Imagine: youāre Dick Grayson, youāve been a superhero since you were nine, and you just moved into your first apartment and started protecting your own city. You donāt talk to your dad much, anymore, because you canāt talk without fighting. Then, suddenly, your dad has a kid who looks a lot like you did at that age, but unlike you heās happy and smiling and so, so excited to meet you. But you leave, and you only see the kid on the rare weekend youāre in town, and suddenly heās a teenager and then heās dead. And you grieve, because you never wanted a little brother, but you got one anyways, and then you lost him. And your dad is cracking apart, and you can barely look at him, because he didnāt even tell you when the funeral was. And then itās five years later, and you have a dozen younger siblings that you train and love and protect with your entire being. And itās five years later and your little brother is back, and heās all grown up, but he doesnāt smile anymore. Heās angry, like you were, and hurt, like you were, and you fight with him like you fought with your dad, and you just want your miracle to turn out right.