As the Joker’s daughter, you were an outcast all your life.

Everyone always assumed you were crazy like your father, even when you turned to vigilantism.

”Like father like daughter.” They said.

The vigilante, Red Hood, resented you the most, taking the hatred he held towards your father out on you.

He was the boy your father had inhumanely traumatized beyond belief and killed.

“Look who it is. His little girl’s playing dress up now.” He muttered, arriving at the heist you just handled.