Chapter Text
Gotham City, April, 1930.
The sky here was always cloudy, I considered it a good day if it wasn't pouring rain. The clouds were particularly thick and low on the day in question. I'd decided to take on a bit of a personal case, so I was headed into my office despite the fog making it near impossible to see the sidewalk.
My usual clients were the ones the police wouldn't take; battered women they didn't believe and young girls and boys who'd had unfortunate run-ins with unsavory types. I used to pass the more gruesome details along to some contacts with a more relaxed moral code. That all went belly-up a year ago with the worst massacre the country had ever seen, on Saint Valentine's Day no less. After that, I'd been a bit more hesitant to work with that particular crowd. Still, I felt it was important to find the mysterious Red Hood. Maybe it was just my bull-headed determination to beat the GCPD to him. Maybe it was something else.
The current consensus was that the Red Hood was ruthless and killed indiscriminately. There were rumors he was a lunatic who carried around human heads in a bag. I didn't buy it. I had clients come in fairly regularly and tell me the Red Hood had gotten rid of their abusers himself. When I'd looked deeper into it, I hadn't been able to find one innocent man on his blacklist.
That didn't mean he wasn't dangerous, but it did make me feel a bit more at ease with the idea of finding him. Call me crazy but I felt like he might even be a decent fellow. If you could overlook murder, anyway.
I'd barely sat at my desk when I heard a knock on the door. The frosted glass didn't allow me to see who was there clearly but I could tell it was a man. This immediately set me on edge. The only men who trusted me to do my job were my father and the mob. I told him to come in anyway, against my better judgment.
The man introduced himself with a thick Jersey accent as Jason Todd. The name sounded vaguely familiar, like maybe I'd read it in the paper, but then Jason wasn't exactly a unique name. He was built strong and tall but his face looked young, perhaps early twenties. Then again, his short black hair had a white streak so maybe he was older and just had a babyface. He didn't behave like the goons I usually dealt with. He seemed polite, even took his coat and hat off before taking the seat I offered, though his sleeves were rolled to his elbows instead of buttoned neatly at his wrists. He had a cocky sort of grin but then what twenty-something man wasn't a bit cocky?
"What can I do for you, Mr. Todd?" I said, leaning back in my chair.
It squeaked, undercutting the cool, unaffected air I'd been trying to cultivate. Most men expected me to be wringing my hands at the thought of trouble, so casual was the way to put them off their game. I prayed he hadn't heard it. This entire interaction was already so uncomfortably off-script that I was in danger of squirming.
"Call me Jason," he said, lips curling up in a knowing grin. He'd heard it. Damn him. "Word travels fast in this city, you know. I couldn't help but overhear you've been looking for a certain outlaw."
"I might be. Am I to take it you're here to help me instead of asking for my help?" I asked, reclining in my seat a little more, trying to relax my posture.
"Figured we could help each other, doll."
I frowned. There was that typical mobster 'charm' I was used to. Nicknames that didn't do me any favors in my job. I didn't hate them all the time, I might even consider it endearing in the right circumstance with the right person, but I was on the clock. He noticed.
"Sorry, don't mean to offend," he said, insincerity in his tone. I didn't care for false apologies. I wanted to cut to the business and get him out of my office while I still had some pride.
"You know the Red Hood?"
The corner of his mouth twitched upward briefly.
"He frequents my establishment. You come by you might meet him."
His establishment. Again I questioned how young he was to own his own business, legitimate or otherwise.
"What do you get out of it?"
He hadn't moved much during our conversation, maintaining a relaxed, overly-confident posture as we'd sized each other up silently. Now that we were into the meat of the conversation he leaned forward, elbows resting at the ends of the arms of his chair, giving me a proper view of the muscles in his forearms. They were built in the way a factory worker's might be, like he did a lot of heavy lifting regularly. Not how I'd expect someone high up in the mob to look.
"I think one of my girls is in a sticky situation. Everyone involved knows me too well for me to get close. I need some confirmation before I put a kibosh on it."
"Awfully kind of you to get involved at all, Mr. Todd. Most people with shady businesses don't care so much."
He grinned, his smile blindingly charming in a way that made my breath catch.
"We're not all bad, Detective."
I studied him carefully for a moment. He seemed genuine and as far as I knew I hadn't upset anyone in the underworld so worst case scenario he might be lying about Red Hood just to get me to help one of his dames. I couldn't fault him for that really, I'd have helped her regardless if she really needed it.
I agreed and he told me to meet him at his club later that evening as he stood to gather his things and finally leave my office. I wanted to ask more questions but there would be time for that later. I feared if he smiled at me one more time I'd lose any composure and pride I had left.