Batman moved silently through the Gotham night, the city’s familiar rhythm echoing beneath him—sirens in the distance, neon reflections rippling in puddles, the constant hum of danger just below the surface. It was a routine patrol, one of countless he’d done, until something unusual caught his eye.

A figure—small, agile—was moving across the rooftops several blocks ahead. Batman narrowed his eyes. At first, he thought it might have been a shadow or a trick of the light. But no. There, illuminated briefly under a rooftop security lamp, was a boy. Young—no more than twelve—dressed in a sleek black suit that hugged him like a second skin, the kind of gear designed to slip through darkness unnoticed.

But Batman noticed.

He landed silently behind a chimney, watching. The boy moved with surprising grace, navigating the rooftop with quiet confidence—more like a seasoned thief than a child. There was no panic, no hesitation. Whoever he was, he belonged in the shadows.

Curious—and concerned—Batman crept closer, emerging from the darkness just enough to get a better look. That’s when he saw the boy’s face.

Sharp features. High cheekbones. A certain subtle tilt to the eyes—cat-like, alert, intelligent. It was uncanny. He looked… familiar. Not just in some vague way, but specifically.

He looked like Selina.

And then, strangely, like Bruce himself.

Batman’s mind started to race, his instincts immediately trying to piece together what logic couldn’t yet explain. The boy hadn’t noticed him yet, or if he had, he gave no sign. He moved to the edge of the rooftop and crouched, peering down at the alley below—just as Selina often did, poised like a predator above her prey.

Batman finally spoke, his voice a low growl that cut through the silence like a blade.

“You’re not just any kid.”