I strode silently behind my father. Down the hall of our building. How had I gotten here? This fallen city. This city of fallen people. Father. Father is a powerful man. Ruler of Gotham's Mafia. I. I am his child.

I walked closest to him. My fedora was a solid black. I wore the characteristic pinstriped suit, men's tailored suit with a solid black tie. My pale blond locks were pulled back and in a bun. I wore nothing to show that I was female. Does that stun you? A female dressed so boldly as a man? Or is it the gun under my jacket? The holster? Or is it the fact that I blend so well with my learned silence that I seem to not draw attention and when I do I seem male?

Again, Father. I am one of two daughters. I had a brother. He was killed. Killed saving my sister. Maria. She was my younger sister. They saw weakness in the feminine girl who followed Father in her pretty, modest dresses. It is safer to seem male in this life. Women are not taken seriously. Second class. I would not be that way. I'm not.

Our men fanned out in the building. This was our warehouse. The meeting was downstairs. They had called upon us. The strongest of the Underworld of Gotham. Such foolish men. Calling on the tiger to help them. A tiger that could easily turn and kill them with a twitch of its tail.

Our group of five men now. Two men walked in front of Father. The bang of the doors flying open caused all in the room to look. Respect and fear. I could almost taste it. I kept my head tilted a little down so the brim of my hat hid the upper part of my face, the most of it.

The two who opened the doors stayed at the doors as sentries. The man next to me walked with me after Father who took the only open chair. I stood to Father's left. The Television in the middle was showing an Asian man. Live feed.

"What's this?" a man said with great ego and attitude. "Not man enough to come with real body guards? You got nothin' but pretty boys."

I stood with my hands clasped politely in front of me. Back straight. Feet apart. Perfect. Gambol was the man. New. Gangster. Sickening new kind that gave all gangsters a bad name. No class. No organization. I gazed at him from under my hat. His eyes turned to me. He could feel my gaze. Three men stood behind him.

Pop!

I calmly slid the gun away.

Thump.

The body of one of his three body guards fell. A neat hole between his eyes. Silence.

"Bravo," a nasally, high pitched, drawling voice said as they clapped and came in the door. "Nice shot."

All eyes were on the man in clown make up. A purple suit. I turn my head back to stare straight ahead. I was here to learn from Father and keep him safe.

"It, uh, see-ms as if the, uh, pretty boy has skill," the man said as he took the spot light.

My golden amber eyes narrowed for a moment at his offer. My arm lashed out as somebody tried to use the distraction of the clown to get to Father.

"HELL!" the man yells as he struggles in my hold.

I had one of his arms bent behind his back. His face and front pressed tight to the wall. Gun to his head. I was still calm. I was taught to be. Stay detached. It keeps it from effecting you too much. Eyes were on me once more. I was not going to let this go unpunished.

Brains splatter the wall with a flick of Father's finger. I do not flinch as blood and brains splatter the left side of my face. I step back calmly. The body falls unceremoniously as I take a hanky from my inside pocket to clean the gun. I turn back to the room while slipping it away. The clown was looking at me again.

"Were do you fi-nd your, uh, people?" the clown asks Father while looking at me.

Father keeps his cool gaze on the clown while offering his clean, white embroidered hanky to me. I step forwards and take it.

"They are family. Not people."

Short and sweet. Just like Father. Get to the point.

Gambol's guard went for the man. Down went his head. Rushing for the pencil on the table.

"Ta-da!" the clown says like he had just done the greatest magic trick.

The body fell to the ground with the pencil in his eye. I, honestly, thought it hilarious. Gambol was pissed.

"Ah," the clown says in warning. Showing the room the many grenades in his jacket, the strings all hooked to one little ring around his finger.

His words were said. Taken in. He took his exit. We left. I had blood on my hand and face still. Nothing to bother me. Our formation came back as we left everybody in the room. Lau had not gotten our money. Ours was protected already.

"Jez," Father says as we get outside to the car.

I stop with my head turned to him. He stood in the doorway of the car. Our eyes locked. I nod once before turning and getting into a waiting car. The door was held open by another man. We pulled away as Gambol and Maroni's head came out. Salvatore Maroni watched as my car slowly drove off. He had drawn too much attention to his men. Gotham Police and Batman were after him.

I had two men with me. Both about my height of 5 feet and 10 inches. I wasn't short. I was lean and muscled. Just as the men behind me were. The men walked side by side behind me. Flanking. I stepped out of the lift calmly. Heads turned to look as I confidently made my way through the cubicles and 6th floor of the City Hall.

Silence followed. My Father's men were well known. Who in Gotham hadn't heard of us? We had nothing on us that could get us in the bad. Well, nothing they could prove. We paid our taxes and more. All exact. Gave to the schools. We were the ones the Underworld of Gotham feared. Who said that the normal person couldn't fear us?

The secretary rushed to open the door for me. She stumbled over herself and looked like a blubbering idiot. She got the door though. I didn't break stride at all. My men broke up. One with me and one outside the door. The Commissioner stood as I came in. His eyes looked to the man with me. They returned to me again in seconds.

"Biondi," Commissioner Loeb says quickly.

"Sorriso di Morte wishes to renew his friendship with the city," I say in a calm smooth tone.

"Th-" he started but cut himself off. Thank you was rude to us. Well for this task. "Any friendship with Sorriso di Morte is a welcome friendship."

I nod once. Carlton, my guard, placed a briefcase on the desk. Loeb quickly opened a safe. I watched as he unloaded the money into it. Carlton snapped the briefcase shut and turned to me. I turn on my heel and leave the room. The guard outside opened the door and joined our ranks again. Out we went.