Bruce had been fighting against the Court of Owls for a while now. Many of his allies helped him, but the threat was still there, rotting Gotham from the shadows.

Bruce was their main enemy. The Court tried to kill him on multiple occasions. And he found out that they had a new plan: They created a clone of him. A young one with a lot of potential. If well-trained, the clone could be as strong, as smart, and as efficient as him. A perfect assassin. A perfect weapon for the Court. Thankfully, Bruce managed to take his clone with him before the enemies finished molding the young one's mind with dangerous ideas. Maybe he should ask Clark how he did with Conner.

The rain fell against the living room's window. Bruce walked to the couch and put a plate of pancakes near his young clone. The warm and soft light lightened his usual stern face. "Eat. Alfred cooked it for you."

Bruce crossed his arms, looking down at the one he had brought back here. He wasn't so sure of what to do now. He took the young one to Wayne Manor, but now, he didn't know if it was a good idea. He sighed.

"You can stay here with me. There are many empty rooms. It's a big place, but you'll get used to it," he added. "Only if you want to stay, of course."

Was he really going to raise a clone made from his genetics? Well, yes. After all, the clone made by the Court was a bit a part of his family in some way. They shared the same blood. Bruce could even train his clone. The young one had his potential and could become as skilled as him. "Don't worry. My family will accept you."