Hi guys, yes I live. First off I have to apologise for the long hiatus, my life has been a right pain this last year so I've been suffering from incredible writers block. However after my great gran died a few weeks ago I've tried to get back into writing to distract myself. As a result I give you the first chapter of A Robin's Wings (the rewrite), I am going away tomorrow but I'm hoping to get the next chapter finished in that time. A little pre warning is that I have changed a lot around with the rewrite so some things won't be happening the same or will happen differently, this is mostly to do with the fact that after rereading my original version I found a lot of errors, and the piece felt rushed so I've rewritten it in the hope of improving. With that hope I leave you enjoy the first chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Harry Potter or any of the respective characters that belong to the franchise. My twisted brain is merely using them for my own twisted enjoyment.

Warning: Unbetad, most of this chapter is taken from the first part of Batman: Under the Red Hood.

A Robin's Wings chapter one rewrite:

East Asia

January 13, 17:45 EA

The night sky was exceptionally clear, revealing thousands of glittering stars far above the remote temple that sat atop the steep cliff face. Modelled after the famous Taj Mahal in India, it was a mix of smooth round roofs with jutting points and tall archways. It had been coloured in a mix of fresh crisp white and dark green that matched the few well-placed trees within a remote garden, all in all it blended in well and hardly looked like a creation of man if looked at from the ground. With its placing as well as the large arching mountains that stood near it, the temple was ideally placed as a hideout.

Soft amber light could be seen emitting from within, looking almost like fire if looked at from an adjourning mountain. It shone brightest from the east side, tall arching windows that led out onto a large overhanging balcony. They easily revealed a large room, coloured in warm mahogany and soft subtle creams. Many book cases lined the wall, holding well-worn novels, and ancient looking scrolls that had been carefully placed to reduce chances of damage. To one side sat a side desk before a large leather wingback chair that held a large stack of paper work and a series of smaller and more present looking books. A few writing implements such as pens and a fine feather quill along with a small pot of ink sat neatly in the centre, a half-finished letter written on old parchment laid next to them.

Throughout the large room were a series of dark marble pillars that matched the floor, extending and keeping that old fashioned look. The only other furniture of the room were a pair of high back leather chairs that sat near an open fire that was set into one of the adjoin walls, a series of paintings lining the others. They ranged in detail and quality, from well-made grassy meadows to what could only be described as blobs and squiggles of colour. The most impressive hung above the fire and was a long vertical piece of a man with black hair lined with white, sharp hard green eyes and a carefully kept pointed goatee. He was dressed in a midnight suit, a whit neckerchief proudly sat round his neck. His shoulders were hidden beneath a deep green cloak held securely by a thin golden cord that ran between two intricate clasps. He was standing straight and firm with what appeared to be perfect posture, his hands before him as he held the handle of a long blade that came to just below his waist line, the curved blade resting against the barely notable floor. All in all it was a very intimidating image that appeared to be carefully observing the room, threatening any would be trespassers with its unwavering gaze.

Standing before the large arching windows was a matching figure lacking only the sword; instead a golden goblet holding the fine red wine was held by a slowly tightening hand. Anger tightened the grip and the goblet shook slightly, the figures eyes narrowing menacingly on his own reflection oblivious to the wondrous view within his gaze. This man was none other than the esteemed Ra's al Ghul, known to many as the 'Demon Head's' and the leader of a terrorist group known as the 'League of Assassins'.

And he was currently angry.

No scratch that, he was furious.

Behind him the sole other occupant of the room a man known as Cecil barely restrained a tremble of fear as he stared warily at his masters back. He felt a chill run down his spine but knew it wasn't from the cold -definitely not with the roaring fire that warmed the room to a comfortable temperature- his body keeping itself restrained beneath a dark grey robe over which he wore a thick black cloak that ended just below his knees. His short black hair shifted slightly as his coal eyes flickered nervously between the man before him and the wooden clipboard he held within his hands.

Suddenly there was a light clatter as the goblet hit the floor spilling it contents, the liquid quickly spreading and catching the bottom of the green cloak. Ra's paid it no mind, instead narrowing his eyes and snarling slightly "I should never have allied myself with a mad man."

Outskirts of Sarajevo

January 13, 23:45 EA

The cool crisp air burned his lungs, as the cold burned into his skin leaving his limbs aching and numb. The scenery whipped past him, the snow covered ground blending and hiding old discarded brick and old abandoned cars. They looked almost skeletal, like the buildings he was approaching. He was travelling at what would most definitely be deadly speeds should he crash, his cape whipping wildly behind him. Still, it wasn't fast enough.

With that thought his thumb pressed firmly against the gear, accelerating the speed and engaging the boosters. The screen before him flashed showing the increase in acceleration, the back tire caught up clouds of snow and dust leaving a large trail behind him.

East Asia

January 13, 17:47 EA

His back was rigid and fists clenched tight as he turned away from his reflection, no longer able to stand the sight of himself. His eyes met those of Cecil, the man looking extremely intimidated even as he held Ra's gaze. Ra's didn't hesitate and started to move closer his mouth already moving as questions, half formed plans and panic set in and mingled with the already bubbling pit of anger. "Where are they?"

Even so his steps were measured watching as Cecil flipped the front page over the clip board his eyes quickly scanning the contents even as he answered "in Sarajevo sir." Suddenly his lip curled into a small worried frown, "and" his voice hitched and he glanced at Ra's briefly before closing his eyes regret colouring his features before he once more met his master's gaze.

Seeing this Ra's paused, a frown of his own already forming before the words left his subordinates lips.

"He has the boy."

Sarajevo

January 13, 23:47 EA

"Ughhh" the small murmur escaped the boys lips even as he perched precariously on his knees eyes fixed on the ground before him, before shutting attempting to block out the sheer agony. His teeth were tightly grit together and felt like they would shatter if he applied anymore pressure, his wrists straining against the tight pair of handcuffs that were working to cut the blood flow off from his hands. They lacked their initial strength now and it felt more like a chore then desperation as he tried to ignore the fact that most of his body felt numb, and that he could barely move his fingers.

Dishevelled bangs shifted to fall limply over his forehead as he weakly lifted his head, forcing his eyes to open revealing a pair of pale green that spoke of nothing but pain. The left was only partially revealed and the white backdrop stained a slight pink, the bruising around it revealing that it was swelling and soon would be worse than useless. He tried to ignore such pessimistic thoughts, thinking such things no matter how probable or true would not help his current situation in the least.

