DISCLAIMER! Disclaimer on the idea, too!

Midenigugtsu koyote requested that I write a story (several, actually, but I wanted to write this one because it seemed like the one that i could get a hang of, and let's face it, this is the RED HOOD!) It is her OC, her idea, and her world, NOT MINE. I'm just going to write it and try to do her character justice :)

Thank you for reading! OH! And PM Midenigugtsu koyote too and thank her for this AMAZING IDEA :D

Please review! and PM the lovely author who requested this and gave me the OC, idea, and the basic universe that she thought up in the already (owned) and existing DC UNIVERSE and thank her. becuz she is like a freakin' genius :) ! hahahaha.

"Mom, Mom, I'll be there, don't worry," Aira Jameson assured her mother, tucking her phone between her shoulder and cheek as she filled her bright red basket with strawberries, apples, and salad dressings, shrugging her long hair over her shoulder as she headed for the check-out line of the closest market to her apartment in one of the more well-kept sections of Gotham.

"Remember, don't come too early," her mother, Cassandra Jameson told her. In the background she could hear her mother yelling at someone, and then returned to the conversation she'd been having with her daughter. "We're getting visited by three food critics on Friday, remember?"

"Yes, Mom, I promise I won't be late," Aira muttered, snapping her cell phone shut without so much as a goodbye, stuffing it into her cluttered purse. Rolling her eyes at her mother's nagging, she got into line, shifting from one foot to the other. The hazel-eyed young woman was exhausted after a long day at work, and was really looking forward to relaxing for the rest of the evening. Maybe she would treat herself to a night sitting on the couch listening to quiet music while writing or drawing. The chances of that were looking pretty good, since her mother had more than enough people to run the restaurant.

After paying the very grumpy, elderly cashier who'd taken forever putting her food in bags, she grabbed the two and headed out the doors into the cold night that belonged to the city that was owned by crime. Shifting her purse higher up on her shoulder, she braced herself against the icy November wind, wishing that she could afford a car and drive herself everywhere, instead of having to walk or take the bus. Her long, dark brown hair, which stopped halfway down her back, was in a pony tail this early Tuesday evening. Her light brown skin sprouted goose bumps as another gust of wind threatened to stop her in her tracks as she turned a corner and crossed a street with the bustling crowds that were made up of Gotham's citizens and those who did not reside in this city.

As much as she loved her mother's restaurant, called the Aurora (short for Aurora Borealis), working as a waiter and a chef hadn't been her life dream. It had been her mother's. But it was a good job, and she got to spend time with her mother and she got to keep her lovely, yet small, apartment in a well-kept part of Gotham where you didn't have to worry about being butchered on your way home every single night, although you should always be careful, anywhere you are in Gotham.

Turning another corner, she saw the familiar street sign that told her she was halfway home and sped up, wanting to get home, alive, as fast as she could, so she could sit back and relax.

But something didn't feel right. Shivering, Aira looked behind her, an eyebrow rising in a quizzical manner when she noticed two men walking side by side toward her at a steady pace. Alarm bells rang though her head as she ducked through an alley. You're being paranoid, she chided, but that didn't quell the uneasiness within her.

A rough hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her backwards, sending her flying to the ground, her groceries spilling out of their flimsy plastic bags as the two, gruff looking men loomed over her with sneers on their faces. Dread seemed to weigh her down, keeping her from sprinting away to safety.


"Give us yer' m'ney and we won't hurt yuh' much," the shorter of the two said, grabbing the color of her thick, hoodless black coat and yanking her to her feet, slamming her into the wall of the alley while his accomplice began searching her pockets.

"HELP ME!" she screamed, but all she got was a slap.

"Shut up, you stupid bi—"

"LET GO OF ME!" she shouted, and received a punch to the gut.

So much for the relaxing evening.

She slumped to the ground, the wind knocked out of her as she tried to crawl away, and a kick was sent into her ribs, and she let out a scream of pain.

Was she going to die here, in this alley, at the hands of these two men?

"Now, is that any way to treat a lady?" The two men directed their attention to a shadow a few feet away. There was a gun shot, a flash of red, and Aira found herself falling, quaking with fear as the one of the men lay dead and the other cursing at his assailant, her savior.

"We-we weren't doin' no nothin'!" he shouted. "L-l-leave us a-alone!"

"Now, why would I do that?" the man, still in shadows, leaned over the thug.


"Get out of here before I decide to blow your brains out." Not needing any more urging, the thug began to scramble away, but the shadowy man caught his arm, and Aira slapped a trembling hand over her mouth to cover a gasp when she heard a bone snap, and a scream rang out. "Apologize to the girl."

The thug spat in the twenty-one-year-old's direction, and she heard another crack, this one louder and harsher than the first, and the thug screeched in anguish.

"Apologize, now." The death threat in his voice told her that he was not kidding around, and he really did mean to kill the thug eventually if he did not coöperate.

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the man screamed, and she saw him being shoved out into the street. She stared after him as he disappeared from her line of vision and returned her vision to her savior.

And now it was her turn to scream.

Or try to, at least.

Before the alarming noise could pass through her lips, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, and she found herself looking up into the narrowed eyes of the Red Hood. She cowered before him as he stayed still, his eyes trained on her until he was certain she would not scream.

He took a large step away from her, watching carefully, studying her, as she scrambled to collect her groceries, her hands still shaking.

"T-thank you," she said once she'd gathered all her things, still on the ground as she looked up at him. "I-I-thank you."

To her surprise, he helped her to her feet. He nodded.

Aira knew who this was. He known as many things: murderer, crime lord, but savior? Was that in the job description?

Saying nothing, he turned away and disappeared into the night, leaving her stunned for only a moment, before she ran the rest of the way home.

The Red Hood watched her as she left the alley, wondering what a girl like that was doing in a place like that. Obviously not looking for trouble, although it seemed as if trouble found her more often than it should.

Saving people wasn't on his schedule, but he did make an exception here and there.

And since trouble found her, and he was the basic definition, maybe he would see her again.

Let me know what you thought! :)