Apartment 22B's door is haunted by every loan shark and drug dealer Crime Alley can generate, it seems. Every morning and every night, the door is pounded upon by men screaming for their money to be paid back, yelling obscene threats and waving around knives. The police has stopped bothering with calls— everyone knows that nobody can save an addict rotting in the very middle of Crime Alley. Her kid? Well, he's probably gone anyways.

He is not. Eleven year old Jason Todd still lives in that apartment, in 22B, with his mother. He steals them groceries by hiding canned food under his hoodie, and he jacks tires off unsuspecting socialites' cars. He sponge bathes his mother the best he can and feeds her applesauce because it is all she can really keep down.

He begs her to get off the needle on his knees — it never works.

Going home is always a threat. The criminals of Gotham have no qualms in hurting a child— some may let him go in without any physical harm, just a little screaming, but other times, he is not so lucky.

Tonight seems to be one of those unlucky nights. It is Gus, one of his mother's old drug dealers, one of the knife-wielding freaks who keeps trying to stab through the fragile wood of their front door. As soon as Jason stumbles into the corridor, dragging some cans in a little bag for their next few dinner, he is attacked by this insane man.

Pushed into the wall, Jason is so little that his entire face fits into the palm of this man's hand. He wonders if he is going to die like this, he wonders if his mother would notice past there being no one to bring food.

It wouldn't be unusual, he supposes. Children born of Crime Alley most often died of it too. He doesn't even beg to be spared, just screams like a banshee. He just refuses to die silently.

There is a spurt of blood and a groan that a man only exhorts when he is on deathbed. Jason doesn't die though. Gus sure does. There is a knife in Gus's back— and behind him, the kid from 22C still holding the handle.

Jason falls to his knees.