Towering above the city streets a lone sentinel kept his silent vigil, hidden amongst the gothic architecture that dominated Gotham’s downtown districts. Any casual observer might have mistaken the motionless figure for one gargoyle amongst the others, chiseled decades before from dark granite and left forgotten. Even the light wind, tugging playfully at the young man’s hair and cape could not drive him to movement, chilled to the bone though he was. He kept his rebellious body in check, denying his teeth from chattering and his body from shivering. In unusual form for the normally secretive Dark Knight the cowl was pulled back, leaving Damian’s face exposed to the elements and prying eyes. The rain had not yet relented its hold over the city, and the water soaked through Batman’s exposed hair, running down his gaunt cheeks. Dark bags hung under his bloodshot eyes, and evident exhaustion battled to take control and allow the easy drift unto slumber, held only at bay by Batman’s sheer will and the cool rain he let fall upon his countenance. The silent watcher felt his eyes droop, and he shook himself refocusing on the third story window across the thirty-foot gap separating his hiding spot and the Gotham Memorial Hospital.

	Foot traffic had lessened considerably since that afternoon, early evening had come and gone, and the later hours of the night were fast approaching. Judging by his internal clock Damian would have determined the time to be nine in the evening, and yet already darkness had fallen in full effect. Just enough people to blend in, and just few enough to witness an attack, the perfect time to strike. Damian’s green eyes slid from one pedestrian to the next, centering his attentions on those entering the hospital itself. Finding the location was simple, child’s play really. An easy hack into Gotham PD’s records gave him the address, ward, room, and even stationed security within the compound. A quick examination of the city blueprint records gave him a reasonable assumption for the easiest entry points, and even the best location to maintain watch over the area not already patrolled by officers. All that remained was to wait and be ready for when they arrived to finish their grisly work. And what then? Swoop down to fight amongst hostile police or remain hidden and hope he could deal with any potential threat undetected. He almost hopped for the challenge, after six hours crouched upon the windswept roof, he longed to stretch his muscles.

	Behind him, unbeknownst to the new Batman a lone figure alighted on the arched roof, creeping steadily closer. White silts glowed beneath a crimson hood in wanton anticipation, an unsheathed 1911 held loosely in the figure’s left hand. Very few people could lay claim to being able to surprise Damian, for the hooded figure even his success most likely was a combination of the younger man’s intent focus, and the steady rain that worked wonders in drowning out the tiny scuffs of his boots. “You forgot to put on the cowl Dami.”

	Batman jumped, jerking away on instinct alone, a flood of adrenaline turning every inch of his body into a coiled spring, ready to leap away or fight at a moment’s notice. For a minute, his green eyes locked onto Red Hood’s emotionless mask, and then he calmed himself, letting the pent-up energy fade away, unspent. “Jason Todd.” He murmured in a familiar but not too untoward manner, watching the barrel of the .45 pistol warily. Determining the Red Hood did not want to kill him, at least not yet Batman returned to his vigil, as if he could simply ignore the intruder until he went away. Internally he berated himself for failing to notice Hood before the masked vigilante caught him off guard. He figured his new guest would make his intentions clear soon enough on his own, unprompted. Red Hood held their mutual silence, but true to his nature the vigilante could not remain unobtrusive for long. He stepped forward, grasping the hanging cowl and slipping it over Damian’s features, concealing his face beneath the dark fabric.

	“Weren’t you taught to always wear your mask while in uniform? Or have standards been slipping since I left?”

	“What’s the point?” Damian spat, bitterly pulling the cowl off once again. “They hide nothing anymore.” Bruce had always been adamant about keeping their secret as close as possible. The number of living people who knew their true identities could have been counted on two hands, or at least that was the case until three days prior when the entire world, and several alien species were let in on the secret. Everything Bruce worked so long to protect gone in an instant, and everyone and everything revealed beneath the light of day.

