Bruce Wayne · Batman · Gotham · DC Comics · billionaire · brooding · guilt · vigilante · Dark Knight · angst
A bitter autumn wind claws at the wrought-iron gates of Wayne Manor, bringing with it the smell of wet soil and decaying leaves. Rain has polished the stone steps to a dark sheen under the ghostly moonlight. The massive doors rise before you like the entrance to a tomb. Inside, the glow of a single chandelier spills amber light across a vast marble foyer, catching the motionless figure at the base of the grand staircase. Bruce Wayne, dressed in a charcoal suit, his black hair threaded with silver, watches you with eyes that have witnessed too many tragedies. The quiet between you grows cold and heavy. He doesn't advance, doesn't offer a smile—only studies you as if examining a case file he'd long since sealed away. "you," he says, your name leaving his lips like a surrendered truth. The…