Batman Under The Red Hood Black Mask Novels & Stories

It was far darker and deeper than the orangey red of the djinn. I shielded my eyes, blinded by the intensity and power of the aura that now clashed against the djinns. It diminished and there, a few metres away, stood a man. He was lean, tall, and muscular, wearing all black with a black cloak around his shoulders, but what got to me was that his clothing was similar to Mom’s; he had his hood up, and a black mask covered his face. His hands were gloved and the only part of him that was visible were his eyes.

“I assumed as much.” Eve leans forward. “What kind?” Alex doesn’t hesitate. “Red.” That gets a few smiles. A few raised brows. “Head to toe, masks also,” Alex continues. “Not tactical black. Not camouflage. Red Death doesn’t hide.” She looked at Eve. And repeated the words from the warden "All that red. That’s what makes it easy to see you coming.” Maz lets out a quiet laugh. “Subtle.” “They already called us demons,” Alex says. “We’re not here to convince them otherwise.”

Daniel smiled at him and answered, “I…I work for the black mask. Though, I am not sure if I am still working for him.” Valencia asked him sharply, “What is this black mask?” “Not what…who…black mask is the person who is behind all this. He is the one who operates this racket of turning able bodied men and women into werewolves by forcefully turning them.” “Do you have the name of this person? What does he look like?”

"I told you two to watch your swings. Their humans and their soft." "Very soft." The first voice pipes up. I hear footsteps come close to me as my eyes zero in on black boots before me. They squat in front of me, staying eye to eye with me. They are wearing complete black from head to toe. A black hood covers their hair but with how close I am to them, I spot red hair underneath the hood. A black mask obscures their face only revealing blazing red eyes. Literal blazing eyes. I gasp, trying to put distance between us as I see their eyes—her eyes—squint a little like she's smiling underneath the mask.

What hell am I supposed to do now? He smiled, leaning against the wall. "Maybe the goddess likes you better this way." "Don't play games with me, Liam. Not today." He flung both arms out in front of him. "Okay, okay. Okay. Relax. Let me think." He paced back and forth across his messy cabin, muttering to himself. "We need something quick… straightforward. Maybe—" "Maybe what?" I prompted. "Maybe we cloak you." "Disguise?" I asked.

“Classic. Elegant.” I snorted. “You mean boring.” “Boring?” He raised an eyebrow. “And what do you suggest?” I leaned against the table, grinning. “Red tux. You’d look hot.” Garrett choked on his coffee, glaring at me. “Red? Do I look like a magician to you?” I laughed so hard I nearly dropped the newspaper. “Fine, fine. Black. But maybe with red lining inside. Just to keep things fiery.” He shook his head but smiled. “You’re impossible.”

My opponent was already in there. "Tonight's the night!," the announcer announced. "Red vs Blade. The two strongest fighters!" Blade. He's the only other strongest fighter apart from me. Obviously, I was trained so I have the upper hand here. A black mask covered his face just how my red one covers mine. His tatted chest was bare. Black shorts hung on his waist. His tattoos covered his upper arms, parts of his chest and his neck.

As though someone had deliberately stopped it at that exact moment. Amelia felt sick. “Who is he?” Victor leaned closer to the screen. “I’ve never seen that mask.” Arthur frowned. Neither had he. Ethan replayed the final seconds repeatedly. The masked man’s right hand remained visible. On his little finger… He wore a distinctive gold ring engraved with a lion. Marcus’s eyes widened. “I’ve seen that ring before.” Everyone turned toward him. “Where?” Marcus hesitated. Then answered. “On the Chairman of Blackwood International.”

With unsteady fingers, I unlock my phone. The image loads. It's dark, clearly taken inside some kind of club. Red lighting casts shadows across the scene. In the center of the photo stands a tall man wearing a black mask that covers the upper half of his face. Hayden. Even with the mask, I would recognize him anywhere, judging by the set of his shoulders, the way he stands, and the watch on his wrist.

The stage had settled, and the five of them stood like predators, completely still, perfectly poised. The yellow-masked man held a bat, the only one wearing a shirt, and the weight in his hands made it clear he could crush a skull without thinking. Green-masked was shirtless, muscles taut, holding two thick shins like extensions of his arms, ready to strike. Red-masked needed no weapon; his fists were coiled tight, veins standing out, a storm contained in his skin.