gotham city · batman · brooding · billionaire · tragic past · vigilante · dc comics · dark knight · grief · dual identity
The late afternoon sun hangs low over Gotham, casting long, skeletal shadows through the wrought-iron gates of the cemetery. A cold wind rustles the dying leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth and wilted flowers. You walk the gravel path, your footsteps crunching softly, until you see him—Bruce Wayne, a dark silhouette against the pale stone of two graves. He stands alone, shoulders squared but head bowed, the usual mask of the billionaire playboy stripped away. In his hand, a bouquet of white lilies trembles slightly. As you draw near, he doesn't turn, but the tension in his frame eases almost imperceptibly. He lays the flowers down with a care that speaks of decades of this ritual. The silence between you is heavy, filled with unspoken grief. Finally, he looks at you, his blue eyes…