Disclaimer.

I'm aware of the lack of writing... Just a little bit longer!

Right, to explain this one-shot, I saw B: UTRH (Again) last night (and then Zohan... lovely way to celebrate birthdays, right? lol) with one of my brothers and a friend and I was inspired by the alleyway scene with the Fearsome Hand of Four and I was just like "why not"... so yeah. I've only written 3 Under the Red Hood (crossover) one-shots so I figured a good ol' movie-only centered little fic would be good! I think...

Be warned, after staying up till two, this was what my brain came up with, but I didn't finish it till later this morning.

I know I have like 10 stories in progress, I'm planning another crossover (long fic), but please please please know that I will get to it all ASAP! (which might be a while). NOTHING IS ON HIATUS OR BEING DISCONTINUED. In case you thought so. NOR HAS ANYTHING BEEN ABANDONED. Just so you know.

This is my 50th Story posted on this site! ! ! ! Wow... that's a lot. tee hee!

Thanks so much for reading!

The assassin awoke in the the alley with an aching body and a swimming head. Sitting up, she looked around, her heart sinking at the sight of blood spattered on the wall and the two others unconscious. Police sirens could be heard in the distance.

How much time had passed since she had been knocked out?

She couldn't remember.

Standing slowly, grabbing her weapon, she shook her head back and forth, as if to rid herself of her blurred vision, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Looking again at her fallen fellow assassins - one dead, two still out - she sighed regretfully and dashed off, leaving her comrades for dead. But after her target - with the help of the Batman - had defeated her team, she knew that it would be wise to lay low after a while.

Wondering what all had transpired in the night, she decided to crash somewhere and find out, and headed off towards a poorer section of Gotham. She had an apartment in the city, of course, but it was rarely ever used, since she was a blade for hire - a good one at that - but after tonight, she was ready for a short break from killing people.

As she ran through the streets, ducked through alleys, leaped over obstacles, and restrained herself from killing anyone who get in her way, she felt strangely numb. Leaving one's group often resulted in guilt residing in the mind and body, rendering it practically useless in some cases, but she didn't feel sorry at all - not one bit.

She had planned on leaving anyway.

Eventually, she found the horrid, abandoned apartment she had been searching for in one of the worse places in Gotham to be in at any time of day and managed to find the key, which was buried somewhere in the rubble surrounding the door. Shoving it open, she stepped in, sighed heavily, and slammed the door with more force than intended. The old hinges groaned but did not break, which was a relief. Broken doors did no one any good in a town like this.

After peeling off her armor and dressing in civilian clothes for once, she walked into a poor excuse of a living room - which contained a sagging, stained, funny-smelling, dark brown couch and a decently sized television with a crack in the corner of the screen. She found the old remote - only the power button worked - and turned it on, immediately going to the news station.

Something about Black Mask being released on bail was going on. Not that she cared that her employer was getting released or that she wasn't getting paid for not getting the job done, but she would have rather seen him rot for everything he'd ever done instead of go free like all the rest of the crime lords with money and connections.

Assassins shouldn't have cared one way or another whether someone went to jail or not, unless it was their team or themselves, and they seldom bothered to check up on their employers unless it had been a certain amount of time after completing a job and not getting paid. Although she'd been paid half in advance, she had the urge to go after him and cut him up herself - with or without pay. Her pride was wounded, along with her body. How could two men win against four? Even it was the Batman and the Red Hood...

And why on Earth had Batman showed up to save the target? What could he possibly be worth to someone who fought crime with little mercy - never ending a life, as it was his code, everyone who'd even gotten a parking ticket knew this - and put his kind away in jail for the rest of their lives until their were too old to speak clearly?

She shook her head, running her hands gingerly over her face. She had several other places she could stay, but was in no mood to travel, with all the media attention everything and everyone was gathering.

The assassin sighed and turned up the volume, groaning when she heard the reporter go on and on about the night's events - events she had missed.

"The Red Hood's whereabouts are unknown, but the question still remains: why hasn't Batman caught him yet? Surely is just another villain with an agenda and a list of victims three times the length of of his arm. Why is he different? Will he resurface again in Gotham? The answers remain unknown. After a rumored battle between the Red Hood, Batman, and the Fearsome Hand of Four - two of which are in custody, one is dead, and one unaccounted for - and another rumored duel with the Batman himself, more rumors are making themselves known - is the Red Hood dead?"

The assassin took her hair out of her pony tail and let it fall around her face. She sincerely doubted that the Red Hood was dead.

"Reports say there have been no sightings since the explosion in Crime Alley..."

The Red Hood was too smart to be seen. She figured that, perhaps, he wanted to make people think he'd either left or was truly dead, and then come back to take control over what he had stolen, threatened, and killed for - but then again, if he really was dead...

He didn't like loose ends. That had become apparent since he had first surfaced in the crime of Gotham. The criminals heard and knew things before the good-deed-doing citizens and all-too-nosy media did, and she was no exception to the talk in the alleyways or the conversations murmured in fear of being caught or killed.

Loose ends who knew things got killed.

Shaking her had slowly, blinking rapidly to defeat the fear of a crippling concussion as her vision momentarily swam as her head began pounding again, she stood shakily.

Thinking, she wondered if he was one for revenge. Whatever had happened with the Joker had obviously been a result of that. So was she now the target, the hunted, the one who had to worry about someone trying to put a knife in her back?

She hoped not.

Shuffling her feet as she made her way towards the kitchen, and looked inside the ancient, humming refrigeration for something to drink.

There wasn't even alcohol.

Grumbling, she went back to the couch as a detailed history of the Red Hood's criminal acts were being listed by the monotonous reporter, ignoring it completely as her eyes began to flutter shut.

Silently, she contemplated her options. Leaving what was left of her team for dead would surely deliver a blow to the Fearsome Hand of Four's reputation - along with her own - and running away would certainly cause suspicion to arise. She herself had faked her death on many counts to either escape another assassin like herself, the law, or life in general. If she stayed here, in Gotham, and brought her reputation to stellar heights, then she would be getting paid again. Money wasn't an issue, but killing was her job. It was all that she knew and probably would ever know in her lifetime, until she either died or was killed by another when someone got the better of her.

Sighing, she shook her head, making up her mind quicker than she would have normally. Maybe she was scared, maybe she really was - maybe she just wanted to lay low, or perhaps just move on to another city. But her decision was made, no matter what the reasons for it.

The assassin would be leaving in the morning.