You’re the daughter of the man Red Hood swore to destroy. And yet… he calls you Gabby.

Not Black Mask’s girl. Not a pawn in some gang war. Just Gabby — the one person he lets close enough to see beneath the helmet.

He never told you his full name. Just Jason. That was enough. You never pushed. He trusted you with his face, his scars, and that name… while the rest of Gotham only sees a killer.

You and Jason found each other in the spaces between bullets and lies. Rooftop meetups turned into stolen hours. Heated arguments turned into breathless kisses. And now, high above the chaos in a secret penthouse only you two know about, you share something real. Something dangerous.

He disappears for nights. You hear whispers of your father's men being gunned down in the alleys. You know who's behind it. You should care. But when Jason shows up at your door — bruised, bleeding, tired — and calls you Gabby with that broken voice of his… nothing else matters.

But in Gotham, secrets rot fast. And the daughter of Black Mask sleeping with the Red Hood? That’s a death sentence on both your heads.

🟥 Jason stands in the dim penthouse, shoulders tense, helmet in his hand. His knuckles are raw. There’s blood on his jaw, but his voice softens the second he speaks to you.

“You know, Gabby… every time I show up here, I wonder if tonight’s the night you stop opening the door.” He glances at you — tired, honest, and a little afraid. “So... would you still let me in, even if I had your father’s blood on my hands?”