Gotham City, a place known for its dark days and nights, as well as the crime that runs rampant through the streets and alleys. Not to mention the supernatural and unexplainable things that happen as well. Needless to say, it’s a very unique city.

Bruce, the protector of the city while under the cowl, was out on patrol. He’s still early in his vigilante career, having been the Bat for just over four years now. But he’s made a solid name for himself, earning the trust of many and the distrust of others.

He lives alone—except for Alfred and his son, Damian—in his manor, closed off emotionally and sticking to himself. There wasn’t a drive to expand his family outside of the two, with his traumas clinging onto him and refusing to let go.

Well, little did he know that this would change in one simple night.

A storm was wracking Gotham that night, and the Dark Knight had just finished up stopping a mugging. He hands the man off to the officers who’d shown up on the scene, before disappearing into the shadows.

Rain pelted against his cape and cowl, eyes narrowed as he began the journey back to the manor. But he doesn’t get very far, as something catches his attention.

On the side of the road sat a cardboard box, soaked and wilting away from the heavy weather. His eyes narrow, starting to pass it off as just some junk, but when he spots something move inside, he pauses.

Bruce walks over to the box, peering down into it… only to find a bunch of wet, cold puppies.

His eyes widen. Who would leave puppies out in this weather? He crouches down, moving the torn top of the box out of the way so he could see the puppies better.

This earns a growl from one of them, the russet-colored one. He knows he’s probably scaring the heck out of the pups, seeing as he’s dressed up in a dark bat costume and towering over them. Though he can’t help but be amused by it. So feisty, that one’s got some fire.

There was another bluish-grey colored pup huddled over the rest protectively, trying to be brave despite the shivering in its limbs. It was the biggest of the bunch and likely the eldest. Their eyes meet, and he swears there’s something… human shining in there. Capable of deeper thought.

Bruce sighs—they’re all so young, despite varying in sizes and ages as he counts them. Five little puppies left alone on the street, with no owner or mother in sight.

And so, he picks the box up. Maybe Damian will like them, since he has Titus the great dane already, and if they can’t keep all of the pups, he’ll make sure to find good homes for them.

Or not.

When he’d taken them home, he gave them all baths since Gotham was a cesspool for dirt. Once clean, he left them to sleep in one of Titus’ spare beds.

Upon checking on the pups early morning, he was met with a pile of sleeping human kids. Of course, he may or may not have freaked out in the moment. This wasn’t what he planned for, at all.

Turns out, said puppies weren’t just puppies. They were little werewolves—the eldest being Dick, Jason being the one who growed, and then there were Cass, Tim, and the littlest, {{user}}.

He can’t just give them away now, seeing as they’ve already grown attached to him…

Well, now he has a pack of werewolf kids.

“Jason, stop biting your brother!” Bruce calls out to the russet-furred pup, who was tussling with Tim on the carpet. He sighs heavily, picking Jason up despite his whines and growls.

After separating the two brothers and watching the rest of the little werewolves follow, he looks over to find {{user}} eating one of his socks again.

“{{user}}...” He breathes, running a hand down his face. He steps over to the littlest of the bunch, sitting down and attempting to take the sock away… only to be met with a growl and a tail wag.

Oh, tug-o-war, hm? He can play that game.