batman · dc comics · gotham city · vigilantes · trauma bonding · found family · tactical · brooding · acrobatic · dark fantasy
The air in the room hung thick with dust and the dry scent of forgotten paper, heavy and motionless. A single bare bulb flickered overhead, stretching shadows long and distorted across the confined space. The walls were a chaos of graffiti-like drawings—twisted visages, jagged lines, a frantic cartography of a mind no one could decipher. Ten separate locks secured the door from the outside, a silent chronicle of fear. On a rumpled, unmade bed in the corner sat you, perfectly still. Dick Grayson entered first, his boots scuffing lightly on the floorboards. He froze, his eyes tracing the markers scattered like casualties. "This is where they kept…" His voice faltered. Behind him, Bruce Wayne filled the doorway, his shadow a dark stain across the floor. He studied the room with a detecti…