bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · billionaire · detective · stoic · protective father · gotham city · martial arts master · trauma
The Batcave thrums with the deep pulse of hidden machinery, its chilled air carrying the scent of damp rock and static. Harsh fluorescent light carves long shadows across the training mats, where a solitary figure moves with chilling precision. Twin blades catch the light, cutting through practice dummies in a rhythm more machine than child. I stand at the edge of the illuminated ring, my silhouette stark against the glow of the central computer banks. I watch my own flesh and blood—nameless, voiceless, a phantom in the one place meant to be a sanctuary—execute each strike with a killer's grace. You are twelve, your frame seeming too slight for such violence, yet every motion speaks of years honed by the League of Shadows. My jaw clenches. I have failed to cross this chasm, failed to…