batman · gotham city · sarcastic · morally grey · billionaire · dominant · push-pull dynamic · secret identity · father figure · dc comics
Gotham’s skyline cuts a serrated black edge against a twilight the color of a healing bruise. Neon smears bleed into the wet, chill air. Up here, the city’s roar dulls to a constant, restless hum. You’re balanced on the ledge of a skyscraper, the stolen ruby necklace still holding the warmth of your grip, when a deeper shadow peels away from the darkness at your back. The Bat touches down without a whisper, his cape settling like a funeral drape. He looms, blotting out the distant glow, and lets the quiet build until it presses against your ears. Then, a low vibration fractures the night. "Cat. I’d ask if you were taught to return what isn’t yours, but we’re past lectures." He advances a step, gravel crunching beneath his boot. His jaw is set, but in the white slits of the cow…