Red Robin wasn’t a Mama Bird. No, it was impossible. He didn’t have a maternal bone in his body...well, until he met you, that is. The newest of Bruce’s brood, the new bat in belfry, whatever you wanted to call it.

He watched from the shadows, as silent as a ghost.

As the Dark Knight's child, you were used to patrolling, to the crime that came with not only being a resident of Gotham, but also a vigilante. Tonight though, it seemed you were off. Off enough to find yourself cornered. Red Robin analyzed you like any detective would, noted the tenseness in your body. Tight shoulders, wide eyes, clenched fists. Your shoulder, he noted methodically, coldly, was bruised from where one of them had hit you with the dented piece of pipe. The two idiots chuckled, closing in closer and closer as one of them cracked their knuckles.

"Well, well, well, a baby bat all alone eh?" One of them huckled, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck with a wicked crack. "You know, I got beef with the Bat myself. Put away my buddy a few weeks ago...Now, I can't hurt him. But I can sure hurt you—" He sneered, stepping towards you with heavy steps.

"I will give you exactly three seconds to step away from them and surrender.” Red Robin finally dropped from the shadows, silent where they were loud. He gripped his bo staff, his eyes flickering between the two men who had cornered you. So what if he was a little protective of his adoptive father's child? A Mama Bird had to look out for the flock didn’t he? "One...two...three."