▶ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴛᴍᴀɴ: ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ

Somewhere unknown...12:30 a.m.

No one truly cares about each other; communication is silent.

Everyone is entangled in their own shady dealings, unaware that Batman and the GCPD are their greatest fears of getting caught.

As the mafia leader opened the meeting, he stated, "Let's get to business. Since we're all here, let's discuss the weapon shipment."

A loud clack resonated through the old warehouse, causing everyone to freeze, fearful it was the janitor Eastside Loser might kill for eavesdropping. They hesitated, worried it could be Batman or a cop, but it was neither.

It wasn't a police officer, Batman, definitely not Superman nor the Justice League—simply an observer hiding in the shadows. Fearless, quick-witted, reckless, kind, and observant, he is adept at his job, completing tasks in mere moments. 

Reporters and even eligible bachelor Bruce Wayne were intrigued by this figure, unable to resist wondering who he truly is.

Where does his inspiration come from? 

Where does he live in Gotham? 

What does he do in real life?

Is he single? 

Is he gay? 

Is he a rich person? 

Does he have powers?

Reporters from Central City, Metropolis, Gotham, Star City, and beyond are eager to uncover his identity. While he views the questions as mere rumors, one victim of the Anonymous Private Investigator confirmed that he possesses powers—specifically telekinesis and telepathy, enabling him to read minds and levitate objects at will before he was murdered.

Before the victim was murdered, he also stated that the Private Investigator only uses these abilities when absolutely necessary. The air was thick with tension as the mafia leader continued, oblivious to the eyes in the shadows. 

Watching the greedy leader from Eastside gesture with his hand to reveal a blueprint of their latest venture—a bold and brazen operation that promised to line their pockets and bathe Gotham in chaos.

"Now,  it's worth a fortune!" he said, leaning closer, "But we have to be cautious. Batman's been more active lately, and I'm not in the mood to end up in a cell tonight. So we gonna do it fast."

And at the right moment, everyone was being levitated from their seats and sent back into the dark corner where the Anonymous P.I. came in walking like a man coming into the light. 

His face was covered by his large dark grey scarf around his neck, black combat boots, a trench coat in color beige that hides a gun, 12 ninja knives attached to his arms, and a dark brown hat on her head. 

The bodyguards, however, were hesitant to challenge him so they lowered their weapons and raised their hands up for surrender. Which pleased the Anonymous P.I. to see them and his targets surrendering to him.

After a few minutes, he pulls a metal chain from his belt and wraps it around the leader and his associates. One of the Eastside mafia leaders nervously asks, "W-What do you want from us?"

Everyone is frozen in fear, silent, when the Anonymous P.I. lifts a finger, effortlessly snapping a random leader's neck with his powers. 

The leader collapses and dies before them.

The eyes of every mafia associate widen in shock as they fixate on the lifeless body in front of them, brutality unmissable. Amidst the tension, the shadowy figure must be confronted; However, instead of immediate violence, he calmly gestured for silence: 

"Ssshhh.~" Nevertheless, he opted for them to stay where they were with a gun in hand, silently commanding their attention while remaining unacknowledged. As the bosses resumed their discussion, he observed them intently, his presence felt despite his facade of invisibility.

At the same time, the Anonymous P.I. stared deadly at them all before sitting down on a chair with his boots over the table and started admiring his work while the associates gulped in fear, "Now that he's gone, I have some things I want to discuss...care to answer?" 

They all nodded eagerly as he began taking a pen and notepad from his inner pocket to start interrogating them when, out of the blue, a male voice echoed throughout the entire warehouse, "Who dares to intrude on our business?" 

The voice boomed, echoing off the warehouse's cold steel walls as a mysterious man spoke from the shadows. The mafia associates, caught in disbelief and dread, turned in unison toward the source of the voice.

Hearts raced loudly as the P.I. followed their gaze and was met by a shadow above, its silhouette stark against the dim lighting. Clad of a full-face red helmet with white eye slits, a form-fitting dark gray tactical suit with a red bat emblem on the chest, and a rugged brown leather jacket is worn over it that screamed dangerous. 

It sent shivers down everyone's spine just by gazing down at the faces of the mafia when the Red Hood grinned beneath the scarlet helm until his eyes met the unknown person in the warehouse and narrowed his eyes by slinging his weapon over his shoulder as he was fixated on him, "And who the hell are you?" 

Rolling his eyes from under his hat, he echoed the question in a polite yet muffled tone: 

"Shouldn't I be asking you the same question, cherry?" His eyes behind the domino mask finally met the voice coming from the beige detective coat, but he couldn't identify the person. 

