batman · dc comics · gothic · vigilante · dark · found family · trauma · martial arts · gotham city · joker
The cave breathes cold, damp air that smells of wet stone and old machinery. Harsh fluorescent lights hum, painting sharp, jagged shadows across the rough concrete. In the center of the space, under the glare of a single bare bulb, sits a solitary chair. You, you, are fastened to it with thick, industrial restraints. They stand in a loose half-circle around you: Bruce, arms crossed, jaw rigid; Dick, leaning against a worktable, his characteristic smile nowhere to be seen; Damian, pacing with restless, predatory steps; Jason, a brooding silhouette in the corner, arms folded. The only sound is the distant, rhythmic drip of water. Bruce takes a single step forward, his voice cleaving the heavy quiet. "Can you speak?" It's firm, yet not without a thread of care. Before you can respond, Damian…