Flashpoint Universe-1, U.S. West Coast
A Batcycle roared down the streets at top speed, startling pedestrians who turned their heads in shock.
"Nightwing, what's your status?"
Damian Wayne, hunched over the handlebars, frowned as he spoke through the comms system built into his cowl.
Dick Grayson's voice came through the earpiece moments later.
(I lost him. Red Robin is still tracking. This guy's slippery — be careful out there.)
Hearing that, Damian's frown deepened.
There weren't many who could give Nightwing the slip. Any being in motion left behind some trace — footprints, heat signatures, tech residue — but this creature was different. It was no ordinary opponent. It was cunning. Predatory.
They had been tracking this thing for a full week. Ever since discovering the gruesome massacre it left behind in Gotham, the Robin Squad had been in relentless pursuit. That hunt had now brought them all the way to the West Coast.
They hadn't dared to rest — not once — because every time the creature entered a new city, another bloodbath followed. As if it were mocking the Bat Family, daring them to try and stop it.
"Red Robin, upload your data to the Bat-Net. We're not letting it escape again," Damian growled through clenched teeth, eyes burning with fury.
The screech of the Batcycle's tires against the road echoed like a war drum in the quiet night. Upon receiving fresh satellite data from the Bat-Net, Damian spun the bike into a tight drift, veering down a narrow alleyway — and accelerated again.
Elsewhere in the city, Red Robin — Tim Drake — was dashing across rooftops at breakneck speed. He moved with silent precision, vaulting from building to building.
He was close.
Closer than they had ever been.
After days of chasing a trail of corpses, the elusive, multi-city killer was finally within striking range.
As Tim cleared another high wall, a faint thump echoed from the room below.
The sound was subtle — almost unnoticeable — but in the dead stillness of the night, it didn't escape Tim's ears. His instincts flared. Something was off.
Without hesitation, he came to a sharp stop. In one fluid motion, he hurled his grapple line toward the railing of a nearby building. It latched tight.
Gripping the line, Tim leapt into the void, swinging downward from the rooftop. The cord snapped taut under gravity, and he swung toward a window — feet first — targeting the source of the noise.
With a sharp crash, the window exploded into glittering shards.
Tim rolled as he landed, absorbing the impact with practiced ease — already primed for combat. But when he looked up, his pupils shrank.
What he saw stopped him cold.
The silver glow of the moon shone through the shattered window. Curtains rustled gently in the night wind. Blood on the floor shimmered with a bizarre reddish-brown hue under the moonlight.
His gaze followed the trail of blood…
And there — nearly seven feet tall — stood a monstrous figure, hunched over, delicately dragging a knife across the throat of the house's matriarch.
In the back, near the bedroom door, the man of the house — and a small dog — lay lifeless in a crimson pool, completely exsanguinated, their eyes frozen open in eternal horror.
Tim's sudden entrance had clearly startled the creature. Before he could even react, the monster hurled the woman's lifeless body directly at him.
Instinct kicked in.
Tim sprang backward, narrowly avoiding the corpse — and just in time to dodge the follow-up strike aimed to kill. In the very next second, the creature lunged through the shattered window and burst into the night sky.
As the winged figure flapped away with terrifying speed, vanishing into the clouds, Tim stood at the window, his heart pounding — fury rising like a storm.
Without hesitation, he grabbed his communicator and shouted: "Visual confirmation! It's airborne, escaping westbound over the intersection of Solin Avenue and Luddenburg! Target is a Demon-Class! Repeat — the thing we've been chasing is a Demon-Class entity!"
Tim's voice shattered the stillness of the night. Across the city, every member of the Bat-Family received the transmission simultaneously.
High above the skyline, inside the Batwing, Red Hood's reaction was immediate. The moment he heard Tim's report, he yanked the flight controls — the Batwing screamed as it nose-dived through the clouds, heading straight for the city below.
His sudden maneuver caught the only female Robin on board off guard. She turned toward him, startled.
"Hey — that's a city underneath us!"
"I know," Red Hood replied without even looking.
"Don't tell me you're about to start a dogfight with a Demon-Class over a civilian zone!" she shouted, alarmed.
