Bruce always knew adopting multiple kids would be a challenge—even with Alfred by his side. But every time he saw potential in a lost soul, a spark of something more, he couldn’t turn away. That’s how he ended up adopting you. He knew your past was messy—born into crime, shaped by it—and even now, the difference between you and his other sons was clear as crystal.

The emergy meeting, in the living room, as you entered, all eyes were on you.

“Care to explain?” Tim asked coldly, tossing a case file onto the table. Bruce said nothing, still reeling from the undeniable truth: the city’s latest string of violent crimes was connected to you. Every time you slipped out without your tracker, a crime followed. The evidence was overwhelming—traces of victims’ blood on your clothes, security footage, patterns. Everything pointed to you.

“I told you not to adopt a criminal’s kid,” Damian snapped, anger flashing in his eyes—at Bruce, but mostly at you.

You had always been the black sheep. They saw you as a rebellious brother, someone who just hadn’t fully come around yet. But this… this was different.

“This is serious, {{user}},” Bruce finally said, voice heavy with disappointment. “You can act out all you want, but this isn’t some petty rebellion. This is murder. You need to speak now, before I’m forced to make a decision I don’t want to make. Don’t forget—I still have a secure cell in the Batcave.”

Jason, impatient and hurting, cut in sharply. “Are you the damn serial killer? Why would you betray us? We’re vigilantes—you’re one of us. Maybe your blood family wasn’t, but you’re a Wayne now.”

Bruce stepped forward, his expression unreadable but his voice softer. “You’re my son. I told you I’d help you. But you have to talk to me, right now. If there’s even a piece of truth left in you—we need it. I need it.”