Knowing with all his heart that he was probably going to die didn't really help either.

Jason however had always been a mixture of optimism and cynicism, so even in the bleakest situation he still held out hope. No matter how small.

'Bruce will come…he always comes…'

With that thought firmly on repeat in his head he met the gaze of his tormentor, he barely registered those sickly reddish hues before the firm bite of metal met his jaw knocking him from his precarious position even as a cry of pain wrenched from his lips a series of coughing following close behind. The cold concrete floor was harsh and firmly dug into his shoulder as he lay there trying to ignore the pain, trying not to give this sick bastard the satisfaction even if it meant looking weak. As a result his eyes were shut tightly once more, and he could feel those eyes on him again looking over his tattered uniform like someone examined a fine piece of art. His cape –or what was left of it- was tattered beyond repair the once proud green and yellow seemingly dulled to match the mood. His gloves were gone leaving his hands bare and vulnerable to the cuffs which had already cut through his wrists enough that a thin trickle of blood was running over his right hand, slightly warming the fingers. His boots had also been taken thought his ankles were left free of restraint, not like that helped much. He had tried kicking out earlier and had been rewarded with a sharp blow to the leg; he had heard a snap and felt a sharp pain that he was positive belonged to a break of some kind.

His mask had been subjected to a knife, his tormentor finding pleasure apparently in having a blade so close that he could gorge the youngers eyes out if he so chose to. Jason had been sure that he would however the mad man had just removed the white lenses that usual covered his eyes and then withdrew the knife. Why he didn't just pull the mask off altogether Jason didn't know, but then again there wasn't any true knowing when it came to this clown. Now his pained green eyes were vulnerable to the psychopath through its tattered remains.

The rest of his costume had held up well but was beginning to wear, odd rips appearing where he had been struck or the material feeling odd as though it had moved where it shouldn't. His belt was still there. He had woken up believing that Joker had made a fatal mistake and that he could easily escape before whatever traps the clown had set up went off, only to be disappointed and near downright sick when he had discovered it was empty, all his hidden weapons, all his hope having been stripped from him.

It was a cruel joke.

And one that had struck home his situation better than Joker and his crowbar were doing. He was trapped, he had no way to escape, and all his contingency and back up plans were gone. And now he had no way to even contact Bruce, he had no way to escape.

'No! He'll…he'll come…he always comes…'

"Wow, that looked like it really hurt" came the cruel jeer, the voice sounding morbidly curious rather than outright vicious. Jason didn't need his open to know that Joker was enjoying this, as shut they remained stubbornly shut as he attempted to slow his breathing. It didn't really work as his chest heaved large amounts of oxygen as though the air itself would somehow save him. It actually hurt to breathe this hard, without the additional aches from his injuries.

Almost like a sixth sense Jason felt danger and opened his good eye slightly, barely suppressing the shudder that ran through him as Joker slowly smiled his cruel arrogant grin, yellow teeth peaking over the garish red bottom lip. The arm slowly raising with the tool clutched tightly, Jason shut his eyes not wanting to watch.

"Ughh" he grunted as the metal struck home on his left shoulder this time, swiftly followed by another blow that grasped another cry from the boy that echoed thru the abandoned warehouse. The dark atmosphere that was barely visible even with the overhanging lights didn't help; the empty crates and boxes stacked up against the walls were just as useless. And the door…the door was so far away. As the next blow landed he heard another crack, and now it was even harder to breathe if possible, his body reeling landed him on his back the light catching his uniform and the dull R on his chest. He didn't notice as he twisted his head to the right desperately trying to draw in breath as his chest insistently burned, this pain becoming more prominent than any other. His eyes staring fiercely at the vaulted beam ceiling above him, slight cough of blood that was crawling up his air way blurring his vision slightly as he did so, the limp black bangs hanging annoyingly in front.

"Now hang on" suddenly a silhouetted figure loomed above the overhanging lights casting his top half in shadow, and when coupled with his currently failing vision Jason had no chance of viewing this figure. Not that he actually needed to, he knew the Joker by heart and he certainly would never forget the man after this.

That is, if he lived.

'He's coming….he's coming…just a…little bit…longer…'

"That looked like it hurt a lot more" that crude voice spoke once more, its harsh edge and open amusement brought the man's face to mind even as Jason fought to replace it with another. The styled green hair that formed a peak above the middle of the forehead, sweeping back and looking nothing but toxic and sickly. The pale as a vampire white skin that made you question how this…this…this thing, could actually walk around in the daylight without burning to a fiery crisp. The crimson lips which looked like he drank the blood of his victims, made it look like that cruel grinning jaw was always smiling and leaking blood.

And the eyes, oh God the eyes.

They were a murky red and like his lips screamed blood; they often sparkled with cruel amusement as well as misplaced mirth. The normal white ball was stained an eerie yellow and outlined by coal circles which only accentuated them all the more. It was like looking into the depths of hell and having no way to escape, no way to get away from what was most certainly the Devil in human form. This…this creature that basked itself in purple suits with orange and green, mocking the very idea of an icon originally created to bring joy…there was no way it could be human. When Jason had initially started his career as Robin he had believed like all children that the world was very black and white there was good and evil. You were evil if you chose to do a bad thing, and as a result you had to be taken down. Then he had been introduced to the Rogues and he had quickly learned that it wasn't just good and evil, it wasn't just choice that defined the individuals.

But then again, like almost everything even that was tossed away when he met the Joker.

At least with the others you could get a handle on why they were possibly acting the way they were, why they chose to keep being villains even after they lost. With Joker it seemed to simply be that he liked to annoy Batman, and that was his one singular motive. Well that and possibly because he was an attention whore, and one that was very dangerous when not given what he wanted and equally as dangerous when he had it.

He was cruel, sadistic even to those who worked for him. Held a crude humour and enjoyed watching others suffer even over the tiniest of mistakes; he was for all intense and purposes the embodiment of evil. He had no true overall goal, and in his own words he was simply 'ahead of the curve.'

And Jason had never hated anyone as much as he hated this man right now, this man that was slowly beating him to death.

A slight tapping caught his attention as he stared up weakly, the grey of the ceiling blurring with the shadows. Slowly his eyes drifted shut as the aching pain shot through his limbs, his mind faintly noting the uncomfortable way his cape had twisted below him along with the numbness of both his arms.

