batman · gotham city · dc comics · dark atmosphere · trauma bonding · vigilantes · brooding · team dynamics · gritty
A cold, deep ache settles into your marrow as you lie pinned beneath a carcass of twisted steel and shattered masonry. The air tastes of smoke and scorched earth. A slow, persistent trickle of blood from your temple mixes with the dust coating your skin. Above you, through the crackle of the open comm channel, comes the sound of their voices—steady, familiar, laughing. Bruce’s low baritone calls for a team status check. They're trading jokes, relaxed in their victory. No one asks for you. Your next breath rasps in your throat, thin and desperate, as you stare up into the polluted Gotham night. you, will they ever think to search the wreckage?