(y/n) = your name

(y/l/n) = your last name

(f/n) = father's name

(s/n) = sister's name

(h/c) = hair color

(e/c) = eye color









The streets of Gotham were not something to take lightly, you never knew what could happen. Whether it be robbed, kidnapped, raped or murdered; Gotham was no paradise. The crime rate is unbelievable here. You could never be too careful when walking around these part, especially when night falls. When the sun goes down, you don't want to be out in the streets.





Dangerous or not, I was not going to just sit at home. Especially not with my drunk father and a few of his gang buddies. See here, my father is involved with... let's just say some bad people. And I was not going to stay in that house while they drank booze and get drunk. I already learned that lesson after multiple hands grope at my butt and try to get in my pants. I was sick and tired of it, so I decided to just go for a walk until they either gone home or were passed out drunk.





At one point I was passing by a rundown crappy apartment complex, when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from my dad.





'Out of beer, stop by Joe's and buy some'





Sighing, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and jogged the couple of blocks to my apartment building.





"This is illegal," I muttered to myself. As I climbed the stairs to a door marked with the number 9, the metal slightly rusted. I knocked on the door and waited. I heard the faint sound of footsteps and a few locks being undone. I looked up when the door was swung open and a tall male stood before me. When he saw who it was at the door a slow grin grew on his face. Light stubble dusted his jaw and chin, crawling up his cheeks. Joe was probably in his mid to late twenties and was a buddy of my dad's. He wasn't as bad as dad's other friends, but that doesn't mean I'd trust or hang around with him. He was still a jerk who had no sense of personal boundaries. He smiled like the Cheshire Cat and leaned against the doorframe.





"Well hello miss (y/n)," he purred "now what can I do for you this fine evening?"





I rolled my eyes, "I need some beer. Do you happen to have an extra pack you can spare?" The whole situation was pathetic. I can't believe I'm stuck with my dad and he's dragging me into his lifestyle. I know my father is doing really bad things, but that doesn't mean I hate him. I just hate what he does.





"Tsk, maybe I do. What can you offer me?" He smirked down at my short stature. Quickly, I dug out a few bucks from my pocket and thrust out my hand to him. He reached out and took the cash and pocketed it. Before I could retreat my arm he shot out and grabbed my wrist, yanking me forward.





The sudden movement surprised me, causing me to lose my footing and fall into his chest. What is wrong with these men and not taking a freaking hint?Joe leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear. I could smell the cheap cologne he wore.





"I was thinking of something different."





I almost gagged as I felt his hot breath on my neck. I balled my hand into a fist, ready to hit him where the sun don't shine when a sudden loud bang was heard from the floor above us.





That was where my apartment was. And I am positive that was a gun shot. I felt Joe's hand tighten on my wrist and pulled me in his apartment.





"Hey!" I protested trying to get him to let go.





Joe whipped around and whispered for me to keep quiet. He let go and told me to stay then went into what I assumed was his bedroom. He returned a few seconds later with something black in his hand.





He came over to where I stood in the middle of his living room. He shoved the object in my hands. I examined the object and immediately recognized it as a handgun.





I felt my stomach drop as I held the lethal weapon in my shaking hands. I stood there with fear freezing me to the spot.





I looked up when I heard Joe tell me to stay there and not leave until he came back. I nodded my head and watched him leave closing the door behind him.





As soon as I heard the door click into place I came to my senses and rushed to the couch. I crouched down hiding behind the worn out love seat and I pulled out my phone and dialed the number.





"Hello 911 what's your emerg-"





"Please help," I whispered into the phone tears beginning to stream down my face "I heard a gunshot and I-"





The woman cut me off as my crying was getting hard to understand my words, "Alright miss, I need you to please tell me your location." I told her the address "Alright miss, help will be-"





I suddenly realized something and fear flowed through me as my instincts took over. I dropped the phone and ran out the door. I wasn't thinking as I rushed up the stairs. I had to get to her. I can't believe I forgot about her!





I reached the top of the steps and immediately noticed my apartment door open. I raised the gun that I had been gripping for dear life and made my way into my home. I scanned the room and choked on bike as I saw all three of my father's friends and him laying motionless on the ground. I quickly went to my dad's body. I checked for a pulse and felt the flutter of his heart beat. He was alive.





I relaxed for a moment but jumped back up when I heard an infant's cry. I gripped the gun and rushed to my bedroom. I slowly opened the door, and when I saw no one I threw the gun onto my dresser and rushed over to the crib that rested in the far corner of the room. I scooped up the small infant and cradled her in my arms.





My 8 month old sister instantly recognized my gently coos and rocking motions and calmed down. "Shh shh it's okay. I'm here, (s/n). I'm here, it's okay baby girl." I bounced here in my arms rocking back and forth, her small body held close to me. I remember putting her down for bed and she was a quiet child, usually slept the entire night. So I left her in our room which was the very back room of the apartment furthest from the living room. I knew she wouldn't wake up if they got a little rowdy and dad would never let anyone lay a finger on her, so I was assured enough to go out for a few hours. But with the gunshot, she awoke to the loud bang, scaring her.





(S/n)'s cries quieted to small whimpers as she recognized the familiar embrace of my arms and chest. Ever since my mother's death, I have cared for her as if she were my own. I fed her, changed her, slept with her. She was the most precious thing I had left. And I would give my life for her.





"I have to admit you looked a little young to be a mom, but hey you look good after having a kid."





I gasped and spun around to see a tall dark figure standing in my bedroom doorway. I couldn't just barely make out his clothes; which consisted of a dark brown leather jacket, black cargo pants with belt that held a gun holster on each sides, and dark military boots. But what stood out most was the blood red full head helmet, white eyes staring at me from across the room.





I was stricken with fear, (s/n) clutched to my chest protectively as the masked man stepped further into my bedroom. I watched as he stopped next to my dresser and picked up my discarded handgun, "Hm semi automatic pistol," he muttered to himself as he took out the magazine "and half full." He chuckled lightly as if he found it amusing.





I swallowed the lump in my throat and squeaked out, "What do you want with us?"





The masked man looked back up at me as he tossed the magazine onto the dresser and tossed the empty gun somewhere to his right, in the darkened corner of the room. He began to stalk towards us, every step that brought him closer, I took one back. We continued until I felt my back hit the edge of the crib. He kept approaching. And soon towered over my height of 5'3". The wood of the crib side was painfully digging into my back as I tried to desperately put some distance between us.





The man was so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Tears began to once again make their way down my face as I starred back at the almost glowing white, that were where his eyes would be.





He slowly raised a gloved hand and brushed the tears with his thumb, and whispered gently, "I won't hurt you." I cringed away from his touch, but he didn't pull back. Instead, with the same hand he placed his palm under my jaw and brushed back strands of my (h/l) (h/c) hair behind my ear. I was speechless by how gentle his voice sounded.





"Red Hood," a sharp deep voice spoke, making me jump slightly and the masked man sigh. He took a step back and turned to the person who spoke.





I stepped slightly to the side to see around, whom I assumed was this Red Hood character, and saw a large dark figure brooding in the doorway. My eyes widened to the size of saucers as I instantly recognized the caped man.





"Batman," I breathed out in amazement.