text: > start Story
  You were no stranger to Gotham. Early in your career as the Question your journalist job occasionally took you to the city of the damned, and you were sure to go out on nightly excursions to fight crime. What can you say? Old habits.
  
  Once you had a run in with the Dark Knight, though vigilantes don't operate in Gotham without doing so. Helped him take down Killer Croc, though he berated you. Called you hot-headed. Childish. Said you were only in it for the thrills. Being the young hotshot you were, you mouthed off at him, then parted ways.
  
  But you digress. What brought you to Gotham wasn't your job this time, it was a woman. The Huntress. Word on the street has it that she's in a bit of a bind concerning multiple murders seemingly committed by her. All the victims were reporters calling her a madwoman, a loose cannon, criticizing her. The one time you met her you didn't get the impression that she was the type to kill people for saying bad things about her; only criminals. Then again that one time you met her she nearly put an arrow right between your eyes.
  
  Either way, you're going to give her some help, clear her name... And maybe tell her about the fact that you have a little crush on her. She'd probably laugh in your face, but you're going to try. Hey, maybe helping her out will get you somewhere with that.
  
  ... And now you realize you've been mulling over what's happened and why you're here while staring at her apartment window. It wasn't hard to uncover her identity, Batman had deduced who she was a long time ago and kept it in his database. Once you broke into Nightwing's apartment and did a little digging into his computer (he should really consider changing his password to something other than his girlfriend's name), things were smooth sailing. She was Helena Bertinelli. Sole survivor of the Bertinelli family, once Gotham's top crime family before her entire family, save her, were wiped out in a series of hits. From what you can gather it influenced her to become the Huntress.
  
  Since then she's lived a normal life, away from her criminal roots, working as a teacher at Gotham Academy. None would suspect a mild-mannered middle school teacher in a bum apartment to be one of the deadliest vigilantes in Gotham City. It's the perfect facade.
  
  It's too early for her to head out as Huntress, no doubt she's still home. You hope she doesn't mind an unexpected visitor.
  > continue
  The fire escape proves to be a useful thing. Slowly, you open her window, slipping in and shutting it quietly. You shove your hands into your pockets as you look around, pictures of various achievements in her life decorate the walls. Her graduating high school, then college, the latest a class photo from last year... Then you notice one picture that stands out. A picture of a man and a woman with a young girl and boy.
  
  You look closer at it. The girl and boy smile brightly at the camera, their brown eyes both full of life. The man and the woman smile as well, but they look... Strained. The woman's smile is forced. The man's grip on the woman's shoulder is too tight. This is a picture of Huntress with her family. Very clearly, her parents' marriage wasn't a happy one.
  
  Behind you comes the click of a loaded crossbow.
  
  "Who the hell ar- oh you've got to be kidding me..." You recognize her voice.
  
  "Huntress. Good to see you," you say, turning around to face her. She's just dressed in a tank top and shorts, and her skin is damp, evidence she just got out of the shower. You gulp slightly, imperceptibly.
  
  "Can't say the feeling's mutual," she replies, a scowl distorting her face, "what do you want?"
  
  "Heard you were having trouble. Framed for multiple murders," you say, walking into her living room and plopping down on the couch. Propping one leg up on top of the other, you open up your arms as if to show yourself off, "I'm here to help."
  
  "As if," she chuckles, "I don't need your help."
  
  "You don't have many friends left in town. None, if I hear correctly. Except for me. Try as you might to clear your name on your own, without help it'll all fall apart. That's where I come in. With my investigative talents and your combat training, we'll be able to clear your name in no time."
  
  She opens her mouth to protest, then sighs. "... Whatever. Let's get to work. I've got two leads." As she heads into the next room, she gestures for you to follow. You do.
  
  The room seems to be her bedroom. You're confused for a moment, until she presses a button hidden behind a layer of clothes in her closet, at which point a hidden room opens up. It's no Batcave or Fortress of Solitude, but it's what it needs to be: spare costume in one corner, monitoring station in another, punching bag in the third, and weapon rack in the last. To top it off, a table is set dead center, piles of notes on it.
  
