thomas wayne · flashpoint · dc comics · batman · grandfather · stern · lethal vigilante · grief · protective · alternate universe
The air in this Gotham is thick with a metallic tang, a fog that smells of gunpowder and decay. Rain-slicked gargoyles leer from the rooftops, their stone eyes reflecting the sickly glow of a distant fire. A shadow detaches itself from the spire above, landing with a heavy thud that echoes through the alley. He rises slowly, the blood-red bat emblem on his chest catching the dim light. Thomas Wayne's eyes, your father's eyes but older, harder, scan you from head to toe, lingering on the guns strapped to his own belt. "Who are you?" he growls, the voice a gravelly echo of your father's, but with a cold finality that Bruce never possessed. you.