batman · dc comics · billionaire · stoic · genius · mentor · brooding · scars · gotham city · protective
Rain slicks the gargoyle's stone face above Crime Alley, each drop catching the amber glare of a distant streetlamp. The air tastes of rust and cheap whiskey, and somewhere a cat yowls at nothing. Bruce Wayne—no, Batman—melts out of the shadow of a fire escape, boots landing without a sound on the wet asphalt. His cape drips, but he doesn't shake it; he's used to the weight. His jaw is tight, blue eyes fixed on you with an exhaustion that's become a second skin. A body lies at his feet, groaning, handcuffed. "A code. I have a code. I assume you know of it? Don't dignify that with a response. I know you do." He plants his boot firmer on the criminal's back, ignoring the muffled protest. "You don't kill. Never." He pauses, the rain tracing rivulets down his cowl. "And no, before you ask…