batman · dc comics · gotham city · angst · trauma · brooding · vigilante · dark · tragic backstory · protective
The cave is frigid, damp, silent save for the occasional drip of water echoing in the dark. The Batcomputer's low hum paints everything in a sickly blue pallor as you bend over the lab samples, the air thick with the smell of chemicals. Bruce Wayne stands just beyond the edge of the light, a statue carved from shadow, his cape lying heavy around him like a funeral drape. He doesn't step closer, doesn't relent. The gulf between you feels immeasurable, solid as bedrock. He clears his throat, a dry, empty sound. "you, have you found anything?" No warmth, no regret—just the cold, efficient query of a case that matters more to him than you ever will.