Jul 19, 2025
seen from United States
seen from Barbados
seen from United States
seen from Libya
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Vietnam
seen from United States
seen from Venezuela
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Germany
"I watch him walk over to the window and hop on the windowsill. He turns back and looks at me. His whole body is silhouetted by the lights of the city behind him, “ Stay safe Kat.” Then he was gone."
Kat Kyle and Dick Grayson from, The Forgotten Children
I look at him [Nightwing]. I can feel his calculated breaths through his suit. He’s using breathing techniques to calm himself. “It’s going to be okay,” I [Kat] tell him.
This startles a laugh out of him, “I should be the one telling you that, not the other way around.”
“Well, I’m not the one who looks as if they’re about to have a panic attack.”
~Kat Kyle and Dick Grayson from The Forgotten Children
The Forgotten Children Chapter 2
Kat
I’m moving so quickly that I don’t notice the child dressed like a walking traffic light until it’s too late. Swish! I feel pain flash through my side. Falling to my knees in pain, I see my attacker, Damian Wayne, Robin.
He’s looking at the blood, my blood, dripping from his blade with what looks like surprise.
I glance down at the wound, sparing only a moment. The Demon child got me good. There is now a cut across my entire right side; about an inch deep.
Once I finish analyzing my wound, I look back up at the child that caused my injury. His look of confusion has transformed into a confident grin. Limbs loose, he’s preparing himself for his next attack.
I hold my right hand to my side, applying pressure. I’m losing too much blood. I have to finish this fast. Quickly, I jump up. I know he’s going to try to attack my injured side, making it easy to fluidly dodge his attack. I turn and slice out with my claws at the weak part of his suit, behind his knee. He went down quickly. Before he can get up I grab his hair, and slam his head onto the ground, knocking him out. I then grab his emergency beacon and activate it. I want the kid to leave me alone, not dead. He’s still a kid after all.
I run away from Robin as fast as I can. The Bats will be flocking to his direction. I’m losing blood too fast, I need to get somewhere safe. What should I do? Our safe-house is a thirty minute run from here at my top speed. Which is not the speed I’m currently able to run at. Plus the faster I run, the faster my heart beats, meaning the faster I bleed out.
Dark clouds start to dance across my vision. Shit! I feel horrible but I’m not in a safe place to lay low. Though I’m not going to last much longer if I do nothing. Looking around I notice an abandoned building.
I jump across the gap between the buildings to land on a window ledge. I feel my whole world tilt as I slip and fall back. I barely catch myself with my right hand, straining the wound. Pain shoots up my whole body. I let out a quick, sharp scream, before biting my tongue so hard, blood gushes into my mouth. I feel the blood drip down my lips, as I work on pulling myself up.
I eventually manage to get myself back on the ledge and through the window. Toppling inside, I find myself missing my usual catlike grace. I look around. It’s empty just like I suspected. I slide the window shut, grunting from the effort it takes. I then decide to lay on the floor and catch my breath. I lay there for I don’t know how long, fighting the spots in my vision.
Blindly reaching into one of the pouches of my suit, I pull out the dreaded device I know I need. It is a thin bendable sheet of metal that I mold into my wound, crying out every time the metal makes contact with my flesh. I then grab the dreaded wires, connecting them to the metal. By the time I finish, I’m sobbing. I pick up the device and press the start button and toss it out of my reach, so I won’t turn it off.
I feel it before I can see it. A blinding heat. Nothing else registers to me but this. The heat is so hot it’s cold. The smell of burning flesh. The glow of the metal, that and my screaming. I scream until I feel blood drip down the back of my throat from where I’m tearing my vocal cords. Soon I’m floating in and out of consciousness. All that exists is pain.
I fully come too when a figure lands on the windowsill and shines a light inside. Immediately the window opens, and a figure slips inside, wearing a black skin-tight suit like mine. The main difference between our suits is the blue, bird splayed across his chest. Upon realizing who it is, I try to jump up, only to yelp in pain and crash back down to the floor.
“Shush, it’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to help. When we found Robin, he said that his original hit was deeper than he meant for it to be. Just let me take a look and get you some help okay?” Nightwing aka Dick Grayson, not that he knew I knew that said, crouching to the ground, holding his hands up in a surrendering gesture.
