A web in the dark

Persephone sat still, watching as Red Hood—or, more accurately, Jason Todd—moved across the rooftops.

She had expected him to disappear quickly, but he was clearly taking his time, probably thinking he had already lost her attention.

He was wrong.

Her eyes tracked his movements effortlessly. He was fast, fluid, his experience in parkour and rooftop traversal obvious. But as he moved, something else caught her eye.

A group.

Three figures stood on a distant rooftop, almost obscured by shadows.

One of them was a giant of a man, his silhouette broad and intimidating, with what looked like bat ears on his head.

The second was slightly smaller but still built like an acrobat, something sleek and birdlike in his stance. A blue emblem stretched across his chest, and a pair of sticks were strapped to his back.

But it was the third person who really caught her attention.

A girl.

Small, slight, barely visible in the darkness, with sleek black hair and a stillness that reminded Persephone too much of herself.

As soon as she noticed the girl, the girl noticed her.

They both tilted their heads at the same time, mirroring each other perfectly.

Persephone's lips parted slightly in surprise, but before she could process the weird synchronization, she caught something else—

A tiny quirk of the girl's lips. Almost imperceptible.

Like she was amused.

Persephone narrowed her eyes slightly, watching, but before she could continue her staring contest, the door behind her creaked open.

"Seph, c'mon," Noel's voice cut through the silence. "It's getting too cold out."

She hesitated, still staring at the strange girl—still feeling the weight of the stares from the rest of them.

But she knew she couldn't linger.

Without another glance, she stood, turned, and walked back toward the door.

Even as she stepped inside, she could feel their eyes burning into her back.

But she ignored them.

She had enough to deal with already.

Dick Grayson had faced a lot of impossible situations in his life. He had fought gods, survived being a child soldier, and once died for a few minutes before clawing his way back. He had been trained by Batman, led the Titans, and dealt with more multiversal nonsense than he cared to count.

And yet, standing on this rooftop, watching Jason talk to a tiny version of him, Dick had never felt more unprepared in his entire life.

He wasn't alone in that.

Bruce stood next to him, unmoving, arms crossed in that unreadable way he did when something rattled him. But it was Cass—quiet, observant Cass—who had been the first to pick up on what was wrong with this whole situation.

Because something was wrong.

Jason had dubbed the kid his "mini-me," which would've been funny if it wasn't also terrifyingly accurate.

The girl wasn't just some random street kid.

She looked like him. Moved like him.

And right now, despite Jason being a shadow in the dark, she was tracking his every movement.