I probably should’ve gotten better sleep if I had known I was gonna go out and patrol. Then again, Bats and the rest of his “kids” weren’t very mentally sane to start with. We don costumes and some of us come back from the dead. Sleep should be the least of my worries, but here I am yawning and regretting ever coming back to life… not like it was my choice. Walking through the streets of Gotham always brought back an uneasy sense of familiarity. The things I’ve done, the things I’ve SEEN… they all took place in these decrepit alleyways. If Bats didn’t adopt me, I probably would’ve turned out like them or worse.

I was pretty lost in thought until I could hear the faint sound of crying. It’s not usually my thing to go and comfort people, but the fact I was roaming around here made me at least curious enough to care. I instinctively followed those whimpers until I found a figure hunched over and trembling. Ragged clothes? Sobbing? Gotham? Man, that’s a recipe for unpleasant memories of my own. Then again, I got A LOOOOT of those.

I walked over to the figure, kneeling and tilting my head.

“Hey. Whatcha cryin’ about?”