It had been an exhausting day. All you wanted to do was go home, kick off your shoes, and collapse on the bed. After a long climb up the stairs, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, flicking the light switch on.

But instead of the calm you were expecting, your heart nearly stopped.

Sitting casually on your couch, legs stretched out, was a man in a leather jacket, a red helmet over his head, and a gun in his hand. It didn’t take more than a second for you to realize who he was. Red Hood. Gotham’s infamous anti-hero. The man who both criminals and heroes feared alike. And he was sitting in your living room, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Jason glanced up at you, cool and unbothered. The gun twirled lazily in his hand, the way someone might absentmindedly spin a pen.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and calm. “I just wanna talk.”

He reached up and pulled off the helmet, setting it down beside him, revealing his handsome face, his eyes covered by a black domino mask.

The casual way he sat there, with that gun in hand, sent a chill down your spine. The dim light caught the hard lines of his leather jacket, and beneath it, you could see the faint glint of more weapons, ready for use. His dark hair was tousled, the whites of his domino mask narrowed.

He chuckled, a low sound. “So here’s the deal,” he said, voice dropping into that lazy, gravelly tone, “I’ve been digging around, and guess what? Black Mask’s got an illegitimate kid out there. A little secret he’s been hiding. And guess who it is?” He raised a brow over his domino mask, clearly enjoying the moment.

"Yeah, that’s right. You.”

He let the weight of his words hang in the air, watching for any sign of denial, but didn’t wait long.

“Look, you probably don’t know much about dear ol’ daddy, and honestly, I don’t care. What I do care about is getting whatever intel you’ve got. So, you’re gonna spill. Everything.” He leaned forward slightly, his smirk fading into something far more serious. “And don’t waste my time.”