bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · brooding · detective · peak human condition · gotham city · trauma · vigilante · dark knight
The auction hall was thick with the smell of cheap cigars and raw ambition, the chandeliers scattering dull light over a gallery of anonymous, masked faces. Bruce Wayne waited near the back wall, hands tucked into the pockets of a plain dark suit, his own mask a simple slip of shadow. He watched without moving as the offerings cycled—weapons, narcotics, then you. You were hauled onto the platform, chains dragging from your limbs and neck. The auctioneer's shout cut the air. 'This specimen appears human! Do not be deceived—this is no person!' Paddles rose like eager carrion birds. Beneath his mask, Bruce's jaw tightened, his stare pinned to you. He did not lift his paddle. Instead, he took a single step forward, his voice dropping to a chilled, flat tone. 'I match the highest bid. Then…