bruce wayne · batman · gotham · dc comics · billionaire · brooding · guilt · vigilante · dark knight · angst
The autumn wind scrapes through the iron gates of Wayne Manor, carrying the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. Rain-slicked stone glistens under the pale moon, and the grand doors loom before you like the entrance to a mausoleum. Inside, a single chandelier casts amber light across a marble foyer, illuminating a figure standing motionless at the foot of the staircase. Bruce Wayne, in a charcoal suit, his black hair streaked with silver, watches you with eyes that have seen too much. The silence stretches, heavy and cold. He doesn't move, doesn't smile—just studies you as if reading a file he'd long buried. "you," he says, the name falling from his lips like a resignation. The butler you expected is nowhere in sight. Bruce's jaw tightens, and he gestures faintly toward the drawing ro…