Jason Todd // Red Hood (robin_outa_hell) wrote in newalliance, @ 2016-09-09 19:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | red hood, red robin |
Who: Red Hood and Red Robin
When: 9/9
Where: Gotham docks, abandoned warehouse (aren't they always?)
What: Apparently there's Nazis in Gotham. Who knew? Jason's out to stop them, if he could actually find them.
Following a trail of breadcrumbs, piecing together a mystery, wasn't his cup of tea - or strong suit. But, damnit, that didn't mean that he didn't know how. Maybe it took him longer than it would Babs or Tim or, hell, Dick, but he was perfectly capable of cracking an encryption in German and figuring out what the secondary-encryption of initials, mathematical references, and acronyms went, right along with all the rest of them. It might take him longer, probably took him more cartons of Thai and staring at the papers tacked up on the drywall sheet he'd savaged and propped up against a wall, but he could still do it.
It just didn't put him in the best of moods when he finally found the place, but, hell, no one would begrudge him shooting Nazis, right? They were fuckin' Nazis, everyone got to shoot and kill Nazis, that was what the whole big thing in the early 40s was about.
He took his time, even with the itch of impatience in his shoulders and trigger fingers. He found a sniper's nest to surveil the warehouse in question, and at least it was finally cooler in the city, at least by the docks, making it not entirely unpleasant to wait the hour and change, watching for movement in the warehouse or on the street. Or, as the minutes ticked by, for any indication that anyone was using the place at all.
Damnit. It was too quiet; nowhere stayed abandoned for long, not like this, not in Gotham. If people moved out, squatters moved in, even if it was a villain's death-trapped lair (free security system, most people figured). Quiet meant they were gone, but not all that long ago. Jason swung off the ledge and dropped to the street, darting between shadows until he reached the warehouse door.
It was a pleasure to kick it in and go in guns first. Finding that he was right and the assholes of the evening were gone and had done their best to destroy evidence behind them, that wasn't so great. Prowling through the smoldering scraps of paper, sweeping the place for anyone or anything lingering behind, his boot stirred ash and half-burned paper, and Jason almost shook with rage.
Forget the annoyance of dealing with them having everything in code. Forget that he hadn't even wanted to chase them, before having the evidence shoved at him by an intruder. He'd seen enough in the first nest, heard enough from someone who knew them, to know that they deserved his brand of justice, or slower. And they had gotten wind he was coming and pulled out, ran from him. Taking whatever inventory they were stockpiling or plans they were formulating with them.
Well, he damn well wasn't going to be too slow again. Jason moved from room to room, collecting what they hadn't managed to thoroughly destroy and making a pile of the burned papers. They probably had electronic copies, too, unless they really were old-school, but those were long gone with the computers. The scraps of code he could see marching across the pages, those at least were something to work with, something he could work with giving he'd already cracked the encryption. The fact that there were parts missing, though, was a real puzzle.
And that called for the right tool for the job. Pulling out his phone, Jason took a few quick photos of the pages, and then shot off a series of texts to a number he hadn't thought he'd ever use, but, hey, that was what sharing intel did for you:
*Yo, Timmy
*Timbo
*Lassie!