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"Jesus Christ..." he muttered, swallowing hard. He reached out tentatively, his gloved fingers brushing against the infant's cheek. It was ice-cold. The baby's chest rose and fell faintly, each breath a Herculean effort. Beneath the child, the tarp was damp-not with water, but something metallic-smelling and sticky. Blood? Ramirez's stomach twisted. "Dispatch," he whispered hoarsely into his radio, forcing his voice steady. "Officer Ramirez, 9th and Mercer. I need an ambulance. I found an infant. Abandoned. Possible injury." . . "They found a baby in Gotham," Bruce finally said. "Abandoned in an alley. They ran a DNA test... and it matched you." Dick froze, the world around him suddenly quiet, as if the city itself held its breath. "What?" he said sharply, disbelief washing over him. "That's impossible."
Chapter 1: The Wail in the Alley
