" Only the cold rain heard him. On that rooftop, only a hundred meters away from the Hargrove, he was alone. That gunshot had stopped him dead in his tracks. As if in a daze, the Red Hood stumbled to the side, catching himself on the metal side of an HVAC unit. Rain trickled in streams down the slick, crimson face of his helmet. They reflected the pale light of a nearby electronic billboard.

No… that can't be… he had tried. He had almost been there! Why did it have to be her? The only person to ever make him feel as though he weren't alone in this shithole of a world—a world that insisted on taking everything away from him again and again!

Suddenly, there was a rustle in his earpiece. And then he heard Connor's voice. "Are you there, Red Hood? Are you listening?" The hand pressed against the HVAC unit tightened into a fist. Connor's voice was loud and clear, as though he had the bug held up to his mouth like a mic. Son of a bitch had known it was there all along.

"If you are, then you know why I had to do it. I had to trade one life for another, and it was my decision to make because the gun was in my hands. Had it been in yours, I'm sure you would have acted similarly."

"I'm coming for you," the Red Hood snarled into the rainy darkness. "I'll hunt you down like a dog. I'm not stopping until I've put a bullet between your eyes. You hear me?" His voice escalated to a furious shout.

Suddenly, the raindrops on his helmet changed color. The Red Hood turned his head. To his horror, he realized that the electronic billboard facing him had changed images. And not just that one—the same image was being projected from another billboard in the distance. Even the building-side displays had been overridden. What they showed made the Red Hood straighten up and turn his shoulders towards the bright light.

The image was of a figure lying on her side. She was still tied to the metal chair she had been restrained in. One of the chair's legs had broken off. The floor beneath her was red. No doubt the force of the bullet had knocked both her and the chair over. And given the body's telltale suit, there was no doubt that it was the Specter.

As his eyes soaked in the horrid picture, the Red Hood's heart quickened. He fought desperately to pull in breaths, but it felt as though no air was coming into his lungs. The image before him—her body and that broken chair leg—seemed to swallow him whole. Suddenly, he saw a dismembered arm. A saw blade covered in blood. Her pale face and the blood pouring from the stump of her shoulder. However, the billboard had not changed.

And then, in an instant, it did and snapped him out of his horrified stupor. The billboard became a simple white backdrop with small, black text in the center—an address. The Red Hood already knew it would be pointing him towards the Hargrove Building. The Overseer wanted him there, did he? Fine.

The Red Hood turned away. The grapple shot out into the dark once more. He didn't stop until he reached the Hargrove—a dilapidated building that had been abandoned since Scarecrow's dominion over the city. The curling trunk of a tree—one of Ivy's last legacies—wrapped itself around the building. Some of its vine-like branches weaved in and out of the brickwork in an odd duet of man-made structure and nature.

The Hargrove's top floor windows were illuminated—like a lighthouse cutting through the darkness. The Red Hood wasted no time grappling up to it. He pulled himself through a window, heart racing with a tangible fear. He needed to see her.

But at the same time, he was terrified to.

Suddenly, he heard Barbara. "Jason, I'm reading high energy levels coming from the Hargrove. I think it's been rigged to explode, and no doubt the Overseer plans to detonate them with you in there. I don't know how long the countdown is, but you have to get out of there!"

"I can't! Not until I get Jo!"

"Jason—."

"I can't leave her here, Barb!" He raced down the hall. Unsurprising, it was empty. Corner after corner, the Red Hood turned. He wasn't even sure where he was going. All he knew was that he had to find her—bring her home. He owed her that much.

And, while he ran, a tiny little voice told him that it was fine if he didn't make it out in time. It was preferred, even.

The next corner he turned gave way to a short hall. At the end was a metal door with a small, porthole-like window. He ran to it. With each step, his feet pounded off of the ground—but it felt as though the floor was made of sucking mud. He knew what was behind that door even before reaching it.

He planted both hands on the door as he reached it. One flew down to the handle. Locked. Still desperately pulling at the handle, the Red Hood peered through the window.

He saw the metal chair, the broken leg. And he saw the gray figure tied to it, lying on the floor. Still as death.

Against all reason, the Red Hood pounded on the door. "Jo!" he shouted. "Jo, please! … please."

"Jason, you have to get out of there! Now!"

"I can't, Barb." His voice had withered down to a whisper. "She's right there. She's…"

He found himself looking forward to the blast. It would take them out together.

"Tim, get him out of there!"

The Red Hood stepped back. He charged forward, ramming his shoulder against the door. It rattled in its frame but remained steadfast. Another step back, ready to go again.

A pair of arms suddenly came up from under his arms, locking up around his shoulders. Before he could react, the Red Hood found himself being dragged back. Years of training suddenly fired up, and he threw his head back, trying to ram the back of his helmet into the skull of his attacker.

Whoever it was saw it coming, because his helmet connected with nothing as they dodged to the side while still dragging him back. "Cool your jets!" they suddenly hissed. "It's me! We have to get out of here!"

What the hell was Tim trying to do? The Red Hood fought against him, his eyes still fixated on the metal door. "Let go!" he roared. "She's still in there!"

"There's nothing we can do for her!" Red Robin yelled back. "Barbara says this place is about to blow! We need to get out now!" The Red Hood was dragged back to the end of the hallway, where there was a window. There, Red Robin wrapped an arm tight around the Red Hood's waist and grappled to a neighboring building.

The landing was anything but graceful as both men tumbled across the slick rooftop. The Red Hood was the first to return to his feet, but before he could do anything, an air-shattering boom shook the air. He stumbled, falling down onto his knees. The explosion lit up the night sky. The clattering of bricks filled the air in a cacophony as they fell from the building like blood. The Red Hood turned just to see the top floor of the Hargrove explode into a million pieces. The blast hit Ivy's tree like shrapnel. The bark broke like skin, and with a dying groan, the tree wavered and collapsed onto the street below.

The Red Hood pulled in a hollow breath. He rushed over to the edge of the rooftop to get a better look of the Hargrove. It was in tatters—with the roof and top floor blown off, the next floor was exposed like an open wound. And there was no sign of her.

It was a miracle that the Red Hood's hands hadn't crushed the concrete they were gripping. His eyes remained fixated on the smoldering wreck. But all he could see was her through the porthole window.

She had died thinking he no longer loved her. One day, you might lose her… And I guarantee you there won't be a day that goes by without that same regret.

That Connor had been right really pissed him off.

"Jason."

The Red Hood scowled beneath his mask. "Do me a favor and fuck off."

"How about you look?"

Reluctantly, the Red Hood did. But instead of returning his gaze, Red Robin was staring off at something else. The Red Hood followed his gaze and realized it was another billboard. This time, it had a black backdrop. White text appeared as though being typed.

So this is the worth of Gotham's vigilantes, is it? That they cannot even save each other?

"Son of a bitch is trying to get to us," Red Robin muttered. "Don't let him in your head. You hear m—?" He looked, and the rooftop around him was empty.