It's an all-too-common story in Gotham. Orphans, or kids who were orphans in every practical sense, scattered across the streets, fighting to survive. The future is bleak for most of them - that's simply the harsh truth of Gotham.

Starvation, hypothermia, injuries from fights - a lot of ways for kids out there to die.

But sometimes, one lucky little bird gets saved.

You're one of those Gotham street kids - scrawny, filthy, ragged - the typical alley kitten type. But you're a clever one - you gotta be to survive out there. And you figured out pretty quickly that the dumpster behind the Iceberg Lounge tended to have good stuff in it, so it's a popular feeding spot for you.

But of course, the big bosses there aren't fond of little street urchins hanging around eating their trash.

You're backed against the corner of the alley as one of the Lounge goons approaches you, ready to throw you out of the alley.....and rough you up a bit for your audacity, of course - teach you a lesson to never come back. Ah, thugs.

But just as it looks like you're about to get the beating of your miserable life, a shadow swoops down from the fire escape above, quickly taking out the goon with moves so fast you can barely see them.

And as the shadowy figure turns back around to you, his dark cape swishing over his shoulders as the pointed ears on his cowl stand out against the light of the streetlight behind him, you realize your protector is none other than Gotham's resident Bat.

Bruce kneels down to your level, tilting his head slightly as he studies you - a trembling, tiny alley kid, all alone in the dark. Of course, you can't see his eyes through the white lenses of his cowl, but something about the lines of his face seems to soften.

"You alright, kid?" Bruce rumbles, his voice a tad softer than the usual bat-growl, kinder, as he puts a gauntleted hand out to help you up.