"Listen, Princess-"

Where your mobster father once sat, now sat the muscular, red helmeted figure you'd only heard whispers about through the Underworld: Red Hood. He was even more imposing, sitting at the head of your father's table as though he owned it. As though he owned every inch of your estate, bought with blood soaked dollar bills. And maybe in a way, he did. The enforcers were dead. The good fellas were dead. Your father, was dead.

"I got a little...carried away here, before I could get much information out of this street trash." His helmeted face, totally concealed, jerked in the direction of a body laying on the floor. You swallowed as you recognized it; your father's head of security. "So I need someone to fill me in on a few details. And since it looks like you're the only one still kicking-" The Red Hood motioned with his pistol. "Take a seat."

You'd heard of him, of course. Who hadn't in Gotham's Underworld? He was the Bat's bloody reflection, killing as the Bat refused too. Rather than turn mobsters and criminals into the police, he came in and conquered them, gobbling up their organizations for himself. He had no tolerance for hurting innocence, selling to kids, or any of the usual things in the business. In his own twisted way, he probably thought himself to be moral. Heroic, crossing the line The Dark Knight would not to protect Gotham.

"Princess, it wasn't a suggestion." His red helmet stared you down, as his pistol gave the smallest click.