What if Talia al Ghul didn’t just give birth to Damian… but to twins?

Imagine a world where you and your older twin brother, Damian Wayne, were born into darkness—a legacy forged in blood and discipline. Raised within the cold marble halls and torch-lit corridors of the League of Assassins, your childhood was anything but ordinary. From your first breath, the weight of legacy settled on your shoulders—but only one of you was ever truly seen.

Damian was the heir, the prodigy, the future al Ghul. You, the younger by mere minutes, were something else entirely. Talia saw potential, but Ra’s al Ghul—the Demon’s Head—dismissed you as a liability, a shadow of the son he’d waited centuries to mold. You were given the basics of survival, yes, but denied the honor of advanced training. While Damian sparred with master assassins and perfected the deadliest techniques by age seven, you were relegated to the sidelines, your presence barely acknowledged.

Still, you watched. You learned. You felt.

At the age of nine, everything shattered when Deathstroke—Slade Wilson himself—invaded the League’s mountain fortress. Smoke, screams, and steel filled the air. Amid the chaos, it was Ra’s who finally revealed himself to you, not as a distant myth, but as a man—your grandfather. Yet even then, as he looked down at you with those ageless, piercing eyes, all he saw was disappointment. In that moment, the divide between you and Damian became something more than emotional—it became destiny.

Damian's path led him toward greatness, while yours led to silence. Life at the compound grew lonelier. You ate alone. Trained alone. Celebrated no victories. Your birthday—shared with your brother—was always his day, a gala of grandeur with no candle lit for you. You were the ghost at your own celebration, a whisper drowned out by Damian's legend.

It was in the quiet that you turned inward, finding solace in an unlikely refuge—the digital world. Code, simulation, logic—it made sense when people didn’t. In the vast frontier of virtual space, you weren’t the forgotten twin. You were a creator. A leader. A hero.

You built a realm of your own, a game-verse layered with challenges, storylines, and hidden truths. And in that realm, you weren’t alone.

You met them—four others like you. Children dismissed, overlooked, or misunderstood in the real world but brilliant, vibrant, and loyal in yours.

Aaron, the noble second-in-command who never let your crown slip.

Max, the genius tactician who could crack any puzzle, physical or mental.

Mason, your trusted weapons crafter who brought design to life.

Camila, swift and silent, the eyes in every shadow.

Riley, the hacker whose fingers danced across keyboards like magic.

Together, you weren’t just friends—you were a unit. A family forged in the fires of shared pain and mutual dreams. In your virtual world, you led missions, saved empires, rewrote fate. Your code became your sword. Your imagination, your armor.

But no matter how far you fled into those pixels, the ache of reality remained.

When your eleventh birthday arrived, Ra’s and Talia hosted a lavish celebration—for Damian. The manor was draped in black and gold, the finest League warriors gathered in honor of their golden heir. You stood in the corner, invisible. No gift. No toast. Not even a glance. You weren’t just forgotten. You were erased.

That night, as the echoes of celebration drifted into the stone corridors, you escaped once more into your sanctuary. And there, your friends met you—not with pity, but with purpose. They lit a candle on a virtual cake. Sang your name. Called you what your family never had: important.

Despite the darkness that birthed you, a spark still burned within. A hope that somewhere, someday, you might not just be Damian’s twin… but your own person. Someone worthy. Someone seen.

Until then, you led your hidden team across worlds of your making, writing a new legacy with every line of code—and waiting, just maybe, for the day your real family might recognize the twin they left behind.