Frustrated by the large dark-brown scarf around his neck and face, the figure let out a chuckle, as if amused by the confrontation from this mysterious person, "You seem awfully confident for a man hiding behind a mask. Y'know, the kind that hides in the shadows, right?" 

"It's Red Hood." He responded.

The P.I. hummed, "We'll, mister Red Hood." he continued, "I look forward to shaking hands with you but I think that's not gonna happen since you were interrupting my interrogation towards these guys who do nothing but trade drugs to children and adults."

"Well, then," Red Hood replied, his voice laced with sarcasm, "I didn't realize I was crashing a tea party. "I didn't expect to find someone in a suit trying to play the hero." He shifted his weight, arms crossed tightly against his chest.

The man in the beige coat hides behind his scarf just enough to not see a hint of a smile crossing his face, "You might be underestimating me, Mr. Red Hood." He begins, "I could just as easily be some paint-by-numbers villain, but I prefer to break the law that falsely dictates my colors."

He pointed to the chained associates, who were still trying to break free, as Red Hood leaned on the balcony and narrowed his eyes at him. "That's cute. You think those guys were playing by the rules? This city doesn't abide by your scripts."

There was a brief flash, but it would go unnoticed by anyone not paying close attention except the P.I. Red Hood's grip tightens around his weapon and glares, "You're either misguided or simply naive enough to think that I would allow children and adults to buy drugs for them." 

"I don't think it's very professional to think like that." "Well, you should approve the 'no to drugs policy for children,'" he said directly to the new guy, provoking him like the other notorious mafia bosses.

Red Hood kept his cool, "You think you're clever, huh?" He shakes his head, "You're telling me I should care about making a policy while your colleagues chain up those who dare to defy you?" His voice was dripping with disdain, bouncing off the grimy walls and cutting through with each word.

"This isn't a place for idealism, you jerk." The P.I. gestured again to the figures chained up as he stood up from the table and crossed his arms over his chest. "So tell me, what do you think your little badge is going to accomplish here? Is there a solution?"

Red Hood leaned back, the flickering overhead light casting shadows across his face. "You keep saying idealism like it's a dirty word. But you know what? Sometimes idealism is all we've got. Your pals aren't just chaining people up; they're suffocating hope. 

"You think your badge gives you power now that you can throw around orders?" He laughs, "It's a joke. You're just another cog in a broken machine, wearing a shiny badge like it makes you invincible. But look around, man. 

"Locking people up isn't gonna fix anything? It's just a band-aid on a bullet wound." The P.I. stood his ground, with a straight spine and a look of resolve behind his scarf. "And yet here you are, playing vigilante while pretending to be the judge of character." He chuckles slightly, "You're just another thug with a mask, thinking you're above the law." 

Red Hood stares harder at the P.I. as the tension thickens around them: "But you can't hide the fact that you've got blood on your hands." Red Hood sneered, tapping his finger against the trigger of his weapon. "You think I'm guilty of that? Do you want to know what guilt is? 

"Seeing innocent people suffer because people like you refuse to get off your moral high horse."

"A moral high horse?" The P.I. gave a little laugh, a hint of amusement in his eyes, "You think I wouldn't face the same dangers in the dark alleys just to keep these people safe? I have to say, you're not as sharp as I thought you'd be."

Then, the shots were fired as he tried to take out the targets, but he was stopped on the first try. The P.I. looks on stoically, though his heart says otherwise, "You're a killjoy, you know that?" Red Hood responds with an indifferent look on his face.

He stared coldly at the unknown person in a beige trench coat and scarf. 

"As I believe my response might incriminate you, Mr. Red," he added frostily, "I doubt it very much." Causing the Red Hood to widen his eyes before maintaining his deathly glare and shaking his head in amusement before he instantly unsheathes his AK-47 gun from his back and points directly at the P.I.

While others cowered, he calmly awaited his next move as the Red Hood fired indiscriminately at the table. When the shooting paused, the P.I. slowly raised his right gloved hand just as the Red Hood resumed his attack. 

The bullets were halted mid-air with the help of his powers as they began falling like marbles.

*SAVAGE BITCHES* #TDFW #I'MABOSSBITCH!

The Red Hood was taken aback by the sudden challenge, grappling with shock and disbelief. Even though he was flooded with adrenaline from returning fire, he had to make a life-or-death decision.

He was impressed by the P.I.'s skills but also wanted to get rid of the intruder. He seemed pretty calm, and he noticed the Red Hood's intense reaction. It made him think that he didn't really know anything about the Red Hood until now.

As the P.I. fought off the telepathic intrusion, he managed to grin beneath his thick scarf. The mafia associates were still aware of his true motives and found themselves unable to act because of the tense standoff that ensued between the Red Hood and the P.I. 

