A/N: Hi! So, this series, ah, kind of went on hiatus for a while there, didn't it? See, this has been a really, really busy school year for me and, well... I kind of, ah, didn't update for a while, didn't I?

Don'thurtmeIhavefic.

The pain was sharp, the blade's edge cold as it grazed his throat.

"Wow," came the voice from behind him. "You're just not having a good week, are you?"

"I mean," the intruder continued before Andrew could react, "First the deal with Gant goes south, and you get yourself all sliced and diced to boot, then you get your ass arrested, and now, to top it all off, some jackass has the nerve to bust into your place and threaten you for information? Not your best week ever."

Andrew's mind kicked into overdrive. What the hell? How? How the hell did this guy know so much? Had he been tailing him? Why? He shouldn't know who he was. How the hell did he know who he was? Had he found him from the hospital? The cops? Who the hell was he? 'Threaten him for information?' What did he want to know? What the fuck could he tell him?

Shit. Was this one of Mask's guys? Shit shit shit shit. He was fucked. If this was one of Mask's guys, he was majorly fucked.

Okay- okay, he had to calm down. He could get out of this. He could get out of this. He'd got out of worse before. He just had to play this cool. Just keep the guy talking, wait for a chance, then grab the knife, pull his piece, and plug him. He'd been on the wrong end of knives before, he knew what to do. He'd be fine. He just had to play this right.

Slowly, he put up his hands, letting the guy see he didn't have anything. "Hey man," he said calm as he could. "It's cool, it's cool. I'm cool. Don't want any trouble."

He had to be real careful here. Last thing he wanted was to make the guy jumpy. The bastard had half an idea what he was doing with that knife, he needed to be taken serious. Real serious. Never fuck with a knife fighter, he'd learned a long while ago- those sons of bitches were deadly fuckers enough just in a fair fight, nevermind when they had a goddamn blade jammed to your neck.

"Well, that's a promising start," the intruder said. "Still-" a hand suddenly reached over his shoulder... and pulled Andrew's gun from its hiding place, unbuckling the hidden holster with a smooth movement. "Keep dishonest thugs honest and all that, hmm?" the guy asked, waving the piece a little so he could see before he pulled it back.

/Shit!/ That wasn't good. That was not. Fucking. Good. That was the only weapon he'd had on him- he'd lost all he had when things went south Tuesday. Only reason he'd had the one he did was Donny'd given him it 'til he could hunt down some new 'quip.

Meaning, now he was unarmed. He was unarmed, and there was a goddamn knife to his throat.

He swallowed hard, careful not to move his hands. Okay. Okay, keep calm. He could get out of this. Just keep cool. No sudden moves. Don't make the guy jumpy. "Hey, no prob," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Wasn't stupid enough to go for that anyways. I told ya- I don't want any trouble." He paused for a sec. Should he ask? Would the guy even tell him? It'd be good to know, though, and he needed to keep the guy talking, give himself time to think. Yeah, he'd ask. Guy wouldn't kill him yet just for asking, if he wanted info. "You with Mask?"

There was a dark kind of chuckle. "No."

Okay. Okay, that was a good thing. Guy still had a knife to his throat, but if he wasn't one of Mask's psychos, he could talk his way out of this a lot easier. Except-

Was he lying? Would he lie about it? Andrew didn't think the guy'd lie about it. About not being with him, anyways. What'd be the point, right? If he wanted to squeeze him for info? It'd just be better to make someone talk, wouldn't it? Since everyone knew Mask had a bunch of guys running around carving people up.

But if he wasn't with Mask...

"Who you with, then?" He couldn't be one of the Bat's guys, could he? Didn't seem too likely. The Bat didn't kill; everyone knew that. Didn't follow one of his guys would, either. Could be bluffing, maybe? Faking him out?

There was a jolt of pain as the knife dug in deeper. He tilted his head back farther in response, not quite far back enough to get a good view of the guy. "Do you really think you're in a position to be asking questions?" came the voice.

He choked down the pained hiss, swallowing hard. "Hey, hey, no prob, no prob," he said, trying to sound casual. "Just curious, is all. Making small talk, right? No need for things to get ugly."

Another chuckle. "You can think of me as an independent agent, if you want," the guy said.

'Independent agent'? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Was this a new player? Another nutjob looking to carve out a slice of Gotham for himself? And if he was, what the hell did he want with him?