But Red Hood simply shook his head and stood up from the pilot's seat.
"The old me might have. But that's not the plan this time."
"What?" she blinked, confused. "Then what is the plan?"
Her confusion turned to shock as Red Hood strapped on a jet-glider pack across his back.
"You're insane!" she gasped.
"I've fought Demon-Class threats before. No normal one could've evaded all five of us for this long. This thing's not standard issue — it's special," Red Hood said seriously.
"And? So what does that mean?" she spread her arms, still not connecting the dots.
"It means…"
Red Hood grabbed his reinforced shield and unlocked the Batwing's side hatch.
"…this isn't a fight you can win. Leave it to me."
And with that — before she could protest — he sprinted forward and dove straight out of the jet, disappearing into the swirling clouds below.
Inside the cockpit, Robin stood speechless, her mouth open, dozens of thoughts flashing through her head. But she had no time to argue.
She jumped into the pilot's seat, gripped the controls, and steadied the Batwing — keeping it from going into a nosedive.
Meanwhile, Robin quickly slipped on her comm headset.
"Red Hood is en route for an intercept. I'm locking down the target's location — planning to corner it at the end of Joseph Avenue. I need backup there ASAP."
"Copy that."
Hearing this, Tim made a quick emergency call to the authorities, then leapt out the shattered window.
"I'm already at Joseph Avenue."
Damian also responded, revving the Batcycle as he shot out of the alley and turned sharply onto Joseph Avenue, gunning toward the coordinates.
At that moment, Dick's voice chimed in dryly over the comms.
"Red Hood went to intercept? With what, exactly?"
(Well…)
Robin licked her lips, her expression awkward.
"Hard to explain."
But to everyone else, that reaction said everything.
They'd spent over two months in the field with Red Hood. They were already well-acquainted with their "second brother's" methods.
Once a violent anti-hero who believed in solving problems with bullets, the new Red Hood — now enhanced by the Super Soldier Serum — was a zealot of absolute justice, utterly intolerant of compromise.
"Red Hood," Dick muttered, rolling his eyes, "after this mission, we really need to talk."
But silence followed. No response from Jason.
Dick sighed. Being the first Robin didn't make leading this team any easier.
And just as that thought passed through his mind, he looked up—and saw two shadows crashing together in the moonlit sky.
"Oh, hell. Red Hood's already engaged with the thing!"
Dick's voice sharpened. All hesitation vanished.
"Repeat — Red Hood is in direct combat with the Demon-Class! All nearby units, converge immediately!"
-----------------------------------
Above the city, in the frigid winds of the upper atmosphere, Red Hood faced the snarling Demon-Class entity — grinning wide, his eyes flickering with a crimson glow.
The night wind howled, whipping past like knives, but it didn't faze him. If anything, his blood surged with excitement. The fire in his eyes reflected the battle-lust in his soul.
He ripped out his commlink and flung it away, never taking his eyes off the creature.
"Good. No more interruptions."
"Let's see what you've got, freak."
In response, the Demon hissed — low, guttural, and mechanical — as it drew a high-tech energy weapon from behind its back.
Jason's instincts flared.
A threat.
He didn't hesitate.
The instant the barrel aligned with him, Red Hood raised his shield just as a searing scarlet laser cut across the sky.
The beam slammed into the vibranium-alloy shield with a thunderous crack — but it held. The concentrated force of death bounced off harmlessly.
The impact shoved Jason backward through the clouds, but he twisted mid-air and launched himself forward — hurling his shield with brutal precision.
It screamed through the air like a missile.
Before the Demon could react, pain shot through its arm. The gun clattered from its hand — or rather, what was left of it.
The shield had cleaved the weapon clean in two.
If the monster had any sense of fear, it would've shuddered. If it had blood, it might have bled. But emotionless as it was, it didn't flinch — only glared at Jason with silent fury.
Jason's grin widened.
He cracked his knuckles as the shield boomeranged back to him.
Then, from the heavens above, his voice rang out — calm, sharp, and laced with lethal intent: "Now neither of us has weapons."
"Let's see if your fancy claws can match these."
.................
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