"So, let's clear this up, ok pumpkin?" again the cruel voice spoke out, sending an uncontrollable shudder through the boy. His breathing becoming slightly more laboured as he anticipated what would come next.

'Bruce…'

"What hurts more?"

'Please…'

The rhythm of tapping suddenly stopped and the cruel jaunt followed it, "A?" He didn't need to see to know Joker was drawing back for another blow.

Another shot of agony, his ribs this time forcing a grunt from his frozen lips.

'Hurry…'

"Or B?"

Another blow, this one catching his lower spine where he had turned on his side sending a fierce ripple that resulted in a full body shudder, involuntarily jerking all of his injuries and leaving his mind clouded.

'Don't…'

"Forehand?"

His face was abused once more and he felt a tooth loosen, more blood filling his mouth to trail down his chin. The rest remaining with its awful copper taste in his mouth, the taste furthering an approaching feeling of nausea and making him almost choke.

'Leave…'

"Or backhand?"

Another full body shudder and he was falling to lay on his front his feet uselessly jerking, his leg announcing its dissatisfaction with the situation. He was coughing again, the blood that had started to pool splattering before his face as he jerked and jerked shuddering in pain.

'Me…'

Another hit. More lancing pain and a brief blindness through his skull.

'Bruce…please…'

A cruel laugh, echoed from behind but he couldn't open his eyes. It hurt too much, breathing was extremely painful and everything was slowly shutting off. Darkness encroaching on him as weakly tried to break the cuffs once more; he could barely feel his hands.

Where was Bruce? Where was his hero? His right eye slowly opened the left feeling too heavy to even try, had he left him to just like his father?

No.

No Bruce wouldn't leave him, Bruce wouldn't abandon him. He was his partner, his friend and if only secretly the man Jason had always pictured as a true father. Bruce wouldn't leave him. Bruce was coming. He would not give up; he would not let this sick freak steal the only thing he had left.

'He's coming…and I'm not…going to give up…'

The laughter was still echoing behind him, ignoring the roaring heat that sprung from the simple action Jason shifted so that he was looking at Joker with his right eye. "He's coming for me" he had intended to state this confidently, to tell the clown just how screwed he would be once Bruce got here. How Bruce would take that damn crowbar, and how he would beat the Joker's brains in as payback for Jason. How when Bruce was finished the clown would beg for death, for forgiveness, for someone to save him like Jason was doing now.

Unfortunately the blood in his mouth and his laboured breathing only allowed a small muttered mumble that wasn't decipherable to even his own ears. Still he narrowed his single eye hoping that the message could be relayed through his green orbs alone.

The murmur while not successful in translating his threat caught the maniacs attention and that haunting cackle finally came to a stop, the clowns head which had been tilted backward came down to focus on the defiant gaze. Suddenly the clown was kneeling over him, his own face to close for comfort. Jason sneered slightly at this, his nose screwing up slightly from the smell of cheap cologne that was coming from that god awful suit. "Ughh, ughhhh" Jason sneered further as the clowns breathe wafted over him, reminding him of the smell of a corpse even as the Joker continued to mock his ailed threat. "A little louder lamb chop" suddenly the hand that had been positioned next to Jokers own head as he mocked attempting to hear. Suddenly the hand was grasping his hair and mockingly rubbing his sweat stained locks, the touch far too rough and condescending to offer even the slightest comfort. "I think you might have a collapsed lung, that always impedes the auditory" was the matter of fact statement the clown provided, that cruel smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

In that moment Jason decided one thing. He would rather have Joker beating him with that bloody crowbar then be in this proximity with the clown; at east there the torture was only physical.

As a result he lifted his head from where it had been resting against the cool concrete, and spat a mouthful of blood in the clown face.

For a moment they both froze, Jason in open defiance and a small amount of fear as he waited for the inevitable reaction. The Joker on the other hand had frozen in surprise his eyes widening almost comically as though he didn't understand, hand stilling in its movement.

Then just as quickly the eyes had narrowed and the hand roughly tugged Jason's head back by the hair so that it was at an angle which made him believe that it was about to snap, before being forcefully pushed forward. His head collided once more with the unyielding ground and he heard an audible crunch and felt a blossoming of heat from his nose, the fact that he now couldn't breathe through it as well as the building pain informed him that the cartilage had snapped. He grunted and twisted trying to ignore the fact that it felt like he was now struggling to just draw breath.

The clown released him sneering as he stood up once more to glare down at him, sneering as his gloved hand fished inside the purple blazer for a handkerchief. "Now that was rude" he stated as he pulled the white cotton cloth free of the inside pocket, "the first boy blunder had some manners." The clown had stated this with disapproval as if he was telling off a teen for forgetting to use his manners, his eyes narrowing anger sparking behind the crimson orbs. He quickly used the cloth and started dabbing it against the bloody spittle still clinging to his face.

Jason who had been still facing the floor trying to breathe twisted once more so that his face was looking at the clown who stood a few feet behind him, he groaned as it hurt to do so but it was worth it to see the reaction he had earned for his daring actions. He chose to finish his silent insult with a large toothy grin, some of blood pooling out of the corner of his mouth as he did so.

Joker chose a disappointed look as a response his eyes returning to normal –or what could be considered normal for the clown- as he finished wiping away the spit returning the handkerchief to where it had originated. He sighed before speaking his voice matching the look, "I suppose I'll have to teach you a lesson so you can better follow in his footsteps." Here he paused and appeared to be thinking to himself as he looked briefly towards the ceiling before returning his gaze to Jason "nah." He replied to his own query before a grin broke out on his face, rocking forward slightly while bringing his arm up once more. "I'm just going to keep beating you with this crowbar!" he said with humour, haunting laughter following as he placed his foot on his victims back to keep him from moving away.

Jason grunted slightly as his chest screamed at being pushed against the hard floor, more blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he stared up at his tormentor. The clown had reared his head back once more and wasn't restraining himself in any way; it sent an involuntary shiver up the boy's spine as he watched. His moment of rebellion hadn't done anything and the clown would continue on as before if not even more aggressively, if he kept this up…

No! Jason would hold on, he just had to wait a little longer. He could do this, the clown wouldn't win. Bruce would make sure he didn't.

Resolved to endure the no doubt painful session with the clown, Jason shut his eyes in determination.

East Asia

January 13, 17:50 EA

Ra's slowly walked back towards the window as dread gripped tightly at his heart, he hadn't meant for this to happen. The clown had been intended to be a simple distraction, not a danger. Now he had put the detective's son in possibly mortal peril, something he had never intended to do.

