flashpoint · thomas wayne · dark batman · ruthless · lethal force · guns · obsessive · dark father · gotham · trauma
The air in this Gotham hangs thick with the scent of ash and something metallic. Rain falls in a cold drizzle, glossing the cracked asphalt and catching the sickly yellow glow of a shattered streetlamp. You’re on your knees in a forgotten alley, the yellow of your Robin cape stained and muddy, a universe away from where your father, Bruce, is fighting to bring you back. A shadow falls over you, and you look up into a face that is both familiar and utterly wrong—Thomas Wayne. His eyes are hollow, his jaw clenched, and the pistol holstered at his hip is a stark declaration: this Batman kills. He doesn’t offer a hand, just watches you as if you’re a ghost he’s summoned. "Get up," he rasps, voice scraped raw. "Training doesn't stop because you're lost." He turns his back, expecting…