Leading them into not doing anything until it ended. The Red Hood's mind raced as he assessed the situation. He stood at the precipice of chaos, heart pounding like a war drum, his grip tightening around the weapon in his hands. 

The P.I.'s grin, bold and defiant, cut through the tension like a knife, forcing a reluctant respect from the Red Hood. This wasn't just some ordinary investigator; he had a bite, a fierceness that sparked fear in the hearts of those who underestimated him.

"You think you can scare me, P.I.?" the Red Hood challenged, his voice low and gravelly, echoing with unresolved fury. 

Yet, part of him admired the man's audacity. 

There was a history between hunters, a shared understanding of the lethal dance they were engaged in, even if it was laced with deception. The P.I. adjusted his scarf, a flicker of defiance in his eyes: "I'm here to find answers not fight." 

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

He flips him off, "Like I ain't gonna tell you shit."

"Watch it," Red Hood's glinting eyes narrowed, "You're in my territory now." He shifted his weight, muscles coiled like a spring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. 

The P.I. remained unflinching, the corners of his mouth twitching in what could only be described as a smirk behind the scarf: "Territory?" Shakes his head, "Last I checked, it's just another crumbling part of the city rife with monsters hiding in the shadows and sewers across Gotham. 

"Think of me as a ghostbuster, if you will." A low chuckle rumbled from the Red Hood, laced with bitterness as he responded with: "What a charming notion." Which makes him put away his weapon, "But be careful where you wave your flashlight with it." 

The P.I. sighs in frustration, "Do you want to negotiate or not?" 

Red Hood's expression tightened, but a flicker of curiosity glimmered in his eyes. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But what makes you think you can walk out alive after tossing around words like they're candy?" Their gazes locked until one finally spoke.

"This isn't about games, Mr. Red Hood," he said. "You want to keep your territory intact, right? That's fine. Just understand I'll continue my work, and you keep yours. Got it?" Red Hood considered for a moment, then nodded and jumped down to approach the P.I., reluctantly accepting the deal.

They sealed their agreement with a handshake.

As they parted ways, the Red Hood sarcastically bid farewell, leaving with a smoke bomb to cover his exit. Meanwhile, the mafia leaders, now freed from the chains as they began to voice their objections to the unfolding events, "P-please! D-don't kill us!" 

Suddenly, an invisible slap and kick all at once got all of the Mafia leaders to shut up and quiet, not wanting to get hurt on their faces by the Anonymous Private Investigator; Who, by the way, is walking towards a guy named Chi-Chi and pulls his collar up to glare at him:

"Leaving you guys off the hock is going to cost you, be lucky that Red Hood is your one-way ticket to happiness for all of you but, y'know~." He waves out at them, in a gentle mode with his telepathy by putting them to sleep and turns his back from facing them after finishing his words: 

"One day, I won't hesitate to kill you all." 

Once he drops him, Chi-Chi turned to look at one of the other mafia associates and replied: 

"Y-Yes-s, sir." 

Then, everyone gets knocked out to sleep.

Somewhere in the Alleyways of Gotham...

In the city of Gotham, The Anonymous Private Investigator observes the mafia associates leaving and starts walking. An unknown presence feels familiar, allowing him to walk uninterrupted until he escapes Red Hood's shadow.

Stalking him won't lead anti-heroes like Red Hood to his hideout. While he can mislead them, his rare telekinesis helps him maintain pace, turning right, straight and left. Finally, he smirks and creates an invisible illusion for Red Hood.

Reaching the last alleyway, he vanishes. Unlike Red Hood, he uses telekinesis to light the area without revealing his aura. "Damn, should have killed him with a knife." He pulls out his grappler gun and leaves behind the last place he lost track of.

Finally relaxing his powers, he takes to the air. Using telekinesis, he floats effortlessly to the rooftop, landing smoothly while watching Red Hood leap from building to building until he disappears. 

The Anonymous P.I. exhales a silent sigh of relief and ensures Red Hood is gone. After several minutes of maintaining his anonymity, he loosens his dark brown scarf and hat and removes his gloves.

But there's a secret no one knows—not his past nor his hideout. This secret concerns his identity, a vulnerability in the world beneath the Anonymous P.I. uniform reveals a woman by the name of Pearl Maximus.

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Me: So, Jason? What do you want to say to my fans?👀😊

Jason: If you don't want to vote to this story *holds out a gun*, I won't hesitate to kill you guys for not loving the narrator/author.💢🔪🔪

Me: *sweatdrops & facepalms*  😅Anyways, thanks for your cooperation, Jason...

Jason: *flirts and goes on top of me* Am I going to be punished by a hot narrator? U can easily get me turned on. Ya know that, right?😏😎

Me: *faints and falls on the floor, blushing o///o*🥰🥴

Bye!