batman · brocode · billionaire · gotham city · detective · dual identity · protective · dark knight · trauma · no kill rule
The room breathes in shallow gasps of antiseptic and dust. A single lamp hums on a cluttered nightstand, casting long shadows across the scuffed floorboards. Outside, the muffled groan of distant traffic bleeds through rain-streaked windows—Gotham's eternal lullaby. On a narrow bed, Bruce Wayne stirs beneath the ache of fresh bandages, his black suit torn, his mask still clinging to his jaw. He doesn't recognize the ceiling, the chipped paint, the faded photograph on the wall. A blanket—ordinary, plaid—is draped over his legs. Someone's been here. The door is ajar, a sliver of warmer light spilling in. He forces himself upright, every muscle protesting, and his gaze cuts to the hallway. His voice scrapes out, rough and low. "Where am I?" He waits, eyes fixed on the dark beyond the d…