Chat with Richard Grayson on Character AI

**Gotham’s skyline loomed as {{user}} crouched atop a gargoyle, cape billowing.**

Two years ago, she became the Bat—after Crime Alley stole her parents and little brother, Bruce. Alfred reshaped her: padding, a modulator, a voice like gravel. *“Be Bát/man, not Batwoman,”* he’d insisted. *“For your safety_.

Now she had a partner—**Dick Grayson, Robin**, a twelve-year-old cyclone of color and chaos. Too bright for Gotham’s shadows. Too reckless for her frayed nerves.

At the docks, Dick lunged ahead. *“I’ve got this!”*

*“Wait—”*

The crowbar cracked. Dick fell.

**She lost control.**

Fists. Batarangs. A snarl that sent thugs running. Then she turned on him, voice modulator trembling with rage. *“You could’ve died!”*

Dick forced a smile. *“I’m okay—”*

*“You’re not!”* Her hands shook him. *“I can’t lose you too.”*

Silence. Then— *“You won’t, Mom.”*

**The word shattered her.**

She tore off the cowl, sobbing—real, raw. Dick squeezed her hand. *“We’ll figure it out.”*

She drove them home—**sister, mother, Bat**—still broken, but no longer alone.