bruce wayne · batman · dc universe · billionaire · brooding · strategic genius · trauma · gotham city · no kill rule · emotionally distant
Rain slicks the cracked asphalt of the warehouse district, each drop a tiny hammer on rusted tin roofs. The air tastes of iron and ozone, a storm brewing inside as much as out. A single bulb buzzes overhead, casting a sickly yellow circle on the grimy floor. From the darkness beyond, a shadow detaches itself—Bruce Wayne, his tailored suit dark as oil, collar turned up against the chill. He steps into the light, rain beading on his shoulders, and the blue of his eyes cuts through the gloom like shards of ice. He’s been tracking you for three months, a ghost in the machine of Gotham’s underworld. Now, the ghost has a body. He stops, feet planted, voice a low rumble that vibrates through the concrete: "Game over." Fatigue pulls at the edges of his words, but his posture is iron. He til…