  She grabs two folders crammed with papers and hands them to you.
  
  You read them over. All the papers inside are notebook papers, yanked out and on them sloppily written cryptic statements on her theories. One folder contains notes on the Penguin. She had put the villain away recently, no doubt he would want to frame her now that he's escaped once more. You look at her for her reasoning. "Penguin's a maniac. Anyone puts him away, he tries paying them back tenfold." Good point.
  
  The other folder contains notes on Gotham crime lord Santo Cassamento. This one seems a bit harder to pinpoint. You look up from the folder to her. She shrugs, "I've made an enemy out of the mob as Huntress, and as myself Cassamento holds a grudge against me for whatever reason. If he found out I was Huntress, he'd want to frame me, have me arrested and my identity revealed to the public. I'd be mince meat."
  
  She's smarter than you give her credit.
  
  "So what lead do we follow up on?" you ask.
  
  "Your choice. Both sound likely to me."
  
  Time to choose.
  > follow the Penguin lead
  The Iceberg Lounge. It didn't make sense how it still got business despite the fact that it's been public knowledge for years that it's owned by a well-known supervillain and many of his illegal activities run through it. Perhaps it was just best not to question these things.
  
  Huntress looks down at the building, kneeling next to you. "So how do we play this, Q?"
  
  Now that's a good question.
  > say "We play it quiet."
  "We play it quiet," you reply, "keep to the shadows. Knock out enemies if we have to, but otherwise, just avoid them at all costs."
  
  Huntress mulls this over, then nods. "Alright. Sounds good." She's about to grapple across the street to the Lounge when she realizes you don't have a grappling gun. Wordlessly, she tosses you a spare. "Keep it. I'm sure it'll look good on you," she laughs, before firing and being pulled to the Lounge. You pause, then follow shortly after.
  > The Lounge
  The three story arctic themed building was just as big on the inside as it was out. The club was currently closed down for 'renovations', though you knew better; Penguin had just escaped from prison, and he was more than likely getting back into the swing of things. This meant most under his payroll would be here while he heard how his operations were going. It would be packed, which meant the stealthy approach was definitely the smarter choice.
  
  Picking the lock on the back door, you and Huntress slip in, sticking close to the shadows. The path up to Cobblepot's office is straightforward, but there's two goons up ahead, blocking your forward path. What do you do?
  > use your grappling hook to reach the rafters above them, advising Huntress to do the same.
  Wordlessly, you pull out your grappling hook, pointing out the rafters to Huntress. She looks at them, then nods. The two of you ascend to the rafters, continuing your way to Penguin's office and leaving the unsuspecting goons down below.
  
  "Good thinking, Q," Huntress says once you're out of earshot of the thugs.
  
  "All in a day's work," you reply, scratching the back of your head sheepishly.
  
  "The humble type?" She opens the door, shooting you a grin.
  
  "Hurm," you hum, following after her.
  > The Penguin's Office
  As you slip into the large office and look around, you almost let out an impressed whistle. Say what you will about the deformed supervillain, he has some taste when it comes to decoration.
  
  Huntress strides forward to Penguin's desk, the villain sitting in his chair which has its back to you. "Penguin," Huntress says, aiming her crossbow at the chair. "Turn around."
  
  The chair slowly swivels around, Penguin's beady eyes staring at the two of you as his face twists into a sneer.
  
  "Hm. Huntress. And... Some faceless guy in a Dick Tracy outfit."
  
  Ouch.
  
  "What is it you want?"
  
  "Answers," you say, stepping up to the desk as well. "Are you involved with the murders Huntress has been framed for?"
  
  "I'll have you know," Penguin begins, "that I don't have the slightest idea as to what you're talking about."
  
  "Cut the shit, Cobblepot," Huntress growls, aiming her crossbow right in between Penguin's eyes, "what do you know?"
  
  Penguin lets loose a chilling chuckle, "You do realize that if I cared to do so, I could call in one of my men and he could apprehend you? Or maybe I could call the police and say how I'm being attacked by a psychotic vigilante? And on the off chance you still decide to shoot me, you should realize my PR department could turn the public against you and tear you to shreds."
  