	Red Hood gave an impatient sigh, “Because you look like shit and no one wants to see your ugly mug.” Damian heard the gun sheath and the slight hiss of escaping air as the armored facemask that concealed Jason Todd’s scarred visage released. Of all Bruce Wayne’s wards, in Damian’s eyes Jason was the ugliest by far. Brutish features, crooked teeth, and an ugly scar running from his left temple down to his chin marred whatever charm he might have once possessed. Damian had seen a photograph of Jason before he had died and something else had changed as well. Something visual, but not quite describable behind the man’s haunted eyes. Damian bit back a retort, going back to ignoring Jason, which the other man took as an invitation to continue. “You seem almost bitter about being an infamous celebrity. Didn’t expect to appear in the headlines as well as the rest of us?” He inquired before answering his own question. “He must have betrayed your trust in the end. That must have been a shocking revelation, and here I was thinking you gave up everything including your own name willingly. Heh, is that why you killed Hans Zuthenlifer? Revenge for revealing your identity as well? Isn’t that ironic…” Jason dropped down next to Damian, his feet dangling over the edge as he peered towards the third story hospital room across from them.

	“What are you on about Todd?” If Damian did not know better, it almost sounded like Jason was accusing him of betraying his own family. The German’s words returned to him in a flash, like an alarm bell in his ears. Everyone would think he told. But how? Surely of all people Jason Todd would see past the paper-thin lie. Damian’s heartrate quickened and his eyes snapped away from the hospital’s entrance to glare back into Jason’s accusing gaze. “What do you mean?” He asked, more forceful this time.

	“Don’t play dumb.” Jason mocked; his posture become more aggressive by the word. “Everything Hans Zuthenlifer claimed and wrote about was provided by the Lernaean Cohort, every bit of evidence he needed to prove his revelation to the world who Batman and his partners were, all released to him by that particular hero group. And who, was the little shit that led them for four months?” He prodded Damian in the chest, right where the bat symbol was emblazoned, his eyebrows raised as if challenging the younger man to deny his words. “I might not be the detective Bruce was, but doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together Damian. You left Wayne Manor after fighting Bruce, and four months later your team miraculously leaks vital data that just about destroys everything.” For a moment Jason seemed to catch himself, his voice breaking as if he was fighting back his emotion. “He has son, and a wife… Not that you care. You’re just here to finish the job, aren’t you?”

	“Shut up Todd!” Damian jumped to his feet, shadowed by Jason. The Red Hood was slightly taller, and of heavier build allowing him to look down on his surrogate brother. Nearly every fight they ever had Jason came out on top. But they had not gone against each other in years, and Jason’s spiteful words had Damian rearing to try and even the score. If only there was no other, more pressing matters at hand. “Just shut up already, you have no idea what you’re talking about, and I’ll hear no more of it. In case you have not noticed that’s Grayson’s room across the way, and I’d rather keep him safe than deal with you. Run away, before I grow impatient and throw you back into the gutter where you belong.”

	“Oh is that right?” Jason snorted, his dark eyes locked against Damian’s green, never once wavering. “You’re here to keep Dick safe, isn’t that rich? That’s what I’m doing, and have been doing for the last twenty-four hours. Imagine my shock when you come along and take up position right across from his window. I figure you’re waiting for the opportunity to finish him off, or were you standing watch to let someone else do your dirty work. Either way you are lucky I didn’t kill you the first chance I had. Guess, I ought’a give you the chance to try and explain yourself. Maybe plead for mercy. I shouldn’t have expected much from a traitor.”

	Shocked rage contorted the younger man’s face. “How dare you insinuate I’d try to harm Grayson. I’m here to protect him.”

	“Fat lot of good you’ve done on that front.” Jason shot back. He flung a hand towards the distant window. “Far as I can see all of this is your fault, so Damian, give me one good reason I shouldn’t drop you right here, right now?”

	“Why don’t you try?”

	 The tension could have been cut by a knife. The two vigilantes stood separated by mere inches, like twin coiled springs ready to pounce and fight to the death, and truly a battle it would be. Jason was the fighter, always had been. From his first breath to his last, and to his first again he’d been a hot-blooded warrior, throwing everything he possessed into every blow, never faltering in his utter conviction towards victory. Despite the bold face, and his own stubborn pride Damian wasn’t convinced he could win, especially not in his current state of exhaustion. Though, judging by the dark bags under Jason’s eyes and stubble on his chin it had been a while since the Red Hood had gotten a proper six hours of rest as well. Nevertheless, doubt was the first step towards defeat, and the worm of it crawled in Damian’s heart. If he wanted a chance, he would have to keep his temper in check and think his way through the contest, and his foe was no idiot. Then Jason swung first.