“Le... Lea...Fu….Mmmm..,” I try to respond but I can’t get myself to form any words. I’m too tired after cauterizing my wound. Especially with no amnesia.
He seems to take this as I’m okay with him approaching me, or some other superhero bullshit. News flash I’m not. I start kicking at the ground, trying to force my body to move away from him.
He says something that I can’t quite catch. Everything is starting to sound like I’m underwater. He eventually appears by my side, the bastard. His eyes rake over me. When they land on the now cooled device, I see his eyes widen. He immediately goes to unplug it.
I stop him, batting his hand away. “No,” I slur.
He tries to talk to me, only to seem to understand that I can’t understand him. He stops, pulling a canteen of water out of a pouch in his costume. He takes a sip of it, exaggerating his swallowing, before holding it up to my mouth.
I greedily swallow the entire thing. It soothes my throat and helps me refocus on what’s going on around me.
“Why are you here?” I ask, glaring at him. It’s a pretty impressive imitation of the batglare.
He seems shocked by the look. “As I said earlier, Robin told me he hurt you pretty bad. Which is pretty easy to see now. I’m just here to help though,” he says.
“Fine, but you have to follow my rules,” I say.
He looks at me strangely. “I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands but okay,” he mutters.
“No hospitals. No prison or Arkham. No Batcave or other heroes. Also, you have to tell me everything before you do it,” I state firmly.
“Fine. I can do that,” he grumbled, before continuing, “Now why can’t I take this torture device off?” he asked, gesturing to the cauterizer.
“If the wound starts to open, it automatically cauterizes it. You need to grab the corset out of the pouch on the far side from you,” I say quietly. I’m getting tired and fast.
He looks super confused. “Why the corset?” he asks, grabbing it anyway.
“I discovered that when you have wounds on your abdomen, it helps keep them from reopening, by restricting some of my movement. Plus it helps keep pressure on the wounds,” I say. This is a very rehearsed statement for me. People always questioned the corset. The truth is they’re helpful.
He nods, starting to slide it under me and clasp the front clasps. I tense, gasping for air when it pulled on my cut. He stops, waiting for me to tell him to continue. I nod at him. When he finishes closing the last clasp, I feel a rip. I hear the machine start-up again. His eyes go wide, as I let out a scream. My whole body is tense. He grabs my shoulders, trying to hold me still. I can see him talking, but I can’t hear him over the sound of my own sobbing.
When I come to, I feel his hands running through my hair. I jerk up, only to gently be pushed down into what feels like a guy's lap. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. It’s just the two of us,” Nightwing says, as he runs his hands up my shoulders soothingly.
I lean my head back, looking up at him. He looks nervous. It seems like he’s trying to convince himself that everything will work out.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He looks at me and sighs. “You need a blood transfusion. I’m honestly shocked you’re awake and lucid. The only way to get you blood is to move you, but I’m pretty sure moving you will kill you. If the blood loss doesn’t then dehydration will, or you’ll go into shock. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t gone into shock yet though,” he told me, watching me closely like he was just waiting for me to die in his arms.
I can tell he’s nervous. He’s probably not used to feeling so helpless. The guy is a hero after all. “Okay here’s what we're gonna do. Do you have any saline?”
He shook his head.
I groan, “Do you have any more water?”
“No.”
I look at him. I can feel his calculated breaths through his suit. He’s using breathing techniques to calm himself. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell him.
This startles a laugh out of him, “I should be the one telling you that, not the other way around.”
“Well, I’m not the one who looks as if they’re about to have a panic attack.”
He huffs, “What should we do?”
I debate my options. “I don’t know if this will work for sure but it should help,” I say.
“What?”
“I know you bats carry shots of adrenaline on you.”
He nods.
“If you give me a shot of adrenaline then it should kick-start my advanced healing. I couldn’t do it before because it would also cause me to bleed out faster, but now that shouldn’t be a problem,” I explained.
He stares at me, “Fine but on one condition.”
“What?”
“If this goes sideways, I can call for backup,” he holds out his hand to stop me from interjecting, “Trusted backup, who won’t turn you in. When you’re better you’ll be free to go.”
I pause debating. I know this is a good deal, so I nod, “Fine.”
He nods, before getting to work. We sit in silence for a while and as soon as I felt the prick in my arm, he asks, “Where were you going anyways? Robin said you were moving like a madman. He said the only reason why he was able to get you this bad, is because you were in such a hurry you didn’t even notice him.”
