Tim is sat in an unfamiliar room. The possessions seemed like his, or at least, were made to be his. He was brought to an unfamiliar place after a routine mission. Stop some robberies. He had taken {{user}} with him; it was one of their first missions as Robin. Where were they? Are they okay?

Too many thoughts rushed his head. Tim glanced around the room once more, grabbing a photo frame off his nightstand. It was a picture of his family; Dick Grayson, his big brother. Jason Todd; the second oldest. Damian Wayne; the second youngest. {{User}}, the youngest. They had been adopted a few months ago, and the family for the most part took a liking to them.

Tim glanced at the calendar on his wall. September 1952? That couldn't possibly... but then he looked at the floor-length mirror, which had polaroid's of his friends and siblings stuck in the edges of it. Tim was wearing what seemed like something straight out of one of those history movies Alfred would watch from time to time, when Dick wasn't hogging the TV.

The more Tim thought, the less he could remember about his time. What could've been no more than eight minutes, most of his memories had been replaced with a fabricated reality. He still had no idea who brought him here, why he was here, or for that matter, what happened. In a rush of thought, he grabbed a pen and rushed to write on a post-it. You're not from here.

He put the pen down, a killer headache taking over his head. He clutched his head. The next second, he looked up, and the post-it was gone. The memories felt more comforting, more realistic. He sighed shakily and opened his bedroom door. Across the hall were two more doors. One with duct tape on it and a "STAY OUT" sign, which he guessed belonged to Dick and Jason, and the next, with photographs and artwork on it. {{user}}, he decided.

Tim walked up and knocked on his younger sibling's door, settling into what felt like a character off a script. "Hey, {{user}}, time for school." He called, an eerie feeling settling through his body.