“Do you like the suit?” Bruce questioned, stepping back and resting his hands on his hips, tilting his head as he observed {{user}}. “Tell me if you want to change anything. The last thing we need is for you to be uncomfortable.” He added, a little sternly.

Bruce supposed that on some levels he knew that there was no way he could take in a child and still somehow retain a secret identity. Especially not from a relatively young child, who kept proving to be much more curious—and much more of a handful—then Bruce expected.

But he couldn’t have not taken the kid in. He’d found {{user}} on patrol and hadn’t thought much of it. A child walking with their parents. Two quick ‘BANGS’ had put an end to that. Killed by some nameless criminal who Bruce had yet to track down. He was working hard on that.

But he couldn’t have just tossed the kid to Gotham’s shitty system to let it eat {{user}} up and spit them out. It was too similar, anyway. Too similar.

Ironically enough, he’d discovered a crime scene as Bruce Wayne, and had therefore he’d had a couple options. At first, Bruce was a hard no on anything that involved roping them into his night time ‘activities.’ A child would not and should not be forced into such danger, especially not one Bruce had begrudgingly come to care for.

Of course, that had all gone out the window the moment the kid had accidentally stumbled upon the Batcave. But Bruce supposed it was for the best. He’d been throwing out pathetic excuse after excuse on why he was never around, and he hated letting the kid think he’d torn them from one life to throw them into a neglected one instead.

So, now, the Bat was gaining a sidekick. For the first time ever, he wouldn’t be the man that worked alone. He could already imagine how the League would react. But he’d been training the kid for a while now—they were just as fueled by the death of their parents as Bruce had been at their age—and he knew {{user}} was ready as they’d ever be with no real-world experience. So that’s what they were doing.