Around the world there are opposites of weather. In some places snow falls gracefully, glistening in the moonlight on a pathway lining a quiet street. In others a fire roars under the afternoon sun, lit by nothing but the heat of the country which endures a scorching hot Christmas every year.

Red hot light beats down on the red dust of the Nullarbor Plain. A stretch of tree-less land set at the base of Australia, spanning over 200,000 square kilometres.

One area of the plain is enchanted by an old spell, that shields an establishment from eyes not exclusive to the Warriors of Red. Only those trained by such hardened, mythical and fearsome scholars had the right to claim the title.

Like all heroic organisations, they have their greatest legends.

One moment, a member of the Red High Council by the name of Azurah, was sitting in the council chambers, holding a scarlet gem in her hands and observing the well being of ex-members.

It was a normal routine to do. Sometimes they'd request for those ex-members to come in and train others, or take on apprentices or, be offered a position on the council.

But as Azurah looks in on her favourite ex-member, the Legendary defender of justice and dealer of due death, Venus Meadow, she comes across something rather odd. 

Quick as a wink, Azurah is jumping to her feet, panicking.

"Oh no..." she whispers, dropping the gem. "Oh no, no, no, no!" 

The blonde spins on the spot and sprints for the door, all the while thinking to herself Venus, what have you done? 

~

"I'm innocent! I'm innocent!" 

Blah blah blah.

The murderer of six transgender women on the streets of Crime Alley hollers such things as the guards drag him out of the courtroom. If capital punishment were still a thing I'd demand the full sentence, but instead he's getting twenty for each life.

I scoop my papers up, slipping them into their file. I'll give this to Kalie, she can archive it and I can finally have some lunch.

"You okay?" Telysha asks, glancing at me from the side.

"Yes, why?"

"You seemed to get breathless at times," she answers. Ha, whatever. I'm at the top of my game, and why wouldn't I be? I'm fine. Everything is fine.

"Just disgusted by the case," I tell her, slipping the file into my bag. I turn around and stride out of the room, carpet turning to marble beneath my heels. The courthouse feels closed in but cold, which is new.

The courthouse wasn't a place I enjoyed, per say, but it was a place where I felt like I was on top of the world. Because technically, I was, alongside the judges and the legal hierarchy.

Instead I feel unworthy of the title, and the location. I feel like I'm on the wrong side of these walls; like I should be on the stand and the witness, berating me.

As I am rushed at by troves of reporters (reporters, not gossip rags or paparazzi) I lie to myself about the reason for my discomfort. Yeah, sure, of course I don't know why I feel like a criminal.

"DA Meadow! DA Meadow!" There are microphones shoved in my face and I manage to form a content smile for shouldered cameras.

"What are the results of the trial!?" The closest woman asks. All the reporters are familiar, but I have no time to recall names.

"Obviously I can not disclose the results of the trial, but Gotham should know that for this monster justice is being served. One at a time, disgraces such as the person in question, will be weeded out. Within the next few years we'll have a much safer community."

I want to keep walking after that, but they keep firing questions. I pick one to answer so that I can escape.

"What are your views on the targeting victims because of their sexuality or gender?"

I was waiting for this question. It will allow me to close in on the next DA election by collecting more votes.

"My views are what they should be, as someone who is supposed to stand up for every citizen of this city, no matter their age, gender, race or sexuality. These women were being who they are and a monster who followed the wrong path created by Gotham hardships believed they had to pay for that with their lives. This will have a resounding effect on the LGBTQ+ community, there is no doubt about that. But when I say this I am being completely honest; so long as I am in charge of Gotham's justice system, every victim will be entitled to an unbiased, honest and fair trial."

Finishing with that I vaguely notice Telysha behind me, the two of us moving towards the courthouse doors with reporters still shouting questions.

We ignore them all, Telysha barely managing to pull the limo door closed when the two of us are seated.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" My assistant DA asks again. I automatically grasp her wrist in my hand when she reaches out for me. I don't need to look at her expression of fear.

"Telysha, I'm fine."

I let her go, which is ultimately a mistake because she reaches forward and slams the button that raises the partition, blocking the driver from our conversation.

Her normally timid voice drops into a fierce whisper, "You are not okay. You looked like you were getting breathless and gaspy. You kept brushing against your stomach. Are you sick? W-Were you nervous?"

There's no desire in me to ease her worry. In fact I probably make it worse by ignoring her, reaching into my bag for my phone. I take it out and switch it on, because normally I keep it off in trials.

Emails, texts and calls go insane when the device finally switches on. I go for Kalie's first, because those are always the most important.

'There is a Mr Delaney waiting for you at your office'.

'Please help he's a creep'.

'You did have an appointment scheduled with him'.

"Shit," I say immediately, staring at the name.

"What?" Telysha snaps. I ignore her tone.

"Do you remember that asshole who came to 'congratulate' me on being appointed DA and told me I should enjoy my free two year trial?" I respond.

"Eli Delaney?"

"Yeah, got pissed because he thought it should have been him appointed, not me."

When I was chosen as Gotham's DA, it was after disaster had struck the city and taken out many of the Legal department. It's why a lot of the ADAs are inexperienced; they're new and have very few people to learn from. Which, as a extension, is why I see Harvey for advice. 

Eli's theory is that city votes were disregarded and elites such as the Mayor and Bruce Wayne selected me upon their own accord.

"What about him?"

"He's-"

I stop talking immediately when the limo stops in front of the building; which is entirely surrounded by more reporters. 