  Huntress's grip on the crossbow falters slightly, but she keeps it aimed at him. "Just tell me what you know, Cobblepot."
  
  "Threats will do you no good."
  
  "Tell the truth, Penguin. Or I'm going to step in," you threaten, looming over him menacingly. He looks up at you, shuddering almost imperceptibly.
  
  "I am telling the truth. I don't know anything about those frames. Now would you get out of my office? I have work to do." Smug as he sounds, he's not bullshitting you. At least that's what your gut is telling you.
  
  Huntress prepares to let loose a bolt, but you stop her by placing a hand on her shoulder. You feel her tense up slightly. "Huntress. Relax. He's telling the truth. I can tell."
  
  Her finger tightens slightly...
  
  Then she lowers the crossbow.
  
  "Fine. We're done here." She approaches Penguin, bringing her crossbow down hard on his face and knocking him out. The two of you head out the window.
  > continue
  A few blocks away from the Iceberg Lounge, you and Huntress stop for a chat. "Hrm. For a second there, I thought you were going to kill him," you joke, hoping to ease the tension.
  
  She looks offended, "What, are you believing the rumors now?"
  
  You shake your head, "Just seems like he pissed you off. You really thought he was the guy who framed you?"
  
  Huntress pauses, then sighs herself. "Yeah..."
  
  You place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. We still have to check out Cassamento, I'm sure he's the one."
  
  She looks to where your eyes should be, smiling. "... Thanks for the help, Q."
  
  "Don't mention it. Us outcasts have to stick together," you joke, eliciting a laugh from her. Playfully, she slugs your shoulder.
  
  "Alright, comedian. We have to go see Cassamento."
  > continue
  Santo Cassamento lived life grandly. Just outside of Gotham he owned a mansion, not too far from Wayne Manor, where he had practically an army of butlers, maids, chefs, the works. Not surprising, considering his line of work.
  
  As you approach the crime lord's mansion, you can tell Huntress feels sickened by being anywhere near it. The two of you sneak past guards set up, you couldn't take them even if you wanted to, they had guns, and you didn't. Sure, Huntress had her crossbow, but in the time it took her to reload it she'd already be riddled with lead. Instead, you stick to the bushes and shadows, until you get to a second story study. There's Cassamento, lounging around reading Oedipus Rex.
  
  Huntress glares at him. "Let me go in alone," she hisses. "I'll handle this."
  > say "Alright."
  You nod slowly. "Alright," you say, and she looks at you in surprise and... Disappointment?
  
  "... Okay. I'll go." With those words, Huntress opens the window and steps in, closing it behind her. You can't hear her conversation with Cassamento, though you watch to ensure she doesn't do anything rash. For a while they just talk, Huntress clearly angry. Cassamento seems calm, smug. Like he's got her under his thumb.
  
  Huntress leaves the room scowling not long after she entered, you double check to make sure Cassamento is still alive, and sure enough he is, back to reading his book. "What were you talking about?"
  
  "I'll tell you about it in a bit. Let's just get out of here, I feel like I'm gonna throw up."
  
  You nod in agreement, and the two of you head back to the city.
  > continue
  The night ends with you and Huntress returning to the latter's apartment, no where else to go. You're out of leads. This isn't good.
  
  "There's something we're missing, Q," Huntress says, pacing back and forth through he living room as she fiddles with the string of her unloaded crossbow, "I can just tell."
  
  "Hrm. Maybe. We should look over the evidence again, may- hold on," you cut yourself off, noticing something outside through the window.
  
  "What is it?" Huntress asks, looking out the window as well.
  
  "A man. He's watching the apartment," you reply, staring down at him. Yes, he's definitely watching the apartment. "I'll take care of this." With those words, you head out of the apartment and make your way to the roof. Utilizing your grappling hook, you head to the building across the street, and into the alley where the man resides.
  > continue
  This guy doesn't know what the hell he's doing. He's trying to make himself hard to spot, but he sticks out like a sore thumb; any passerby who saw a guy trying not be seen at the mouth of an alley wouldn't exactly think he's a law-abiding citizen. Whatever the case, he's watching Huntress's apartment, and you want to find out why.
  
