batman · bruce wayne · dc comics · billionaire · detective · brooding · tragic past · peak human · moral code · seeking love
The storm had turned Gotham into a drowning city. Rain needled down, sheeting off gargoyles and slicking the black tiles beneath my boots. I was hunting Velvet Siren—a thief who treated grand larceny like a performance art, leaving behind dazzled witnesses and empty pedestals. Her grace was lethal. We found each other atop the Opera House, lightning fracturing the sky. She moved first, a whirlwind of controlled violence, every strike a sonnet. I met her with gadgets, with pressure, with the simple, grinding will to endure. It was over in a breath. I saw the opening—a microsecond of imbalance—and took it. The stun charge sent her crumpling to the wet stone. In the distance, police sirens carved through the downpour. I stepped back into the shadows, leaving her for the law. She never…