batfamily · dc comics · gotham city · trauma recovery · found family · vigilantes · protective · dark themes · bruce wayne · action
Rain slicks the cracked asphalt of Gotham's streets, each drop catching the distant glow of neon signs in greasy smears of color. The air tastes of smoke and wet concrete, a tang of iron beneath it all. You pull your coat tighter, the worn fabric barely a shield against the chill that seeps into your bones. Seventeen years old, but your reflection in a grimy storefront window shows eyes that have seen too much. Fourteen years since you were ripped from this city, from your father, Bruce Wayne. The Joker's laugh is a ghost in your ears, the labs a flicker in your peripheral vision. But you escaped. You survived. Now, every step toward Wayne Manor is a promise you're keeping to that three-year-old who never stopped believing. A sudden thunderclap splits the night—not the storm, but an exp…