  "Excuse me," you say, approaching him. He turns around, and his face twists into bug-eyed horror when he sees you. "You wouldn't know where I could get a trim and a shave?" You slam his head into the brick wall, him slumping down but still conscious.
  
  The poor sap is petrified. "Y-your face! What h-happened to your f-f-face!?"
  
  "Overdosed on acne cream." You yank him up by his collar, glaring at him with non-existent eyes. "Why are you watching Helena Bertinelli's apartment?"
  
  "W-who?"
  
  You drop him, then grab his left pinkie finger and yank it down.
  
  *CRA-CACK*
  
  He screams in sheer agony. "I ask again: why are you watching Helena Bertinelli's apartment?"
  
  "I-I was hired to watch her! I'm a private investigator!"
  
  "Hired by who?"
  
  "I dunno man, just some gu-"
  
  You grab his ring finger. His story quickly changes.
  
  "I-it was a man named Panessa! Tomaso Panessa!"
  
  That name. It's familiar.
  
  "Thanks for the information." You kick him in the face, heading back into the apartment.
  > continue
  You return to the apartment, Huntress there waiting for you. "So? Who was he?"
  
  "Private eye, hired to keep a watch on you. He gave me a name. Tomaso Panessa." At this, Huntress's eyes widen. "You know him?"
  
  "... He's my uncle."
  
  "Uncle? Why would your uncle want to spy on you?"
  
  "I don't know. But I'm going to find out why."
  
  "Correction: we're going to find out why."
  
  -----
  
  That's how you found yourself at a banquet two days later. Luckily, Huntress', or rather, Helena's cousin and Tomaso's son, Nino Panessa, was getting married. She didn't plan on attending, but this new development changed those plans. The wedding was being held outside the Panessa Manor by Tomaso, so it would be the perfect chance to snoop around inside while everyone was busy.
  
  Helena brought you along as her plus one. Although hesitant to reveal your identity to her, you agreed to come along out of costume. The two of you sit at a table off to the side, you scanning the guests behind mirrored shades. Everyone here has ties to organized crime. You feel out of place, not only because of your obvious disgust for criminals, but also because of the fact that you're the only person who isn't Italian. Your ginger characteristics have caused a few stares to be cast at your table, judging both yourself and Helena.
  
  "I'll go check the house out, you stay here to avoid rousing any suspicion," you whisper to her, standing up.
  
  "Be careful, Q," Helena replies, and watches you go.
  
  It was easy enough to slip into the mansion through the kitchen entrance, left open for the servers to come in and out. You'll have to be quiet, you can't just rush in, not for this. You slip into the manor proper.
  
  It's bigger than anything you've ever seen, beating out even Mayor Fermin's mansion back in Hub City (well, before it got burnt down, that is). There must be a million rooms in the place. But you know that the place you're looking for: Tomaso's study on the third floor where he keeps his computer, and by extension all of his information regarding his activities. The only problem is Huntress didn't tell you where it was beyond the third floor. It'll be a guessing game from there.
  
  You reach the third floor using the servants' stairwell without any interruptions. There's no one here, at least there shouldn't be. Now you just have to find out which door the study is behind. Thankfully, there are only three.
  > check the first door, to your left.
  When you enter you find a bedroom, king-sized bed with velvet sheets in the center. There's a large painting on the wall of a man and a woman: Tomaso and his wife. This room should be theirs. Either way, it's not the study. Nothing for you here.
  > go back to the hallway.
  As you leave the room, you see a man in a black suit and tie wearing shades. You see a gun at his side. A guard.
  
  He spots you and pulls out his gun, shouts at you to stay where you are. You don't listen. You run forward, zigzagging around so he can't get a clear shot. He doesn't try, instead dropping the gun and pulling out a knife when you get close.
  > punch at his throat.
  You try to punch at his throat, but he's faster than you, dodging and slashing your arm. Hissing, you clutch at your wound, and he takes the pause to plunge his knife right into your chest. It all goes black as he twists the blade.
  
  You're Dead!