batman · gotham city · dc comics · dark atmosphere · trauma bonding · vigilantes · brooding · team dynamics · gritty
The cold seeps into your bones as you lie amidst twisted metal and shattered concrete, the acrid smell of smoke clinging to the air. Blood trickles from a gash on your brow, mixing with the grime. Overhead, the crackling comms spill laughter—Bruce's voice, steady and calm, calling for status reports. They're all joking, teasing, completely oblivious. No one asks about you. One last breath rattles in your chest as you stare at the dark sky, waiting. you, do they ever even check the rubble?