This was not going according to plan, he needed to act but none of his forces were stationed anywhere near Sarajevo anymore. He had moved them so as to keep himself from being linked to the clown and off the detective's radar while he completed his plan within Europe. Now his forces were busy carrying out said plan and he was helpless to provide help due to his own arrogance in regards to the psychotic clown. He glared at himself once more in the windows reflection as he came closer feeling cold even with his cape draped over him; he had never hated himself as much as he did at this moment.

He had one spy within Sarajevo that had been there to observe how the clown worked, and if it would be worth hiring him in the future. Now he knew that he should never have hired him in the first place. Even if he sent word now it would be too late for the spy to do anything, and he couldn't recall his forces for the same reason, no there was only one hope now.

"Where is the detective?" he questioned hoping his aid would provide him with some good news, something to keep him from being confronted with the dreary truth of his actions.

"He's on his way" Ra's almost smiled at that however he caught sight of Cecil in the reflection and the down cast expression he wore on his face, the sadness and pity nor being lost by the cool glass.

Sarajevo

January 13, 23:50 EA

The bike nearly skidded as he recklessly weaved it around corners and in and out of the way of debris that had been left by the recent bombing. The bike roared loudly down the empty streets passing the skeletal bodies of what had once been cars and the empty hauntingly dark buildings that lined said streets.

Pieces of barbed wire from fallen fences and wood as well as brick became annoyances that would have fallen any other bike, however the batcycle which had been made for tough terrain kept traction on the heavily snow lined road and traversed them without even slowing. Batman noticed none of this his eyes remaining fixed before him as he looked between the screen which showed Jason's location thru the small tracer he had secretly placed on the boys belt, he was getting closer but he had been too long.

Why had he been so amateur as to let that clown knock him out, now Joker had Jason and God knows what he was doing to the boy. If what he had done to Barbra was any indicator it would be anything but pleasant, he needed to hurry but he was already pushing the bike to its limit.

He ignored the harsh chill of the air that attacked the exposed chin and lower part of his face, ignored how the bike was shaking almost violently below him from how far he was pushing its engine. He ignored how his fear and instincts screamed at him to slow down, and at how reckless he was shooting off without so much as a helmet for safety.

These were inconsequential thoughts to him, Jason was in danger. His son was in danger, and he was going to kill Joker if he had so much as laid a wrong hand on the boy.

East Asia

January 13, 17:51 EA

"But sir…he'll never make it there in time."

Cecil's voice echoed like a condemning behind him, the sadness it held for a boy the man had never met and the brilliant detective who had proved a worthy adversary.

Unconsciously Ra's fists clenched tightly at his sides as sadness encroached upon him, his eyes shutting as once again his own reflection became unbearable to look at.

'What have I done?'

Sarajevo

January 13, 23:54 EA

He was getting closer to the edge of the city and the streets where unfortunately getting harder to travel with the amount of debris that had fallen from the buildings. He almost growled as he turned onto the next street, the road had been completely blocked off by pieces of scaffolding and barbed wire that looked like it had fallen from a base of some kind. He didn't slow down as he spotted a piece lying at a vertical angle instead speeding up, he didn't have time to find another way he needed to hurry.

With that thought he waited until the beam was only a few narrow feet away before acting the bikes booster once more giving it an extra boost of speed which carried both him and it clear over the block and to the other side. Thankfully it was much clearer and a few of the street lamps were still working helping him navigate a lot easier than he had been, if he continued up this road then he would come to the edge and where Jason was waiting.

'Come on, come on! Faster!' he thought to himself as he tried to pull more speed out of the bike. 'I'm coming Jason, just hold on a little longer!'

(v^v^v)

The door opened with a small groan from the rusted hinges, the bottom scraping slightly against the concrete floor as it did so. Not that Joker minded or even noticed for that matter as he was busy fussing with his bow tie which had become crooked while he was…working. "Ok kiddo, I gotta to go" he called out as he walked out the open door, pausing just beyond the fresh hold, as he playfully looked behind into the darkened warehouse. "It's been fun though, right?" he questioned his gleeful eyes falling onto the bloody battered body of a boy, the red shining eerily in the dark lighting. He was lay on his side, the body was still small amounts of blood splatter surround it.

"Well" continued Joker as if the boy had replied, "maybe a smidge more fun for me then you" as he was talking he started to pull on his thick woollen coat, preparing to depart and leave his work for the bat. As he finished he busied himself with adjusting his sleeves which had bunched slightly over his blazer, continuing on with his one sided conversation as he did so. "I'm just guessing since your being awful quiet" as he finished with the sleeves he moved to pull at the coat opening pulling it more securely over his shoulders as he did so. "Anyway" here he pointed at the boy as though he was talking to a favoured nephew, advising him to behave with a cruel smile. "Be a good boy, finish your homework and be in bed by nine."

No reaction, the boy's body lay a still as ever which had the clown smiling all the wider as he carefully observed him. Unfortunately the boy's hair was falling in his face which was positioned downwards keeping him from seeing the no doubt pained expression.

Unperturbed the clown continued "and hey!" Suddenly his voice dropped from the mocking parental tone to a much more chilling velvet. "Please tell the big man I said" he paused pulling his fur hood over his head "hello." His chilling cackle rang out again as he pulled the door shut with a light bang, the laughter still travelling through the thin metal.

An eyelid slowly pulled back to reveal pained green as the laugh gradually faded, the head twisting slightly to look at the closed door. 'He's gone…'

He rolled onto his back moaning as he did so at the sheer agony from pretty much every part of his body, which was currently demanding that he never move again. His hair fell back and out of his face as he shut his eyes and soldiered on, he couldn't stay here. He needed to move. Moaning once more he rolled backwards and slowly brought his cuffed hands down so that he could slip them under his feet. It was painful but served its purpose as his hands were now in front of him, giving him a better orientation and a better chance of defending himself if the clown came back. He had managed to get the mad man to loose interest by playing dead on his last few blows, forcing himself to remain still and make no noise or give reaction. It was extremely difficult however it had worked. A few more blows and he might have actually been dead.

