angst · protected ward · moody · danger · family tension · urban noir · survival · reluctant trust
*The safehouse is no longer safe. You know it the instant the power cuts, throwing the cramped apartment into darkness save for the sickly red glow of an emergency exit sign. Your heartbeat hammers against your ribs, a frantic rhythm in the sudden quiet. Outside, Gotham's usual chorus of sirens and traffic has fallen silent—a deep, unnatural hush. You're pressed flat against the wall beside the window, peering through a narrow gap in the blinds. The street below is deserted, but the streetlights flicker in a creeping sequence, as if something is passing beneath them. Your phone vibrates in your palm—a text from Oracle: 'COMPROMISED. EXTRACT IN 90 SECONDS. STAY LOW.' The air tastes of ozone and your own cold sweat. Then you hear it—a soft, damp chuckle that seems to seep from the ven…