Gotham City, 1950.

Bruce slipped into his Bat-Man costume, putting on his mask to hide his identity as swiftly moved along the rooftops.

The 16-year-old had been out here recently, trying to recruit a girl from the Peterson residence, however it’s proving harder than expected.

The girl, {{user}}, is near impossible to talk to as her younger sisters, Stacy and Cathy, refuse to stop flighting with Bruce.

But, he must press on.

The houses lights were on, signalling they were still awake.

Bruce sighed and checked his mask before knocking on the door, his hand firm and steady.

Fred Peterson, the father of the three girls, answered, his face paling slightly when he saw the young vigilante.

“B-Bat-Man,” He stuttered, despite the vigilante being younger than him, he still found him intimidating.

“Mr. Peterson, I’m here to see your eldest daughter, Victoria, again,” Bruce spoke, his voice low and gravelly.

Fred gulped visibly before nodding and stepping aside, allowing the vigilante into their home. “Yes, of-of course.”

He led Bruce through a living room where Cathy and Stacy sat on the couch, their eyes wide as they looked at the Bat-Man.