️ ️This chapter contains references to death and murder that may shock the reader's sensibilities. In you feel concerned, stop reading after the "about fifteen bags" and resume after t"**********************" ️ ️

Happy reading!

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Suddenly, a light on his left caught his eye. At this hour, the flats were either already lit on or in the process of being turned off. So his instinct was to react instantly to any light that came on. And that's when he realised.

He knew this woman's looks reminded him of someone, but the night before, at the charity event, he hadn't made the connection. At the same time, he hadn't expected to find a West End resident in the middle of a dinner that brought together all the biggest snobs in Gotham. But he was also inwardly annoyed, because while Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne's adopted son, had a good excuse, Red Hood did not! It was his job, he had no good excuse for not making the connection.

He recognized her figure immediately, even though she wasn't wearing her platinum blonde wig. Probably a stage outfit, he thought. Although he kept a wary eye on the rest of the neighbourhood and on this new dealer he hoped to catch red-handed soon, his curiosity -professional curiosity- regularly brought him back to the young woman's window. He discovered that she had brown hair, a rather minimalist interior and nearly unsanitary; which was unfortunately the case for most of the housing in the neighbourhood. But he also learnt that she seemed to be preparing to leave her flat. She seemed to be putting several things in a backpack, before putting on one of the three or four, at this distance he was not quite sure, platinum blonde wigs that sat on a coat rack.

Suddenly, he saw the famous "new dealer" move and change his target. What he had been hoping for, for fifteen minutes, was about to happen. The dubious-looking man, gazing around frantically, the hood of a stained and certainly smelly sweatshirt hiding much of his face, had just waved to a couple of drug addicts passing by. Red Hood waited until an exchange was about to take place before intervening. The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a small bag; this was it !

With a loaded pistol in one hand and his grappling hook in the other one, he threw himself from the top of the red brick building and interrupted the deal. While the two potential customers were able to escape unhindered, the salesman had no such option, the barrel of Jason's gun pointed at his forehead. His eyes wide open with fear, he raised his hands.

- Hey man! What the hell are ya doing... If ya want some, I've got enough in stock! No need of guns !"

"I want some, yes! But I want all your stock! And the name of your supplier and, finally, never to see your face on MY territory again !"

If his mask did not allow to distinguish any expression, underneath, a smile mixing pride and pleasure stretched on his face. His opponent began to laugh as he slowly lowered his hands.

"Are ya kidding me?! Ya know that's not possible, unless you're loaded! It's all new and…"

"I didn't give you permission to put your hands down, asshole! So you're gonna show me what you've got, give me your stock and get out! Or I'll come and help myself to your corpse in 3…"

Panic-stricken, desperately looking for help in the dark and deserted streets of the city's dubious districts, the dealer let out in a high-pitched voice:

"Cut the crap! Ya know I can't…"

"2…"

"Dude! Seriously, I don't know who you are, but I'm just a link in the chain, they'll kill me if…"

"1…" The vigilante took the safety off his gun.

"Damn it! But... But, I'm just a new kid in the gang, I…"

"Zeer…"

"Okay, okay, okay! OKAY, OKAY, OKAY! That's it, that's it! It's all here, it's all here !"

Falling to his knees, sobbing, and smelling fresh urine, the man threw out about fifteen bags filled with black and white penguin-shaped pills.

"You see, it wasn't complicated! You work for The Penguin ?"

"What? Fuck, I've already said too much… They're gonna torture me and leave me bleeding to death in an alley when I come back without the dope and without the money…" The dealer's voice sounded like a plea.

"I think we misunderstood each other! I'm not asking for your opinion! So I'll ask you one last time this simple question: do you work for the Penguin ?"

Jason had crouched down, still pointing his gun at the man, and sticking the inexpressive red mask of his suit to the punk's face. Then he saw the dealer's tearful, desperate gaze plunging into the empty holes of his mask.

"Yeah... yeah, I work for the Penguin! But I don't know anything more! I swear! I'm a newbie in the latino cartel... They deal with the boss, I just sell the stuff, I don't go to meetings, I don't meet the big guys... I'm just a little shit... a little shit…"

These last words were barely audible, as if the man was talking to himself. Red Hood, on the other hand, had more information than he had hoped for, as the human wreck facing him had decided to get this off his chest. He picked up the bags and slipped them into his jacket, before walking away from the still sobbing man he left in the middle of the alley.

"You're right about one thing, the Latinos will torture you and leave you to die like a rat in an alley... You will suffer and agonize for hours before you finally succumb."

