A/N Hello. *wave* I'm proud/scared/happy to introduce my first fanfiction ever. So really, I'm pretty terrified at the moment. And what's funny, I personally used to read only one-shots, not having the patience to read anything with over two chapters, and now I've already written four chapters for this one and I'm not nearly done. Huh. It's a funny world we live in, don't you think? I'll shut up now, leave a review if you feel like it, I'm not going to demand that from you, being incredibly lazy to write reviews myself. And as I said, I've already written the next chapter, I'll post it faster if you go through the trouble and ask for it. Heh. One more thing: we did go through the story with my friend several times, trying to eliminate typos and such, my apologies if some got through the filter. *g* Needless to say, unfortunately I do not own Joker, Gotham, Gambol or pretty much anything, apart from Miss Virginia Patrick and the plot.

Virginia Patrick had a dilemma. Should she wear her favourite jeans, with which she would just have to wear high heels and risk her ability to move quickly in case something went wrong? Or, should she wear her converse and use those other trousers that weren't quite as figure-hugging as the first ones? She'd already been pondering in her walk-in closet for 25 minutes when her godfather, who was also her guardian, started knocking loudly on her door.

"Virginia, what the hell are you doing there? We're gonna be late and get our asses capped at this rate", Gambol shouted through the door and Virginia swore she would "cap his ass" herself if he didn't stop bugging her. And using that idiotic slang she'd learned to detest soon after she'd moved to this stupid American town. God, she missed London so much.

"I'm coming I'm coming!" you annoying specimen of humanity, she added in her mind. Yeah, the nicer jeans and heels it was. She couldn't think of a reason why she would have to run, she was taken everywhere by car and in case of emergency her "bodyguards", two huge twats her godfather had hired to "keep her safe at all times", could probably be persuaded to carry her if she fluttered her eyelashes a little. Grinning to herself, she finished dressing, grabbed her purse and opened her door to find her godfather staring at her, looking extremely frustrated.

"What's up with those shoes?", he asked and Virginia glanced at her feet. Black with chromed heels, they were gorgeous, what was his problem?

"What, they're nice, aren't they Freezer?", she asked her bodyguard who was waiting a few feet away. What a stupid name, she thought to herself as the bulky man took a look at her shoes with his mouth open and shrugged. Idiot.

"I ain't gonna let you walk into a mob meeting lookin' like that!", Gambol shrieked. Virginia closed her eyes and took a deep sigh before calmly stating:

"I can't see what's wrong with my shoes, considering that your... lady friends, seem to wear quite similar ones."

"That's because they're hos, but you're my goddaughter!"

Freezer tried to hold in a snicker, failing terribly and letting out something between a giggle and a snort. Gambol quickly shot him an angry look, shutting him up effectively. Virginia was dumbstruck. What an ass he is!

"But I-"

"You gonna get your ass back to your room and change into something more appropriate for a girl like you and you gonna do it fast!"

"Aaaargh!", she turned around, slammed the door in his face and stamped back into her closet. She yanked her heels off, coming to the conclusion there wasn't enough time to change trousers and slipped into her converse. That bloody idiot, thinks he can rule my whole life, making me walk around with those stupid overgrown pigs and never letting me do anything without telling him. "A girl like me"?! I'm bloody nineteen years old, I'm old enough to decide what to wear.

When she made it back to her room's door she was still furious, but lucky for him, Gambol wasn't there to feel her ire. Instead her dear bodyguard Freezer was there, guiding her towards the door and out the apartment, into the hummer outside. She hated that car. It was big, pretentious and absolutely ridiculous.

Come to think of it, she hated pretty much anything her godfather did, said or owned. But she wasn't stupid. She was the daughter of the famous English mob boss Edward Patrick, the first and probably the last Englishman to start and run a crime family in Italy. He had became rather powerful and that's probably why he and Virginia's mother had been blown up nine years earlier. Virginia had been visiting her grandmother in London at the time and she hadn't been killed. Soon after her parent's deaths Virginia had been sent to America to be looked after by Gambol, her godfather and Edward's very good friend.

So now that she thought of it, sitting in the backseat and looking Gotham's streets flash by, she should be nothing but pleased that she was being taken care of so well. All her life she'd always got all the toys, clothes and things she needed. And without her influential godfather, she'd probably be dead by now, considering who's child she was. God I'm such a spoiled brat, she thought with a pang of guilt.

"What you thinking kid?", Gambol inquired from the other side of the seat. Virginia glanced up and realized how deep in thought she'd been.

"Um, nothing. Just wondering why I have to come to these meetings", she didn't feel too comfortable taking part in these mob meetings. The most dangerous men in Gotham, gathered around one table. And she couldn't even wait in the car, Gambol always dragged her inside to be gazed upon by horny henchmen. Hmm. Maybe that was why he wanted her to avoid dressing too conspicuously. Who knew?