I stop and think before it dawns on me, and I realize how little time I have. “I need to get out of here,” I say.
“Sorry to break it to you Kat, but I don’t think you’ll be heading anywhere anytime soon,” he says.
I glare at him, now understanding the full depth of my citation. “With the adrenaline, I’m stable-ish. Now you need to go,” I tell him. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a device that could either be my savior or my executor.
“Go? I don’t think so. What do you think you’re doing?” he says, pulling away from me, trying to see what I have in my hand.
“I have something I need to take care of, that you can’t help me with. I need to call my family, and this will lead them here. You can’t be here when they show up. You saved my life, consider this as me returning the favor,” I tell him in a rush. I need to get out of here. I must warn my family so they can save Alice.
He looks so confused, “Your Mom wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I’m not calling Mom,” I tell him, watching the lenses of his mask get bigger as his eyes widen. He then slid out fully from under me, leaving a bundle of cloth-like bandages under my head.
I watch him walk over to the window and hop on the windowsill. He turns back and looks at me. His whole body is silhouetted by the lights of the city behind him, “ Stay safe Kat.” Then he was gone.
Let me know what you think! Feel free to leave constructive critics.
The Forgotten Children Chapter 1
Kat
It’s cold. I can feel the wind cutting straight down through my soaked suit. I’m not quite sure what is worse though, the wind, or the pelting rain that feels like golf balls hitting me. The rain makes the roof that I’m perching on slick. Just one more thing that makes this more difficult than it should be.
Thank you, Riddle, for the redesign of my suit. More specifically, the boots, that make this job a thousand times easier. They’re less slick and have more grip on them.
Despite all of this, the wind and rain, it’s worth it for the view. The roof I’m perching on is the roof of my Mother’s apartment building in the Narrows. From here I have the perfect view of my target and my sister. I just hope I’m wrong, even though I know I’m right.
I catch movement from the corner of my eye. Turning, I lunge, claws releasing themselves from my fingertips sharp enough to cut steel. I tackle my unknown visitor. We go falling off the roof. I glance down. I’ve dropped over twenty stories. At this moment I spare a glance to catalog who I’ve attacked. It’s my Mom.
I feel my eyes go wide under their goggles, while I watch hers narrow. We separate. Both of us reach for our respective whips, using them as grappling hooks to swing onto a nearby roof.
When I land, she’s standing there staring at me with her hand on her hip. Being in her forties, she looks good. She still wears her signature skintight catsuit that mine is modeled after. When I finally look up at her face, I see she’s glowering at me.
“Sorry Mom,” I start, while walking up to her, “I attacked first before I looked to see who you were.” Once I reach her, I pull down my cowl, running a hand through my hair.
She steps forward, closing the space between us. I watch as her hands raise to caress my face, pulling my goggles off my eyes and placing them on my hairline. “Oh, I’m not mad about that. I’m more upset that I wasn’t fast enough to avoid the hit,” she said, waving her hand dismissively while taking a step back she continues “I just came by to see if you needed anything for your stakeout. Maybe some snacks or something?”
“I’d take something warm”
“Okay, coming right up.”
Before she could walk off, I ask, “What are you doing home anyway? I thought you were out patrolling. You were covering for Red Robin, since he got the flu, right?”
Her eyebrows furrow, “I’ve already finished up for the night. It’s nearly five in the morning, kitten.” I catch her eyes scanning me.
“I’ll be in my lookout spot,” I say, going to turn to leave.
She stops me, taking my face in her hands again, bringing my head down to hers. “I know you love Alice, but you can’t kill yourself to save her,” her lip quivers and her voice shakes as she whispers, “I can’t lose you, my son. Please be smart. Be safe. Stay Alive.”
“I will Mom. I’ll stay as safe as I can, but she’s the only innocent left. I’m not going to let him take that from her,” I grip her wrists, “You know what he’ll do to her. She’ll never be the same. If I can prevent that, I have to try,” I said, my voice pleading for her to understand. I pull her into my arms, I just want to soothe her fears, even if they’re rightfully there.
“Sometimes you’re so much like your father it shocks me,” she whispers.
I stiffen around her, trying to keep the pain and anger out of my voice, “Please don’t compare me to him. Please.”
