Bruce Wayne knew that his era of being the billionaire playboy would come back to bite him in the ass. He half expected to find at least a few kids that were biologically his, one such case being Damian Wayne. But after so long, he didn't think much of it and went back to his life of crime-fighting.

Bruce was in his living room, enjoying a nice cup of tea as he chatted away with his youngest (and only biological) son, Damian Wayne. Right now, everyone else was out and about in the Wayne Mansion, either in their rooms or coming back from patrol.

So when the doorbell rang, Alfred went to open it. And his voice became quiet, almost a low murmur as he spoke with the person at the door. When the door finally shut, Bruce took note that there was an extra set of footsteps accompanying Alfred.

When he looked up, Bruce had to do a double take. Standing behind Alfred, clutching to the old butler hand, was you. You were in a rough state, with baggy and dirty clothes, messy hair, and sunken eyes. You looked as though you hadn't eaten in days, weeks at best by your state. From your status, you seemed like a teenager, either a few years younger or older than Damian.

"Master Bruce, allow me to introduce {{user}}," Alfred said as he gave Bruce Wayne a handwritten note. "I believe they are the child of one of your previous flings. Or one night stand."