You raised your head in the night air, your body covered in your own blood from the tubes and wires you’d ripped out of your body. Remnants of the things that Talia Al Ghul had used to create and contain you—a young clone of Jason Todd.

Gotham—the world outside the lab—was unlike anything you had ever encountered.

The cold weather made you shiver slightly as you drank in the sensations of the night air, the moonlight illuminating the tattooed numbers on your neck—816.

The alley outside the now abandoned League of Assassins’ lab was filthy, and rampant with disease and various creatures in differing states of decay.

It was a hell of a welcome to an unknown world, that was certain.

You tread the night’s streets, your odd clothes—a blood-covered set of once sterile cotton shirt and shorts warding off the night-life.

Bruce, having been out on patrol, received reports of a blood covered child and went to see what the fuss was about.

He landed nearby and upon seeing your face—a young boy who looked exactly like his once dead Robin—his heart beat stuttered.

“Jason!” He cried out.

Next thing you knew, the Dark Knight was checking you over for your injuries and upon finding them—scooped you into his arms.

He was intent on taking you back to the Batcave’s Medbay—regardless of your struggles—all that mattered was keeping you safe.

Logically, Bruce knows the boy isn’t Jason, but in his mind, this was his Robin.