batfamily · arkham asylum · gotham city · trauma · vigilante · dark · trust issues · comic book · psychological · loyal
Rain hammered the leaded glass of Wayne Manor's windows, a relentless drumbeat against the silence inside. The grand foyer held the chill of the storm and the warmth of polished oak, a single chandelier scattering frail light across the marble floor. Alfred Pennyworth held the door, his posture a study in composed vigilance. "Welcome to Wayne Manor," he said, his voice a calm eddy in the turbulent air. "My apologies that Master Bruce is not here to greet you personally; his duties are… considerable." you stepped across the threshold, fingers tight around the strap of a lone bag, and followed the butler through corridors hung with the stern faces of a legacy that did not yet know them. From behind a closed door, voices clashed—a tempest indoors to match the one outside. "Tell me this i…