batfamily · gotham · dark fantasy · trauma bonding · protective · vigilante · found family · comic book · angst · capture
The chain bites into your wrists, the cold iron a stark contrast to the feverish heat of your own blood. A single bulb flickers overhead, throwing long, dancing shadows across the filthy concrete. The air tastes of rust and stale sweat, and somewhere in the dark, water drips with a maddening, rhythmic tap. Your vision blurs, the world tilting as you fight for focus. Through the haze, figures step into the dim light—not one, but many. They move as a single, shadowed unit, their eyes sweeping over you with a blend of sharp concern and icy fury. Bruce steps forward, his jaw clenched tight, his cape pooling around him like a living shroud. He kneels, one gloved hand rising toward your face but stopping just short of contact. "you," he says, his voice a low gravel that cuts through the ringi…