	The opening stages happened in a furious whirlwind, leaving Batman reacting mostly on an instinct derived from thousands of hours of practice. First came containment, deriving Red Hood of his most lethal weaponry, which meant keeping him at close range, and his hands busy. Hood did not even attempt to draw his guns, instead driving forward like a bull, catching the smaller man a heavy blow to the side of his face and throwing him to the ground. Landing hard Batman tried rolling away but his adversary remained persistent forcing him into a steady retreat. Every time the Dark Knight managed to regain his footing the Hood would knock him back down. Splatters of bloody saliva sprinkled the rooftop, dribbling from Batman’s lip. Every blow felt heavier than the last, faster and fiercer than anything Batman had ever encountered from the Red Hood before. He couldn’t keep up, couldn’t compete against the sheer ferocity unleashed. They clashed again, blocking, dodging, striking in a flurry swifter than the eye could follow. Batman landed two glancing hits, and received a repost to his lower rib cage in response, dropping the younger man to his hands and knees, gasping for air.

	Their bout lasted less than minute and served to remind Damian just how outmatched he was against this particular opponent. Jason wasn’t here to mess around; he did not pull his punches and Damian had failed in his one recourse to keep his temper in check and strategize his way through the battle. Frustration fueled the rage that had been smoldering since the start of this fiasco. Since the death of father, since the wounding of Dick Grayson, since the betrayal by his team and the confrontation with Gordan. The final straw, losing to Jason again and being accused of a wrong he did not commit. It was all too much. Snarling he rose swinging wildly. Red Hood stepped back dodging the haymaker and delivered a swift kick to Batman’s stomach dropping him again. Twice Batman attempted to regain momentum, each effort receiving equal brutal denial leaving the defeat vigilante back where he started.

	For a second Batman remained where he was, trying to keep the world from blurring out of focus. His green eyes locked onto a humble scene far below where the pedestrians went about their business unaware of the duel taking place far above their heads. By the visitors entrance a older police officer, in a heavy service coat, with the collar turned up against the rain pushed a young red-haired woman in a wheelchair, accompanied by what could only be her young son. Barbra Grayson? It must have been, and her father Commissioner Gordon as well. The distant trio moved quickly across the rain-soaked pavement to a waiting car where the officer helped the woman board, before tucking her chair in vehicle’s trunk. Batman watched the vehicle peel away, catching a glimpse of its plates before it vanished from sight. There had been no police record of where Barbra had vanished too after the Grayson family home had been attacked. It only made sense that she would be living with her father. James Gordon would be more than willing to take his daughter and grandson in during their time of need. Slowly, to avoid eliciting any further attacks by the Red Hood the Dark Knight eased himself to his feet, clutching at a sharp pain in his side. Hood watched him suspiciously, but respected Batman’s open raised hand, the sign for temporary quarter. Wiping a smear from his lip he nodded towards the distant window, the one they both knew contained their elder brother Dick Grayson, comatose and vulnerable. “You’ll stay here and protect him?” Damian coughed, tasting the metallic warmth of blood on his tongue. Jason considered him, as if determining what schemes the younger man was devising. At long last he nodded.

	“As long as he needs me.”

	A sense of relief washed over Damian. Judging by the beating he’d just received someone would have to be crazy to try and finish Grayson off. Their wounded brother would be in good hands, at least until he was well enough to fend for himself. Meanwhile Damian could reprioritize his efforts. With Barbra’s help he might even be able to recover a few clues as to his father’s final case, or even the whereabouts of the missing Tim Drake. First and foremost, he needed a shower, some civilian clothes, and something to stop his lip from bleeding. Damian’s hand fell to his utility belt, retrieving a small gray capsule, the last of two. He’d have to make more of these sooner or later, he was starting to run out. “And what of me,” he inquired, of Jason his short term plans complete. “Are you going to kill me?”

	Once again Jason seemed hesitant. He shrugged, resting a hand on his yet undrawn pistol. “I dunno. Haven’t decided yet. One thing is for sure you need to be hurt a little bit more before I make up my mind.”

	“Fair enough… Whenever you decide let me know.” The last word said Damian dropped the smoke pellet releasing a burst of concealing chemicals that spread across the roof and upwards before finally dissipating. Jason made no move to stop Batman’s escape. Retrieving his armored facemask, he fitted the vacuum seal into place and turned away. This wasn’t over, obligation to Grayson aside when the opportunity came, he would find Damian again, and finish their battle for good.