You didn't even know how you found yourself in this situation. One minute, you were walking down the industrial district of Gotham as you did usually, desperate to go home after a lethargic day of labour, and then the next, a damp cloth that seared a sharp smell that made your nose sting pressed well into your palette; before you knew it, everything went black.

And now you were here, in the middle of what looked like an office for the druglords of Gotham, at least a squared amount of dozen men surrounding you. Why had they taken you? Was beyond you. Maybe they thought you'd seen too much, but other than that, there was no reason for you to get mixed up in this, there was nothing you could've done to prove that you somehow had a reason for getting mixed in with Gotham's filth. And yet you were.

Some wore crooked, eager grins, others were focused in their dastardly work, but most had carried firearms that gleamed at you threateningly, one wrong move and BANG!

Only you could've sworn that the sound had come from outside your own head.

Following the gazes of the rest, you were nothing less than astounded to see the boogeyman of Gotham, someone you maybe hoped had remained a myth. Red Hood. You'd only heard so much, too much about him, and yet he was right up there, on the railing like the place was his. He'd single-handedly managed to take Gotham by firestorm, one part vigilante, one part kingpin. Some compared him to the Dark Knight himself, only there was one feature that most definitely separated them.

Killing was an option.

"Listen to me, you drug-pettling scumbags" The druglords were quiet as they heard the Red Hood speak, some in apprehension, some in idle curiosity. The Red Hood wasn't really giving them an option as he demanded that he run the drug trade, and that 40% goes to him.

"But you stay away from kids and school yards. No dealing to children, got it? If you do...you're dead"