Grunting he used his newly positioned hands to push himself from the floor, swaying dangerously as he did so. His legs –particularly the right- were screaming and he was over taken by a sense of nausea, as the red hot agony lanced through him. He tried to ignore it, gritting his teeth tightly together as he carefully took a step forward. The pain was too much and he fell forward onto his front, what was left of his cape draping over his fallen form as he groaned his face coming close to meeting the concrete once more. He took only a few seconds to recover before he moved his arms once more, pushing with his leg as he did so. He was now balance on his elbow as his eyes –the left heavily swollen at this point- locked on the door, determination fuelled him and suddenly he was dragging himself using his arms and a little help from his legs. It was a painful process and he could feel every shift of his ribs as he did so, making moan in pain with each movement as a small trickle of blood followed trail created earlier in the night at the corner of his mouth.

(v^v^v)

The engine was purring down the wheels barely keeping traction as he weaved in and out, finally the road cleared and he could see the end of the city. His hands numb from how tightly they were gripping the accelerator barely caught his attention as he looked down at the bikes screen, the tracer was just sixty feet away. Looking up he saw a steep hill on top of which an old warehouse stood alone, the headlights next to it were ablaze and he could make out its shabby appearance even as he carefully climbed.

'I'm here Jason, just one more minute.'

(v^v^v)

He groaned loudly as he reached the door, he had dragged himself across the floor leaving a bloody trail in his wake. Not that it mattered, he needed to hurry and get medical help or he'd die of blood loss. He paused for a second to catch his breath, the pain not lessening as he did so, however it calmed him slightly. He forced himself onto his knees, the right protesting the most once more as he reached up grabbing the rusted handle with his right hand. He tugged desperately however the door wouldn't open, losing patience he added as much of his strength as he could with still no result other than a metal clinking from the other side.

He stopped at this mentally cursing the Joker who had probably chained or padlocked it shut before leaving, so he wasn't as fooled as Jason had thought. Despair suddenly made itself known as he released the handle and slid down the door with a small grunt, his limbs feeling numb and useless. Moaning slightly he forced himself to turn around and angrily placed his back against the cool metal, pain shot through his chest and he gripped it with his left hand.

He leaned his head back taking a deep breath like Bruce had taught him to do in such situations, trying to think what he could possibly do. This was a warehouse, it may have more than one exit or possibly something he could use on the door in one of the many boxes scattered around the place. Right he needed to look around, if he could-

Suddenly his eyes flew open as he heard a beeping from somewhere in front of him, they widened in disbelief as they spotted a large timer attached to what appeared to be thirty sticks of dynamite a few feet away to his right.

The timer showed a large nine, and that sense of dread and despair suddenly become all the more prominent. He watched as it slowly counted down, feeling his hope drain away.

Eight.

He leaned back allowing his back to rest against the door.

Seven.

His swollen eyes shut leaving him with his right to watch.

Six.

His mouth thinned, a trickle of blood still flowing from the corner.

Five.

The despair and fear suddenly transformed into acceptance and he took a slow deep breath, knowing it would probably be his last.

Four.

Memory's started to surface before his eyes, he watched with a sense of nostalgia and longing.

Three.

He was crying as his father left after having beaten him once more, off to see some mob boss about a new job leaving Jason to carefully nurse his bruises. His whole life on the street after he ran away, the night he stole a pair of tires that lead him to the man who would give him a new life.

Two.

Alfred smiling and laughing as he paraded around the cave in his first Robin costume, yellow cape proudly adorning his small shoulders. Bruce's warm laugh as he made a clever come back or insult about a villain they were chasing, a laugh only he Dick and Alfred could bring out. A life as a hero jumping across rooftops and saving the day, inspiring and protecting those he saved, a life as a normal child going to school and making friends.

One.

His eyes shut and only one thought now went through his mind.

'Bruce…'

(v^v^v)

The bike pulled a slight wheelie as it briefly lost contact with the ground, the hill unsteady under the heavy snow. Bruce didn't notice as he jumped from the bike letting it fall behind him as he landed at the top in a crouch, he didn't pause as he sprinted toward the warehouse only a few feet away.

'I'm here Jason!'

BOOM.

He was sent flying backwards as the building exploded fire and debris flying in every direction even as the shock wave sent Bruce stumbling backwards. He barely pulled hid cape around him in time as a piece of the roof collided with him knocking him off his feet. He felt his back collide harshly with a large rock, his front assaulted further as the same piece of roof landed on top of him.

Forcing himself to his knees he pushed the –thankfully- light metal off of himself and pushed himself to his feet, looking round as dread creped in. The surrounding area was a mess of fire and pieces of the warehouse, only small pieces of the brick walls still standing. Looking around almost desperately he ran off into the mess, looking for anything that could be Jason.

'Please be alright! Please be alright!'

He was mentally begging even as he searched pushing pieces of roof and old boxes out of the way as he moved around, noting the large hole in the floor where the bomb had probably been place. He looked down, but saw nothing other than earth and a few pieces of metal. Moving away to the right he suddenly caught a dark red a few feet away, his feet were moving before he even realised it.

Once close enough he skidded to his knees and hurriedly moved a heavy wooden beam that had fallen from the roof, tossing it once he had it moving enough. Using his hands he dug through the rubble to the small piece of red all the while praying that he was wrong, and that Jason was somewhere else.

His actions were halted as he finally came to what he had been looking for, his heart clenching painfully in his chest as his eyes widened in a mixture of disbelief and horror. "No…" he murmured as he carefully reached forward, cradling the limp body in his arms as he stood, tears fighting against his self-control as he stared down at the body of his son. Ash falling from the sky around him, as the fires raged dangerously around him.

"Jason…"

Surrey, England

May 10, 15:36 Eng

1 Year Later

Harry sighed as he carefully patted down the soil before him, careful to not damage his aunt's flowers. She prided herself on her award winning garden and even now that they were leaving she demanded that it be left in prime condition, as a result rather than doing a last minute check on his possessions he was organising the flower beds and making sure that there would be no unsightly lumps of dirt for when the new owners arrive in a few days.

He wasn't sure what to make of this move; he hadn't been able to really come to terms with it even now weeks after he had been told alongside Dudley. His aunt and uncle had sat them down, and explained as well as you could to two four year olds that they were moving far away –to a whole other country for that matter- and that they would probably never come back and see anyone they knew ever again. Both had given Harry a funny look at that point before being distracted by Dudley who wasn't happy that he would have to leave all his friends behind, they had all had to endure ten minutes of screaming whining and finally a temper tantrum. It had only ended once Petunia and Vernon had offered to buy Dudley a lot of presents and reminded him that he'll make a lot of new friends, and ones –according to them- who were better than his current ones.

