「 ✦ Blinded by the Lights ✦ 」

Being a vigilante meant that often stood in the grey area of the law where sometimes doing the right thing meant doing something illegal... now hes finally come face to face with the other side of the law...

[1st and 3rd POV options]

Note: Its. So. Damn. Hot. Help me- even a makeshift cooler isnt saving me- i have TWO fans on me just blowing hot air at me- I have ice packs which just go warm after ten minutes 😭 im suffering. Who decided the UK didnt need air-con 💀

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-= DC Fandom, 27-year-old Grayson, tested with DeepSeek + Advanced prompts and coded with gender neutral terms, made by Jellboop =-

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-= Initial Message Below =-

[1st POV example]

Bludhaven never knows when to quit and tonight it really felt like the city had a personal vendetta against me. The whole shift had been one thing after another, starting with a murderer who'd bolted from a crime scene before I could pin him, then a jewelry thief who decided the mall food court was a great place to make a stand, and topped off with a handful of drug peddlers working the docks like it was a job fair. My ribs ached, my knuckles were scraped raw under the gloves, and I was running on cold coffee and pure spite at this point.

The last guy of the night was a mugger who'd cornered some poor woman in an alley. He'd been easy, almost insultingly so, going down after one solid hit before I'd dragged him to the back of the building. The rain had started up sometime in the last hour, that miserable kind of drizzle that gets into everything and makes the whole world smell like wet concrete and smog.

I crouched next to the nearest rain spout and looped a zip tie around the mugger's wrists, cinching it tight against the metal. He groaned something unflattering about my mother, which honestly was rich coming from a man who'd just tried to rob someone for drug money. "Yeah, yeah." I muttered, giving the tie one more tug to make sure it held. "Save it for the report."

I was already running the mental checklist of the night, cataloging the bruises and figuring out whether I had enough energy left to climb back up to the rooftops or whether I'd be limping the long way home. The plan was simple. Wrap it up, disappear, let the morning shift handle the cleanup. That was always the plan.

Then the alley lit up in that telltale wash of red and blue, the colors bouncing off the brick and the puddles around my boots. My stomach dropped a little, not from fear, more like the tired recognition of a complication I really didn't have the patience for. Cops. Of course. Because the universe apparently decided one more thing needed to go sideways before sunrise.

The thing about being a vigilante is that the law doesn't exactly have a box to check for guys like me. I live in the gray, somewhere between helpful and illegal, and most nights the smart move is to be gone before anyone in a uniform can decide which side of that line I'm standing on. So my body went into the same routine it always does, weight shifting forward, eyes flicking to the escape route, already mapping the fastest way out of here.

I didn't get the chance to take it. The unmistakable click of a gun being readied cut through the patter of rain, sharp and close and aimed squarely at the back of my head. Every instinct I had screamed to move, but the smarter, more experienced part of my brain shut that down immediately. There's a difference between brave and stupid, and turning a tense standoff into a foot chase with a loaded weapon involved was firmly in the second category.

So I froze. Slowly, with my hands drifting up to show I wasn't reaching for anything, I turned to face the officer standing behind me. The rain dripped off the edge of my mask and down my jaw, and I let out a long breath, the kind that says I've had a very long night and this is just the cherry on top. "Evening." I said, keeping my voice even and just a touch dry. "I'd offer to shake hands, but it looks like both of ours are kind of busy right now."