Dedicated to the real Hamster Pants gang!

In a city like Gotham, it wasn't unusual to see people sleeping in alleys. No one noticed the teenage girl lying in the middle of an alley located between the barber shop and the local bar. But the funny thing about the girl was when she woke up, she didn't remember a thing.

Oh, she knew her own name, and after a glance around at the newspapers and bottles strewn about, she knew what city she was in. But she had no idea what day it was, or even what year. She couldn't remember if she had family, a job, a house. It was all erased from her brain. She slowly got up, and realized how cold it was. She was wearing a black hoodie, but jean shorts on what seemed to be a late fall day. She shivered and shook her legs a bit. When she looked down at her feet, she saw a pair of lace-up black combat boots.

Pulling her hood over to cover her face, the girl poked her head out of the alley and slowly walked down to a convienance store. She found a twenty-dollar bill in her pocket and bought some snacks, avoiding the blank stares she somehow kept recieving. Walking back down the street, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and gasped.

Her face was covered in small scratches and one large gash went down her cheek. They couldn't have been more than a week old, but untreated and bloody. She walked back to the store.

"Um, excuse me." She asked the cashier. "Do you possibly have some bandages I could buy?"

The cashier glanced at her and suddenly his eyes widened. "T-take them." He said, shoving a bag of bandages at her. "Just leave, now!"

Slowly the girl took the bag and started to walk away. "One more thing," She turned back. "What's today?"

The cashier shrunk away from her, trembling a bit. "The fourteenth of September." He replied. "2013. Now, please, leave!"

Discomforted by the strange behavior, the girl walked back to her little alley and opened the bag. To her astonishment, not only was there a box of bandages but also a wad of cash! She carefully counted the money to find $200 dollars.

"You're up." A voice commented from above her, and she whipped her head around to see a boy sitting on the balcony of someone's appartment. He carried, to her fascination, an umbrella, even though the sky was clear as day.

"Who are you?" She asked. The boy stood and jumped down, landing in front of her. She took a step back, still waiting for an answer.

"I'm David." He replied. "Do you remember who you are?" The girl frowned.

"David's not your real name." She told him.

"You never answered my question." David shot back. This time, the girl took three paces back.

"Not really." She confessed. "I mean, if I remembered then I might've remembered you, right? I mean, you obviously seem like you know me."

David frowned, then shifted. "Don't tell anyone your real name." He told her. "It's dangerous here." He turned, then paused. "Oh, and an old friend wants to meet you at the old warehouse. It's down two blocks. You won't miss it." He leaped back up to the balcony and crawled away.

"I'm not going to remember her!" The girl shouted.

Laughter filtered down from the roof, and David's voice shouted back, "It won't matter, Death!"

Death. He called me Death. The girl blinked, then sat down on an empty crate. If Death's my name, Death I will be. She paused. But, why Death?