That had got Harry thinking, if Dudley could make new friends then maybe Harry could to. They had only been going to school for the past few months over which time Harry had attempted to become friends with most of the kids in his class, at first he had been pretty successful but then Dudley had apparently decided that Harry was more fun to bully when no one stuck up for him and had made himself known by threatening anyone who tried to play with the younger boy. The teachers had noticed pretty quickly when Harry's bright attitude had greatly dimmed and everyone apart from Dudley and his friends who would often sneer at him were outwardly avoiding being near him.

They had tried to help, Miss Charles –his current teacher- particularly however, one meeting after with his aunt and uncle had her also avoiding Harry. He didn't understand what they had said but she took to ignoring Harry when he put his hand up, and pretended to not see him when he ran past Dudley and his friends hot on his heels. It greatly upset him however he didn't know what to do, it wasn't like he could talk to his parents, and he had no friends and his family were a big no no.

As a result the concept of moving somewhere new where no one had judged him was very appealing to him; however it came with the sacrifice of leaving all that he knew behind. Not that he was leaving all that much behind, he knew no one beyond his school and most of the neighbours looked down on him despite the fact he had ever even so much as spoken a hello to them. Mrs Figg who lived a few houses down seemed to like him, but she smelled like pee and had loads of cats many of which didn't like him all that much if the scratch marks his ankle sported where any indicator. Many of them would eye him like a piece of meat, which was extremely odd and unnerving considering the fact that he had learned that cats only eat things like fish and birds.

They were kind of weird like their owner, Mrs Figg would always smile at him –which was in itself odd behaviour for any adult who looked at him- and was always inviting him over for milk and cookies. The weirdest thing was that she didn't like Dudley and would often make snide comments about him and Petunia and Vernon when they were in the privacy of her home –which also smelled like pee- often earning a small giggle out of Harry for her efforts even if he didn't quite understand. Harry had even confessed some of his problems at school to her, she would often at these points gain a sympathetic look and would tell him that it was only for another few years and that he wouldn't always be with the Dursley's. This he definitely didn't understand as he had been told that he would have to go to school until he was at least sixteen, and that definitely wasn't a few years to his mind. That was a lot of years and would no doubt feel like forever, he had said as much to the elderly lady who had laughed at his reply saying something along the lines of "not as long as you think" before changing the subject to her cats.

She was definitively quirky and odd, but she was in a good way. Harry often liked to think that she was what friends would be like, someone who could make you laugh and who you could tell anything to.

At this thought Harry frowned his hands stilling in their movements in the soil, Mrs Figg was the closest thing he had to a friend really and if he was honest she could be the only thing that he was leaving behind. Such a thought did not sit well with the four year old but he knew he had no choice in the matter, even if he were to protest they would still be moving and rather than being bribed with the promise of presents and new friends he would probably get a clap round the ear hole and told to shut up.

The thing he didn't like the most was the fact that he hadn't even been able to tell Mrs Figg that they were moving, his aunt and uncle were being oddly quiet about the move heck his aunt hadn't even told her gossip buddy Miss Freeman who lived next door. It was as if they were trying to avoid someone finding out which didn't seem like them at all, even in the short amount of years that he had been conscious enough to know them Harry had come to realise that his family liked to brag about their achievements. And if what uncle Vernon said about his job was true then they should be marching up and down the street in the middle of the night shouting it for all to hear. Their current behaviour was therefore quite puzzling, and had left Dudley moaning about how he couldn't brag to his friends and Harry silently brooding. He could always tell Mrs Figg in secret but he was smart enough to know that if his Aunt and Uncle found out he would be in big trouble, that and he hadn't been able to spend much time with her since the imminent move had been announced over a month ago.

The house had been sold through a discreet estate agent and some sneaky viewings which were passed off as old family friend visits or Uncle Vernon's business associates. Whatever an associate was…

In that time Harry and a somewhat reluctant Dudley had been tasked with helping around the home, helping clean and keep the garden tidy or even helping to repaint some of the walls. Dudley wouldn't stop whining and had to be pacified more than once, eventually he had settled into doing the easiest of chores while Harry was tasked with the more taxing ones. It was annoying but expected, and Harry had just got on with it. Aunt Petunia had only told the school last week and had asked the head to keep it hushed up until they were gone, which was again odd behaviour and Harry couldn't help but have the nagging feeling he was missing the big picture here.

They had as a result been kept busy and what had originally seemed like a long space of time for the four year old had passed by almost frighteningly fast, and had left him feeling with a hollow sickly feeling in his stomach. What if he didn't like the new country? What if his new school was worse than his old one? Would he still have to sleep in a cupboard in the new house?

Such questions had been constantly assaulting his thoughts and had made the situation all the more daunting, he wasn't sure if he wanted to go. Uncle Vernon had said that this prom…premo…this better job would be a good opportunity for all of them –yes, even Harry- and that this was the start of a new beginning. He had explained that since the company was in its early stages in the new country that it needed all the employees it could get as soon as possible, and that Vernon had volunteered to move out there under the condition that the flights were paid for by the company. They had agreed and so the family had been rushed into preparing for the move, a new house having been also purchased through their estate agent who had negotiated with another agent apparently in the new country. Apparently the house was big and spacious, and it was in a family friendly neighbourhood that had an extremely low crime rate. He had been paid well and had promised to keep quiet about the move and had left Vernon and Petunia practically beaming and commenting on how they had to recommend him to others.

Harry really didn't get it, or what the big deal was with the crime rate or why he had seemed to stress that point. Finally the day had rolled around and the packing which had started days ago was still no closer to being complete with how Dudley was acting, because the new house already had furniture they could only take a certain amount of things with them and Dudley didn't want to give up any of his toys. It had been a long argument and was still going on; Harry had actually volunteered to do a last minute tidy of the flower beds to get out of there.

His packing he'd been done in half an hour, his aunt having gone through his hand me downs throwing away many of them for their ratty appearance. By the time she was finished he only had a small amount of clothes left, that coupled with the his two books and one toy army figure that had once belonged to Dudley fitted snuggly into his backpack which would be travelling with him. That had of course left an empty case for his relatives to use for the mountains of toys however even that couldn't fit them all in.

"I WANT IT!" Harry cringed slightly as his ears caught the loud high pitched whining from the upstairs window, Dudley could give screeching cats a run for their money. He glanced up his eyes catching the bottom the window which had been partially opened to allow air in, the son still high in the sky glinted off the glass. Of course now that they were actually leaving they had told the neighbours that they were going on holiday for a few weeks, his Aunt falsely bragging about some place called Spain.

