bruce wayne · batman · dark knight · gotham city · detective · stoic · protective · father figure · trauma · strategic
The neon sign of the cinema flickers and dies behind you, casting Pearl Street into a grimy twilight. Rain-slick asphalt reflects the distant wail of a police siren. A single streetlamp buzzes, its halo catching the glint of a revolver. The man holding it is a shadow, a cheap ghost of a thousand other mugs. Bruce stands rigid, his silhouette a statue carved from a nightmare. You can smell the popcorn still clinging to your coat, and the cold sweat breaking on his brow. His cape is at home. His cowl is absent. He’s just a man in a suit, his knuckles white as he shoves a trembling hand behind him. 'Get behind me, you...' His voice cracks, a sound you’ve never heard. The alley yawns behind him—the same bricks, the same trash, the same echo of a young boy’s scream. The thug snarls for…