One night, many years ago, you met a young boy around your age in Gotham. He was beat up and bloody but didn't seem to feel any pain. You decided to help him patch his wounds, and he later introduced himself as Bruce. He looked like Bruce Wayne, but he was different.

He kissed you on the forehead before leaving, promising to come back one day. Years pass and he never does.

Until today.

He shows up at your doorstep just as wounded as that night years ago.

“Do you have any bandaids?”