The skeletal infrastructure of crumbled buildings looked eerie in the moonlight. Novi Grad really was a ghost town, through and through; reconstruction was slow and left most of the city untouched and uninhabitable, with unlit, cracked streets winding an unsettling path through the remnants of the capital’s center.

Creepy, he thought. Perfect.

Tim pulled himself up into the exposed second story of an old housing block. From there, he could survey a good portion of the ruins through the enhanced lenses of his cowl. He wasn’t normally drawn to the epicenter of a catastrophe like this, but the story of metal armies and falling cities grabbed his attention and had yet to let go, and now that he was here, he saw no reason to not inspect the remains.

The reports were vague, anyway. He liked to see things for himself.

He swept his gaze from east to west and took in the ruins piece by piece. A bank, a school, a historic statue reduced to nothing but a pedestal. When he turned his gaze downward, he stopped.

Tim felt his neck crack as his attention snapped to a dark shadow amidst the rubble. A shadow in the shape of a man whose face was hidden under an alarmingly familiar--

“Jason?”

Jason Todd. Red Hood. The man who’d haunted the better part of his teenage years. Tim never thought he’d see him again - not in Gotham, and certainly not in Sokovia. 

“You sure get around, don’t you?” He bit his tongue, felt his throat spasm against the words. He didn’t want to talk to the man. He didn’t want to see him. Too many complicated feelings were attached to Jason. They inhabited what was still a confusing bundle of memories for Tim, so near to the surface and yet buried down under a persistent desire to move on. For Bruce’s sake, for his own.

It wasn’t until the day after the takedown of Arnim Zola’s disembodied code that M’gann managed to sneak away from the Mousehole to investigate the mysterious signature that had taken a shot at Bruce. She’d picked up on it as Bruce’s mood had darkened, and she had recognized it… in a sense. This was not the same signature as the one she’d known. No. To compare them would be to see two moving images of the same vase, each floating in space. One worn. One shattered. Pieced together haphazardly with the occasional borrowed sliver shoved in among the cracks. It seemed impossible. It was impossible. And yet she knew it was him all the same.

M’gann followed the signature to a bar in Matchak and stood outside a while, mulling it over again and again. Yes, he had taken a shot at Bruce. No, she didn’t think he would hurt her. If he was who she thought he was, Bruce had kept him a secret for quite some time. Maybe years. If he’d meant to kill Bruce, he probably would have. There was always a chance that she was wrong, of course. That he’d take one look and shoot her, too. But M’gann wasn’t particularly afraid of that. Bullets weren’t a real problem for her.

She pulled open the heavy door of Stara Kafana only to shove it closed not a second later. The cloud of cigarette smoke from inside the bar had her stifling a wheeze. M’gann backtracked over to her spot beside the bike rack across the street. Hm.

“Excuse me,” M’gann called to a man getting ready to enter the bar. “Would you mind asking my friend to come outside for me? Dark hair. He’s sitting at the bar,” she felt around for a moment, pretending that she was merely pausing to straighten her sweater. “The last taken seat at the bar.” She gave him a shy smile and tucked a lock hair behind her ear.

“ -- So here’s the thing.” Rose plopped into the seat across from him, a table at one of the local outdoor cafes, without any hesitation. Cigarette between the middle and pointer fingers of her right hand, she took a quick drag before continuing to speak. “-- I’ve been tracking some runners, and I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of where their safehouse might be. I’ve been doing my research since getting into Matchak, and well, I’ve had some help.” She tapped her forehead with a wide, lazy grin as she leaned back in the chair. Her foresight was hepful at times, and this had certainly been one of those times. Not oly had she had flashes of the runners she’d been tracing for a few weeks, but had had a flash of Red Hood giving her a hand with things. She hadn’t known Jason was in Sokovia, though probably should have guessed, what with the rest of everyone else she’d been running into lately. A few puffs from her inhaler to help her along and sure enough her vision went white in the way it always did before she saw the future, and she saw Jason Todd right where he sat right now.

“But the thing is, I can’t exactly do it as Ravager -- it’s complicated, I’m on a few lists, blah blah blah. You know how it goes.” She waved the hand with the cigarette in it before bringing it to her lips again. Except he couldn’t really know how it goes, considering she was with the ISA now. Rose Wilson had sold to the highest bidder. Any and all mercenary work was absolutely outlined as a big no-no in her contract, but... 

“So, whatcha say? Up for a good, ol’ fashioned drug ring bust?” That smile was still in place, and Rose sat up now in her chair, leaning forward to prop her elbows on the table. “Also, hey. Long time no see. Glad to see you made it out of Malta, that got kinda sketchy at the end there.”