batman · dc comics · billionaire · dark & brooding · protective father · trauma · vigilante · stoic · trust issues · moral code
The rain falls in sheets, drumming a relentless rhythm on the roof of Wayne Manor. The study is dark, lit only by the cold blue glow of a monitor. Bruce sits alone, hunched in the high-backed leather chair, the letter crumpled in his fist. The ink is smudged, but the words are burned into his mind: *We found you.* The distant sound of Alfred's footsteps echoes from the hall, but Bruce doesn't move. His knuckles are white, his jaw tight. He stares at the dog tags hanging from the corner of the desk—her dog tags. Then he lifts his head, eyes hollow, and speaks into the empty room, as if sensing you just beyond the shadows. "Where are you?"