Although he wasn't looking at him anymore, Jason could imagine the terrified look on the dealer's face, as well as the scene of what was to come; he'd seen it far too many times since he'd been on the job. In a rush of compassion, without looking back, his grappling hook already hanging on the top of the building, he raised his gun and fired. It took only a few seconds for the thud of a body collapsing to the ground to be heard. He was already in the air, leaving the body inert in that dark alley, both wounded from having had to kill once more, but reassured that he had spared the man far worse.

Back on the roof of his building, he immediately contacted his nightly sidekicks, whether they were prowling the streets or staking out the Batcave, to warn them of his discovery. Indeed, his intervention had prevented several drug sales, but above all had confirmed several essential things for them.

1- The Penguin was back in Gotham.

2- He had unified several cartels and mafia families for his project, which made him even more dangerous.

3- He had planned to act in the rich districts with robberies, but also in the underworld via the circulation of a brand new drug.

"This information will be very useful, well done Red Hood !" The bat's cavernous voice echoed through the earpieces of the lurkers, and the speakers of the Batcave.

"Yeah, that's great, buddy! You're doing great !" Gar's enthusiasm was palpable, proud that his friend, though disgraced by the other Titans, had shown that he was still in the game.

"We could have done just as well if we had been allowed to leave these walls! And faster !" Superboy growled. Batman, annoyed by this adolescent bickering, cut Conner off in a firm, decisive voice.

"That's not the point! We've got new information, we've got to take advantage of it before it's too late! Nightwing and I have lost the Russians, so we're going home. Red Hood, what's your status? You get us that drug so we can analyze it as soon as possible !" But Batman's only response was a long silence.

"Red Hood ?"

But still nothing. He looked at his tracker and saw that his earpiece was still connected and that he wasn't moving, so he wasn't fighting. Annoyance overcame him and he yelled so loudly that his voice must have carried through Gotham.

"Red... Hoooooooooooooood !" A goosebump-inducing guttural growl followed.

"Shit! But I heard you, except I'm working here !"

"You do?!"

BAtman seemed almost apologetic at this point, or so the Titans who remained in the mansion thought, their eyes wide, holding their breath.

"Need us? An emergency ?" Nightwing, still standing next to Batman and not missing a word of this family conversation, had already pulled out his grappling hook, ready to take off the next second if needed.

"No, I'm fine! I'm on the West Side and from where I'm standing I can see the singer from last night's flat…"

The childish voice of an angry Rachel then snapped.

"You pervert! You've got nothing better to do than to play the peeping Tom ?! You're so disgusting, I didn't expect that from you, Jay !"

"I can't believe this! Do you really think I'm checking out that girl? I stumbled across her flat by chance, but what a coincidence that she happens to live right where the traffic is. And she's acting suspiciously."

"How ?" Dick was obviously convinced by his younger brother's story.

"When it's time for sex and a good night's sleep, the girl wakes up! And I saw her filling a backpack with a lot of things. Not to mention that she doesn't wear her wig just to go on stage. To me, she's clearly trying to hide her identity ! Secret identity, dodgy bag, nightlife... She ticks quite a few boxes, doesn't she ?"

With a small, proud smile on his face, he waited for some praise or apology from the Titans, most of whom kept putting him down. But it was again his father's deep, military voice that rang in his ears.

"Good! Write down the address and go back to the manor! We'll deal with this tomorrow !"

"What? But she's just... Wait, wait, wait, wait! Damn it, she's out! You made me lose her! Rah... Damn it! Okay, I'm going home !"

Annoyed and frustrated, he climbed down from his building and changed clothes in a dark, secluded alley nearby. He put his helmet, red hoodie and weapons in his backpack, from which he had taken his motorbike helmet and reinforced leather jacket. He started his Ducati and sped off, the roar of his engine echoing through the almost empty city streets.

"*********************************"

The time had come! Andrea woke up from her nap at the third alarm ring of her phone. She turned on the light, as it was already almost dark in the city, and her neighbourhood was not the best lit, and prepared her bag. As usual, she put in a sandwich, some dry biscuits, but also a white lab coat, comfortable shoes and clean socks - she sometimes walked a lot and her feet sweated, so she changed not to smell like gouda cheese when she got home - and a serrated knife, like the ones you see in movies. She'd seen too many crazy people on the streets and even in the emergency room, to go out without a weapon, although she was glad she'd never needed one yet.

