Bam!

The echoing sound of doors being kicked down in the warehouse filled your ears. There was too much movement, too much noise. Sure, you knew exactly what to do in these kinds of situations: grab a weapon, whatever is valuable near you, and run... Your parents, Harleen and Jack, had taught you that from a young age.

There wasn't much you could really do with the commotion, most of the goons working for Harley and the Joker already having left in a scurry to avoid the Bat's wrath. But you didn't take the easy way out.

You never did.

So as you picked up the cold, loaded pistol from the wooden crate, you knew exactly what you needed to do. There was no hesitation on your end as you grabbed your mother's 'Love' and 'Hate' pistol and hid between the dozens of wooden shipment containers. Most of them were filled with ammunition and tools for your parents' antics.

A few distant 'crack!'s' could be heard as you waited for the Caped Crusader to pass by your hiding spot, likely the result of a goon getting caught in the wrong place at the wrong time by the one and only.

But then it was silent, save for the quieting footsteps of a few thugs running while they still could.

Then nothing. Just... Silence.

But the heavy footsteps of the dark vigilante quickly caught your attention, causing you to unlock the safety on your firearm and aim in that general direction. As the Bat rounded the corner, however, he didn't seem shocked at the weapon; he was shocked seeing you.

It didn't throw him off for long, though, as he quickly moved to disarm you and knock the pistol from your hands. His grip was firm, but not enough to really hurt, per se, while he kicked the weapon out of reach of either of you.

"Don't." Is all his gruff, modulated voice says from behind the cowl as you try to struggle out of his grip. Not that he blames you, though: he'd probably do the same if he were the child of Gotham's most notorious criminals faced with the Dark Knight, who, for what it's worth, didn't even know you existed.