"Well, it's only for your own safety, you know that Virginia? Wanna keep you in my sight at all times."

"Yeah. I... appreciate it." She preferred to be called Gin, or Gina, or even Ginny, not her whole name. However, after telling that to him a hundred times, she'd given up and now she just tolerated it.

After fifteen minutes of driving, they came to some warehouse. How original. These meetings were always held at some kind of a storage apartment, and they all looked the same to her. Sigh. Good thing she'd brought her nail file.

After the regular check that there were no snipers (Oh come on) or anything else suspicious in sight, Gin and Gambol stepped out of the car and started walking with Gambol's entourage towards the building. There were some other cars already parked closer to the door, and by the looks of them, Gin thought, they were Maroni's. That pompous Italian twit. Yeah, she didn't like him. Always looking down on her and making stupid comments whenever she happened to bring a cappucino or something else to eat with her.

They went inside and were greeted by the usual security check, metal detectors and such. One time her belt had beeped and boy, had the bastards had a laugh with her. Trying to yank her belt of themselves and get a feel of her in the process. Ugh. This time all went well with her, whereas Gambol and his men gave away at least one gun each.

The set was the same as always: a bunch of tables arranged in a circle, barely sufficient lighting and shady men sitting around the tables. After taking part in these meetings so many times, Gin already recognised that everyone was there, apart from the Chechen. He and his men were always late, so no surprise there.

She did the same as always, looked for a place to sit somewhere by the wall, spotted a spare table, and sat down on the dusty thing while Gambol and his goons took their places by the table in the center of the hall. She took out her nail file and started to indifferently go through her nails.

"Hey Red!" Oh, please no. There was only one person present who would make snarky remarks on her hair. She glanced at the table and sure, that twat Maroni was looking at her. "Had any doughnuts lately? Your thighs are looking particularly full today." She could hear a few snickers coming from Maroni's men from across the hall and she chanted to herself stay calm stay calm, do not get upset that is exactly what he wants.

"Not really, been too busy continuing my father's work, you know, slitting some Italian throats." Oops. Maroni's face tightened considerably and Gin was so glad that all guns were taken away by the door.

" Now listen you little-"

"Soorry I am late", came the Chechen's voice as he strolled in with his men and took his place by the table. Gin stuck her tongue out at Maroni who just continued to look furious.

There were several confused noises around the hall as a television screen was brought and placed on an empty spot at the table. Soon it was turned on and a familiar face appeared on the screen. Gin couldn't quite remember the name, but she was sure she'd seen that face somewhere before. Lin? Lan? Hmm, whatever.

"As you're all aware, one of our deposits was stolen. A relatively small amount, 68 million", the small man in the tv started. What's his name? Damn. The Chechen cut in:

"Who's stupid enough to steal from us?"

"Two-bit whack-job, wears a cheap purple suit and make-up. He's not the problem- he's a nobody. The problem is: our money being tracked by cops", Maroni stated, turning his eyes to Lau.

"Thanks to Mr. Maroni's well-placed sources we know that police have indeed identified our banks, using marked bills. And are planning to seize our funds- today", Lau said from the tv, causing surprised murmurs around the table.

"And since the enthusiastic new D.A. has put all my competitors out of business, I'm your only option."

"So what are you proposing?", Maroni questioned. Arsehole. Gin kept shooting angry glances in his direction.

"Moving all deposits to one secure location. Not a bank."

Then Gambol cut in, making Gin look at him out of habit:

"Where, then?"

"No one can know but me", at this the men around the table, especially Gambol, shook their heads with an incredulous look on their faces, "If the police were to gain leverage over one of you, everyone's money would be at stake."

"What stops them getting to you?", The Chechen inquired, he was actually the one who was taking Lao's proposition the most seriously. Gin on the other hand kept wondering what was the name of the man on the telly.

"I go to Hong Kong. Far from Dent's jurisdiction. And the Chinese won't extradite one of their own."

Dent. Gin had heard that name so many times during the past few months that she was starting to hate the man. Gambol had already missed some cash thanks to that new D.A., and even if it was criminal income, Gin didn't want her godfather to suffer. And, let's face it, Gin had never really been on the right side of the law, she believed in what she was raised to believe. She had never concretely stolen anything herself, but all she'd ever had had been payed with, ahem, dirty money. Oh well, not that she would care to pay taxes, whatever her situation. She was comfortable with her life, after all she had nothing to compare it to.

"How soon can you move the money?", Maroni said.

"I already have. For obvious reasons, I couldn't wait for your permission. Rest assured, your money is safe", Lao stated calmly. Gin couldn't get her finger on the bloke's name, it was starting to nag her.

Suddenly her and everyone else's head snapped to look to the far corner of the dim hall. Was it... laughter?

N/A THANK YOU for reading. ^^