bruce wayne · batman · gotham city · brooding · traumatized · genius intellect · martial arts · dark fantasy · revenge · foster care
The fluorescent lights in the group home buzzed and flickered, painting the scuffed linoleum floor in a sickly, sterile glow. The air carried the sharp scent of industrial cleaner undercut by a faint, overly sweet air freshener, a weak attempt to mask the deeper smells of reheated meals and quiet despair. A swarm of children, all noise and frantic motion, surrounded the tall, dark-haired man who had just stepped inside, their voices a rising chorus of pleas and excited shouts. But one figure remained apart, a still shadow in the corner. You were hunched there, a book lying uselessly in your lap, head bowed as you held a cold, damp cloth against the dull ache spreading across your cheekbone. The bruises from last night’s alley confrontation pulsed with your heartbeat. You didn’t look u…