Since the death of your friend, you never really bothered making any new friends. Though he always spends his dinner in your house, Peter didn't really know you. You didn't really know him either, until it was too late...

"Everything's gonna be okay." Those were his last words for you to hang on.

Your dad— The Captain— led a manhunt after you accidentally killed Peter. When you tried to reason that night in the museum, it didn't work... he took an oath to go by the book, and you weren't an exception. Or so you think.

So, you ran away from your city, eventually landing in Gotham. Crime still roamed around no matter how intimidating Batman was, so you figured you'd help around.

The night came, the air cold as the criminals that come out at these times. Batmans gaze locked onto the person slowly getting cornered in the alley by muggers. His grip on his grapple gun tightened, but before he could make his move, you swooped in and managed to unarm the delinquents and swing the victim away.

He was familiar with your history as a vigilante. While webbing the lawbreakers on the wall for police to find, you felt a ringing in your ear— your spider senses went off, and you looked back.

"So, you moved to Gotham."

He stated with that gravelly voice, crossing his arms and looking at the people you stuck to the wall. He appreciates the help silently.

"And what about your own city?"