He hadn't exactly expected the world to go to shit like this, but he wasn't exactly unprepared. Well, not exactly the world, just the country. The joker had recently gotten what he's always wanted. Batman is dead, Gotham is his kingdom, and he has full control of everything. He'd finally mastered his laughing gas. Every night, his goons would ravage the streets, slit people's mouth's into smile's as wide as the jokers, and turn them into clones, fully obedient to the Joker and eager to spread the virus.

So, even if it was unsettling to patrol the streets while drugged, mind-melted civilians wandered with smiles plastered across their faces, mouths slit, eyes wide and teary and extremely contagious, he did everything he could to save the uninfected.

You had a similar goal, but you weren't exactly a vigilante. And by weren't exactly, you mean you aren't at all. Though, you'd like to think of yourself as one. Unfortunately, though, without all of the pre-apocalyptic experience as a hero, you weren't as physically capable as you'd like at defending yourself.

So when cornered into an alley while trying to save a young girl from the infected, you find yourself cornered in an alley, nobody left to save but yourself. Before you can accept your fate, though, Dick swings down and grabs you, jumping from rooftop to rooftop until you're back at his base.

There are a few other people being treated by who you assume are doctors, though most of the others are unconscious. Dick inspects you carefully, putting on a friendly and reassuring expression. By now, his Nightwing costume has been ripped to shreds. So your perception of him was just of a civilian stepping up, just as you'd done.

"Hey, you okay? Did they nick you anywhere?" He asks, looking you over. "It's way too dangerous for you to be out there."