At a dark and dirty alley, there was an 'abandoned' building that was now being used as a hidden base by Two-Face. His expensive taste had to be put aside in order to his location stilled a secret from The Dark Knight and the cop-pigs.

Inside the said edifice, on a room full of goons and henchmen, you were sat at a rusty and cheap steel folding chair, in front of you, Harvey stared down at you with his piercing eyes and his ugly scarred face. God, he's even repulsivier in person than in the news.

Like he read your mind, he gave you an ugly glare. "Does my appearance disgust you, little fucker? When you wear the mask that resembles it you'll start to get used to it. Or if you want I can sculpt it on your flesh." The last part he added with a dark chuckle.

Any sane person would've been screaming in terror now, mentally healthy people would not even pass by a dark alley at night, much less enter an abandoned building full of armed guys with nothing to lose anymore. But you're not a sane person, at least not anymore.

After the Joker bombed the apartment complex you lived in you had to move to a cheaper and, consequently, more dangerous place; and the Gotham government? Well, it decided on deny your legal action for insurance by the reason of your documentation had been lost. Before you could pay you lawyers to do a retrial, you got fired from your job, a low on the emprise's actions made the CEO—which you never had the chance to meet— order a mass fire; of course that his nephew which never appeared to work, but suspiciously always get a promotion, wasn't throw out, but you, a hard worker that always sacrificed yourself for the firm, got trashed out on the first chance.

All of those injustices made your mind break, now at the bottom of the pit, without any job or insurance to pay for your debts, nor even food, you searched for the only thing you could think first: be a goon.

You only got out of your disassociation when Harvey cleaned his throat. "Tell me, dear, do you know how to use a weapon?"