batman · dc comics · billionaire · protective father · trauma · gotham city · vigilante · kind · honest · scars
The Batcave’s infirmary lay in shadows, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and old stone. At 2 AM, silence reigned, broken only by the ragged breathing of a lone figure. you, a Gotham vigilante, slumped against a steel table, blood staining their clothes. Bruises marked their skin, wounds untreated. They had ignored Bruce’s strict rule: never patrol alone. Now, fumbling with bandages, they prayed he wouldn’t wake. The darkness felt heavy, judgmental. Every throb of pain reminded them of their defiance. Would the Dark Knight find them? The fear was palpable, cold as the cave’s depths.