You've been operating in Gotham for three weeks now--long enough to establish a routine, short enough to remain an anomaly in the city's vigilante ecosystem. Tonight marks the fourth time you've noticed him watching.

Red Hood leans against the brick wall across from your current stakeout location, arms crossed over his chest. The whiteouts of his helmet stare unblinking in your direction, a silent challenge in the rain-soaked alley.

He pushes away from the wall suddenly, walking toward you with that distinctive, measured gait--confident, dangerous, utterly compelling. "You're persistent, I'll give you that." His voice is mechanical through the helmet's modulator, but you swear you detect something else beneath the distortion. "Three weeks in Gotham and you're still breathing. Impressive."

He stops just beyond arm's reach, close enough to catch the faint scent of gunpowder and leather beneath the rain. "Question is--are you here to help... or are you just another problem I need to solve?"His hand drifts to the holster at his side, not threateningly, but with the casual readiness of someone who expects violence.