"Dudder's you can't fit anything else in the case, and me and daddy don't have any room for it" his aunts voice a lot softer indicating that she was trying to placate the other floated down as Harry did a last minute scan over his work before carefully standing up to brush dirt off the front of his to large trousers. He was sweating lightly through his blue and white flannel shirt, the sun feeling almost unbearable at the moment. He glanced up once more as another screech and hurried shushing sound occurred before a thin pale wrist darted out to tug the window shut.

Despite the heat he really didn't want to go back in, at least not until Dudley had settled down, his older –and much larger- cousin had a bad tendency to punch Harry's arm when he wasn't getting what he wanted. That coupled with the fact that his Aunt was arguing with her precious Dudder's probably didn't bode well for him if he didn't want to get shouted at, therefore the garden was a safe neutral zone at the moment. However they would be leaving for the airport in half an hours' time and with the garden in immaculate condition he had no other option unless he wanted to be caught lingering. If that happened he'd get accused of being lazy and probably given double chores with was always fun. Note the sarcasm.

Sighing once again he walked at a sedate pace around the side of the house to the slightly ajar front door, the car had been reversed into the drive and the boot was hanging wide open. Two of the cases were already in; of course these were of course his aunts and uncles Dudley's were still in process of fitting all the junk he could into them. Peaking round the doors edge he found the hall clear, the slight muffled voices indicating that his aunt and Dudley were still upstairs, Vernon was most likely doing a last minute check of their room.

Relieved he carefully entered, purposefully keeping his steps lights even on the carpeted floor. The sun was shining through the windows lighting the house and making it a nice warm temperature that would be perfect for lounging, however there would be no time for that to day so he quickly made his way over to his cupboard. Opening the thin wooden door revealed that it was almost bare now, his thin mattress and bedding having been thrown away with his older clothes. There was a single shelf screwed into one of the walls where he had placed his books as well as his army figure, that to was now bare everything carefully contained within the rucksack that sat in the middle of the floor.

He paused looking round with an almost fond look at his 'room', he could remember times playing in here and reading under the single hanging light bulb. However with such thoughts came the other memories of punishments, of being locked in for a few hours for misbehaving or being denied meals.

Frowning he gave the cupboard one last glance before reaching in to snag the backpack and quickly left pulling on the hanging cord as he did so bathing it in darkness. He shut the door firmly behind him and turned to head back outside to place his bag in the car, he had almost made it when the heavy bark of his uncle caught his attention.

"BOY! GET UP HERE!" The voice was slightly muffled but thanks to the natural high bark he could hear it clearly enough, almost groaning in irritation he dropped the bag next to the door before turning to head up the staircase. Once he had reached the top he quickly headed to where he could hear the loud breathing of his uncle, it was coming from Dudley's second bedroom along with the muffled and extremely fake sounding sobs of his elder cousin. Walking over at a normal pace knowing that dallying would only get him moaned at…well more than usual; he made his way to the doorframe and looked into the room.

Petunia was knelt before Dudley who had his eyes tightly shut his fists balled up next to his pudgy face, as his mouth opened and shut while emitting sobs. His blonde greasy hair was slicked slightly with sweat however unlike Harry's messy mop it lay flat and neat, the slight lines suggesting that his aunt had brushed it. He was dressed in a pair of shorts a red t shirt with some odd football logo over where his heart was, a pair of brand new sneakers on his feet.

Petunia had her hands on his shoulder and was looking almost desperate as she tried to calm him down; casting apprehensive eyes at some of the toys that remained on the floor around then a nearly full bin bag sat a few feet away next to a zipped black case. Her blue summer dress -which was not often seen in England due to the normally dreary weather- was clinging to her and didn't help her to look any less odd with her long horse like neck. Her hair which had been long a month ago was now short and in a styled bob cut a few of the longer bangs hanging in her face, the brown contrasting against the blue eyes she shared with her son.

Behind the two Vernon was standing next to another black case his normally pale face had red creeping into the cheeks, his breathing loud and heavy. Harry couldn't help but stare at him as if he was insane; the man had dressed himself in a maroon jumper over what looked like a white shirt. A pair of crisp black slacks and leather shoes, over which he was wearing his normal grey rain proofed coat. His own head of blonde neatly combed hair was also slicked with sweat but even more so, his bushy moustache was practically sticking to his face. His brown eyes were squinting as he stared down at the case with a look that suggested he wanted it to burst spontaneously into flames, it would have been amusing on anyone else. Well…it was still funny but Harry knew better then to laugh.

"Yes uncle Vernon?" Harry questioned quietly hoping the man wouldn't hear him over his own breathing, unfortunately his uncle had sharper hearing then he gave him credit for and span around to glare at Harry. Harry intern felt himself shrink slightly as he caught the look, and brought his green eyes down slightly not wanting to keep the gaze.

"Boy! Finish cleaning up these blasted toys" he replied before reaching down to grasp the case in his chubby hands and drag it towards the doorway, he grunted and was hissing something under his breath that resulted in Petunia shooting him a slightly dirty look before she returned her attention to Dudley. Harry patiently waited until he had made it out of the room before squeezing passed and into the room, he cautiously made his way around the room picking up the discarded toys as he went and depositing them in the open bin bag. As he did so Dudley's sobs got louder and Petunia was getting more and more desperate, finally after what felt like forever Dudley quieted Petunia's voice drifting by Harry as he ignored them both.

"It's alright Dudder's we'll get you all new toys, better ones!" An envious feeling welled up in Harry before he quickly stomped it down, it would do him no good to get jealous of Dudley. He finished his task as his uncle stomped back into the room his face now a deep shade of red, a fierce glare directed to the remaining case as Harry tied the bin bag shut.

"Boy, take that out back then get in the car." Vernon ordered before reluctantly moving over to the final case, Harry now struggling to pull the heavy –as in very, extremely heavy- bag behind him. He had just made it down the first of the stairs when he realised he had miscalculated the probability of his four year old body being able to successfully carry a bag of heavy toys down a staircase.

'Oh no' was the only thought he could manage before said back started to tumble Harry making a useless attempt to stop it only to nearly fall down the stairs himself as he stumbled back from the weight. He grasped desperately at the banister and just caught himself before the bag knocked him once more and made him lose his grip, thankfully he was only two steps from the bottom at this point and landed on the floor with a pained yelp his butt and lower back loudly protesting.

