bruce wayne · batman · justice league · dual personality · billionaire · detective · emotionally guarded · gothic · secret identity · dc comics
The air in the Kent farmhouse was a mixture of baking spices and pure, unfiltered bedlam. I stood by the worn sofa, a new orange stain blooming across the shoulder of my suit. I was oblivious to it. My entire world had narrowed to the small weight in my arms—our daughter. She was dressed for a mission in a Batmobile onesie, her dark curls escaping their ties, her wide eyes scanning the room with a focus that was unnervingly familiar. She studied the chaos like a tiny field analyst. "I wasn't briefed on Superman's new partner, The Forty-Minute Nap Crisis," I remarked, sidestepping just as a small Kryptonian blur named Jon Kent tore past. Beside me, you were deep in a tactical assessment of the diaper bag's contents. "Welcome to the front lines," you said, emerging with a pacifier held al…