Before closing her bag, she paused for a long time, a feeling of unease seizing her, a shiver running down her back, but she didn't dare turn around. She had this strange feeling of being watched, of feeling the weight of a gaze fixed on her. Yet this was impossible; she lived on the fourth floor and apart from the inhabitant of the flat opposite hers, unoccupied as far as she knew, no one could see her. She tried to get a grip of herself, to convince herself that this sensation was only the aftermath of the terrifying and traumatic face-to-face encounter of the previous day. She did not think she would ever fall into such a gaze again, feeling eyes trying to probe her soul to find the best way to make her suffer... She stood up, still with her back to her window, and selected her wig with a high bun, the most appropriate hairstyle for an emergency nurse. Then she paused again, took a deep breath and suddenly turned around. There was no one there. No lights in the flat across the street. Nothing. She relaxed and dropped onto her sofa. She had a good fifteen minutes before she had to leave and she intended to take advantage of this time to relax, because this mental stress had drained the little energy that her nap had allowed her to recover.

Finally, it was time to leave her flat. She activated the timer on her light switch. She had quickly installed a device that would turn off the lights about ten minutes after she left. In case someone found her and was watching for her to leave. She knew their technique and had done her best to prevent it. Then she went down the stairs. Just as she was about to put her hand on the door of the building, a thud sounded not far from there. She froze, her hand suspended in the air, her lungs also immobilized, not letting an ounce of air in or out. At that moment, as her eyes filled with tears against her will, trembling, her mind was caught up in the past. She saw herself in that room, locked up, huddled in the corner of a luxurious wall, her ear involuntarily pressed against the wall adjoining the "problem-solving" room as they called it... And she remembered the gut-wrenching feeling of disgust and terror that had come over her the first time she heard a gunshot, followed by the sickening sound of a gelatinous substance exploding and crashing through the wall, a wall's thickness from her ear.

When she came back to her senses, she didn't know how long she had been standing there. But she couldn't miss her shift, she needed this job, she needed this future. So she plucked up her courage and finally pulled down the handle and stepped out into a deserted street. She turned towards the metro and saw a dark shape lying on the ground in a dark alley opposite her flat. Was it a corpse? Had someone been murdered next door to her? Was she the one they were looking for? Her heart began to race, her breath quickened and her hands shook in spite of herself. She stared at the shape, trying to make out the outline, but not taking the risk of approaching it. Maybe it was just a garbage bag that some bums had smashed there earlier. And the sound of detonation was probably just the sound of the lid of a rubbish container being allowed to close under its own weight. She did her best to convince herself of this before hurrying on her way.

A few minutes later, she went on duty, as if nothing had happened, at the hospital. That night she would assist Dr. Lamer, a 40-year-old career ER doctor, nurse John Reich, a 27-year-old man who was very committed to his work but whose eyes often seemed to be on her breasts rather than her hands during surgery, and nurse Lindsey Chalkman, her role model. Despite having three children, an absent husband, and the life of an emergency nurse, the 36-year-old was always smiling, responsive and very caring. As we were in the southwestern hospital of Gotham, there was never a shortage of emergencies, and that was good, because it kept Andrea from thinking about the night before or what she thought she saw in the alley near her flat. After 3 assistantships on casts fitting, 2 wrist stitches from suicide attempts and 1 dinosaur plaster on the forehead of a young boy who had fallen out of his bunk bed, she finally made her way to her flat. Before she left the hospital, John Reich had once again made dubious overtones in the break room like "You still got no one Andy? You need to think about hygiene, girl! You'll end up with cobwebs!", with a smile that he thought was seductive, but was mostly creepy. She had, as usual, ignored the young man and picked up her bag without saying a word, but hugged Lindsey, whom she liked very much.

Back in her neighbourhood, the events of the evening came back to her face. She could see the blue and red glare of the police lights reflected in the alleyway opposite her building. And although the three police officers collecting evidence were partially obscuring the scene, she could see an arm and a hand on the ground. Someone had been murdered just a few steps from her house, and with a few seconds to spare, she could have been an inconvenient witness, proving that life was hanging by a thread here too. It was then that she saw this figure in an adjacent alleyway staring at her, she was sure of it. She rushed up the stairwell, climbing the four floors in record time, and locked herself up in her flat. She closed the curtains and, having removed her daily camouflage gear, she huddled sobbing under the covers, knowing at once that this was going to be another very long night.

Thanks for reading and following me!

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I'm actually on supmer break, and as a loving mother, I hope to enjoy time with my lovely daughters, hence, I'm not sur to upload a chapter a week until 23rd of July...

Yet, be sure this fanfic will carry on and be finished ;)

XOXO
Yélie