There was a small bang then a ripping sound and Harry was looking at a now open bin bang that had spilled most of its contents onto the floor, the broken toys and video gaes scattering from the black plastic.

It was going to be a long day.

"BOY!"

Long, long long day.

(v^v^v)

Thankfully after Harry's accident –something his uncle was still glaring at him for- and a quick clean up with a new bin bag the family had finished packing the car and headed off to the airport saying their own goodbyes to Little Whinging knowing that it could very well be the last time they saw the place. Harry had stared forlornly out of the window for most of the drive trying to ignore the ever present annoyance that was Dudley who had been immensely cheered by Harry's fall and the following scolding that left the younger boy staring down at his feet his hands massaging the bruised bottom he had received from the fall. The elder boy had taken to punching Harry's arm every time his parents looked away; he had done it to the point where the limb had picked up a numb feeling leaving Harry sorely tempted to hit back.

However he knew that even if the very slight muscle he had in his arms actual made an impact he would only be scolded further by his aunt and uncle despite the fact that Dudley had hit him first.

Finally after what felt like forever they were pulling into a busy car park, his uncle wandering off to find a trolley for the cases as his aunt rifled through some paperwork they she had in her purse. Before they could get on the plane they needed to hand the car over to some company called Rental, then they would have to check in and wait for a few hours before they would be getting on the plane. Harry was slightly nervous; he had never flown before and was apprehensive of anything going wrong despite how much Petunia was assuring Dudley it would be fine.

After Vernon returned they had loaded up the cart and headed straight there, there was quick exchange of keys and paperwork and then they were checking in. Going through the metal detector had been fun, as had the security pulling Uncle Vernon over to scan him over then pat him down to make sure that he had no concealed weapons, when he demanded to know why they had chosen him out of all the people going past they had simply replied he looked like the type. He had been fuming after that and had stormed off extremely insulted.

Nothing much had happened after apart from a few hours spent wandering around or sitting in a café waiting for their flight. When it had finally come time to board Harry had been a mix of nervous energy and barely concealed excitement as he looked through the balding halls window at the massive plane that would be taking them to their new home.

The plane as expected had been massive and uncle Vernon had been less than pleased to discover they had been sat in the middle row to accompany all four of them. Harry had instantly been sat on the end with a whining Dudley next to him, but he hadn't minded as he discovered that all the seats had their own TVs which he had used to ignore his overly large cousin during the flight –well apart from when he punched him in the arm but he had stopped as he noticed a lady in the next row was glairing daggers at him.

After what had to be hours of watching movies and TV programs he had never heard of –and gaining a very sore and numb bottom from the constant sitting they had landed only to shoffered onto another plane –much smaller this time much to Harry's disappointment and without TVs though thankfully it was a much shorter flight. By this point Harry had become extremely tired having not been able to sleep very well in the seat and was at this point drifting between consciousness when the captains voice came over the speaker.

"Ah hello ladies and gentlemen, we've been informed that there is a situation happening at Gotham's airport. As a result I'm afraid we've been redirected to the closest airport situated in Bludhaven, transportation will be provided free of charge for this delay. Thank you for flying with us and please have a nice day."

The speaker went dead and Vernon instantly lit up complaining about how they were supposed to be getting picked up by someone working for his company, and other various things like the quality of the food and such. Harry couldn't really be sure as he had zoned out at this point, back to his half-awake half dream like daze. When they landed he had followed slowly his backpack slung uselessly on his back as he stumbled every few seconds. Thankfully Dudley was in a similar state meaning that the older boy wasn't annoying Harry and was for once quiet, they all were and Vernon appeared to be the only one left with the energy –even if only slight- to be loud.

They had just made it past security and Vernon was on his fifth rant about missing the chance for a free ride when they spotted a thin weedy man in the crowd of waiting people holding a sign with Dursley written on it. They instantly made a bee line for him, the man looking up slightly in surprise as they stopped before him and then exchanging the look for a smile.

"Hi! You must be Vernon, I'm Steven Blumes I'll be working with you at Grunning's." He explained as he shook Vernon's hand, turning slightly to do the same to Petunia as he continued to speak "I heard about the incident at Gotham airport and figured they would relay the flight to here." He went on and on as he helped the family with their cases to a large black car, loading them into a wide boot as he chatted quietly with Vernon about the company and how it was coming along.

Harry had somehow scored a window seat in the back as Dudley had demanded that he could lay his head on Petunia's shoulder, meaning Harry could rest against the closed door and stare at the window aimlessly as his eyes slowly started to drift shut. He caught sight of a few features of the dark city they were passing through, however he paid them little attention instead he focused on the other striking features that surrounded them. The darkened sky for example that at points appeared to have a red tint to it, the odd shady looking people who were standing on street corners scantily dressed –Petunia had squeaked upon spotting them her hand instantly covering Dudley's eyes until they had passed. Harry had been curious about the looks that his aunt and uncle had slowly started to sport as they moved through the tall arching buildings and busy slow moving roads, they looked worried extremely worried and Vernon had posed the question of what Gotham was like to Steven.

The other had frozen his hands tightening on the wheel for a moment before he carefully glanced at Vernon from the corner of his eye, the other maintaining its gaze on the road as he exchanged lanes and came to a large skeleton like bridge that connected to what looked like an even darker –if possible- and larger version of the city they were passing through. "What did they tell you?" He had asked softly voice careful and controlled; Vernon and Petunia picking up on some hidden meaning within the question narrowed their eyes.

"Not much, only that it was the ideal place for the company to expand and that due to the location the pay would be substantial" he replied, that worried look getting worse as they came closer to the gothic like city which was currently lit up with bright flowing lights, however instead of making it warm and welcoming it made it appear all the more threatening.

"Well…they didn't lie about that at least…" Steven replied and Vernon and Petunia were instantly on him demanding to know what he had meant with that comment.

By this point Harry was barely hanging on by a thread and even the appearance of the scary looking city didn't give him a big enough burst of adrenalin to keep him conscious. Even the loud protesting of his aunt and uncle and the soft short crisp responses of Steven did not help matters in the least. As his eyes slid shut the overwhelming exhaustion sweeping through his four year old body his eyes caught onto an approaching sign, lit up by a series of light hanging over the top of it. His limited knowledge of the alphabet didn't deter him from reading it, and his eyes had momentarily focused upon it before sleep overpowered him the words echoing in his dreams.

Welcome to Gotham city.