She nods into my shoulder and pulls away. “One cup of Hot Chocolate with extra cinnamon coming right up,” she says, turning and leaping off the roof to the neighboring one. I watch her run back to her apartment. She moves as gracefully as the animal she named me after. She scales the side of the building and slips in through the kitchen window. Once she’s inside, I start to make my way back.
I was back in my original position when Mom came back. Now in her pajamas, with her fluffy pants tucked inside her climbing boots. She honestly looked ridiculous between that and her cowl hair. Which is way worse than hat or helmet hair. She has her raincoat on, zipped up over her tank top, leaning against the brick nursing two cups of Hot Chocolate.
“ I brought you those chocolate-covered pretzels that you like,” she says, handing me the items.
I nod in thanks, turning back to look at Hatter’s hideout.
“Is there any way I can convince you to come inside for a while and take a nap or something?” she asks, not sounding very hopeful.
“No Mom, I’m okay though, and yes I’m aware that even though I don’t live here anymore I’m still always welcome,” I tell her, anticipating her reaction.
I left home about a year ago when us Second Borns decided that we wanted to try to get out from under our parents' shadow. Well more like accomplish what they’ve never been able to do, and with Riddle’s crazy plans, we might just be able to do it.
Mom nods, taking a seat next to where I’m crouching. I take a drink of my Hot Chocolate. It’s perfect as always. I’ve honestly forgotten how hungry I am until I’m halfway through inhaling my food. Mom chuckles at me, running her hand through my now-soaked hair, where I had taken my cowl off. My food’s getting wet, but I don’t care.
“Can you actually see inside those windows from here without binoculars?” she asks, always astonished by my abilities.
I look over at his hideout. It’s normal. Alice is sitting in her room painting her nails, while a guard stands at her doorway. I glance at Mom, “Yeah I can see inside. Alice is painting her nails,” I look back at Alice to take a second look, “Pink I think.”
She shakes her head in disbelief, grinning the whole time. “ I always knew you were special, but I didn’t realize how much when you were born,” she said. Getting up, she walks to the ledge she’d come from. “I love you,” she whispers, her back to me, knowing I’ll hear her.
I turn my gaze back and watch the house for another hour. I watch Alice waltz around her room, which is still princess-themed even though she is fifteen. She then paints a canvas and cleans her room and reorganizes her wardrobe and starts a book.
Then, I notice a car pull up. It’s him. It’s Hatter, he came home. He has a bag in his hand as he enters the building. I watch him very carefully until he disappears. I see him again when he opens the door to Alice’s room. She whips around and sprints into his arms, hugging him. I watch as he buries his head in her hair, smelling her. When she pulls back, he pulls a bag out from behind his back. She jumps up and down excitedly. She’s just a ball of energy. Grabbing the bag, she runs over to her bed to open it. Her Dad follows and sits next to her on the bed. He places a hand on her thigh while she opens the bag. Once it's open she pulls out the classic blue dress, with the white apron. The Alice dress. A death sentence. I watch as he leans across her and gestures to her blonde curls, pulling one perfect ringlet straight. Then he pulls out the matching bowed headband, placing it on her head.
I know what this means. She may not yet, and I hope she never does. If I can do anything about it, she won’t. Standing up, I run over to the edge of the roof and fling myself off of it. I glide over the rooftops like the animal my mother named me after. Pushing myself to go faster than I ever have before because I have to. I can’t waste any time. I have to get to Riddle. He has to come up with a plan. We have to save her.
Let me know what you think! Feel free to leave constructive critics.
"I left home about a year ago when us Second Borns decided that we wanted to try to get out from under our parents' shadow. Well more like accomplish what they’ve never been able to do, and with Riddle’s crazy plans, we might just be able to do it."
Kat Kyle, The Forgotten Children
The Forgotten Children
Hi! I’m starting this blog as a way to test and see how my new book will be received by readers. This story is based on the DC Comics, but is perfect for both long time fans, as well as, people who are just interested in a new book.
We’ve all heard the stories of Batman and Robin. Most superheroes these days have children and young sidekicks. The idea behind this story was what if the Gotham’s Rouges had children? What if they were raised around one another? What if after years of watching their parents fail, they decide that they should stick together? Those are the questions that inspired The Forgotten Children. This isn’t a book about people being good and doing good. It’s a story about people who were raised by evil and in an evil world, who decide that the only way to survive is to be the most evil of them all.