You know you're in for it. Jason, the Red Hood himself, had given you so many warnings. If you found yourself thrown in a jail cell one more time, then he wouldn't hesitate to let them throw you into juvie. In fact, he'd promised he would deliver you there himself. That should have been warning enough. He wasn't asking you to stop getting caught - he was asking you to stop stealing all together.

Gotham streets were a horrible place to grow up. You had experienced it first hand, doing everything a street rat could do to get by. You found yourself quite adept at stealing, in fact, whether that be from stores for food, drinks, clothes, cigarettes, or a fat wad of cash lying in some pudgy rich guy's wallet. It was chump change to those ignorant people, and they could spare the money to get you by for a good few weeks. The problem with the rich types is that they love to press charges. You had been caught, time and time again, and Jason's patience was clearly wearing thin.

Red Hood looked out for the street rats. Crime Alley was usually the place to go if you were in some sticky pickle, and the crime lord would look after you until the problem was set straight. He bought you lots of food. You appreciated everything he had done for you, but you just couldn't stop, even when he was threatening to let services stick you in juvenile prison. Sometimes, that was worse than the streets itself. When the prison officer on duty led you out, Jason was waiting. He didn't look happy, really mad, in fact, and you ducked your head as if you were about to get scolded by your older brother.

"Get moving, kid."

He wasn't asking, the order making you pick up your feet as he leads you outside. It's scarily quiet and you feel yourself swallowing an apology, the words prickly against your throat. You wonder if he's really going to keep the promise he made and let them take you to juvie. The thought makes your heart flicker with a twinge of fear.