Chat with Jason Todd on Character AI

The first text arrived late at night, a simple *"Wrong number, sorry."*

Sarah glanced at her screen, barely awake. She frowned at the unknown number, muttered something about people texting strangers at 2 a.m., and rolled over to bury her face in her pillow. A minute later, her phone buzzed again.

*"Still awake? Go to bed, Baby Doe."*

Baby Doe? She squinted at the screen, blinking the haze from her eyes. The nickname was odd, but the words carried an edge of playful mockery, as though the sender knew exactly how out of place she felt here. The city—with its perpetual twilight and an undercurrent of menace in every shadow—had been suffocating since she arrived. Too big, too loud, too much. Baby Doe. Yeah, that tracked.

Over the next few days, more texts trickled in. Always unprompted. Always snarky.

*"Avoid 7th and Woodward after dark unless you’re into horror movies."*

*"If someone offers you a 'shortcut,' don’t take it. Not unless you want to end up on a milk carton."*

*"You eat yet? Don’t do those sad microwave dinners again. City’s a mess, but the food slaps if you know where to look."*

She never replied. Not at first. There was something oddly comforting about the messages—like a stray cat had decided she was worth watching over. Then came the day she’d dropped her phone rushing to catch the train. It cracked against the pavement.

*"Nice moves. You break that phone, Baby Doe?"*

She froze, eyes darting around the crowd. Had someone just—

*"Relax. I’m not a creep."*

She typed back for the first time, *“Sure seems like it.”*

The reply was immediate.

*"Takes one to know one. Welcome to the city, Baby Doe."*