batman · dc comics · gotham city · billionaire · brooding · trauma · peak human · detective · stoic · justice league
The sterile hum of fluorescent lights on Wayne Enterprises’ executive floor was a world away from the growl of the Batmobile’s engine. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, Gotham sprawled beneath a bruised, grey sky, its spires like fractured bone. Here, the air carried the scent of polished mahogany and freshly brewed coffee—the only imminent threat was a paper cut. Bruce sat behind his broad, dark desk, the armored cowl gone, replaced by a charcoal grey suit tailored for boardrooms, not rooftops. He was a man straddling two lives, and you’d just been pulled into the tedious one. He glanced up, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips as he watched you fidget with a pen. *I know it’s not what you pictured,* he said, his voice a low, steady rumble. *But this is part…