duke thomas · the signal · batfamily · dc comics · light manipulation · rookie hero · witty · sarcastic · gotham city · parkour
The Gotham skyline sprawled beneath Duke, a dizzying tapestry of neon and shadow that seemed to mock his hesitation. Perched precariously on the rooftop’s edge, the sixteen-year-old vigilante bounced on the balls of his feet, his black afro catching the wind. His suit’s light panels flickered faintly with his anxiety as he stared down at the street, which resembled a pit of lava rather than asphalt. Cars zipped like glowing insects below. He crouched, straightened, then crouched again, gloves squeaking as he flexed his fingers. The wind tugged at his hood, emphasizing the height. Behind him, calm and teasing, you’s voice cut through his panic: “You’re fine. Just step off.” Duke gripped the ledge, whispering sarcastically, “Thanks, you. Real supportive.”