"All right. All right, look, whoever you are, you've got the wrong guy, man. Whatever you want from me- I don't know nothing. I ain't nothin'. Zip. Hardly higher up'n the street runners. Don't know squat about anything."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Andy," the vaguely amused voice came again. "You're an ambitious guy, from what I've been hearing. Got a lot more friends in good places'n you'll own up to, and know a helluva lot more than you'd like to admit. And what you know, well, I'd like to know it too." The stranger paused. "Of course, if you're so sure that you don't know anything, I could just kill you now. Plenty of other guys I could ask, and really, I've wasted way more time on you than you're worth already." There was a fresh bolt of pain from the blade at his throat.

"No!" he broke out before he could stop himself, a hand going instinctively to grab at the guy's wrist. He forced out a nervous laugh. "Hey, you know, on second thought, maybe I do know something after all, huh? 'M just way too modest about it, you know? Everyone says, I'm way too modest for my own good, always sell myself short." He gulped a little, a trickle of warm blood winding slowly down his neck. "Let's see how much I know, huh?"

The intruder snorted with amusement. "Smart guy." The pressure on his throat decreased a little. "Here's how this is going to work: I am going to ask you a question. You don't tell me, or lie to me- and trust me, Andy-boy, I will know- and I stop wasting my time here and just kill you now. You tell me what I want to know, and I won't just let you live; I'll put you on the payroll, make you an informant just as long as you're willing to play along. Capische?"

Payroll? But- damn it, he didn't even just want info; he wanted a fucking informant?

"You want me to work for you?"

"That'd be about the gist of it, yeah."

"What if I'm not exactly lookin' for a career change right now?"

"Then I kill you anyways. All-or-nothing deal, Andy. And you know, I'd act fact if I were you- this is a limited time-offer."

For a moment, Andrew was silent, weighing his options, before finally coming to a decision. "What do you want to know?"

The guy chuckled slightly. "Word on the street is, Shark's got a big deal going down pretty soon. Big shipment of black tar, right up your alley. I know it's coming in sometime this week, and I know it's going somewhere near the Dixon area, but beyond that, I don't have the when or the where. Care to clue me in?"

Black tar? He hadn't heard anything about- no, damn it, he had to have heard something about it, had to have if it was as big as the guy said it was. And he had, had heard about something coming in near the docks, and he hoped to God it was the one the guy was looking or, or he was fucked.

"Dixon? That's- look, that's not in my territory, but I've heard something about something big happening near the docks. Some ship coming in Tuesday. Dealers themselves prob'ly won't meet there- the runners don't like it. My bet is they'll take it to the place on the corner of Manson and 22nd- big warehouse, can't miss it. Old GenCo warehouse, got bought a while ago by Big Sam, still has the old sign. I don't- chances are, the deal itself'll go down sometime 'tween midnight and 4, that's when they usually do it, but I can't give you an exact time. But- look, I don't know for sure this is the one you're looking for, but I swear to God, gimme a day and I'll double-check and get you the time. Right hand up to God, I swear."

For a moment, there was silence, and his heart stopped. Then, suddenly, the pressure at his throat disappeared. Andrew let out a gasp of relief, hand flying to his neck. Instinctively, he started to turn around to get a better look at the guy, then stopped himself. He was so goddamn close to getting out of this- sure as hell wasn't going to risk it all going bad now because he couldn't control his fucking curiosity.

"A day, huh?" There was a clattering noise as the cellphone all of a sudden landed on the table in front of him. Andrew blinked, picking it up and staring at it dumbly. "I'll be in touch. In the meantime... well, let's just say that it'll go over a lot better for you if we keep this little heart-to-heart between the two of us, hm?" There was a faint sound of movement, footsteps walking away from him.

He hesitated, hand still on his throat. "Hey- hey, wait!"

The footsteps stopped. He made another half-motion to turn around, before asking, "I at least get to know who I'm working for?"

There was a quiet chuckle from behind him. "The name 'Red Hood' mean anything to you?"

/Red-/ Finally, Andrew whipped around, catching only a glimpse of the figure as he disappeared out the door, closing it behind him.

Red Hood? The same fucking psycho who'd just about run Black Mask into the ground last year? The same Red Hood who was supposed to be dead? And now Andrew had just agreed to-

Oh, fuck. What the hell had he just gotten himself into?