#romansionis

The Bats didn't realize there was a new player in town for months. Along with dealing with Damian, they were also swamped handling the sudden, incomprehensible murder of the Joker. 

The clown had been found dead in his cell in Arkham, throat slit without any sign of struggle or hesitation. No trace evidence was left at the scene or on the body. There was no footage on the cameras and no evidence that they had been tampered with. It was the mystery of the century.

Made even more so by the bloody assassination of Roman Sionis in his office a month later. No one had heard a sound and not a single one of his men or guards had been touched. This had seemed more personal. Only a note was left at the scene. A single sentence, typed on generic paper, printed in generic ink and font. 

NO MORE DEAD ROBINS.

Bruce had everyone close ranks as they investigated. Stephanie was only freshly returned to them. He wasn’t risking another one of his colony. No matter how protective the intention seemed to be behind that particular gesture. 

It could just as easily be obsessive.

They struggled to handle the two major murder investigations on top of their normal caseload. Especially as GCPD didn’t seem all that concerned about getting to the bottom of either of them. 

When consulted, Commissioner Gordon just shrugged.

“If you can’t find anything, what makes you think we can do better?” He lit a cigarette. “Frankly, most of the city would rather give the person who offed the Joker a medal rather than put them in prison.”

News that Crime Alley, the Bowery, and the Narrows had all been quietly claimed as the territory of a new up and coming player understandably didn’t filter up to them until she was firmly established.  By then, it was just a matter of scrambling to gather intel and evidence. Who the hell was this woman?

The occupants of the alleys were calling her Red Hood.