Jason was pissed. Somehow, local gangs had amassed power and were wreaking havoc in the less patrolled parts of Gotham. Of course, Batman was too busy dealing with his rogue gallery to worry about the gangs killing people left and right. That left Redhood to deal with it.

It was late, and the gritty streets of Gotham were eerily quiet, save for the occasional distant siren. Jason's frustration had reached its boiling point. He had been tracking the movements of these gangs for weeks, but they seemed to be one step ahead of him, always slipping through his fingers like sand. The local crime scene was in disarray, and his usual tactics weren't cutting it. He needed help.

The memory of Flare's fiery display haunted him. She had a knack for making an entrance, but her abilities were something he couldn't deny—powerful and effective. Despite his reservations, he found himself considering her offer, if only because he was desperate. His usual methods weren't getting results, and at the very least her power might scare the gangs enough for him to catch a break and figure out how to stop them.

Jason took to the rooftops, his mind racing as he made his way to the old warehouse on 38th Street. It was a decrepit, abandoned building—perfect for clandestine meetings and late-night rendezvous. His boots made little noise as he landed lightly on the roof, scanning the surroundings.

He had prepared for this meeting with a mix of skepticism, reservation, and a small amount of hope. Flare's offer was clear, but he wasn't about to take it at face value. If she showed up, it would be on his terms.

The wind howled as Jason set up a small fire on the roof's edge—a signal for Flare. It wasn't long before a familiar sensation crackled in the air. Flames began to dance around the small sparks, growing in intensity until, in a flash, Flare materialized from the fire, her presence both commanding and enigmatic.

"Thought you might show up," Jason said, crossing his arms as he regarded her with a cautious nod.

Flare's eyes met his, a mixture of curiosity and guarded amusement. "I have to admit, I wasn't sure you'd call. Most people don't like to admit they need help."

Jason grunted. "Let's just say I'm not exactly thrilled with the way things are going. The gangs are more organized than I thought, and I could use an extra set of hands—especially ones that can control fire."

Flare's expression softened slightly. "That's a start. What do I need to know?"

Jason narrowed his eyes at her, not that she could see through his helmet.

"You mean that you don't already know? I saw the burn marks on that building last week. I know you have been lending a hand here and there." He had noticed women and children arriving safely to their homes in certain areas that are usually more sketchy as well. She had been lending a hand while staying out of sight.

Flare's eyes crinkled above the scarf that covered the lower half of her face. She still had the domino mask on as well.

"I figured I'd stay out of your way. Wouldn't want to step on any toes or interrupt any covert operations" Her tone gave away the smirk he knew again was likely on her face. He deserved that, he'd admit it. His attempt at shoeing her off the other night had been rude, but it wasn't unwarranted. 

"Consider yourself cued in on any going forward. I'd rather have the help." He gritted out.

Flare just let out another light raspy laugh, her voice reminding him oddly of a cat's purr.

Jason detailed the recent developments—how the gangs had started coordinating attacks, how their resources seemed endless, and how his usual tactics weren't enough. He watched as Flare listened intently, her fiery eyes focused and attentive.

"Alright," she said finally, her tone shifting to one of resolve. "I can help with that. My flames can provide a level of control and deterrence that should help us get a handle on this situation. But we need a plan. What's your angle?"

Jason's gaze was steely. "I want to hit them where it hurts—cut off their resources and disrupt their operations. We need to strike fast and hard, take out their leaders, and create chaos in their ranks. With your firepower, we can make it happen."

Flare nodded, the fire around her flickering with anticipation before dying down. "And I assume you want to keep this partnership... discreet?"

"Discreet is an understatement," Jason replied. "If Batman finds out, he'll want to control the whole operation. And I don't need him complicating things more than they already are."

Flare's mask hid her smirk, but the glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "Fine by me. I prefer working behind the scenes anyway. Don't need the attention. When do we start?"

"Tonight," Jason said decisively. "We need to hit their warehouses and see if we can't cripple their supply chain. I'll provide intel and cover; you provide the firepower and control."

With a nod, Flare stepped closer, her flames rising to a gentle glow outlining her body "Consider it done. But let's get one thing straight—I'm not just here to be your backup. I have my own agenda, and this partnership better be mutual."

Jason looked her in the eye, acknowledging the weight of her words. "Fair enough. We'll both get what we need out of this. Just don't expect me to go easy on you if you get in my way."

Flare's gaze was unwavering. "And don't think you can dictate everything. We're partners, not puppets. I've had enough of that in my life, nobody ever will call my shots for me again. The last one who tried winded up dead."

Their uneasy alliance was sealed with a nod, an unspoken understanding passing between them. As they prepared to head out, Jason couldn't shake the feeling that this partnership would be more complex than he anticipated. Yet, as they stood together against the backdrop of Gotham's cityscape, there was a glimmer of hope in their combined efforts.

Gotham's shadows seemed a little less daunting with the promise of their collaboration. The night was far from over, and as they descended into the chaos below, both Red Hood and Flare knew that their fight had just begun.