[Guy is no ninja but he is someone that's hunted animals with infinitely better hearing than humans - or had to try to escape them. And those skills were refined even more by the arenas.]
[He's also intensely observant, with sharper eyesight than some modern humans. And prone to not understanding the concept of personal property. It's for this reason that he's taken to climbing up fire escapes - or even just the walls themselves - to get up on top of some of the buildings, the same way he might climb up a particularly tall tree to peer out and get the lay of the land below.]
[It's from a nearby building he'd climbed up to get a vantage point that he sees a strange sight, very easy to nearly miss. Someone laying down on a roof on his stomach holding some kind of metal tubes.]
[Is that a gun? He's seen other types of guns. Hand guns. The rifles of the Peacekeepers. Revolvers like the ones favored by one of his old friends. This one is long and thin and strange but it still looks like a gun. Maybe just a very long one. It probably does something special.]
[He hates guns after that one arena where he was shot. And he's gathered that people don't just randomly carry them here. Nor do they bring friends with guns like the one he spots below.]
[Ooh, maybe this is one of those crime things he's supposed to stop.]
[The hard part is all the stupid guns but at least he knows he has powers now and how they work. More than that, he's more used to sneaking around than many. His life has depended on it so often. While he may not be used to sneaking around the Bat clan he's had to sneak around owlbears before. Death cats.]
[He's also not stupid enough to approach from the ground. But he doesn't need to. Instead he pulls out a pocket knife he bought for himself and quietly breaks the flimsy lock on the the door at the top of the building he's on, jamming it in the lock and experimentally giving the hilt a hard tap. He goes down the stairs until he finds a hallway with a window that opens to the other building and gently prises it open, moving it slowly inch by inch. Then he climbs out the window, kicking off the sill so he can cover the distance to a window sill on the next building over, dynoing there and hooking his fingertips into it enough to support his weight. He digs his shoes into more cracks.]
[Like many other buildings in the area, the brickwork is an easy climb compared to some trees he's scrambled up before. The building is shorter than many of them, too. And it's not so much exertion he can't control his breathing to be as quiet as possible.]
[Of all possible ways for someone to sneak up on Jason, his goons were probably expecting a noisy hero's entrance on the street below, or an obvious flight of a superhero in from above. Or even a surprise attack by someone grappling over and beating the snot out of them. Not someone slinking across the alley in the shadows when one of them was turned away, and free soloing up the brickwork in near silence.]
[No grappling hook, no utility belt, no whisper of a cape, just the quiet digging of fingers and tips of his shoes in the brickwork.]
[But his goons are one thing. Some of them are better than others and some of his best are on the target. Jason himself is another.]
[The sounds are ever so subtle. The tiniest scrape of gravel under a shoe as his first foot is set down on the roof. The tiniest swish of cloth fabric against itself. The hush of a breath in the dark that might just be a breeze but perhaps isn't.]
Red Hood
[He's also intensely observant, with sharper eyesight than some modern humans. And prone to not understanding the concept of personal property. It's for this reason that he's taken to climbing up fire escapes - or even just the walls themselves - to get up on top of some of the buildings, the same way he might climb up a particularly tall tree to peer out and get the lay of the land below.]
[It's from a nearby building he'd climbed up to get a vantage point that he sees a strange sight, very easy to nearly miss. Someone laying down on a roof on his stomach holding some kind of metal tubes.]
[Is that a gun? He's seen other types of guns. Hand guns. The rifles of the Peacekeepers. Revolvers like the ones favored by one of his old friends. This one is long and thin and strange but it still looks like a gun. Maybe just a very long one. It probably does something special.]
[He hates guns after that one arena where he was shot. And he's gathered that people don't just randomly carry them here. Nor do they bring friends with guns like the one he spots below.]
[Ooh, maybe this is one of those crime things he's supposed to stop.]
[The hard part is all the stupid guns but at least he knows he has powers now and how they work. More than that, he's more used to sneaking around than many. His life has depended on it so often. While he may not be used to sneaking around the Bat clan he's had to sneak around owlbears before. Death cats.]
[He's also not stupid enough to approach from the ground. But he doesn't need to. Instead he pulls out a pocket knife he bought for himself and quietly breaks the flimsy lock on the the door at the top of the building he's on, jamming it in the lock and experimentally giving the hilt a hard tap. He goes down the stairs until he finds a hallway with a window that opens to the other building and gently prises it open, moving it slowly inch by inch. Then he climbs out the window, kicking off the sill so he can cover the distance to a window sill on the next building over, dynoing there and hooking his fingertips into it enough to support his weight. He digs his shoes into more cracks.]
[Like many other buildings in the area, the brickwork is an easy climb compared to some trees he's scrambled up before. The building is shorter than many of them, too. And it's not so much exertion he can't control his breathing to be as quiet as possible.]
[Of all possible ways for someone to sneak up on Jason, his goons were probably expecting a noisy hero's entrance on the street below, or an obvious flight of a superhero in from above. Or even a surprise attack by someone grappling over and beating the snot out of them. Not someone slinking across the alley in the shadows when one of them was turned away, and free soloing up the brickwork in near silence.]
[No grappling hook, no utility belt, no whisper of a cape, just the quiet digging of fingers and tips of his shoes in the brickwork.]
[But his goons are one thing. Some of them are better than others and some of his best are on the target. Jason himself is another.]
[The sounds are ever so subtle. The tiniest scrape of gravel under a shoe as his first foot is set down on the roof. The tiniest swish of cloth fabric against itself. The hush of a breath in the dark that might just be a breeze but perhaps isn't.]