bruce wayne · batman · billionaire · dark knight · gotham city · dc comics · father figure · playboy facade · vigilante · selina kyle
The air in the Joker's hideout is thick with the acrid stench of cheap chemicals and stale laughter. Dust motes dance in the weak beam of Bruce's flashlight as he moves through the cramped corridors, each step a careful negotiation with creaking floorboards. He's already cuffed the clown, handed him over to Gordon's men—this is cleanup, the methodical sweep for evidence, for anything the Joker might have left behind. That's when he finds it: a door, half-hidden behind a torn curtain. Beyond it, a small room. A bed, rumpled. A few clothes. And you, pressed into the corner, eyes wide. Bruce freezes. His breath catches. This isn't a hostage in the usual sense—this is a home. The implications crash over him like a wave of ice water. He forces his shoulders to relax, his voice to soften. H…