Instantly I know they're not there because of the case that just occurred. That conniving little jumped-up shit must have called every news outlet he could.

Namely, with the headline I, Eli Delaney, Venus Meadow's opposition for the next DA election, will be visiting the office of my opponent this afternoon. 

As an attorney, he must have known I'd be in a case and therefore unable to meet him. Then he could clim that I purposely stood him up.

However, once again he has underestimated me and the time I take to close a case.

I slip out of the car with my sunglasses on, smiling at the crowd. My mood has shifted to confident and classy instead of passionate.

Straight slacks, red blouse, killer blazer, pointed heels and steel cutting shades. Appearance will always matter in these dealings. A smile of ease, I walk directly into the centre of the commotion.

"Good afternoon everyone," I say calmly as people shout, cameras flash and microphones are shoved in my face.

"DA Meadow! Is it true you and Mr Delaney are about to go into discussion?" Is the most prominent question.

I give a laugh at the question. Let the debates begin.

"To be honest, when he scheduled this meeting he failed to mention it was him I was seeing. Almost like he didn't want me to know he was coming. It's also pretty interesting that he showed up at a time when all of Gotham knew exactly where I'd be. Doing my job. A job, which I will definitely have after this election. And the next. And the next. I'll go up and speak to my opponent now, shall I? I should probably make sure he's okay. It's easy to get intimidated when you're in a place you don't belong."

I can't help but grin at the end of that, turning around and ushering Telysha towards me before we both move into the building, shouts of the reporters continuing over my shoulder.

~

Jason can shoot the fleas off a dog's back. That was simple enough. He could curve a bullet- not as well as...her, but well enough.

Easily, he could take out the head that is in his scope. An ugly pimple of a thing, popping out of frail looking shoulders.

He wishes he could say that he doesn't know what drew him up there. The roof across from the fifth floor apartment of Eli Delaney.

Yes, if he could deny his cause, he would. But he can't, because that cause is, well...her. 

Waking up to her voice had actually frightened him at first, but eventually he realised that the strong and sure tone that was so familiar had been pouring from the speakers of the television.

Another night spent drinking on the couch. He had to push Rose's hungover body off of him, in order to drop to the floor and crawl over to the TV.

There she was, smiling at the reporters like the devil, destroying her opponent in the most classy of ways. It actually makes him glance at Rose for a moment and wonder how she'd handle that.

When the clip finishes and the screen is displaying Gotham's most popular gossiper, Jess from Juice With Jess, she starts talking about how PDA between Jason and her had depleted.

So he switches the channel, not wanting to see previous examples, and lands on another piece of DA Election controversy. 

Delaney himself.

"You don't think Venus Meadow is fit to be the DA anymore?" 

It's only one reporter talking to him in a park, and Jason knows that Delaney probably called the news outlet himself and only one showed up.

He grins, "Oh, I don't think Venus Meadow was fit to be DA in the first place. I mean she was so young when they thrust her into that role illegally. I actually feel bad for her, I pity her, really. When I'm DA after this election I'm really going to get justice for her. I mean let's be honest, she wouldn't be DA at this age if she didn't look like a Supermodel. If she were ugly or fat she wouldn't be looked at twice, you know? I think Gotham deserves someone real." 

The more the little prick speaks, the worse Jason feels and the angrier his shaking fists become. It's not entirely anger towards Delaney- in fact, he was angry at himself for thinking of defending her.

Yet that's exactly what he's doing, drunk, on a rooftop, sniper pointed at Eli Delaney's head. He's washing dishes in the kitchen of his apartment, laughing in a conversation with his much smaller husband

That will pile the pressure on Venus alone. Most LGBTQ+ citizens will be looking to support Delaney, and anything Venus says against him can be twisted to sound homophobic.

So, shouldn't he fire? Another opponent will appear, much easier to handle.

However the longer his finger lingers on that trigger, and the longer he thinks of splattering blood and brains on the window in a drunken moment of drowning love, he can think of reasons not to.

First of all, his husband is right there.

Second, he hasn't really done anything entirely illegal.

Third, he's not getting paid for it.

Fourth, his gir-....she, can handle anything and anyone.

And fifth, lately, he's been turning over new leaves for a reason he can't quite put his finger on.

The final straw is his phone going off in the chest pocket of his jacket. Jason spends a few more seconds staring through the scope, before relenting, drawing back and taking out his phone.

'Coming home tonight? ;) I'm waiting' 

Lazarus eyes stare into the words from Rose. Jason grimaces and leaves the message, returning to contacts and scrolling down. He opens up his last conversation with her. 

'I'm outside', was all his last text said. Every time he thinks of that moment in the alley his heart seizes up and he can't breathe.

Scrolling up, a barrage of worried texts lie, from the nights he had disappeared. Angry, he scrolls and scrolls through their last weeks together until he finds one that eases everything.

'I love you, idiot.' 

It's her voice he hears it in.

Less than a minute later, the vigilante for hire has his set up packed away. Securing the case on his back, Red Hood swings off into the night, following the same route he always does.

In his usual perch there is an empty bear bottle and a makeshift table. It's a little nest-like top of a water tower on the apartment adjacent to Venus'.

There, he sits down and takes a deep breath, watching the window to the apartment with tired eyes or through the scope or binoculars. 

He can't see her- hell, she might still be at the office.

It's something that makes him hate himself. Here he is, sitting on a roof watching his pregnant ex-girlfriend's apartment like a stalker when he could be fucking his new...whatever her appropriate title is.

But this; he'd rather this.

He'd rather her.

But he'd rather not.