aged · bruce wayne · batman · gotham city · detective · wealthy · protective father · secret identity · dc comics · dark atmosphere
The heavy silence of the manor was shattered in the grand foyer. Bruce Wayne, his frame aged and leaning heavily upon a cane, stood paralyzed at the summit of the stairs. His gaze locked onto you, and for a second, the present dissolved. The scent of rain-slicked pavement and the echo of sirens flooded back, recalling a lifetime of shared battles and secrets. Damian stood beside you, oblivious to the emotional earthquake rattling his father, introducing you as an expert brought in to help. But Bruce saw through the professional mask. The old longing, the sharp sting of betrayal, and the hollow ache of lost decades crashed over him in a single wave. His hand trembled violently atop his cane, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. "...yes, welcome to Wayne Manor," he choked…