*screams I AM BACK with a sheepish grin on my face with a sign that says "dont kill me" taped to my forehead* I am going to try and start updating shit again. Apologies for the late return and lack of updates. This is a short little thing to try and get myself back into finishing some things so that if I disappear again, I will not have any fics waiting to be updated. Love you all.
I.
When the Red Hood is still not a subject whispered on the streets, when he is still just barely more than a rumor, a myth, floating around inside a small number of Gotham's criminal's heads, there are deaths, that are unaccounted for.
And she sees them. She finds a body, outside her building, in the alley that separates her apartment building. She doesn't scream, she doesn't call the police. Her throat is dry as she goes back inside, hoping no one saw her see the body.
(The man had had his guts ripped out, and if not for the telltale signs, she would not have recognized him for the man he was: one of the locals street dealers she passes when she goes up Northwest Freuiden Street, when she's late to something, and she's missed her bus.)
By the time the sun has risen, the blood has nearly frozen from the frigid temperatures of the night, and someone else has discovered the body.
She watches from her window, choking back a scream she knows will stay buried in her chest.
(She does not leave the house that day.)